Black and White

All Disclaimers

BLACK AND WHITE

Chapter 79--London Hospitality

The big, Boeing jetliner landed ten minutes early. As we were in Business Class, we exited the plane before most of the other passengers. "Let me help you get through Immigration," Max offered. "I know these guys really well, and, especially, who the tough ones are."

Following his lead, we removed our luggage from the baggage carousel, and got in one of the lines with other passengers. The Immigration Officer smiled broadly at Max when it was our turn to be checked through. "Back in town for how long this time, Max?" he asked. "Conrad was lurking around here a few moments ago," he added, looking about, but not spying Max's lover.

Max joined in the scan, but had no luck, either. He turned back to introduce us. "These are my friends from the Colonies, Bernie. Mike and Dave," Max said. "Just starting their European vacation."

"And how long will you be with us?" Bernie asked, checking our passports. "Anything to declare?" he hastily added before we could respond. We'd already seen a listing of prohibited or duty items that we needed to declare (if we had them).

"Just that I'm dog tired," Dave sighed. I nodded my agreement.

"Didn't ya sleep on the plane, lads?" the Immigration Officer asked.

"No," I replied. "Max suggested we'd get our internal clocks to reset easier if we waited until we hit the hotel to sleep."

"Sound advice," Bernie acknowledged. "On your ways, then," he smiled, chalking our bags with a mark to show we'd been passed.

We hadn't moved more than ten feet when a large man brushed by us and swept in behind Max, scooping him off his feet in a bear hug and a neck nuzzle. Max squealed at the sudden assault, then, melted into his lover's arms. "You scared the shit outta me!" he laughed, reaching behind and grabbing Conrad's muscle butt.

Conrad was everything Max had described and more. Despite his 40 years, Conrad was a god! His blonde hair was so blonde it was nearly white. His extra large pullover shirt bulged and rippled with muscles across his back. I couldn't wait to see what had to be a massive chest. Conrad's hulking body towered over us. Even though he was only three inches taller than Dave, his 260 pounds of muscle made him appear taller. However, getting a better look would have to wait until they'd completed their "welcoming ritual."

"I hope I didn't scare the shit outta ya," Conrad responded in a stage whisper, "because I'd planned on FUCKING the shit outta ya!"

Max leaned back into the embrace and sighed, "Right here, right now. I'm READY!"

"How about in the men's loo?" his boyfriend suggested putting him down, and spinning him around for an ardent kiss. After an embarrassing display of kissing, Conrad smirked, "Is that cum I taste on your breath?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Conrad," he smiled, turning him around to face us, "these are my new friends from the States, Mike and Dave." Conrad's sparkling, radiant smile spread across his face. The enormous expanse of his chest loomed toward us. I'm sure I looked like a deer caught in onrushing headlights. He shook our hands in greeting, looking somewhat perplexed. "They joined the Mile High Club on the way over, and Mike finished his initiation into a towelette that I just happened to rescue."

Conrad waved his explanation away. "I feel like I know you from somewhere," he finally mused to us.

"You sorta do, my love," Max asserted, attempting to get himself into Conrad's focus, again. "The telly, the speech at curbside about hatred?"

The connection flashed across Conrad's face. He smiled even more broadly. "Ach! Ya!" he blustered in a deep voice, smacking his forehead with his giant open palm. His German accent was light, almost charming. "Right! And even better in person," he grinned with a mischievous glint. "So tall, and muscular," he added feeling our luggage-carrying, flexed biceps. "You have accommodations, I presume?"

Max told him of tomorrow's possible arrangements, which included them being our tour guides. But tonight, we all needed sleep. Conrad agreed to the hastily conceived plan, promising to call us at 8:00 a.m. with a more definitive schedule. They offered to drive us to our hotel in Kensington (just off Hyde Park) as it was on their way home. We readily accepted.

After checking in, we rode the elevator to the fifth floor (only here, it was called the lift). I checked my watch: 11:30 p.m. London time. We dumped our luggage on a table, unopened. Without even showering, we shed our clothes and tumbled into bed. I'm sure Dave turned out the light, but I couldn't have sworn to it. I was asleep within seconds of crawling under the coverlet.

Traffic noise didn't reach the fifth floor until nearly 7:30 the next morning. We'd slept soundly. My dick was stiff as steel. Dave lay on his side facing away from me, his round ass beckoned. I'd never find the lube in our luggage (I couldn't even remember which bag we'd put it in), so I rolled him on to his stomach and started to lick down his deep, dark ass trench. The closer I got to his tight pucker, the more sure I was that he was awake. His ass rose higher and higher, spreading his hard, bubble-butt cheeks. "Someone's in need of a drill and fill," I whispered.

"Don't talk about it, DO IT!" he begged.

I pulled his tight butt cheeks apart, laving the winking, fragrant, sweaty butthole with my expert tongue. Pushing as much spit up his butt as I could muster, I mounted him doggie style, slowly entering him, spreading more spit and precum as I stroked deeper. He needed this as much as I did. His internal ass muscles milked me, needfully. I stretched out along his back, my hard, hairy pecs rubbing against him, my erect nipples drilling into his muscled lats. With each stroke, he backed purposefully into me, chewing my bloated cock with his love tunnel.

The harder I pounded into him, the more eagerly he pulled me into his depths. "Fuck me, Mike! Fuck my ass!" Encouragement wasn't necessary, but was appreciated. "Cum in my ass! Give me all that jizz you've been saving." He reached between his legs and pulled on my nuts.

It was all over.

"Ah, FUCK!" I roared, having hit my climax wall suddenly, instantly realizing it was far too late to hold back. I rammed home and unloaded wave after creamy wave of sperm into his butt. Dave pulled my thrusting hips tightly against his round, bubble butt, urging me to flood him as deeply as I could fuck. I flopped on his back like a fish out of water, drooling into his hair, completely out of control. The only things that were correctly working were my bucking hips, spraying dick, and the autonomic nervous system (although my breathing was decidedly ragged).

