All Disclaimers
BLACK AND WHITE
Chapter 99--Party, Party, Party!
Dave's party was an enormous success. Everyone who'd been invited attended. The monster bottle of champagne surprised him, and the launch and trajectory of the champagne cork delighted the guests. Dave received several pairs of edible underwear and scandalous cards celebrating his birthday. I got him more house plan books and a weekend away at a health spa. He said he'd only go if I went along. He was sure it was something that had to be shared to be truly enjoyed.
Our guests paired off (as usual) after Dave's parents left, several couples leaving with other couples they'd met for the first time. My Utah cousins (Preston and Jed Talmadge) left with Jeremy (the stripper and car salesman) and his new boyfriend, Jack. Bobby Brown and his boyfriend, Terry, left with Junior and his delicious boyfriend, Ben. The latter two showed such outrageous dicks in their shorts that everyone wanted them. The two youngsters got them, though, beaming in triumph.
The twins, Keith and Karl, took on Max and Conrad. I'm sure the rapturous squealing of the fucking foursome could be heard in the next county. Our next door neighbors Nick and Mark waltzed out the door with Reed and James. Christian and Captain Poindexter Garvey had eyes only for each other. Brad and Steve left with the coaches; Bill "Robocop" Dundee and his boyfriend, Bob Francis, ended the evening at the home of our neighbors, Robert and Gary; and Kurt and Gene took Dave's brother, Donnie and his boyfriend, Trevor, home for some "night maneuvers," as they'd phrased it. I'd seen my cousin Larry and Dr. Grant Hartung closely conversing, but didn't see if they'd left together.
There were other pairings, but I wasn't able to keep up with all of them. It had been a warm evening, so all the men wore next to nothing, revealing their various attributes, hoping to score more than a good time at someone else's birthday party.
Jeremy invited everyone to the strip club for the Saturday night celebration of our second anniversary. He gave everyone his card and told them to call the club (which number he'd scribbled on the back) to be sure they'd be guaranteed a table. "Mention my name, so you'll get preferential seating," he'd added. "We'd like to make this a private party, so everyone come, now. Hear?" he said mysteriously.
Darren and Jerrod had graciously stayed behind to help us clean up the place as the last guests departed. "Besides, this gives us a chance to spend the night with you, again," Jerrod quipped. "Everyone else seems to have paired up, leaving the birthday boy and his paramour in our evil clutches!"
Our overnight guests paid particular attention to Dave (he being the birthday boy), catering to his every sexual wish. Both offered their eager butts to him bareback, but he declined their generous offers, reluctantly. "We've not come to a conclusion on that, yet," he'd remarked. Nonetheless, his big dick and hungry ass were constantly in demand, all night long. We were still in bed, asleep, when our houseguests returned from their adventures.
"Best fuckin' birthday I ever had," he whispered in my ear as he rolled atop me and pushed my knees into my hairy chest. "Once more for the road?" I grinned up at him, eagerly nodding. Rather than join us, Jerrod and Darren improvised their own "hide the wiener" marathon. Clearly, we all loved barebacking. Everyone got a nice load, delivered deeply.
After showers, we went out for a late breakfast to one of our favorite restaurants. The maitre d' was pleased to see us, escorting us to the prime table by the front window. Of course, it didn't hurt his business that eight hunky men added more window dressing than the restaurant had seen in some time. Despite it being midweek, the restaurant filled up nicely with the lunch crowd. We got more than our share of envious stares. One guy even asked us if we were members of an athletic team. Conrad said that he'd played football (soccer to us) and, of course, Jerrod was a well known face about town.
Conrad and Max made a play for Jerrod and Darren, but the latter couple declined. "Not that we don't find you delicious," Darren added, cushioning the turn down. "It's just not our style to trick around."
Left unsaid was the obvious fact that they'd been fucking with us the night before. Sensing that, Jerrod added, "We've known Mike and Dave since forever, so they're an exception to our rule. I'm sure you understand." Of course, they didn't, but were gracious enough not to pursue it.
The balance of the week, we spent entertaining our guests, volunteering (our house guests were good enough to join us), and hitting the gym. My cousins spent more time in the sauna fucking and sucking than working out. Conrad and Max were less obvious about it, catching their prey in the showers and working them over before Jed and Preston could get to them. But, some did slip through when our English guests were otherwise occupied. We finished our workout and joined their games, pulling Conrad and Max into the sauna with Jed and Preston, and working over a couple of "sluts" (Scott and Dan). All six of us pounded the butts of our two "slut" friends. They loved it, squealing loudly when Conrad and Dave skewered them with their monster meats. The "sluts" drank three loads each, begging us not to cum in their dick hungry butts in a condom, but down their eager throats, instead.
By Saturday (our second anniversary), we were anxious to see what Jeremy had cooked up for us at the strip club. His boyfriend, Jack, was evasive, only hinting at the show to come. There were enough guests for our anniversary bash to fill the club's first performance at 9:00 p.m. Others were told to wait for the next show or come back another night. In effect, this was the private party Jeremy had hinted at.
The emcee promised an evening of unabashed decadence, hunky, friendly, well- hung musclemen, and free champagne. We'd arranged for a couple of cases of champagne to be delivered to the club for our anniversary. When Jeremy and two of his "helpers" wheeled out a huge Salmanazar (containing the equivalent of 12 bottles of champagne), the crowd went wild. It could have been the enormous bottle, but more likely, it was the rippling musculature of the three men and their bobbing, dripping, hard dicks.
Jeremy was the tallest and most heavily muscled, but the other two men had bigger dicks. One of them, I'd seen at the gym, but had never talked to him (other than a casual greeting). He was as tall as Jeremy, but weighed about 220 instead of 250. His build was more like a guy who worked out, but didn't get into competitive bodybuilding as Jeremy had. His trimmed goatee gave him a hot, sexual look that riveted my attention. Of course, the fact that he was sporting a hard, dark 10" dick might have swayed me, too.
