All Disclaimers
BLACK AND WHITE
Chapter 81--The Return to London
Ziggy sighed. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Immediately, I knew this was painful for him. I didn't know how much it hurt until he started talking. "Albrecht was the love of my life," he smiled sadly. "He was killed by a Geisterfahrer." We looked at him blankly. "Geisterfahrer means, uh, ghost driver. But, what it really means is a crazy person who is committing suicide by driving the wrong way on the Autobahn, trying to crash into someone to kill himself. Of course, he often kills the people in the car he hits, too. That's what happened to my Albrecht three years ago." He paused for a moment, pulling himself slowly back together. "He was coming home from a business trip to Munich. I'll never forget the policeman at the door who told me about the accident. And I'm sure he'll never forget me. I broke down crying. I couldn't stop. I was inconsolable (I think that's the correct word)," he sighed. We nodded.
"That's awful," Dave commiserated. He looked over at me. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost Mike. It must still hurt very much, Ziggy."
"It does," he agreed. "But, at least, I can talk about it now. Not very well, to be sure, but much better than I was a year ago."
I rubbed his back and cuddled in close to him. "This has everything to do with why you don't go home with the guys from the bar, doesn't it?"
He turned and smiled. "You can see right through me," he grimaced. "Yeah, that's part of it."
"So, why was it okay to take us home?" Dave pressed. "Are we therapy for you?" he grinned devilishly.
"You're safe," Ziggy explained. "If you were local, there would be the chance that I'd fall in love, again; and I'd be wounded deeply, again. I'm not ready."
"You can't be a hermit, Ziggy," I insisted. "And you can't take yourself out of circulation because you MAY get hurt. 'Having loved and lost is better than having never loved at all,' a wise man said. He was right, Ziggy."
The handsome German smiled, wanly. "Easy to say, hard to live."
"You can't focus on what WAS, Ziggy," Dave insisted. "You have to live for today and tomorrow, not yesterday. Albrecht had to be a wonderful man for you to feel this deeply about him. But, he's gone, Ziggy. You have to move ahead, move on. For your own mental health as well as all these men in Mannheim who want to love you, you must look forward." Ziggy sighed, loudly. "Loving another man, or even going out with another man isn't being unfaithful to the memory of your wonderful Albrecht," Dave continued, practically reading Ziggy's mind. "It's honoring his memory to live your life, as he would want you to. No one will ever replace him in your heart. That'll never happen. But, I know you have enough love in your heart for another, good man."
Tears were now streaming down Ziggy's face. Dave pulled him into his big chest and hugged him hard. Ziggy completely broke down, sobbing quietly. I moved behind him and hugged him, too. He needed to know that men loved him, even almost complete strangers.
Regaining control after a minute, Ziggy, smiled, then, laughed. "Look at me," he grinned, wiping away the errant tears with the backs of his hands. "I hardly know you and I'm crying like an old woman in front of you."
"You needed to do that, Ziggy," I said, hugging him fiercely. "We were only the catalysts."
He smiled. "Yes, you were. I saw the love that existed between you and it made me sad. I still miss him."
"And you always will, Ziggy," Dave assured him. "But, you can't let it control your life. You must move on!"
"So you've said," he sighed, again.
"I'm sure you've come to know several of the men at the bar quite well. How long have you been there?" I asked.
"A little better than two years."
"Okay, so you know lots of them. Aren't there any that you might feel more than a friendship with?" Dave wondered.
"A few," Ziggy grinned.
"And you enjoy their company, go to movies, etc. with them?"
"Yes, my friend Willy and I go to the Opera together."
"And you feel more than friendship with him?"
"Yes, he's one of my friends from many years ago. He was there when I needed him after Albrecht died. But, he has a boyfriend, too."
"Oh," Dave allowed. "Well, how about the single ones? Some must be close to you."
"I don't get close to the single ones, Dave. It would make me too vulnerable. Besides, the American GI's are too young, and most Germans are too rigid and controlling, unlike my Albrecht."
"So, tell us about Albrecht, Ziggy," I suggested. "It'll be good for you to think about him and remember the good times, to make him a person, rather than an icon like you've made him." I swept a hand about the room. It was like a shrine to a very handsome, late-30's man, with an infectious grin and love in his eyes when he looked upon Ziggy.
Ziggy bristled, then, smiled. "It does look like a pilgrimage destination some days, even to me. But, he meant so much to me."
"And he always will," Dave assured him. "But this is maudlin! You're not remembering him, you're fixating on his memory."
"You're not the first one to point that out. Willy's said as much; and so has his boyfriend, Friedrich."
"So, tell us about him, Ziggy," I pressed.
"A wonderful man! He was 10 years older, taller than me by nearly a quarter meter (uh, about 7"), so that would make him about 6'4" in your English measures, he weighed close to 100 kilos (about 220 pounds), a most engaging smile, and a personality that made you want to love him always and do whatever he wanted to do." He paused for a moment reflecting, then, smiled. "And he loved to make love. That's what I miss the most."
"He had good material to work with, Ziggy," I suggested. "You're good at lovemaking, too."
"That's because of him," Ziggy averred. "He was so good at it, so unhurried, yet hungry for you. I never felt pressured to have sex with him. But, he could always talk me into it, no matter my mood." He smiled at the memory, then, sighed and smiled, again. "One of the reasons I cried so easily earlier is because Mike reminds me of Albrecht with his hairy chest and sweet smile. And you remind me, Dave, of his huge dick and gentle lovemaking. I had no idea when I decided to invite you to my place that you'd be the embodiments of my lost Albrecht."