"My turn," Dave smiled when I pulled out. He reached for the lube on the bedside table. I hadn't thought to even look for it in my quest to mount my partner. He'd had the foresight last night to know what we'd be doing before we toured London. I rolled on to my back and raised my legs. They rested on his broad shoulders. Lubing up his monster and my tight pucker, Dave eased into me, kissing me gently on the lips, and fingering my continuously erect nipples.

He made love to me for several minutes, slowly, but steadily, increasing the pace and ardor of our coupling. He moved me around the bed into several positions, always returning to the face-to-face one.

Snorting like a bull, he hammered my butt as he kissed me. His bulging muscles pressed my legs hard into my chest as he drove toward the finish line. In a loud bellow (that must have been heard at the front desk, five floors down), he came hard inside me. His dick totally buried, stretching me wide and deep. His climax was as debilitating as mine had been earlier. If I hadn't been pulling on his ass to fuck me deeply, he'd have fallen off.

I lowered my legs as he pulled out, his slick, eleven-inch monster dripping cum. He lay atop me, recovering, his leaking member warmly coating my abs. We kissed tenderly, enjoying our post-coital bliss.

But, it couldn't last. The phone rang.

I glanced at the clock: 8:00 a.m. on the dot. "Gotta be Max and Conrad," I groaned as Dave lifted off my body. He smiled down at me and reached for the telephone. He grinned as he recognized Conrad's deep voice. I rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "Whatever they wanna do, I'm for it," I tossed over my shoulder as I started the shower.

They would come by the hotel at 10:00, giving us adequate time to shower, and enjoy the English breakfast in our hotel dining room. We only barely made it to the curb on time. Dave thought we needed to fuck before going down to breakfast, but as we were already in the shower, we didn't have to shower again. Although we'd shot off less than 30 minutes earlier, both of us had adequate "ammunition" for this second round. I knew Dave would be ready for it. (He doesn't have an "off" switch, remember?) I didn't think I could get it up again, but he easily convinced me to the contrary.

He rode me doggie style, using his recently deposited, copious load as lube. I was his personal fuck toy. This had nothing to do with lovemaking. This was hot, raw sex. I begged him to ravish me, ignoring my pleasure and maximizing his. Impaling me on his obsidian post, he rammed hard, fast, and deep. But, he enjoyed the most pleasure fucking me in shallow, hard jabs against my prostate. Dave pulled and twisted my bullet-hard nips, bringing me to the edge of another climax rapidly. The harder he punched my butt, the stiffer my dick got.

Although I'd told him to use me for his own pleasure, he found that pushing me to the edge made him hungrier to cum inside me. "You're gonna fuck the cum right outta me!" I warned as he repeatedly savaged my prostate and pulled at my stiff nipples, nuzzling my neck, and breathing hotly in my ear. "I'm gonna CUM!" I shouted.

Dave's pace hit warp speed, alternating between fucking deeply to satisfy his need to cum and short-stroking my ass channel to pulverize my overly stimulated prostate. His need to cum swiftly took command, leaving my prostate to enjoy his thick shaft, instead of the bloated, flared dickhead.

But, I was already beyond the need to be fucked. My ball honey was spraying heavily against the tiled, back wall of the oversized, shower stall. Dave's dick kicked hard, swelling larger as it flooded me with his deeply planted cum. Each new lunge brought another guttural growl from deep in his throat. My silent scream hiccupped as a new wave of climax rushed over me. I rapidly flogged my dick hard as the last shudder coursed through my body, bearing down on Dave's ramming piston, extracting more semen from his thrusting 11" spike.

Dave leaned over my back, trying to catch his breath, and take the load off his shaky knees. I collapsed onto the shower floor, no longer able to support both of us in my "weakened" condition. Dave laughed at our disheveled wreckage of bodies and limbs. "A shame we splattered your load against the wall instead of down my throat," he murmured.

"I didn't mind," I countered rolling out from under him. "Getting off while being fucked by you and not touching my dick is the hottest, highest form of climax I can think of." I paused. "Well, except for bangin' your sweet bootie, of course!"

"I kinda like that, too," he allowed. "But, a double fuck like I got into you this morning sure is a nice way to begin the day."

"You gonna have enough left over for Conrad and Max tonight," I grinned. "I know Conrad is hot for us. Did you see the way he looked at you?" I asked soaping us up for another fast rinse. Dave nodded and smiled, embarrassed. Conrad was definitely his type. He was so taken by the "Teutonic Timber" that I wasn't sure he even saw that the feeling was mutual. "Just what did he say was on the itinerary today?"

"He mentioned several, but I recall Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square, the Victoria and Albert Museum, Harrods, Buckingham Palace, Hampton Court, and a quick dash out to Windsor, if we have the time," Dave related. "But, that sounds awfully ambitious for one day."

"We could probably spend a whole day at each place," I sighed toweling off. Pulling on Levi's and a Polo shirt, I found a map of southern England in an outside pocket of my suitcase. I quickly scanned the map for an enlargement of London. "Oh, damn! If the hour hadn't been so late and we hadn't been so tired, we could have done Windsor last night. It's very near Heathrow."

"Well, maybe we can do it on our way out of town," Dave suggested.

"Wrong direction, Dave. We're headed toward Dover when we head out on the Chunnel. Windsor's in the opposite direction."

"Oh. Maybe I'd better look at the map, too, to familiarize myself with the lay of the land."

"We'll only be in London until Monday morning. How many of these sights are going to be open on the weekend?" I wondered aloud.

"We'll just have to ask Max and Conrad, I suppose," Dave sighed, folding up the map and slipping it into a backpack. He glanced at his watch. "Look at the time! We'll be late!" I hastily added a water bottle to the backpack, our passports, money, and a change of socks and underwear each. Dave locked the zipper of the backpack on the way down the elevator (to thwart pickpockets), but left the map in a slide pocket for quick access. I checked my watch. One minute to spare as we walked outside the hotel.

Max and Conrad were waiting for us. "Traffic's impossible in downtown London, so we're taking the Tube and walking for part of the tour," Max directed.