"Have you ever seen that yummy number standing behind Jeremy?" Dave asked, nodding toward the tall, dark figure slowing humping Jeremy's ass in mock coupling.
"I think he goes to the gym, but evidently not very often at the times we've gone. I've only spoken a few words with him," I replied. "I have no idea what his name is or if he plays on `our team'."
"If this night is anything like the last time we were here, I know we'll find out a whole lot more about him," Dave grinned evilly. I nodded in avid agreement.
The third man was at least half a foot shorter than the other two giants. But, his compact, muscular body oozed sex appeal. His high bubble butt and heavy, black snake had nearly all of us forgetting the bottle of bubbly.
When the audience finally quieted some, the emcee continued. "In honor of our special guests tonight, and because we've filled the club with their friends, this is a private party. Touching is allowed! In fact, encouraged!" he shouted to laughter and applause. "Some of you know that we usually have six dancers. Tonight we have ten." More applause thundered through the room. "The extra men will not be dancing on stage." That pronouncement was followed by a chorus of good-natured boos. "They'll be lap dancing, instead!" Laughter and applause greeted the clarification.
Formally clad waiters bounded on stage to assist in the uncorking of the enormous bottle. Lewd gestures such as trying to sit on the neck of the bottle broke the tension of when the cork would fly. Although they struggled mightily, the cork refused to budge. "The lucky gentleman who catches the cork (if we ever dislodge it) gets his pick of the dancers to accompany him on a special date," the emcee breathlessly said, adding to the building tension in the room.
Finally, the stubborn cork flew out, sending a gushing geyser of champagne three feet toward the celebrants. Waiters scurried to capture the fountaining liquid, capturing most of it in a basin. Quickly filling glasses, they hurried about the tables, delivering their golden liqueur. Lost in the bustle was the winner of the flying stopper: Cousin Larry! Knowing his libido, he'd struggle trying to decide on only one of the dancers. To my eyes, they were all bedroom material. To his, they were a sexual cafeteria.
We toasted to Larry's good luck, then, several rounds of bawdy toasts were proposed and downed to Dave and I and our two years together. The thumping, dance music (suggesting the strippers approaching acts) cut short the calls for speeches from us. "Saved by the music," Dave chortled.
Wearing only g-strings, the four extra dancers circulated about the tables, pressing their muscular butts into eager crotches and faces. Although it was our anniversary party, the extra dancers worked the crowd well, giving us the same attention they were giving our guests. In all, the audience numbered about 40, sexually hungry men.
On the stage, Jeremy and five other men performed erotic strips, simulating copulation (oral and anal) with regularity. The more blatant they became, the more daring became the partiers. Tongues slipped between hard, dancer ass cheeks. G-strings were groped and freed of their packages. Lap dancers pulled down the zippers of their dance partners. This would quickly become an orgy, if someone didn't slow some of our friends down.
Ever the steady hand and head, Jeremy shouted, "Change partners!" It worked. The lap dancers went on to other quarry, cooling the libido of the guests and themselves. We later found out that Jeremy had instructed all the dancers that "change partners" would be the key phrase, if things started to get out of hand. Anyone could say it, and all dancers had to comply. This may be a private party, but even that kind of party had limits.
Jeremy and his fellow performers joined the extra dancers, swarming into the audience of sexual barracudas and piranhas. The music hammered as the dancers sweated to their gyrations and overheated, testosterone-flooded systems. Every dancer came by our table, putting the moves on us, wiggling their tight asses in our faces, bouncing in our laps, causing some discomfort to our hard dicks. Delightfully, they all propositioned us, Jeremy being the most brazen about it. "Wanna fuck me right in front of everyone?" he whispered in my ear as he shoved his hot ass in Dave's face. Before I could think of an answer, he turned and did the same to Dave. But, this time, Jeremy pushed my face into his spread ass cheeks, letting me sample the ass that Jack had been hammering so well for him.
I reached between Jeremy's legs and stroked his enormous dick as I ate his ass. He moaned something in Dave's ear, but I was too focused on ass eating to care what was said. The downward curve of Jeremy's 9" dick easily allowed me to pull it between his legs and lick off several drops of precum. I added the sticky fluid to his asshole when I resumed butt munching. His fingers reached between his legs and grabbed at my hard, bent dick (now painfully captured in my slacks). Someone called, "Change partners!"
"Fuck!" I whispered to no one in particular. Jeremy danced away, spotted Jed and Preston, and gave them the same treatment we'd just received.
"Gawd! He's so hot!" Dave murmured. I nodded in sweaty agreement. "We gotta get that boy back into our bed," he added.
"I don't think Jack will mind," I nodded in the direction of where Jack was sitting. "He's always wanted more of your big, black dick," I allowed.
"And your daddy ass is one of his favorites, Mike," Dave smiled. I had to agree with that assessment. Jack may be new to gay sex, but he sure knew what to do in bed I remembered.
More dancers worked us over, but none of them as explicitly as Jeremy had: until John came by.
Although he'd helped Jeremy on stage with the Salmanazar of champagne, he wasn't one of the regular dancers. But, he had all the moves. His sinewy body slithered around me, finally landing in my lap. He bent over to kiss Dave gently on the lips. Then, he bent over more and buried his face in Dave's crotch. His hard ass gripped and released my hard dick so well that I nearly came in my pants! He switched position, giving Dave the dick rub and me the hot breath on my crotch. Now, he stood, pushing his bare ass into Dave's face. "I've seen you at the gym, but I didn't know you were gay or attached. I hope this many friends means that you fuck around," he whispered breathlessly in my ear. Every few words were moans. "Damn! Your boyfriend sure knows how to eat ass," he grinned, kissing me, again.