"I wish there were something we could do to make it easier for you, Ziggy," I said.
He smiled back. "Make love to me all night long. Albrecht loved to do that. We'd fuck each other until morning, never in a hurry, always making love."
And, so we did. Although we got some sleep, Ziggy was being serviced or servicing one or both of us until the sun rose. He insisted on cooking us a hearty German breakfast, which we ate with gusto. He's a great cook besides being an incredible bed partner. Ziggy asked us to spend the day with him, if we could. He enjoyed our company and we were good for his "therapy," he'd laughed.
"We could use the help in deciding what we want to do with the rest of our time in Germany and could use the tour guide," Dave said. "But, we do need to call our friend and travel agent Brad to see about our flight back. With all that's going on because of the attacks on New York and the Pentagon, we don't know how long we'll be here."
"Let's talk to him, then," Ziggy agreed.
"We need to get back to our hotel in Heidelberg where all our travel documents and flight information are," Dave replied.
"Did you drive over from there? You don't seem to be worried about a car, so I assume you found another way to get to the dance club."
"Strassenbahn," I replied. "It's very convenient, cheap, and takes us right to the hotel as well as right to the dance club last night."
"But, you do have a car, right?" he pressed.
"Oh, yes," Dave smiled. "A nice Beemer convertible."
"Beemer?"
"BMW M3," Dave clarified.
"Oh! Very good! That's a four passenger automobile, then?" We nodded. "Excellent! I can take off a couple of days and my weekend starts today! I'd love to be your travel guide."
Ziggy explained that he didn't have a car, as the price of a driver's license (including classes and fees) was about 1500 Euros. Plus the price of petrol (gasoline) was high in Europe (as we'd already found out). "That's all before you even buy a car," he said. "I have better places to spend that kind of money."
We showered and put on our workout pants. Ziggy gave us a shopping bag to stuff our bar clothes into. The jackets were too warm, too, so they also went in the bag. Three bare-chested men traveling the Strassenbahn on Sunday morning didn't raise any eyebrows. They sure would have at home.
The time difference was still nine hours between Germany and home. Calling Brad now would be the middle of the night there. So, we opted to tour around the Greater Heidelberg area for the rest of the day, calling Brad in the late afternoon or early evening. We called Günter from the hotel, thinking he might enjoy an afternoon of sightseeing. He'd just gotten out of bed after an all-nighter with Darrell and Han. But, he promised to dash through a quick shower and catch the next Strassenbahn to Heidelberg.
While we waited for him to arrive, we plowed through a number of brochures and possible destinations, at Ziggy's suggestion. We tentatively settled on a drive to Munich tomorrow, a side-trip into Austria to see Mozart's birthplace in Salzburg, and maybe a dash into Liechtenstein and Switzerland, just because they were close and worth seeing.
Brad had put a "bug in my bonnet" about coming home in time for the Folsom Street Fair in San Francisco. The Fair was always the last Sunday of September. As today was the 23rd, we'd not have much time to see the rest of our planned trip destinations, if we opted for Folsom Street. Knowing that we had the money and the time to visit Europe again, we could easily put off our tours of Italy, Eastern Europe, Berlin, Scandinavia, etc. for another time.
Dave had never been to San Francisco with his gay eyes open. The Folsom Street Fair would be like a candy store to him. If we were going to do that, we'd need to be in California by Saturday. That meant we'd have to be in London Thursday or Friday night for a short visit with Conrad and Max. Further, we needed to return the Beemer to Paris before we got to London. So, that backed us up to leaving no later than Thursday morning for Paris from Munich or Heidelberg (perhaps Mannheim the way Ziggy was working on us).
"We have at least another half hour before your cousin Günter arrives," Ziggy said. "I thing we need another round of lovemaking," he added with a wide grin.
"When in Rome..." I thought. So, we did. Dave was on the bottom, Ziggy in the middle, and me on top. We fucked doggie style, Ziggy doing all the work and setting the pace from his middle position. His hairy ass chewed and sucked on my dick, giving no respite. Dave was similarly serviced in a slow, sensual motion, which had him howling for more. Ziggy's hands pulled at my butt, urging me to fuck deeper. Ziggy's tongue and hot breath on Dave's ear heightened the lovemaking.
For 20 minutes, we slowly, erotically coupled. But, for the big finish, Ziggy wanted both of us to fuck and cum in his ass. I went first, lasting but a minute. Dave had no better luck, shouting out his orgasm a minute later, as I sucked off our new German friend (who'd been munching on my butt as he climaxed).
It felt so good to have my butt eaten by an expert like Ziggy that I talked Dave into barebacking me while Ziggy sat on my face. That's how Günter would have found us if he'd had a key to the room. As it was, the front desk phoned us in the middle of Dave's bellowing climax waves. Dave and I were "busier" than Ziggy, so he answered the phone. After a short conversation in German, he announced that Günter was in the lobby, waiting for us. By then, Dave had pulled out and I'd dashed to the bathroom to "download" his "babies."
After a trio of quick rinses, we joined Günter downstairs. Although it might be considered a "tourist trap," Günter and Ziggy agreed that we should take the time to see Rothenburg ob der Tauber. Specifically, they insisted that we stop at the "Trinkstube 'Zur Höll'" (the Tavern to Hell). Part of the building has survived from 900 A.D. And this authentic Middle Ages tavern had an extensive wine list we could order from. Günter agreed to be the designated driver after our stop at the Trinkstube.