"We thought you'd like to do the tourist thing and see Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London, including the crown jewels. Then, we'll pop over to Harrods and see what time it is. We may not be able to get in Windsor or anything else today, though," added Conrad. "So, when are you departing for the Continent? How many days do we have you?"

"Only three, I'm afraid, including today," Dave answered.

"What do you REALLY wanna see, then?" Max pressed, stopping us before we descended into the subway station.

"Well, of the many choices suggested this morning, I think we'd better ditch the Victoria and Albert. That's a full day all by itself," I said regretfully.

"That it is," Max agreed. "Or more!" We walked down the stairway into the subway station (the Tube), paid the fare to the station nearest Buckingham Palace and rode for a few minutes. He turned in his seat to face us. "How about a quick loop around Buckingham and the Tower first, then, a walking tour through Trafalgar and Piccadilly, and a late lunch at Windsor. Harrods is just a big department store and it's close enough to home that we could do that anytime. We'll head back into town going the opposite way of traffic and do a late supper at our place. Then, we can hit the clubs. How's that sound? We can do Harrods tomorrow and maybe a day in the country touring about?"

"I'd love to check out some of the little towns nearby where my ancestors came from," I volunteered, "if they're along the way to Windsor. If not, we could do them tomorrow or Sunday. I'll have to check the map to see what names are familiar before we get too far into the day, though."

"How good of a map do you have?" Conrad asked peering over Dave's shoulder. Dave handed Max the map.

Max took a few minutes to peruse our map. "Good detail. It's a Michelin map, 'Rad. A very nice one with a good blowup of Greater London, too," Max admired refolding the map and handing it back to me. "Why not circle a few of them now, Mike, and I'll check them as we head out to Windsor as potential detours?"

After a few minutes of riding, we stopped at Buckingham Palace station. I hadn't circled very many towns that I could recall. A few that I did recognize were in an area so built up that I knew it wouldn't look anything like the quaint villages I had in mind. Perhaps, none of them would.

"We'll not be staying for the Changing of the Guard," Conrad informed us. "We're too late to get any kind of view, even as tall as we are. But a walk around and this brochure will tell you more than standing here watching a bunch of soldiers in bearskin hats march around." He handed us a well-worn pamphlet of about ten pages, copiously illustrated with pictures and drawings. A brief history of the Palace covered two pages.

Walking on to the Tower of London, we got in on a tour of the Crown Jewels just as it was leaving. The jewels and other baubles nearly looked fake. They were so large and so crammed together on each object that it was almost garish. Max's funny asides kept us laughing through the escorted tour, much to the chagrin of the tour guide.

After a fast walk around Trafalgar Square and through Piccadilly Circus, we headed back to their apartment via the Tube. Conrad quickly caught the M4 for the 12 mile trip to Windsor, creeping along as best he could in the congestion of Friday midday traffic leaving downtown London. He pulled off at Eton and parked the car as close to Windsor Castle as he could. The Queen was in residence today, so her Royal Standard was flying instead of the Union Jack. Tours ordinarily took two hours and we had the time. So paying our admission fee (eleven and a half pounds sterling per adult, ouch!), we joined the rest of the visitors.

Max kept saying, "I could live here! I am a queen, after all!"

"I'm sure they've heard that line from many of their gay visitors, Dear," Conrad smiled. But, we agreed with Max. The rooms were spectacular, the furnishing incredibly luxurious, and rich looking. All I could think of was the enormous staff QE2 must pay to keep the place functioning. No small wonder she had such an enormous income. She'd need it to keep these places going. Or did the government foot the bill? I'd have to ask someone about that, later.

"I'd like to try Dorking for a late lunch/early dinner," I said as we headed back to Conrad's BMW 525 sedan. "I don't know how bad traffic will be at this hour, but it does look like a pretty easy trip down the M25 to Leatherhead and a quick six mile dash to Dorking."

Conrad checked the map and shrugged. "It really doesn't make much difference at this hour which direction we head. It'll get worse before it gets better, but the M25 should be fairly decent for another hour."

"The problem is that lots of traffic heads back into the city for the theater, so we can't tarry too long in Dorking," Max warned.

"I'll let you decide how long we stay in Dorking. But, if it would be better to head back to your apartment now, instead of later, let's do that instead. Sitting in traffic, I can do at home," I grinned.

"The roads will be easier tomorrow and Sunday," Conrad mused. "Perhaps, it would be better to go home and catch lunch there." We nodded agreement and climbed into the car. The drive back was long and tedious, even though it was only 15 miles. Later would have been much worse.

Back in Kensington, Conrad parked the car beneath the apartment building and we rode the elevator to the tenth floor. Their apartment had a terrific view of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, and the River Thames. This place must be costing them a fortune in rent, I thought, but didn't dare ask.

"I hope you still feel like hitting the clubs tonight," Conrad asked. "I want to show you off to our friends. They'll be chartreuse with envy," he laughed.

"Oh?" Dave asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You may not think that this little backwater would see your speech on hatred, Dave?" he asked. "Evidently, you hit a nerve over here, too. Most of our political programs have run your plea for common sense in the media."

"Oh, GAWD! That didn't include my Nancy Reagan imitation, did it?" I wailed.

Conrad burst out laughing, Max didn't get it. Age does tell. "Come with me, Max. You'll see it." Conrad pulled a videotape cassette off a shelf in the living room, popped it into the recorder and rewound it a few feet. "Now, watch Mike with the sound off," Conrad instructed. "Isn't that the most adoring countenance you've ever seen!" he laughed. I was SO embarrassed. Seeing it again only made it worse.

"I'd do the same thing if I were watching Dave," Max smiled. "You have good taste, Mike."

"Even if a little vacuous!" I protested weakly.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad. The smile was a little frozen and somewhat vacant, but I'm sure you'd heard it all before," Max allowed. "And who are those bruisers behind you?"