"I'm even better," I assured him. He grinned and turned around, again. I dove in, spreading his high, tight, brown, bubble buns with my hands. Dave had already moistened his hole, but I drilled it. I reached for the guy's dick, but couldn't find it hanging down. I searched higher and found it hard against his abs. Yeah, I thought, one of those honeymoon dicks that you have to pry off his abs because he's so hard. And it was thick and long, too. Just the way I like them. Although there was African heritage in his background, his skin was more the color of honey, almost like a good beach tan, although his big dick was nearly coal black.
Again, someone shouted, "Change partners!"
"Fuck!" Dave spat, adjusting his crotch. Dave's dick was out and wet. "One hot cocksucker," he smiled, tucking his hard dick carefully back in.
"You check out his big dick?" I asked.
"I was too busy eating that beautiful ass to even think that far ahead," Dave laughed.
"He said he's seen us at the gym, but didn't know we were queer," I added mysteriously. "I think he's interested in something after this evening."
"I sure hope so," Dave agreed. "He's got a big one?" he asked, getting back to the important stuff.
"Yeah, a really big, honeymoon dick!"
"Damn! I love those. How big?"
"Felt bigger than mine, but not as big as yours. I didn't get a really good grip on it," I sighed.
"I wonder if he has a boyfriend?" he said absently, checking out the ass of another dancer working on our tablemates, Darren and Jerrod.
"I'm sure Jeremy would know."
In a few more minutes, the dancers trotted out of the room, throwing their g- strings back into the crowd. Waiters appeared again, ladling out more champagne to the parched celebrants. The Salmanazar had been drained and the case of magnums opened.
Another cadre of waiters set up a buffet of finger food on the far left side of the room. All 40 of us rushed to the buffet table. We needed food after that sexually frustrating half hour. Good natured bantering swept from one end of the two lines to the other. They compared notes on who was the hottest, the most forward, the most sexually adventurous, the most hung, etc. Of course, there was no agreement on anything. Each of us had our own likes and preferences when it came to men.
As the line thinned out, all ten dancers joined us. Fully clothed, they raced through the line and scouted out a table that another dancer hadn't gotten to. Luckily for us, John was at the front of the line and crowded into our table. Thoughtfully, the waiters had added one new chair to each of the ten guest tables.
After introductions, we talked about his dancing (which he said he only did for Jeremy as a personal favor and only on special occasions like private parties), his work (he worked for the city in the Finance Department), and his "marital status" (single, but looking). "But, this isn't the night I'm gonna find my prince," he sighed. "All of you guys are already married."
"Well, not all of us," I allowed. "But, not at this table," I added quickly.
"So, who are the single ones?" he glanced quickly about the room.
"I think only my cousin and my doctor," I grinned. "I guess that's not much to choose from."
"I'd take on any of these men," John smiled engagingly. "Which ones are they?"
"His cousin's the one who grabbed the champagne cork," Dave revealed. "And the good doctor is seated next to him. They're over by the far right wall," he indicated. John looked and saw who was with Larry, as he'd already singled Larry out as the date prize winner.
He smiled. "Yeah, I'd do either one! And single, you say?"
"Unless something happens with them tonight," I cautioned. "They disappeared after Dave's birthday party on Tuesday."
"They do seem awfully friendly with each other," John sighed. "I guess I'll have to keep auditioning more men from the gene pool."
"Well, you have a lot to offer," Dave ogled him.
"It doesn't seem to be enough or the right thing," John grimaced. "Maybe, I'm just no good at relationships."
"I take it you've had your share of disappointments," I sympathized.
"Yeah, the last one, for instance, found a bigger dick and moved out. That was about a year ago. I didn't think he was that shallow. I thought we really had something going," John whined.
"Gotta keep auditioning," I suggested. "Don't give up. I found mine at the gym," I smiled, kissing Dave on the lips.
"And I found mine in the gutter," Darren laughed. Of course, that required that he tell how he and Jerrod met. And we had to reveal how Dave and I had met. John had a funny story about how he and his last boyfriend had met at a party, both too drunk to do anything about it that night, but he'd called the guy the next day and they'd fucked like rabbits from that day on. "Well, from that day until he walked out on me for a bigger dick," John repeated bitterly.
The party was breaking up, and Larry had made a selection that didn't include John. Dr. Hartung left with them, so it may have been a three-way for the lucky dancer. Waiters and dancers hurriedly rearranged chairs and tables for the next show at 11:00.
John wished us a happy anniversary, again, and rose to leave. "We don't even get an anniversary kiss?" Dave boldly asked. John blushed and planted big, wet kisses on both of us.
"We're going home," Jerrod announced. "We can't watch this disgusting display of public affection," he laughed. "The anniversary boys don't need us to help them celebrate tonight." Before we could protest, Darren and Jerrod had raced away.
I moved in for another kiss. "You have other plans?" I whispered in his ear as Dave pressed in behind him and ground his hard crotch into John's high, hard ass. "Are you dancing for the next show?" He shook his head "no."
"We'll sure make it worth your while," Dave added. "You already know we love to eat ass." John moaned knowingly and nodded. "And we're both versatile."
"But, two against one," John protested. "How do I know you won't take advantage of me?"
"You don't," Dave smiled menacingly.
"I love a challenge," John smiled back. "I hope you can keep up with me."
"You are gonna be SO drained by morning. I hope we still have that gross of condoms, Mike. We're gonna need them, I think," Dave teased.
"Only one gross?" John teased back.
John was insatiable. He was even more of a rimming butt pig than we are. His ability to cum and get hard again was astonishing. He even demonstrated his skills at self-sucking while I pounded his ass. Dave mounted him, too, and John showed him once more how he could blow himself. But, John's favorite activity was being the middle of a fuck sandwich. As long as a big dick was up his ass and his monster 10" dick was in a tight hole, he was happy.
Although John was quick on the trigger, cumming hard and plentiful, he had recovery powers that would make any randy male envious. Within ten minutes of a climax, he was hard and ready to fuck again. And his versatility was very much appreciated. Dave and I loved riding his big dick, but after two hours of nonstop fucking, rimming and sucking, our buttholes were tender. But, John's batteries were still fully charged and eager to get it on some more.