We dawdled, heading up the Neckar River from Heidelberg to Mosbach, then, on Rothenburg via Bad Mergentheim. The picturesque villages, valleys, and castle ruins were delightful. We stopped several times to take pictures. At the end of three hours, we'd parked the car and walked into Rothenburg. After more stops to ogle the well- preserved Middle Ages buildings, we arrived at the Tavern to Hell, the oldest building in town. Although dark inside, the crowd was lively, enjoying the beers and wines served. The wait-staff spoke German and English, so we had no problem making our wishes known. Of course, having Günter and Ziggy along helped greatly.
An hour passed. Reluctantly, we headed back to Heidelberg with Günter driving. I know we sampled at least a dozen wines (at which point I stopped counting). Needless to say, we were feeling no pain! We stopped in Neckersulm at the Neckersulmer Brauhaus for an excellent dinner. The quantity and quality of the food was superb. Of course, we drank more wine. Günter had one beer with dinner.
By the time we reached Heidelberg (after dropping off Günter in Mannheim), it was 8 p.m. We called Brad. Steve said he was out, but would be back in an hour. We promised to call back in an hour. And you know that Ziggy wanted more sex with us while we waited. How could we deny this handsome, furry, hunky Adonis, especially when he wanted to bottom for us? We alternated fucking him and sitting on his face. He controlled the pace and form of the mating, moving from doggie style, to face-to-face, to flat on his stomach, and back again.
After nearly an hour of thrusting into him, Ziggy was getting sore. We resolved that by him sucking us off as we shared his geysering dick.
Brad had done his homework by the time we'd showered and called again. Knowing that I'd expressed more than a passing interest in the Folsom Street Fair, he had found a direct United Airlines flight out of London to San Francisco. It was eleven hours of flying time, but would leave England at 9:00 a.m. Saturday and arrive in California at noon the same day. That would give us adequate time to rest (if we hadn't slept on the plane, which we probably wouldn't) before the Street Fair on Sunday afternoon. He even had a hotel in San Francisco and the flight tentatively booked.
We decided to return the BMW to Paris on Thursday afternoon, and take the Chunnel Train, again, back to London. After discussing our additional trips to Munich, Salzburg, and a side trip to Liechtenstein and Switzerland, Brad offered to work on an itinerary for us for the next four days. Ziggy added his suggestions for places to stop each evening. With a map in front of him and his knowledge of the proposed destinations, he and Brad worked out the rest of our European trip. Ziggy even had hotels or Gasthauses to recommend for Brad to book for us. Brad promised to fax the final itinerary to our hotel while we slept. If any of the accommodations were fully booked, he'd make recommendations for substitutions. But, he'd not make new reservations, until we confirmed our agreement to the changes, if any.
"One last thing, Brad," I said. "Make all reservations for three men, same room." There was a pause. "You there?"
"Uh, yeah! You found a friend in Ziggy?"
"Much to tell, Brad. We'll tell you all about it later," I smiled to Ziggy and Dave. "Any last minute words about how travel is in Europe or in the States?" Brad said that the airlines were slowly returning to their schedules, but most of them were ramping up to less than 80% of the flights they'd had before September 11th. Most people were fearful and the new security at the airports was causing a lot of delays. With a suggestion that we get to Heathrow earlier than normal, Brad disconnected the call to start working on the rest of our trip.
Dave called London to let Conrad and Max know we'd be back in London Thursday afternoon and would love to see them again before our plane departed on Saturday morning. Max insisted that we stay with them and avoid the hassle and expense of a hotel. "Besides, we want more, uh, 'quality' time with both of you."
Dave told me of their offer. I thought we might be imposing, but Max convinced us that we weren't. "Conrad would eviscerate me, if I didn't insist!" he laughed.
"Well, we can't have that!" Dave agreed. "We accept your kind offer and will attempt to be gracious, accommodating guests."
We called Brad back, letting him know we wouldn't need a hotel in London. "More new friends?" he laughed.
"Of course," I said. "You know how friendly we are."
Dave signaled that he needed to talk to Brad, too. I handed him the phone. "I almost forgot, Brad. Get us a car. My brother in Sacramento would kill me if I didn't come see him and Carol and the new babies, being so geographically close to them."
"I'd better cancel that flight reservation out of San Francisco on Monday morning then," Brad ruminated. "When do you think you'd leave Sacramento?"
"Give us three days. So that would make it Wednesday evening or Thursday morning to fly home," Dave suggested.
"I'll send a fax to your hotel in, uh, San Francisco, now that I don't have a hotel to send it to in London," he giggled.
"Thanks, Brad."
"All part of the service."
"How's Steve? I meant to ask the last time we called," Dave remembered.
"He's fine and so are the boys. They're always looking to get serviced when Dad's not around."
"I'm sure they are. You never were one to turn down a hot ass," Dave laughed.
"Just get your collective butts over here and I'll show you, again," he suggested with a leer in his voice.
"I know Mike's up for it, and you know I'm hungry for that big thing," Dave verified.