Dave launched into the story of our friends and assorted football players rescuing us from the airport and keeping the press away from the door until we'd said our piece. As spokesman by default, Dave took up the challenge.

"Are they 'family'?" Max pressed.

We nodded. "Most of them," I answered.

"Woof!" Conrad laughed. "When can we come for a visit?"

"Any of them available for three-ways and four-ways?" Max inserted.

"Yes, to both questions," Dave smiled (with my hasty agreement).

"How about a little dessert before our late lunch?" Max leered at us, and me in particular. "I know 'Rad loves chocolate and I love daddies," he smiled, placing his hands on my broad shoulders and moving lower to feel my chest and pull lightly on my erect nipples.

I looked over at Dave, but he was already busy. Conrad's lips were pressing against his, with Conrad's large hands on Dave's high, round, muscle ass. Dave was busy groping Conrad's bulging crotch and hard ass. I hoped they had a large bed that would accommodate the four of us. I know I wanted some of that Teutonic hunk after I worked over Max!

Max pulled my shirt over my head and discarded it in a heap on the floor. "Damn, Daddy! You're so fuckin' HOT!" His tongue lapped at a rising nipple, then suckled for several seconds while a hand slipped into the front of my pants. "And a big dick, too!" he crooned. "You are gonna fuck me SO good!" Considering that Conrad probably had a big dick, I knew I'd be different for Max, but hardly a "stretch" for him.

He worked his way down my body, pausing only long enough to unbutton my Levi's and push them to the floor (along with my shorts). He licked and kissed around my navel, the base of my hard dick, and my rolling nuts. Max sniffed, chewed, and slurped at my gonads individually, causing me to moan loudly. I smeared precum into his hair as he sucked on my big nuts. He lapped with his tongue toward my rosebud. Max lifted one of my legs to gain more direct access to my nether region. He snorted and inhaled heavily into my musky rump, then, pushed me over. "Lean against the sofa and prepare for the rimming of your life," he directed.

Max wasn't far from the truth. Rather than an empty boast, Max was as accomplished at butt munching as Dave. I reached between my legs, stroking lightly his erect, dripping, eight-inch dick. His ardor for my butt increased as his dickhead swelled and oozed precum more heavily. Max was breathing so hard, I wondered if he was going to cum. "Fuck me now, Mike! I gotta have it before I explode!"

We switched positions hurriedly. While Max grabbed lube and a condom from a drawer in a side table, I glanced over at Dave and Conrad. I knew Max was a bottom, but I was stunned to see Conrad grinning widely as Dave's black, monster cock stroked hard and deep into Conrad's white, round, muscle ass. From the large swinging dick between his legs, it was abundantly clear to me that Max may not even feel me enter him. My puny 9" wouldn't even rattle around well in Max's ass after Conrad's 12" of German sausage had been plowing him for the better part of last night.

Max had bagged my dick and was turning to bend over when Conrad glanced over at me and mouthed, "You're next." I didn't know if that meant I was next in his ass or my butt was next. Either way, I was assured a good time.

Returning to Max, I pushed my tongue up his randy ass. His sweaty, fragrant hole pulled my tongue inside, welcoming the shallow, wet thrusts. He moaned with pleasure at the feeling of being rimmed, again. I'm sure that from the way he was carrying on, Conrad was equally as skilled. I couldn't be sure, but Max's butthole tasted like cum. I grinned and kept pushing my tongue deeper. Conrad and Max must bareback with each other (like Dave and I do), I concluded. My guess is that Conrad pounded Max several times last night and this morning before picking us up.

I stood up behind Max; then, leaning over his back, my condomed dick pressed urgently at his wet butthole. I slipped in easily in one long stroke (spit and experience with Conrad, no doubt). He clamped down hard, strangling my dick root and making my swell thicker up his ass. Whispering in his ear, I said, "You'll make me cum too fast if you keep that up."

He grinned and kept applying the pressure. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he whispered back.

I laughed softly, but slowed my pistoning hips to retard the inevitable. "Did I taste cum in your ass, Max? Conrad rode you bareback last night, didn't he?"

"Oh, yeah! Three times! I think he was glad to see me."

"I'm surprised your ass works at all after taking a monster like his," I wondered.

"He takes a while to get used to at first, but after that, I can't get enough. He really knows how to fuck me," Max sighed, but squeezed my dick again with his talented ass muscles. "Just like you do, Daddy."

I looked over at Dave and Conrad. Conrad's smile told it all. He was having a great time with Dave's, black ass-stretcher. Each time my lover pushed forward, Conrad's monster cock slapped against his hard, German abs, leaving precum splats. "You wanna try a dog pile?" I asked Max. He turned his head, wondering at my meaning. "We'll join Dave and Conrad by getting beneath them. Conrad's big cock up my ass and I'm still fucking this sweet butt," I indicated, patting his rump.

"Oh, yeah! I like the way you think!" We quickly disconnected. Max found another giant condom in a table drawer and rolled it on to Conrad's foot-long German hot dog. The big German shoved his tongue up my butt, soaking my hole, but I handed him the lube, anyway. There was NO way I could take that monster up my butt without all the lube I could get up my ass. Dave's eleven inches were thick and long, but Conrad was clearly BIGGER. I'd enjoyed getting fucked by Brad's legendary monster cock and, of course, Kurt's giant appendage. But, this uncut horsedick looked like it was in another league.

Quickly, I returned my throbbing dick to Max's hungry ass. He sighed and backed up quickly to take it all. Conrad positioned his monster meat and pushed. The lubed condom skidded up my ass trench, bouncing off my tailbone. "Take it slow, Conrad," I urged. "My butt's not used to a horsedick like yours." Dave slowed his thrusts to give the German Adonis more control over his hips. Again, he lined up and pressed. But, this time, I opened up and he slid in several inches of thick cock. As much as I'd been wary of his size, it didn't feel much bigger than Dave when Dave was close to climax. He always swelled a little thicker and a little longer a few seconds before he shot his cream into me.