We pounded and ravaged his ass, taking turns on his eager butt. I'd get into a 69 with John while Dave plowed his ass. After a good ride and a body convulsing climax, Dave would switch with me, and I'd pump away on John's hard buttcheeks. His skills as a bottom rivaled Captain Garvey's legendary, hungry ass. Each time John got fucked, he'd pump out another load of cum for one of us to swallow. Where he found all that cum to squirt, I have no idea.
By 2:00 a.m., we finally called a halt to our fun, and slept. But, the sun was up at 5:30 and so was John, wanting to play in any manner that suited us. He fucked Dave again while I rode his brown ass. He did love the middle of a fuck sandwich! Of course, I came too fast, so Dave and I switched positions. He rode John for a good long time, forcing two loads of cum from John's heavy nuts into the protective condom sliding in and out of my butt.
After we showered, we fixed breakfast. Dave roused the sleepers upstairs and they joined us. John took an immediate interest in the tall German and his partner, setting up a coupling with them for this evening. Jed and Preston got in on some male bonding with John by getting on his "dance card" for Sunday.
"What AM I going to get you for your birthday, Mike?" Dave wondered aloud as we cleaned up the breakfast dishes. "You're impossible to buy for."
"I'm content with you. I don't need anything else."
"Nice as that is to hear, it's not very helpful."
"I can't help it, Dave. I really don't need anything. I'm happy with just you and your love." He grimaced. I wasn't being helpful, but I couldn't think of a thing I needed that we didn't already have. "How about," I suggested after a pause, "you get me some brochures and books on traveling? I'd love to go back to Germany and see my cousin Günter. And another few rounds with Ziggy would be a lot of fun," I added.
"Wasn't he gonna come see us this spring or summer?" Dave recalled.
"He did mention it, but that was so tentative," I said.
"We should call him, just to see what he's up to; and your cousin, Günter, too."
I made a mental note to call our German friend and my cousin, after our houseguests were gone and I had some time to think about what I wanted to say. I knew both of them would be asking when we'd be coming back and I didn't have any kind of answer for that question.
On Wednesday (my birthday), Dave surprised me with more than just brochures and books. He'd booked reservations for us to go to Europe again. We'd essentially be doing the same trip as before, but now, we knew of other places to go and where not to go, too. Some sights were worth seeing again, others were good for once, but not twice. We'd be leaving early in September (after the Europeans had generally finished their vacations in August) and would be gone for two weeks. This was the push I'd needed to make a decision about going back to Europe. I thanked Dave in my "special" way later that night. He was as happy about the European trip as I was. With Max and Conrad occupied by the libidinous John, and Preston and Jed working the neighbors behind us, Dave and I had all evening to thank each other for our birthday presents. I rimmed and fucked his ass more times that I could recall. Dave flipped me as many times, pumping gallons of his sweet ball honey up my butt. Not once did we blow each other. For us, fucking was the deepest form of lovemaking.
Max, Conrad, Jed, and Preston returned home safely. In July, Captain Poindexter Garvey was discharged from the Marines at the end of his enlistment. Christian had gotten to him in a big way, offering him love and a place to live while the ex-Marine found a job. In this economy though, that was difficult. But, with the professional football player salary that Christian was drawing, they weren't hurting for cash. Oddly enough, they became monogamous, at least for the first year of their lives together. I found it hard to believe that Christian could do that, or Dex for that matter, but they somehow managed. I think the lure of barebacking kept them in each other's arm, and all others far away.
We did have a good time in Europe, again. My cousin, Günter and our friend Ziggy met us at the Frankfurt airport. We dragged our tired, jetlagged butts down to Mannheim for breakfast, a fast fuck, and sleep. Ziggy had a new boyfriend as did Günter. We spent considerable time with both couples as both had insisted that we cancel out of the hotel reservations and spend time with them. Günter had moved to Heidelberg to be with his student boyfriend; but Ziggy had remained in Mannheim, saying that was where Johann's business was. Besides, Ziggy had pointed out, he still worked at the gay bar downtown and loved being close enough to walk to work. Hans, as Ziggy called his boyfriend, was a near clone of Ziggy's dead boyfriend Albrecht.
To our delight, both boyfriends enjoyed playing around with us. Hans was a big man (in all categories). But, he loved Dave. He'd never been with a black man before and loved being fucked by Dave's horse dick as well as sucking him off as often as Dave took his pants off. Of course, that left me with the delicious Ziggy. His hairy, hungry ass and thick, uncut dick occupied my every thought while Dave and Hans fucked like rabbits.
Johann's English was superb, being an international business executive. Günter's boyfriend's English was school learned, but hadn't seen much application with native English speakers. Even though Heidelberg was the headquarters for American troops stationed there, he'd had little reason to interact with them. Only a few American and British tourists had been interesting enough for him to practice his language skills. Günter laughed at his fractured syntax, but we thought it charming, only correcting him when he was way off the mark on what he was trying to say.
We did manage a few day trips and one three day journey back to Rotenberg on the Tauber River, accompanied by Ziggy and Johann. We stopped in a restaurant there for lunch and found the most delightful waiter. Not only was he very good looking, but his English was superb, even better than Johann's. He'd spent three years in England with a former boyfriend (we found out later), so his English accent was British, rather than American.
After we'd ordered, but before the hearty German food arrived, I asked the waiter (Reinhardt) where the men's room was. He directed me there (down the hallway, downstairs and straight ahead), bustling off to the kitchen with our order. I'd finished "draining my lizard" when Reinhardt pushed through the door and stood at the other urinal. He hauled out a big, unclipped hose and pissed. I couldn't help but look at it.