The next three days were a blur. We stopped at Ulm to see the world's tallest church spire (the Ulm Cathedral). Two excellent examples of Baroque and Rococo decorating overwhelmed us at the Library of the Wiblingen Cloister and the Ottobeuren Basilica at Ulm. We spent the night in Salzburg, doing all we could that evening to appreciate Mozart's birthplace. Tuesday we spent backtracking through Austria to Liechtenstein (with a whirlwind tour of Vaduz, the capital), then, on to Zürich for the night. Wednesday morning we left for Basel, then, turned north to finish the trip back in Heidelberg.
Between Ulm and Munich, there was no speed limit. I had to see how fast I could go in a car that was rated to exceed 250 (about 155 miles per hour) kilometers per hour. I got up to 160 (about 100 miles per hour), but couldn't stand the feeling of being out of control at such a speed. We switched drivers, but Dave pulled the plug at 200 (about 125 miles per hour). Ziggy didn't have a driver's license, so he didn't show us up. But, he assured us that he couldn't have done as much as we had, as he was still so traumatized by how Albrecht had died at high speed.
But, each night (and even at lunch breaks), Ziggy made love to us in one form or another. He especially enjoyed it when one of us slept with our dick in his ass. That's how he and Albrecht slept many nights. It seldom lasted long as two hot bodies that close together would naturally move apart. But, it was always fun to plug back in as morning approached. Ziggy was always grateful for the attention.
Back at his flat in Mannheim, we ate dinner in virtual silence. Ziggy was already missing us. I called Günter to thank him again for his hospitality and to ask him to tell his family how much we enjoyed dinner and conversation with them last week. I also suggested that Ziggy might need a friend, one he could trust who didn't have particular designs on him.
Günter assured me that he could be counted on to pass along the message to his family, as well as helping Ziggy open up more to a future with another man. Although he thought Ziggy was a hot man, he wasn't his type. But, they could still be friends, now that an introduction had been made.
Thursday morning, Ziggy hugged us closely, telling us how much he appreciated the chance to be with us for the last few days. "You've pulled me out of my shell. I needed that. If either of you should decide to divorce the other," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "look me up! I'll take either of you!"
"There are many studs for you to find out more about in Mannheim, Ziggy," Dave smiled. "I'm not leaving Mike and he can't get rid of me, so you need to look closer to home." I grinned my agreement. "And after you've done everyone here, you have all of Heidelberg to work on," Dave laughed.
"Look on these men at the bar as more potential partners than just patrons. Even some of the American men might be to your liking," I suggested.
"Too young for me," Ziggy repeated.
"Not all of them are new recruits, Ziggy," Dave reminded him. "And there is always the chance you'll find a hot German man who isn't the control freak you think they all are."
"For instance, my cousin Günter is not that way at all. I think some time spent in California made the difference in him," I offered.
"He's a bottom," Ziggy persisted.
"That was only an example, Ziggy. Don't be so narrow-minded," I urged, smiling.
"Look around, Ziggy," Dave said. "Move on with your life. Give these guys a chance. You don't have to sleep with all of them, but you can go on a date, like to a movie, or just a short stroll, a cup of coffee at a local café. Get away from the bar scene. You'd be surprised what you'll find."
He sighed, then, smiled devilishly. "Perhaps, I should come to the States and look for a new husband!"
"You are welcome to come and stay with us anytime you like," Dave assured him. "But, most of our friends are already in a relationship." Ziggy was obviously unhappy with that revelation. "But, I'm sure we could locate some who aren't. Even our 'married' friends have single friends." He brightened.
I gave him a hug and a grope. "Ziggy, we love you like a brother," I murmured in his ear. "Do come see us. We have lots of room, and some time away from here might be just what you need to more clearly see your future with another man."
Dave hugged him from behind, grinding his thick cock into Ziggy's round, muscle ass. "Same from me, Zig," Dave smiled. "Visit us. You may not find that special man for your life, but the time away would do you good."
With a final wave, we crawled into the Beemer and headed for the train station in Paris. Traffic was good for a Thursday morning. We turned in the car, signed the charge slip for our time and miles in the Beemer. One of the young men at the rental agency drove us over to the train station in a company van. They frequently did that, always using the van because of the luggage and souvenirs their customers dragged around with them. We tipped him for his kindness and headed into the station. Dave checked the track and time of our departure to be sure nothing had changed on us.
On the train, I said, "We'll be getting into San Francisco at noon on Saturday, but we'll have been in the air eleven hours. Although we'll have left at nine in the morning, I think we need to do our best to sleep on the plane and be ready to party as soon as we hit SFO." Dave smiled. "I've been to this street fair before, Dave. I know how crazy the bars can be this weekend. My only concern is how much of a damper on the street fair all this terrorist craziness will be. People are terrified of flying. Remember Brad said that he's getting cancellations right and left, and not just for the street fair." Dave agreed, but suggested my sleeping idea was good, regardless of how the street fair weekend turned out.
Max met us at Victoria Station. "I have to fly out on Saturday morning as well, but a different flight. So, I'll accompany you back to the airport, too," he mentioned on our way out of Victoria Station into the subway system. He shouldered a couple of our bags, leaving us with one light suitcase each. "I'm so glad you agreed to stay with us. We've missed you more than you know. All our friends think we've lost our minds, the way we keep going on and on about you two."
"We aren't THAT special, Max," Dave insisted.
"Oh, but you are," he contradicted. "They've all seen the curbside speech and want to meet you in the flesh. So, we're having a party tomorrow night to show you off."