I took a page from Max's book and backed slowly onto Conrad's 12" post. As Max had said, it did take some getting used to, but then it felt heavenly. Max seemed to be in a hurry to get me to cum. His ass muscles were working their magic in a most determined fashion. His butt was probably sore from all the fucking he got last night from Conrad. Or he could be so close to cumming that he wants me to join him.

Conrad shuddered above me. Dave was plowing new ground and Conrad loved it. The harder Dave fucked, the louder Conrad groaned, stringing together German words of passion. I couldn't understand any of them, but I could tell by his body language that he was on the verge of a huge climax. Dave rammed harder and faster up Conrad's ass, translating the thrusts through Conrad's body to me. I felt more and more German sausage swell inside me. His 260-pound frame lunged into me. He shouted more unintelligible German as he pumped and fucked into my well-used ass.

Clearly, I was along for the ride. His big body atop me kept me from independently ramming into Max's hungry ass. But, that was not going to be a problem. The heavy pounding my ass was taking transferred directly into Max's butt. In a duet of climax shouts, Max and Conrad came together. Between Max's milking butt muscles pulling on my dick and Conrad's horsedick plowing my ass, I wasn't far behind them.

The catalyst was Dave. I heard him snorting like a bull (as he does just before he cums). It was all over. In a desperate lunge, I pulled down on Max's shoulders to cram my dick deeper into him. He spread his ass with his hands and ate every squirting inch. A cacophony of rutting male voices flooded the room, coinciding with the deluges of sperm hosing three condoms and the carpet.

After several minutes of hard breathing and slow, deep fucking, we disconnected. Conrad collected the three condoms, but Max snatched them away from him and drained them down his throat. "Damn! I love cum!"

"If you hadn't, we would have," Dave assured him.

"You, too?" Conrad laughed. "I didn't think anyone was as cum hungry as my Max."

"You'd be surprised, Conrad," I ventured. "Several of our friends are even worse than Max."

"As if I needed another reason to visit you guys in the States!" he laughed.

We cleaned up in their oversized shower, managing to get sucked off by our hosts. Of course, we had to return the favor as they prepared dinner (the hour was clearly too late for lunch, now). That did make dinner a little late, but the clubs would just have to wait for us.

Conrad pulled two German wines from his refrigerator, opened them, and poured glasses for all four of us. The wines were delicious, but ones I'd never seen before. However, that wasn't unusual. Out in the Northwest, we rarely saw good German wines. Dinner was light, but filling. "We want to dance our brains out," Max smiled as Conrad cleared away the dishes. "I know you two love to boogie, just by looking at ya."

"We hardly go out anymore," Dave revealed. "Not only are the bars too smoky, but the music just isn't that good for dancing."

"Well, we just happen to know of a club close by which does lots of the old retro disco music from the 70's and 80's," Conrad interjected. "And the smoke isn't too bad. The government taxes the hell out of them here. It's better than three pounds sterling for a pack of coffin nails."

"That would certainly discourage smoking among the young," Dave observed.

"Sadly, not enough. There are always ways around it, including the Internet. But, customs generally will halt the out-of-country buys," Max said.

"So, where are we going?" I asked.

"The one with the best music is G-A-Y Camp Attack. Yeah, I know, weird name. But, the music's great," Max responded.

Max was right. The music was great. We danced and danced and danced. It was Donna Summers Night. Every one of her disco hits was played over and over again. However, they had the good graces to include a smattering of The Village People, Queen, and The Weathergirls (It's Raining Men, Hallelujah!). Our clothes clung to our sweaty bodies, but we didn't care. This was the most fun we'd had dancing since Dave and I got together. We recessed a few times for fluid replenishment and introductions to their friends.

The envious stares came from every corner. Several young men (strangers and friends) tried to get us to dance with them, but they were too "twinkie" for us. Happily, we weren't the buffest or butchest men there. However, the point was not to get laid. We were there to dance, and dance we did. Finally, when the club closed, we left, tired but happy. A few well-muscled, good-looking men offered to show us their flats, but we already had two of the sexiest men in London. Why go for the stranger when we could get into the pants of two of the best-looking, hottest men in town? Max and Conrad graciously told us that they didn't mind if we went off with our new "friends," but we assured them that we already knew where we were sleeping tonight.

They smiled and rushed us back to their apartment. Dave partnered with Max and I fucked Conrad. His big, granite-like ass hungrily sucked in my tongue and, eagerly sat on my hard 9" dick. He nearly smashed my nuts to a pulp in his hunger to fuck himself to an "untouched" climax. Occasionally, my tongue would snake out and lick the precum from his huge dick as he gyrated on my stiff pole. But, we'd agreed earlier that my big dickhead would rub his prostate until he shot off, not wanting to do anything to shorten the deep fuck. When he did cum, he grabbed the base of his horsedick and aimed it at my open mouth. His aim was excellent. I got almost his entire load down my throat. As his climax waned, my lips closed over the tip. He massaged and milked my dick with his big butt, coaxing my climax to rocket up his ass in less than 30 more seconds. The taste of cum always rushes me toward a creamy end.

I had so concentrated on servicing Conrad's ass that I hadn't looked over to see how Dave and Max were doing. I needn't have worried. Max was on his back, his legs draped over Dave's broad shoulders, Dave's monster meat stroking slowly and deeply into Max's spread ass. Dave's bubble butt thrust hungrily forward, withdrawing almost completely, then, racing forward, again. Each time he hit bottom, Max grunted in satisfaction and stroked his own 8" dick in perfect time to Dave's thrusts.

Conrad and I uncoupled. "I think they need some help," he grinned. He moved over to his partner and slipped his still dripping cock into Max's mouth. I smiled at his "thoughtfulness." Dave leaned in slightly and sucked on one, then, the other of Conrad's big pecs, paying particular attention to his erect nipples. Conrad moved closer, moving himself so that his big bull nuts were resting on Max's lips and his asshole directly over his lover's nose. Max inhaled deeply and began jacking off furiously.