He smiled. "You like what you see?" I nodded hungrily. "Want to taste it?" Again, I nodded. I fell to my knees, as he flipped off the last dribbles. It was in my mouth and down my throat before he took another breath. But, the one he did take was a gasp. "Ach, JA!" he blustered. "You had to learn how to do this to satisfy your very hot boyfriend, yes?" I nodded, not taking his swelling dick from my mouth. I tongued under his foreskin and licked the extra skin back behind the crown. I lashed at his sensitive dickhead and sucked hard. He pulled way. "I'll climax if you keep doing that. I wish this to last more."
Reinhardt pushed his pants down to the floor and offered me his heavy nuts. But, I'd noticed his round butt in the restaurant and wanted some of that first. Turning him around, I licked up and down his hairy ass trench. Instantly, he bent over, offering his tight pucker for my inspection and tonguing. Of course, I couldn't turn down a request as simple and delicious as that.
But, before I could spend any "quality" time on his winker, he stood up, turned around and sank to his knees. "Now, I must service you," he said matter-of-factly. He popped open my 501's and slipped them over my ass to the floor. The waiter nuzzled my steaming nuts and hard, dripping dick through my shorts, then, pulled them down, too. "Yes! A prize!" he grinned. Inhaling deeply, he plunged his mouth over my thick 9" dick and guzzled me deeply into his throat, munching on my pubic hair. Reinhardt was not a beginner!
The bathroom door opened. "I wondered what was taking you so long," Dave smiled. "I see you've started without me. But, I can catch up." He wiggled between us, sucking down the waiter's dick expertly.
Reinhardt pulled away from the blowjob he was delivering and cried, "I'm too hot. I'll cum soon." Dave pulled away temporarily, wanting this session to last at least a few minutes longer. "Let me suck you, Schwartze!" Reinhardt declared. Dave unbuttoned his Levi's and whipped out his rapidly expanding black adder. "Mein Gott!" he exclaimed. "Bigger than I'd been told." By whom, I had no idea; but perhaps it was the myth about black men's big dicks which had reached his ears, too. Conversation, such as it was, ended. Reinhardt had found what he needed.
Not wanting to be left out, I moved around to the waiter's ass and resumed eating him out. Only seconds later, he handed me a condom, pantomiming what he wanted me to do with it. I didn't need the one act play to give me the directions I needed. Swiftly rolling it on, I plugged in easily, descending slowly into his depths. He moaned and sucked Dave harder. Reinhardt also used his talented ass muscles to pull cum from my nut sack within another minute. One moment I was casually fucking him; the next moment I was climaxing hard. Yes, Reinhardt was NOT a beginner!
I pulled out fast. His eager butt tunnel was eating my sensitive dick far too well after my climax. Seizing on the "opening," Dave pulled a Magnum condom from his 501's and rolled it on his wet dick. Reinhardt smiled broadly and turned around. "I'm gonna be the toast of Rotenberg," he bragged, "when I tell my friends I got fucked at work by excellently endowed Americans."
Dave pulled him into a bear hug from behind, slithering his black anaconda up the willing German's ass. I hobbled around to the front and resumed where I'd been in the first place; giving Reinhardt a blowjob. Although he'd warned me earlier that he was close to a climax when I blew him, I knew that Dave's monster up his ass would cause Reinhardt to blast away whether I sucked on his uncut dick or not. Trying to prolong the fun for a little while, I flicked my tongue out at the precum dribbling head. Each time Dave plowed in, another drop of clear fluid oozed from the gaping piss slit.
"Take it slowly, Dave," I cautioned. "He's really close!"
"JA!" Reinhardt agreed.
"So am I, Mike," Dave warned. "This is one hungry ass."
For another minute we teetered on the edge of double climaxes. Reinhardt lost. With a howl, his hips shot forward, burying his dick between my lips. I sucked hard, but provided no other friction. It wasn't needed. Dave was savaging the German's prostate with the big black horse dickhead. Reinhardt's body shook and fired, as Dave plowed harder and faster, riding Reinhardt's climax waves like a champion surfer. At his final shudder, Reinhardt collapsed over my back. But, Dave held him up by his hips, pounding his ass with one final, deep thrust and blasted his own, creamy load.
We cleaned up as best we could and returned to the restaurant. Ziggy sniffed the air. "Someone's been fucking," he whispered. "You two can't stay off each other, can you?"
"Uh, we had a little help," Dave confessed.
"Oh?" Johann's eyebrows shot up. "You fucked with the waiter?"
"I saw him disappear downstairs, but I thought he was going after supplies for the kitchen," Ziggy added.
"He found supplies, but not for the kitchen," I remarked with a huge grin.
Reinhardt returned to the table, bearing our lunches on an oversized tray. In his other hand was a scissor stand to place the tray while he served. He reached across the table to place my plate. Ziggy whispered something in German into his ear. Reinhardt blushed deeply and smiled, but didn't answer.
"What did you say to him?" I asked when Reinhardt had left.
"I told him that American dicks are remarkable, especially the black ones," he smirked. "From his smile and change in color, I know what you did with him."
"Just checking out his smile would have told you that," I laughed.
"So, how was he?" Ziggy pried.
"Experienced," Dave deadpanned.
"After lunch, we should check out the WC also?" Hans smiled at his boyfriend. Ziggy smiled and nodded. Considering how we'd molested Reinhardt, I wasn't sure that he'd be up for another round of sexual gymnastics. But, he was. Reinhardt blew both of them, and squealed like a pig when Hans plowed his ass.
After lunch, Reinhardt suggested we try their "fresh wine," a local wine that had been fermenting in barrels only a few days, but hadn't been through the last fermentation or bottling. It tasted like a grape cider, sweet and fruity, but with an alcohol kick that was surprising. One glass was enough. We didn't want to be totally blasted before we got back on the autobahn. The waiter further recommended several shops to peruse for souvenirs (run by other gays) in Rotenberg. I picked up a book about the history of Rotenberg and Dave walked out with three t-shirts for his nephews.