I groaned inwardly. I just need some rest, I thought. Ziggy's worn us out. But, Dave was all for it. He knew not to concentrate on our current condition, but consider the party idea as a future function, well after a good night's sleep. Max caught my reluctance. My body language seemed as transparent to him as it does to Dave. "Don't worry, Mike," he laughed. "We'll only molest you for a while. We have to work tomorrow, so you'll have all day to catch up on your sleep." He was right, of course, and I apologized for being such a party-pooper.
Conrad greeted us at the door to their condo. "You have time to shower and change clothes, boys. I know you want to freshen up from your long trip today. Dinner isn't ready for at least another 30 minutes," he directed. Max escorted us to our bedroom where we dumped our bags. He demonstrated how the wall switches worked in the bathroom, turning on various lights and fans. We showered, dumped a load of clothes in the washing machine in the next room (Max set the controls for us), feeling almost human, again. Besides, it felt good to know our clothes would be clean when we departed for the States. We were running out of clean clothes as it was. The last thing I wanted to do in San Francisco was worry about laundry, when we should be playing.
"I'm sorry that we didn't have time to bring flowers or a bottle of wine," I apologized. "We promise to do better next time."
"Don't worry about it," Max replied. "Conrad's allergic to most flowers and we have a wine refrigerator full of wines already."
"You look even better than I remembered," Conrad smiled, grabbing first Dave, then, me for a big hug, grope, and kiss. "If dinner weren't so close to being done, I'd take both of you on."
"Promises, promises," Dave grinned.
"If Max weren't such a prude, I'd drop my pants, bend over the sink, and insist that you fuck me, NOW!" Conrad whispered just loud enough for us to hear, but not Max.
"What are you conspiring about?" Max wondered aloud.
"Just making arrangements for dessert, Love," Conrad deflected.
"Something with whipped cream?" Max chortled.
"Something like that," Conrad agreed.
Dinner conversation was animated. Max had been promoted to chief steward on trans-Atlantic flights. A nice increase in pay accompanied the elevation. He bubbled over with enthusiasm and ideas to make the flights more fun, without being more work. Conrad let him chatter, having heard it all before. We told them we were headed for the Folsom Street Fair. They wanted to know all about it. Having no pictures from previous years, I had to describe as best I could the men and "activities" of the fair. Given the fact that they could fly there for nearly nothing (as airline employees), they were intrigued enough to tentatively add the Fair to their travels for next year. I promised to send them pictures I'd taken in previous years (via e-mail). Some, I leered, were quite scandalous!
After dinner, Conrad cleaned up the kitchen while Max entertained us with more tales of airline travel. A good after-dinner speaker like Max knows how to keep his audience laughing. Conrad joined us soon, getting us to talk about our travels in Europe. As we hadn't been there very long, there wasn't much to tell. However, they made us go into great detail about Günter and Ziggy. An hour later, we'd told them everything about our German friends, including Ziggy's former boyfriend, Albrecht.
They promised to go to Mannheim soon and look him up, to reinforce our directive to Ziggy to move on with his life. Having a picture of Ziggy in my digital camera, I showed them what their quarry looked like. They were impressed, wondering if they'd be his type, too. Never having figured out what his type was, we couldn't give them much assurance. But, we warned Conrad of Ziggy's dislike of the typical German stodginess and need to control. "However," Dave said, "Albrecht was a lot like you, Conrad, in a physical sense. A little older, of course, but a big man who knew how to make love."
"And I think he'll be okay with both of you, because you're a couple. I'm not sure when he'll be ready to take only one man to bed, again," I said.
"They must have been very much in love," Max observed. We nodded.
"Ziggy still tears up pretty easily when talking about Albrecht," Dave confirmed.
Max was silent for a few moments. "If something like that happened to Conrad, I'm not sure that I wouldn't be worse off than Ziggy. I can't imagine life without my big man," he smiled at his big Aryan beefcake.
"Same here, Max," Conrad grinned and sighed.
"Let's talk about something else," I offered. "This is getting too depressing."
"Tell us about some of those incredible men standing behind you when you did your curbside speech, Dave," Max suggested brightening. "There MUST be tales to tell!"
"I don't clearly remember who was there," Dave allowed. "Do you, Mike?" I shook my head. That was too long ago, and I try to blot out my Nancy Reagan performance as best I can.
"Get the tape, Max," Conrad suggested. "We'll point out the ones we liked from that," he smiled lasciviously.
With the tape running, then, at numerous places, they wanted to know details about each of the men standing behind me. Of course, they picked out the ones that we'd slept with on more than one occasion. The identities and stories only whet their appetites for more salacious tidbits. They were dutifully aghast when I told them about how I'd met Kurt at his then tender age, but begged for more information, anyway. Of course, I told them every detail with Dave adding his own observations concerning Kurt's stud status. "In fact," Dave smiled, "Kurt reminds me a lot of you, Conrad: big, hung, and always randy.
"I'll vouch for Conrad's part," Max grinned. "No off switch on this man, and I like it that way."
"There's another reason for you to visit us," I pointed out. Visions of Kurt and Conrad coupling danced in my mind, causing my dick to swell and drip. Dave had a similar grin, remembering fondly Kurt's hungry ass and monster dick. He was probably visualizing two feet of dick mating, too. "Dave doesn't have an off switch, either," I added.
"I can see that," Conrad smirked, groping the obvious black log in Dave's pants. "I can take care of that for you," he offered. Dropping his pants, Conrad bent over the sink, spreading his legs and offering his winking hole, exposed by the big German's hands. Max raced into a bedroom, returning with condoms and lube.