Meanwhile, I'd moved behind Dave. My tongue slithered up his ass trench while my fingers played with his tight balls. The more I played and pulled at his nuts, the faster he fucked Max. That made it hard for me to eat his ass, so I stood behind him and ran my semi-hard cock up and down his ass trench. My fingers worked his nips and cupped his ready-to-unload balls.

His face deep in Conrad's ass muffled Max's roar of climax. Conrad had leaned in to suck down Max's climax load, spreading his own ass for Max to eat deeper than ever. Dave bucked hard into Max a final time and unloaded in a howl of climax ecstasy. I chewed on his neck, pulled on his pencil-hard nipples, and ground my thick, but not hard dick, into his ass cheeks. Dave pulled back, then, impaled Max again and again as more squirts of heavy ball honey poured into the big condom. Max didn't wince, being used to Conrad's horsedick, but he did moan his pleasure at being so well fucked. The added joy of Conrad's big, muscle ass sitting on his face made him cum all the harder.

Conrad swallowed twice before releasing Max's shooting dick. Dave continued to fuck Max, even though his dick was starting to soften. I could vouch for the fact that Max had a great ass for fucking. Conrad leaned over and kissed Dave, sharing Max's load. I caressed their shoulders, helping them relax and unwind from the debilitating climaxes.

Uncoupling, Dave's condom was gently rolled off his massive dick and upended by Conrad. Not to be outdone, Max leaned forward and cleaned off the cum-streaked dick that had so recently been servicing his hungry ass.

"You guys need to move to London. I need sex with studs like you all the time!" Max crowed.

"Or you move to the States," Dave suggested.

"We seldom find men as hot as you two are," Conrad added. "It's fun to find muscled men like you to play with."

"All the more reason you have to come visit us. You'd love the football players we know," I encouraged. "Three-ways and four-ways are their favorites, after their own lovers, of course."

"Of course," Conrad agreed, kissing his lover. "He's great and I've never had better sex than with him. But, the occasional diversion makes our sex even better."

"There's an amen in this corner," Dave agreed, giving me a cum-flavored kiss.

"So, what's up for tomorrow?" I yawned.

"We'll call you at your hotel at eight, again. That'll give you time for another good English breakfast before we collect you at ten. That's when we'll hit some of those little towns your ancestors came from as well as a run through the countryside. How's that sound?" Max opined.

We gathered up our scattered clothes and returned to the hotel (after putting them on, of course). We showered one last time and tumbled into bed. Less than six hours later, the phone rang. Max's cheery voice boomed through the phone into my ear. "Up and at 'em, kids!" I groaned. "You can sleep Monday on the Chunnel train. Let's get cracking!"

I nudged Dave after I'd hung up. "Time's awastin'!" I smiled into his broad back, rubbing it lightly with my hands.

"You shower first," Dave whispered.

"If I do, I'm fuckin' your ass, first!"

"Do you hear an objection?" he chuckled softly. "I love being awakened like that."

"You're SO easy," I whispered, kissing the back of his neck and progressing lower and lower until I had the bed clothes off his body and my face between his café-au- lait butt cheeks.

"I'll give you just two hours to stop that," he groaned with pleasure. "The boys will be by to pick us up, then."

An hour later, we were toweling off from our showers, our round asses agreeably full of our lover's sperm. We tried to go light on the breakfast, but the food was so good that we kept ordering more dishes. There was no difference in cost as an English breakfast was part of the room rate.

Conrad's Beemer picked us up sharply at ten. As I'd hoped, we hit several of the small towns my ancestors had emigrated from (well, they were small towns when they left). We hit Dorking, East Grinstead, Horsham, Billingshurst, Petworth, Pulborough, and Arundel. After a quick tour of Brighton, we headed east to several historic towns in Kent. Of course, that meant we hit Hastings, Dover, Canterbury, Biddenden, Tenterden, and Maidstone before heading back to London. It was a full day. But, distances in England are far shorter between points of interest than they are in the Northwest. By late afternoon, we collectively decided we'd been too inactive (riding around in a car all day) and needed exercise. Conrad suggested a couple of hours at the Paris Gym where they usually worked out. It was close to their apartment, being in Vauxhall, across the Thames from Westminster. The gym closed at ten on Saturday's, so we had lots of time.

It was a cruisy place, men falling all over themselves to be near Conrad and Dave. Big muscles and gorgeous men always get attention, I decided. Of course, they were oblivious to the stares and pantings of would-be suitors. They kept their eyes on Max and me, remarking on the number of men who were sniffing after us. I didn't see THAT many checking us out, but it was nice to know that even in England, the gay men appreciate a good body.

Dave proposed that we go out for dinner at a restaurant of their choice, our treat. "There are so many to choose from," Max mused. Conrad suggested a few, but Max was firm in saying no. "They need English food while they're here. They can get all the French, German, and Italian food they can stomach while they're on the Continent," he explained.

"Oh, so right," Conrad agreed. "How about the Alfred, Max?"

"Oh, great choice: a very English menu, in the heart of the theatre district. You're gonna love it!" Max crowed. And we did. All the traditional English foods like Beef Wellington, Yorkshire Pudding, Devonshire Cream for the scones, and fresh country jams. This wasn't a light meal, but we didn't care. We'd worked out hard for two hours, so it was only right that we ate for two hours. Conrad suggested three good German wines and one, delicious champagne. We were well blasted (as well as full) when we left for our hotel.

Sunday, we spent most of the day at the Victoria and Albert Museum, stopping for lunch at the Garden Restaurant. Max had been right. We could have spent several days touring the vast museum. But, all good things must end. As evening approached, we hit the gym again, but only worked out for an hour as they closed at eight. Conrad prevailed on us to return to their apartment for dinner and fun. How could we turn down an invitation like that? We couldn't, of course.

Dinner was better than at the restaurant (which was incredibly good), but Max and Conrad are accomplished chefs, knowing exactly how to prepare and serve succulent foods, with fine German wines to accompany them. The ice wine that complemented a light chocolate soufflé was better than any I'd tasted in the States. Conrad knew his wines.