We missed Oktoberfest by a week, but that was okay with me. I'm not a beer drinker. Besides, we were ready to go home. The trip home, like the trip over was long and boring. The in-flight movies were ones we'd already seen. But, we chatted with the gay stewards (when they weren't busy), and found out that Lufthansa would be opening up direct flights from home to Frankfurt next year. That would cut our travel time down by at least three hours. A non-stop, direct flight readily convinced us to fly again next year. Something else we found out from our stewards was that most Business Class and First Class passengers were upgrades or frequent flyer miles tickets. With the economy as bad as it is, few businessmen could justify the added expense, he'd explained.
Being in Business Class was certainly more comfortable than "cattle class", but more expensive, too. The food was better, the amenities were nice (but hardly used), but the leg room was a godsend and worth every penny! I don't know how any tall person can fly in coach for that distance. However, we had the money (although I couldn't justify the extravagance of First Class), so Dave had booked us in Business.
We nearly missed our connecting plane in Chicago to fly home. Business and First Class were already loading and "steerage" was about to board. We arrived with 20 minutes to spare (the minimum time before they gave away our seats). But, we settled in and the plane left on time.
We dragged our tired asses off the plane at 9:45 p.m., eager to get to bed and sleep. We'd been up for 22 hours. Catnapping on the plane between Chicago and home hadn't given us the rest we needed. Gratefully, Kurt and Gene had volunteered to pick us up. We hit the highlights of our trip, including Rotenberg, promising a fuller description tomorrow. They tucked us in and went home. I'm sure I was asleep before the back door closed behind them.
Again this year, we volunteered at the food kitchens downtown for Thanksgiving. Dave's mom had filled us up with a noontime feast, then, sent us on our mission of mercy. Jerrod and Darren were already there, as were John Gabriel and Tony Blodgett from last year. It was good to see John and Tony again. We caught up on news, gossip, and other trashy verbiage about their lives. Tony and John had formed their own construction company, specializing in luxury homes. Of course, that caught Dave's immediate and undivided attention.
"We build only two a year. That keeps our crews busy and the quality high," Tony had said.
"Do you have orders for this year?" Dave asked.
"This year and next," John revealed.
"How are you able to keep them interested when you can't deliver for another year?" I wondered.
"They aren't in that much of a rush," Tony answered. "Mortgage rates are at historically low levels and will probably stay that way for another couple of years. And they like the quality of our work. Further, it gives them more time to deal with the details of decorating, room arrangements, and landscaping. We encourage them to hit as many new homes or homes for sale in their price range to get ideas of what they want and what they don't want. We've had more than one couple decide NOT to do something after seeing how it worked out when built by someone else."
"We're in the market," Dave finally said. "But, we just haven't been able to find what we want. Nearly all the new construction is way out in the hinterlands. We're not interested in moving that far from town."
"Then, you're stuck with existing homes," John agreed. "But, some of those older places are high quality. Some remodeling and updating may be needed, but you won't have to gut and stuff the entire structure."
"But, there are some that we've been asked to look at for remodeling possibilities that were in very sad shape. They were asking far too much money for the place, considering all the repairs and updates that had to occur," Tony remembered. "We told the prospective buyers to keep looking, despite the desirable location."
"Was it really that bad?" I pressed.
"I would have recommended bulldozing it," Tony replied. "The cost to renovate was higher than new construction."
"What was wrong with it?" Dave asked.
"Damned near everything," John laughed. "The roof leaked, the woodwork was nearly destroyed, the electrical system was so old that it had to be torn out, the plumbing was ancient, the stucco was missing in several places, the yard was overgrown and unkempt, and the flooring was buckled and warped in several rooms. Need I go on?"
"I get the picture," Dave smiled.
"If you knew what you were doing and had lots of money, you could do most of it yourself. I think a contractor will buy the place and put some of his money into it, then, put it back on the market," Tony sighed. "I just wish I had the time and money to do it."
"Don't even look at us," I laughed. "I can barely change a light bulb without instructions and tutoring."
Christmas was a blur. We bought plane tickets for the family (my parents and sisters and their husbands) to fly to Europe in late May. The weather should be good by then, we hoped. Not knowing how long they'd want to stay, we left the return dates open. Learning our lesson about flying that distance, the tickets were all Business Class. Out of Salt Lake City, they'd have to change planes once. At least, they wouldn't be dead on their feet as they would have, if they were flying coach class. They thanked us profusely. My sisters loved the idea of being away from their kids for a couple of weeks. My parents were pleased to get away and finally see Europe. They'd been planning on the trip when Dad retired, but this allowed them to do it much sooner.
We spent most of Christmas week in Utah with my parents and siblings, but took out three days to be with Preston and Jed. We needed the break from the family and a couple of tight asses to fuck. The Talmadge boys were as eager for the change as we were. Both of them had work to do, but on semi-staggered shifts. So we ganged up on the remaining brother and pounded his ass into the mattress several times before his sibling rescued him (took his place!). Preston always went into the office early to see what chauffeuring he'd been scheduled for, leaving Jed to our tender mercies. By afternoon when Preston generally returned, Jed had a modeling job or an executive meeting at Smith's Foods to attend. But, the evenings were nearly always free for a heavy-duty four-way.
Preston chauffeured us to the airport for our flight to Las Vegas and New Year's Eve with Uncle Clay and "Aunt" Linc. We never called him that to his face, but Clay did. My cousin Josh and his boyfriend of last year joined us for dinner on two nights. They had their own plans for New Year's Eve. Of course, John Wells and his wife Cynthia insisted that we attend their traditional celebration. We accepted.
"And bring that delicious Marine with you, too," Cynthia gushed.
"Uh, he's out of the Marines now and has a boyfriend," I said. "Sorry that he can't attend."
"Are you sure? He was such a hit at the last party, I must have him again. Could you call him and ask him to join us again this year? I'll gladly pay the airfare and hotel charges for him and his boyfriend," she insisted.
"I don't know. They might have other plans, Cynthia," I began.
"Well, at least ask them!" she rebutted.