Dave, meanwhile, had slipped out of his pants and was dining on Conrad's muscle butt. He stood and rubbed the underside of his long dick along Conrad's deep ass trench, leaving a few smeared drops of precum on Conrad's hairy butt crack. Conrad's ass munched and flexed against the thick tube, pushing back into Dave's grinding hips.
I'd knelt behind Dave and was sliding my tongue along his deep ass furrow, touching his tight sphincter each time he pulled back from Conrad. "Get in front of Conrad," Max directed. "I'll take over here." I wasn't sure I could deep-throat a 12" cock like Conrad's, but I could certainly give it a shot. But, as I turned around to scoot between Conrad's tree-trunk legs, Max rolled a condom over my throbbing dick. "Both hosts need to get fucked," he smiled down at me.
Handing a condom and lube up to Dave, Max helped me position myself to sit in front of Conrad, the thick German sausage smearing precum on my parting lips. He grabbed my hard dick and directed it at his pre-lubed butthole, sinking deliciously slowly on to my hole-stretcher. Firmly seated on my prong, Max leaned back slightly, lifted Dave's legs to get behind him (returning the dark leg to its original position behind Conrad), and stuffed his face into my lover's butt. His hands pulled Dave's butt cheeks apart and munched, slurped, and generally made a lot of noise, as he feasted on the hottest, black ass I'd ever known.
Max's talented butt channel sucked and massaged my stiff dick, milking me slowly, purposefully. He wanted this to last longer than our last coupling of nearly two weeks ago. Clearly, Max kept Conrad happy (on other occasions) by taking that monster deep in his ass and keeping Conrad at the edge of his climax for several minutes before allowing his big, German lover to cum.
But, two can play that game, I decided. Pulling back with my hips, I made every effort to short stroke his ass, hitting his prostate mercilessly on the up and down stroke. If his prostate were connected at all to his dick, he'd not be able to hold back. He wasn't jacking off, but I knew my big dickhead rubbed prostates so well that they forced the man's dick to fire, anyway.
Several noisy minutes passed. Max was sloppily eating Dave's ass and playing with Dave's big, dark nuts, encouraging him to fuck Conrad's deep hole. Conrad was whipsawed between Dave and me, alternately being impaled on one of the biggest dicks he'd ever had up his ass and my lingual stimulation of his thick, long dick. Max began milking me furiously. He was getting close to his climax and wanted to bring me along with him. I did my best to hold off, rubbing my thick dickhead against his prostate and not going deep enough to feel his milking ass channel. But, the way his butthole was munching on my dick, it was a race to see who would lose their load first.
Max lost.
With a muffled shout into Dave's thrusting butt, he began spraying my chest and neck with his load. Somewhere in his strangled shouts, he begged me to fuck him hard and deep, the overwhelming pleasure of cumming (while not touching his dick), punctuated by waves of his gripping ass muscles around my pistoning cock. His grinding ass swallowed my thickness, milking me in ever tightening waves of bliss.
The sprinkles and splats of Max's cum coated my hairy chest. The scent of fresh dick gravy wafted up to my nose. Max's milking ass, Conrad's big, leaking cock in my mouth, and the smell of starchy cream were an undeniable combination. I gargled around the thick German dick between my lips, and flooded the condom-protected ass chewing on my pulsating dick.
As Max's climax waned, he leaned back farther, gasping for air, and nearly snapping off my hard cock buried up his asshole. "Damn!" he sighed. "I could feel your dick swell in my ass just as you must have started to fire. You're one hot fuck!"
Dave's slow pistoning in and out of Conrad hadn't changed. But, their other sexual partners were spent. "Let's finish this where we can be more comfortable," Conrad smiled over his shoulder. He pulled away from Dave's black scimitar and led him down the hallway.
"They're not getting away with that!" Max assured me, helping me up from the kitchen floor. "I'm sure they need our help," he giggled.
Conrad was on his back, his legs pushed hard into his broad shoulders. Dave's thick, long dick had completely disappeared up the big German's butt hole; only Dave's bull nuts designated the point of entry. Bent over, Dave's lips had closed over Conrad's thick, mushroom-shaped cockhead. "I know what I'm gonna do," I whispered to Max. Moving up to the head of the bed, I squatted over Conrad's face, letting him sniff and lick at his pace, not completely sitting on his mouth and nose.
"Good idea!" Max responded. "I need to finish what I started as well," he added, returning his face to Dave's ass, spreading the brown ass cheeks and licking at Dave's rosebud.
Less than a minute later, Conrad's breathing suddenly became ragged. "GOTT! I'm gonna cum!" he warned, eating lustily at my butthole. "Fuck ME!" he bellowed between my butt cheeks. Dave didn't need permission or encouragement. His long, deep strokes had shortened, but sped up. His lips sucked hard, eager for the starchy cum load from Conrad's nuts. He didn't wait long.
Conrad's body stiffened, then, thrashed as his dick fired again and again. Dave's thrusting hips pushed his monster dick deeper and faster. He gargled cum as his own climax raced over him. A duet of climax arias flooded the room, sucking faces and asses greedily drinking the offered, squirting dick juices.
After showers and a nightcap, we went to bed.