We let our dinner settle for a couple of hours before Max coaxed us into the bedroom. Dave rode Max's ass again, but this time, I rode Conrad's horsedick, sitting on his lap while he slowly fucked upwards into my yielding asshole. I was going for the same climax that Conrad had enjoyed, a no-touch, blasting climax. Conrad pulled and teased my erect nipples, urging me with his big dickhead to cum. I held off as long as I could, but Conrad's expertise was well practiced. He knew how to short-stroke my prostate with the frequent deep plunge to keep himself at the edge of his own climax.

Dave and Max were in the same position as Conrad and I. Dave's big hands were on Max's hips, forcing the flight attendant's ass to open and take all 11" of black dick. Although Max was used to Teutonic Timber up his butt, a big, black, curved snake like Dave's was nearly too much for Max. He milked Dave furiously, trying to get my hot lover to cum, but Dave knew how to stimulated Max beyond his skills to hold out. He'd been practicing on me, after all.

But, I didn't dare watch them. The sight of Dave's monster sliding full length so easily in and out would have pushed me rapidly beyond the point of no return. I concentrated, instead, on the wonderfully full feeling and prostate rubbing that the big German was doing to me. I milked him as best I could, but his deeply thrusting cock couldn't be denied. I leaned back, gulping down all 12" of his monster and moaned. "I'm gonna shoot!" I breathed. My dick jerked and dribbled cream into Conrad's navel. The second shot soared over his head, hitting the headboard of the bed with a loud splat. A trail of cum lay across his left cheek and broad chest. He raised his head. My third and fourth shots, I aimed at his open mouth. The weaker following shots liberally coated his smooth, heavily muscled chest.

Savage thrusts into my ass communicated Conrad's need to breed. In less than ten seconds, he was pushing down on my hips with his hands as Dave had been doing to Max, trying to bury his horsedick as deeply as he could as he squirted his load into the oversized condom. He growled and panted heavily, spasming uncontrollably as he blasted his load. Gawd! He's BIG, I thought, bigger than Dave when he's right on the verge of cumming deep inside me. I only wished that we'd been barebacking like Dave and I do. I love the feel of hot cream spraying hard into me.

Dave hadn't been idle. His black scimitar had shot off a big load into the condom, urged expertly by Max. Max had successfully milked Dave to a climax before he hit his own. As he felt Dave lose control, he beat his meat, climaxing as Dave's dick sauce resolved to a trickle and drip. The heavy massaging of his dick (at the point of Max's climax) was too much for Dave's climaxed dick. He laughed as if being tickled, trying to get out from under the relentless climax waves roaring over my lover's big, sensitive dickhead. But, his dick was too long and Max's control too good to allow Dave to pull out. He just had to take it and suffer.

With a final rinse back at our hotel, we slept like stones.

The train to France left Waterloo station in London a little after ten in the morning and arrived in Paris at little after two in the afternoon, local time (an hour ahead of London). We'd pick up our rental car after a couple of days of touring Paris and head toward the German border, stopping at wineries along the way for some champagne and wine tasting. We'd head south along the Rhine, enjoying the sights and the wine until we stopped each night or got too smashed on samples to continue.

That was the plan and we stuck to it for the first day of touring the Louvre and Montmartre (Sacred Heart Cathedral). Of course, we were disappointed in the Mona Lisa. We expected it to be larger, but it was still very moving. Easily, we could have spent two weeks looking at all the treasures of the Louvre, but we didn't have that much time available, if we wanted to see anything else. Tuesday morning, we decided to take a tour bus to Versailles.

But, by the afternoon of Tuesday, September 11th, 2001, everything changed.

The tour bus had dropped us off at the hotel about three in the afternoon. As the day was still young, we took the elevator up to our room to rest and get ready for the evening tour of Paris, the City of Lights (leaving in four hours). I switched on the television to see how the stock market was doing at the opening. But, all I got on the international channels was a live picture of the World Trade Center, one tower burning. I couldn't believe the voice-over. This can't be happening, I thought. It must be a movie!

I called Dave into the bedroom from the bathroom. He sat next to me transfixed. "This can't be real," he whispered. "What could cause that kind of fire? Why isn't the sprinkler system working? How can the New York Fire Department put out a fire that high up a skyscraper?" Then, we saw the horrifying images of what turned out to be the second jetliner crashing into the other tower. "Who the fuck would do something that crazy?" Dave wondered more loudly. "It can't be an accident."

We watched spellbound. Confusion reigned at the networks, each one trying to figure out what happened. Then, word came through that the Pentagon had been attacked in the same manner. This is CRAZY!

When the first tower fell, I couldn't watch anymore. It was too gruesome, too lethal. So many people killed in these senseless acts of terror. The President was grounding all commercial and private aircraft, and the Air Force was placed on high alert. This can't be happening, I kept saying to myself.

Dave had the presence of mind to call downstairs and cancel our reservations for this evening's bus tour. We were too shaken to think about a tour, now. With the grounding of all commercial and private aircraft, our return trip to the United States was in jeopardy. Would the planes be flying again within another three weeks? Were we stuck here? What should we do in the meanwhile? Should we book passage on a passenger liner like the QE2?

The events of that day were so horrific, we couldn't think clearly. Dave suggested we go to dinner and try to get those deadly images out of our minds for a few hours. I wasn't hungry. All I could think of was those poor souls in New York City and Virginia. But, Dave convinced me that the diversion would do us both good. I finally relented and went with him to a nearby restaurant. Thankfully, there was no television to watch, and no radio broadcasting the tragic events over the loudspeakers. We ate in silence, then, finally talked about what we should do. I don't even remember what we ate.

There was nothing we could do from Paris, even if we'd wanted to. Planes wouldn't be flying to and from the U.S. for at least a week, maybe longer. Sitting in a hotel room in Paris was pointless. We might as well get out and see some of the countryside. We'd come this far. Why not stay with our plan? As soon as we knew planes were flying again, we'd call Brad and get his advice about possibly changing our return reservations. Meanwhile, we'd try to do the best we could under these cloudy circumstances.