"Okay, I'll call them and call you back," I promised. I went searching for Dave in Uncle Clay's huge house. "I need Dex and Christian's phone number. Cynthia Wells insists that they attend her New Year's Eve party. She's even offered to pay the freight to get them here."
Dave laughed. "Yeah, she's got the hots for him. But, she's gonna be disappointed to find out he has a boyfriend."
"I already told her that and she's willing to bring him along, too," I responded.
"I'd better check the NFL schedule to see if teams are playing on New Year's Day. I think the last game of the season was yesterday, the Sunday before New Year's. Christian may not be able to make it."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot all about that."
Dave checked the schedule. They had played the last game of the season yesterday. Their record wasn't good enough to go on to the Conference Playoffs. New Year's Eve was tomorrow, so I needed to make the call now.
Dex hurriedly explained to Christian about Cynthia's invitation and the fun that he'd had down here last year. As their other plans had been tentative, they agreed to fly down today. They asked me to thank Cynthia for offering to pay for it, but Christian had lots of money, so they declined that part of her offer. "Is this costume, again?" Dex asked.
"Yeah, it is," I answered.
"I can't do the Marine thing, again," Dex mused. "You got any idea?"
"None, but, I'm sure Uncle Clay's friend at the casino can fix us all up," I suggested.
"Christian could come as a football player," Dex laughed. He paused. "Oh, I guess he can't. Chris says that the uniforms belong to the team. He can't take them out."
"But, they probably have uniforms down here," I proposed.
"We'll check them out when we get there." He paused again. I heard keyboard clicking in the background. "Done! There's a Southwest nonstop leaving at 10:30 and will arrive in Las Vegas at 1:00. We gotta jet if we're gonna make that one."
"We'll pick you up at the airport. Look for a black Lexus LS430. We'll pick you up at the Southwest terminal," I suggested. They agreed and hung up. I asked Uncle Clay if he had the space for a couple more queers. He smiled and said that he did. He also lined up Maureen at the casino for tomorrow morning for costume fittings.
"DAMN! Is everyone in the Northwest tall timber?" Maureen gasped. "I hope I have something that'll fit so many tall men! But, as I told Clay, you're very late to get the best costumes. However, I had an idea for you two boys," she smiled indicating Dave and me. "And I think it'll work for all four of you, if you're willing to chance it," she smiled benignly. But, I could see a nefarious twinkle in her eye that presaged something brazen. I wasn't wrong. Her clever idea was gladiator and centurion costumes, worn by some of the greeters and security personnel at Caesar's Palace. "Now, I'm not going to suggest that you wear these leather aprons that look like a collection of downward pointing spears without a white skirt underneath. But, I am going to suggest that you wear something more underneath that," she giggled. "Just like men who wear kilts, people always wanna look under them."
"I'd like to see what I look like in one before I agree," Christian said warily. Dave nodded agreement.
"If you prefer Egyptian, I know where I can lay my hands on some costumes from the Luxor Casino," Maureen offered.
"Let's try Roman first," I decided for all of us. "We can always check out the Egyptian stuff next."
The Roman gladiator and centurion costumes were perfect. As they were already made for big, burly security guards, fitting us was simple. Maureen pronounced us a triumph when she checked on last minute details and adjustments. The helmets fit well after two tries and one adjustment of the leather chin straps. Christian, at 6'7" tall, was the most striking. His big linebacker build showed off beautifully in the scanty costume. Dex patted his round ass and said, "You look wonderful, Chris. You'll have heads turning all night."
Christian moved in closer to him, putting his big hands on Dex's hairy chest. "And you look delicious. I'm gonna have to wear a cast iron jock to keep from embarrassing myself with a woodie all night long." He blushed when he remembered Maureen was in the room. "Uh, sorry, Ma'am," he blustered.
"I've heard worse," she grinned. "But, I've never seen better," she almost swooned. Dave and I agreed. They were a stunning couple. But, I thought we looked pretty good, too, although we'd never be able to compete with them in the same costumes. Perhaps, it would be better if we tried out the Egyptian look before deciding.
Once more into the changing room we went. Maureen tossed garments and accessories over the top of the door, telling us how to put everything on. The broad, colorful neck and shoulder bands looked great on Dave. I wore a gold one of the same general description and size. Both of us wore gold circlets around our heads with a raised cobra in the front. Gold arm and legs bands completed the look. The white "skirts" looked and felt like silk. The royal purple robes that completed the Roman costumes looked wrong with our outfits. Maureen took them away before we could comment on them. She didn't like the look, either.
But, the white cloaks with gold thread in them completed our Egyptian costumes perfectly. "Now, you're gonna need makeup to get you to look authentically Egyptian. The eyes are particularly important. I don't have the time to do it later tonight, and I don't think you wanna go around looking like Egyptians today. So, I'm going to send the right stuff home with you, plus a couple of pictures you can take cues from. So, pay close attention and I'll show you how to put it on." She showed us using me as the model, having Dave work from the picture and only interrupting when he used the wrong brush or paint to apply my make up. Then, I tried on him. I did pretty well, but I wasn't sure he looked quite right. She showed me how to even it up and make it look good.
Maureen gave us written, step by step instructions before we left. She'd done this before, we decided. "And it comes off easily with cold cream," she added, showing us how to remove our heavy eyeliner. She gave us golden skull caps to hide our hair. Egyptians shaved their heads, but we weren't going to take that drastic a step for the party. After bundling the costumes into boxes (including all the accessories), we left for Uncle Clay's and an early dinner before we went over to the Wells' household for the celebration.
Clay and Lincoln had decided on their costume months earlier. They were going as Gandolf the Grey and the Balrog. I had to admit, Lincoln looked completely believable in his demon costume. With the long, grey wig, beard, and flowing robes, Uncle Clay bore a striking resemblance to Gandolf the Grey. We all looked so good that I didn't know how they'd decide who won the prize for best costume.