Dave awakened me early in the morning (Friday) with his warm, wet lips nuzzling my left ear, his fingers (loaded with lube) already exploring my butthole. I moaned quietly. I meant it was early. He thought I moaned with pleasure. Well, there was some of that, too, in my meaning. I wiggled my butt, grinding my hardening dick into the sheets, to encourage him to continue. "Good morning, Sunshine," he whispered. "Care for a romp in the hay with your boyfriend?" he added, pressing his heavy, hard, long dick at the lubed entrance to my backside.
"Only if he promises to ride me hard, and shoot me full of ball honey deep in my ass," I murmured back at him.
"I think we can count on that happening," he assured me, chuckling. His fingers continued to push lube up my ass, stroking the entrance wider with two digits.
"I mean it, Dave! Fuck me hard! Possess me! Make me yours, again." He rolled on top of me, his thick, obsidian fuck stick sliding menacingly up and down my deep, hairy ass trench. I grabbed the base and aimed it at my puckered rosebud. "HERE!" I nearly shouted. He pushed forward slowly, knowing how thick and long his dick is. His thick dickhead felt so good rumbling over my prostate button. I pushed back into him, impaling myself on another three inches of thick horsedick. "Fuck!" I moaned. "Big fuckin' dick!" I grabbed his round ass cheeks with one hand and pulled him deeper. He raced forward and ground in that beautifully thick, last inch of hard steel. "DAMN!" I moaned. "What a fuckin' dick!"
Dave pressed harder into my ass and kissed the back of my neck. "How do you do that?" he breathed. "I'm almost ready to cum and I've only had one long stroke into you."
I smiled. I hadn't purposefully milked his monster cock, but it had happened nonetheless. Taking that much meat up my ass required me to relax. But, I couldn't relax consistently as my ass ate more inches of dick. So alternating between relaxing and tightening, I'd accomplished a pretty good milking. "Just fuck me and give me that hot load of yours. We've been fuckin' everyone else lately. Now, I just need YOU!"
"And you have all of me, every inch of it," he emphasized, pulling my hips harder onto his thick root. "But, I want this ride to last."
"I need your cum in my ass!" I insisted, milking his thick, slowly thrusting butt- stretcher. Grabbing his hard butt cheeks, I pulled him into me. The change of pace made his body shudder. He was close to cumming. I teased his tight butthole with two fingers.
"Ah, FUCK!" he moaned. He kicked quickly into warp speed, going for intense pleasure and satisfaction, having hit the wall and breeched it. There was no turning back. "Fuckin' cumming!" he bellowed.
"Yeah, Dave! Fuck me! Hammer my hole! Cum in me. Bareback my hot asshole!" I felt his dick swell inside me, a warm flush of sperm jetted into me as his body jerked on my back. Another wave of climax triggered more streams of cream and more spasms atop me. His big, muscled body pressed down on me; his big hose sprayed my guts deeply with his baby sauce. He possessed me! I love that feeling.
Within a few minutes, he was asleep on my back; his 11" dick had slowly shrunk up, but still plugged my ass. But, he was getting heavy. And his "babies" were actively trying to abort.
I rolled him on to his side, his dick still in me. I squeezed it with my butt muscles as a farewell kiss and moved slowly away. He slipped out and I headed for the bathroom, FAST! Even after all that fucking with Ziggy, Dave had flooded my butt with a major load of warm cum. Of course, allowing him to "soak" in my ass after he'd climaxed only added to the pool of dick sauce to be aborted.
When I returned to the bed, Conrad had Dave's knees resting on to his broad shoulders, his thick German dick buried deeply in Dave's hungry ass. Being that my sex motor was still running, I'd had designs on Dave's ass. But, Conrad's hot Teutonic butt would be a nice diversion.
I pushed him forward with my hands on his ass and my tongue licking and slurping along his deeply muscled ass trench. He leaned further forward, impaling Dave completely. Mutual groans escaped from their throats as Dave felt all 12" of the thick phallus throb inside him, and Conrad appreciated my wet tongue on his sweaty, fragrant asshole. Perhaps, I was making similar noises. I so concentrated on enjoying his butt and keeping my dick from spontaneously spraying his back that I wasn't sure if I'd joined their throaty chorus or it was only their noise. I love the taste of cum (as you all know), and Conrad's ass was drooling at least one load that Max had shot up there after they'd gone to bed last night.
I was a happy cum pig!
I broke away from my lingual slurps on his butt and grabbed a condom. I knew how much Conrad enjoyed getting fucked. Although I don't have the length or thickness that Dave has, I could still tickle his prostate well enough to make him cum. I pressed my flared, fat dickhead against his pucker. He opened easily, his ass remembering the thick cocks of Dave and Max from last night, impaling himself on my heavy 9" dick as he pulled partially out of Dave. Gripping me like a velvet-covered vice, he pulled me forward, spearing Dave's happy asshole, again. Conrad leaned in further, kissing Dave lustily as I pounded his big German ass.
"There you are," I heard Max giggle from the doorway. "And doing what I love best. He wiggled in between Dave and Conrad, pushing his hungry ass down on Dave's hastily condomed, black dick, shoving his own dick into Dave's face with each upward thrust from Dave's hips. Conrad chewed and licked on Max's neck and ears, trying his best to hold back the pace and building climax.
But, Dave's ass had milking talent Conrad hadn't reckoned with. Of course, having my dick slithering deeply into his ass, rubbing his prostate with each inward thrust and withdrawal, Conrad had no way of holding back his impending cum blasts. Escalating, guttural protests notwithstanding, Conrad came, shaking hard. He bucked furiously into Dave's hungry butt, howling out his pleasure as he sprayed the condom full.