We did enjoy the Champagne region of France, but spent most of our next week in the Moselle and Rhine valleys (Mosel-Saar-Ruwer wine region to the Germans). The winery staffs were most helpful, showing us the differences in the wines and how they were made. They also added their condolences as a way to communicate their sorrow at the attack on our country. We thanked them for their kindness and good wishes.

The scenery was spectacular along the Rhine. There were so many small vineyards and towns that we had to spend time stopping at nearly all of them. But, after a while, there was a sameness to them that made us move on to Heidelberg for a longer stay. My great grandmother had been born in the little village of Schriesheim, just outside Heidelberg. Nestled against the hills, it was as picture perfect as any imagined small, German town could be. My German was atrocious, but I found a gentleman (about 45 years old) in one of the shops, whose English was far superior to my German. He helped us locate the house where my great grandmother was born and the cemetery where many ancestors were buried. As it turned out, he was a distant cousin.

He invited us to dinner with his family, insisting that because I was family, it was only right and proper that I accept. "Besides," he said, "my son speaks better English than I do and may be more help in finding other family members. I'll ring him and ask him to come to dinner, too. And your traveling companion is invited as well," he added, indicating Dave. "We've never met a black person before." He got a quick agreement by phone with his son to join us for dinner. A second call informed his wife that there would be three more people for dinner tonight, including a cousin from America.

"You've not even met one of the black GI's stationed nearby?" I asked after he hung up.

"Not even a white one," he sighed. "We're very much off the beaten path, as you American's say. You're countrymen seldom come here to our small village." He added his condolences on the loss of so many lives in the terror attacks in New York and Virginia. We thanked him for his thoughtfulness and agreed to dinner. He showed us where he lived (only a few doors away from the shop). We settled on seven o'clock for dinner.

We arrived a few minutes early, bouquets of flowers and two bottles of local wine (recommended by our hotel's concierge) in hand. After introductions (including his father (a kindly soul of about 75 years of age, who loved Americans), the son (about 25 and cute as a button), and his plump wife), we sat down to a delicious, hearty meal. His wife thanked us several times for the flowers and remarked on how good the wine was. Evidently, they didn't spend money on the medium to high-end wines.

Herr Riehl (the shop owner and our host) explained to his father and his son how we were related. Frau Riehl asked about other surnames in my German pedigree, as her family was also an ancient one from Schriesheim. I rattled off a few that I could remember. She smiled. "We're related, too," she beamed. "My grandmother on my father's side was a Habermeyer, too."

Damn, I thought. I should have brought some of my genealogy with me. I never even thought that I'd be meeting cousins here. But, if I'd given it any consideration, I'd have remembered that these people never left this little town. My German ancestry here goes back to the 1400's with only one line wandering off into Switzerland, and three others coming from two other little towns nearby.

Dave was quickly integrated into the family discussion when he revealed that he and I were cousins as well. They wondered how that had happened, but after the slavery explanation, it made sense. "That's not too dissimilar to what Grandfather told me about how the local barons treated the young women around here." Gunther (the son) translated quickly as the old man related what he'd been told by his grandfather about the notorious affairs of the local Duke of Wurttemberg.

"That certainly explains how he got added to my pedigree," I observed. "One of his illegitimate sons, Hartmann, had a daughter who married into the Jost family."

"They're still prominent here," Gunther said. "The Duke did take care of his illegitimate offspring, so it's not surprising that they'd still be well regarded," he translated for his grandfather.

We departed their immaculate home about ten, full of good food and wine. Gunther walked with us to our car. "You're gay, right?" he finally asked.

"Yes," Dave smiled. "And you, Gunther?"

"As a goose, I believe the term is."

"You're English is very good, even including slang," I mentioned.

"I spent four years at UCLA studying business and surfing," he smiled. "That's where I finally came to terms with my gay side."

"You have a boyfriend, now?" I asked.

"No, I'm between boyfriends."

"Your family knows about you being gay?" Dave pressed.

"Oh, yeah," he laughed. "That's probably why Father invited me, tonight. His gaydar is almost as good as mine. He probably thought I could show you the gay side of Heidelberg and Mannheim."

"Do you have time?" Dave asked.

"Sure! What kinda clubs do you want to venture into?"

"Stay away from the twinkies!" Dave laughed.

"What's that?" Gunther questioned.

"Young, fluffy, brainless, skinny, usually blonde, but not always, and hopelessly into one-night-stands," I sighed.

"Oh, well, then, how about the local leather bar in Heidelberg? I can't promise they aren't into one-night-stands, though."

"As long as it isn't too seedy," I cautioned.

"Not generally," Gunther smiled. "Most of the time, its just another drag that the guys wear."

"Sounds like home," Dave laughed. "Can we follow you in our car?"

"I rode the Strassebahn here, uh, that's like a streetcar. It runs from Mannheim to Heidelberg, with several stops along the way," he explained.

"Then, we'll offer you a ride," I concluded. He smiled his acceptance. "Should we go back to the hotel and change?" I wondered. Gunther said that we were fine. There was no strict dress code at the leather bar we were heading to. As we drove back to Heidelberg, he pointed out several interesting features, including the castle on the hill. We went by the gay club twice, trying to locate a place to park. Gunther spotted one three blocks from the leather bar. Walking back to the bar, he told us that nearly everyone there would speak English to one degree or another, as German children were taught English for several years in school as well as watching English and American programs on television.

Inside, we were greeted with friendly stares and handshakes as Gunther introduced us to most of the men there. "You seem to know a lot of people, Gunther," Dave grinned, "and especially friendly with the older ones."

"I've always liked men older than me. They really know how to fuck!" he laughed. Three of the leather-clad men nearest us laughed, too. "But," he smiled at Dave, "I've never been fucked by a black man and his boyfriend."

Dave smiled at me and I nodded. "Why are we wasting our time here, then, Gunther?"

Our German host broke into a wide grin. "Your place or mine?"

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