But, we made a show-stopping entrance when we arrived at the Wells' sprawling home. Clay and Lincoln entered first. Applause greeted them. Then, Dave and I walked in. More applause and some whistles swept over us. But, it was Dex and Christian who stole the show. Stunning examples of muscular, handsome men always brings a crowd to its feet. They showed enough skin to elicit an instant fan club. Dave and I weren't ignored, but it was obvious who the partygoers liked best. We were greeted by several couples that we'd met in previous years, but their eyes always strayed to Dex and Christian. We repeatedly made introductions for them. Other guests arrived before midnight, but none of them garnered the response that the ex-Marine and football player did.
After the midnight toasts, winners were announced. Most amazing costumed couple went to Dex and Christian (to no one's surprise). Lincoln won for most original and complex costume. Dave and I won for the most scandalous, but legal togs. Our Egyptian "skirts" didn't cover much and our brief jocks barely kept us legal. The abbreviated jockstraps were last minute changes in a bold attempt to overcome the sensation that we knew Dex and Christian would cause. But, it was to no avail, except for the "scandalous" prize.
Cynthia gushed over all the guests, thanking them for coming and taking the time and effort to wear such wonderful costumes. She also thanked them for their generous contributions to her favorite charities. We had donated again, but this time to her hunger charity. Once more, she didn't know who had made such a huge contribution. But, she thanked everyone like anyone of them could have written the big check.
Once more, we'd done well in the market. I figured we had $4,747,003 of charitable contributions to make this year. Besides a million to Cynthia's hunger fund, we contributed another million to cancer research, a million to Alzheimer's research, a million to AIDS projects; and we contributed the remaining $747, 003 to various charities at home serving the homeless, battered wives, children at risk, and breast cancer screening. Again, all gifts were anonymous. Taxes would be due in April, but we only needed to pay taxes on the amount of stock we sold to make the contributions, plus living expenses. The rest of the stock, I let ride.
The market hadn't turned around yet, and the economy was still sour. But, I'd be watching it closely. The Fed, plus the fiscal stimulus package from the President and Congress, would eventually push a recovery. How far and how long that recovery would last was a big unknown. I checked in with Gino in Chicago, the stock trader. He agreed with my direction and said he'd not move anything yet, either. But, about March or April, things should pick up; and he warned me not to be on the back end of a rising wave of prosperity. John Wells agreed, too.
We returned the costumes the next morning and flew home. Christian and Dex were on our flight, so we chatted with them most of the way home. I saw a look of longing in both their eyes. A roll in the hay would have been nice, but they were still monogamous, so I didn't even bring the subject up.
Spring did bring a renewal in the economy, albeit spotty and slow. Mortgage rates were still at 40-year lows as were the Federal Reserve rates. This was the time to buy, if we wanted that special house. Rates couldn't get any lower, I thought. But, the next week, the newspaper reported another slide of an eighth of a point. Could they really get below 5%?
A house two doors up the street from Jerrod and Darren was to be listed. Jerrod breathlessly called me with the news in mid-May. "It hasn't been listed yet, but the owners are moving to Palm Springs to retire. I thought you should be the first to know."
"What's the house like, other than it's near my favorite fuck buddy?" I laughed. "Have you been inside it?"
"Yes, several times at neighborhood meetings, poker nights, and a couple of parties."
"Poker night?"
"Yeah, a bunch of us guys on the street get together once a month and play poker. It's really just for socializing. The games we play don't require a great deal of skill and the buy-in is only $10."
"Sounds like it could be fun."
"It was really in revenge of the wives getting together for their bridge and `hen' parties. But, the men had such a good time that they've made it a permanent event. There is a group of nine of us now, but the game is usually seven guys. We always have two or more who can't make the Friday night the host selects. So, we get someone's friend, co-worker, or relative to play. It'd be great to include you guys!"
"Meaning, you need a couple of pigeons."
"Well, YEAH!" he laughed. "But, this isn't cutthroat. We play for nickels, dimes, and quarters, three raise limit, two Jokers, but they are only good as aces, in straights and in flushes; none of that crazy, wild shit like baseball and spit in the ocean. You should sit in on the next game we have at the house and get to meet the guys. The food and company are great!"
"Do you think they'd sell directly," I asked getting back on topic, "just going through an attorney and the title company to close? It'd save them a bundle."
"It doesn't hurt to ask," Jerrod replied. He called me back ten minutes later with an appointment time to look at the house with the owners for tomorrow morning. It was a beautiful May morning when we walked through the house. The home was immaculately decorated. The architecture was Tudor in style, but contained all the latest gadgets and appliances. The owners had remodeled three years ago, but after two more grey, rainy Northwest winters, they decided that on or shortly after July 1 (when he retired), they were moving to Palm Springs. It's a great place to live in the winter, but the summers are brutal there, I thought. But, their decision was our gain.
We negotiated a price which both parties considered fair. On June 8th, the 30- year, fixed mortgage rate hit 4.75%. We locked in that rate just before it headed up again. Using their attorney, we'd drawn up the legal bill of sale and closed through a title company only a mile away. The deed was registered at the county and a Cashier's check for the full amount was handed to the "former" owners on June 30th. We celebrated with dinner out, just the two of us. The previous owners moved out as agreed on July 15th. We had professional cleaners go over the house completely (including cleaning all the carpets) before we moved in on the 18th (Friday).
Jerrod and Darren were a great help with furniture placement and keeping us out of the way of the movers. We used the same hunky moving company as we had before. Most of the men were new, but all of them were interested. However, Jerrod and Darren moved them along before we could sample anything. Our "new" neighbors provided the movers with sandwiches and cold drinks to keep them motivated and in motion. We were all moved in by 2 p.m.
Now, the hard work of getting everything out of boxes and into closets and cupboards stared at us. With a deep sigh, we began. Jerrod and Darren tackled the bedrooms while we worked in the kitchen. Dave reassembled the racks for my orchids in the sunny Great Room, and I arranged the plants in a haphazard order on the shelves. I'd move them later if they didn't like it.
A new adventure had begun.
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