"Yeah, FUCK my ass, Conrad!" Dave urged. "Make me cum in your boyfriend's randy butt!"
Dave's voice pushed me over the edge. Conrad's ass channel stroking my hard, fat dick (as he pumped out his climax) helped, too. I rammed into the big German's butt and unloaded wave after wave of cum into the condom. Flopping out of control on his back, only my hips knew to continue to pump deeply and fast, squirting a flood of creamy sperm into Conrad's grasping butt tunnel.
Max leaned back into his lover's broad chest, wriggling his own ass, milking thirstily as Dave's booming voice announced his exploding dick juices. Max stroked Dave's dick with his ass muscles, leaving his bouncing dick waving in Dave's shouting face. Dave rammed hard upwards, burying his prodigious dick as far as his hips could thrust. With a strangled cry, Max pressed hard into Dave's crotch and shot a three-foot rope of hot dick gravy into Dave's open, howling face. Dave choked at the sudden introduction of seminal fluids, but recovered quickly, sucking hungrily at Max's jerking dickhead as he uploaded more sperm into Max's greedy ass.
After much panting and laughter, we drained the three condoms (each "butt beneficiary" getting the filled condom so recently protecting his butt channel). Max and Conrad left to shower and get dressed. Conrad had an office to go to and Max had a trans-Atlantic flight to prepare for. He would only be gone until noon, but that gave us time to grab additional sleep time. The party tonight would probably go late, and we had an early plane to catch to San Francisco tomorrow morning. A nap would do us good.
We slept until after 10:30. This time, though, I awakened Dave with gentle kisses on his muscular shoulder and arm nearest me. He smiled when he opened his eyes, turning his face toward me. "I love you, Michael Claiborne," he grinned.
"I love you, David Carey, love of my life, father of my children," I added with a giggle.
"But, you keep aborting them!" he wailed, laughing at his own joke.
"They're too active," I defended. "But, I still love trying to make more."
"Same to you," he acknowledged. "But, I seem to have the same problem when you're the daddy." He sighed and pulled me to him. Kissing me on the lips, gently, he hugged me tightly. "Who'd have thought as little as two years ago that I'd be in bed with a man that I love with all my heart and soul? Even a year ago, I wasn't sure I'd done the right thing. Being a card-carrying fag's been a huge change for me."
"Any regrets?"
"Not a one," he smiled and kissed me, again. "Well, maybe one."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," he sighed. "I only wish I could feel other men cum in my ass bareback. I know Kurt and Conrad would feel SO good that way!"
"You're SUCH a size PIG!" I laughed, pushing him away. "Tramp!"
"Well, you've had the experience of many years when you did it bareback," he replied. "I guess I'm a little jealous."
"It's not worth your life, Dave," I responded.
"Of course not!" he bristled. "But, it's the only thing I regret."
I smiled back at him. It was a pretty simple regret, and it surely had nothing to do with our love for each other. "I'll just have to remember to fuck your butt more often, then."
He laughed at me. "Like, you ever have to worry about that. Anytime you want it, Mister, you can pump baby gravy up my ass bareback."
"Same to you, Fella!"
He was quiet for a moment. "We are pretty lucky, you know. We can bareback each other. How many couples can't?"
"Far too many," I admitted ruefully. "The newlyweds like, uh, Junior and Ben, and Jeremy and his new boyfriend Jack."
"Or my brother and his boyfriend, Donnie and Trevor. They gotta screw all the time with raincoats. I'm sure it's driving them crazy. But, Trevor's been around and still gets it on at the gym with guys. I sure hope he's safe with them, too," Dave added.
"Yeah, we're lucky in that way."
"And," Dave grinned impishly, "we have lotsa MONEY!"
"Helluva way to get it, but it does make life easier."
"We've made a lot of money this year in the market," Dave mused. "Think we oughta make some more donations?"
"Before the end of the tax year?"
"Yeah. Our tax burden is gonna be ugly. Might as well give it to a worthy charity, instead of Uncle Sam," Dave opined.
"Sold! How much?"
"Shall we do the 10% thing again?"
"Ten percent of the gain?" He nodded. "I'm fine with that. But, who gets it?"
"Well, I haven't thought that far ahead. We still have three months to think about it," Dave said slowly. "But, I have been thinking of establishing a foundation to do good."
"What kind of good?"
"I'd love to donate to political candidates, but a foundation can't do that, if it hopes to keep it's tax status," Dave said thoughtfully. "Perhaps, we can finesse it some way. Like the soft money that goes to 'issue ads', a thinly veiled endorsement of or attack on candidates and ballot measures."
"Let's talk to our tax accountant/lawyer, what's-his-name, and see what he can tell us before we get too far out in left field," I suggested.
"Summerhays," Dave supplied.
"Yeah, him."
I rolled out of bed. "Come along, Sleep Beauty. We need to get our butts in gear," offering Dave a hand up. He grabbed my proffered hand, but pulled me back into bed. I landed atop him. "This will get you in a lot of trouble," I warned.
"I'm willing to take the risk," he grinned. "Much as I enjoyed Conrad's monster dick this morning, no one makes love to me like you do."
I grinned down at him.
Then, I made love to him the way we both love it, slow, easy, and deep. We paused frequently, building relentlessly to excruciatingly pleasurable, dual climaxes.
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