Country Club Summer

Country Club Summer Chapter 1

Country Club Summer: Part I

by Foster I. Pines

fosteripines@gmail.com

*Feedback is much appreciated, along with your thoughts on where this story should go.

*I have published a book, "A Boy's Own Island", available on Amazon if you are interested.

*Thank you for reading!

Part I: The Junior Locke

The bulge in question was fifty yards away--maybe even a hundred--yet Noah's eyes locked onto it with swift, effortless precision, mere moments after it was unveiled beneath the midday sun. A speedo bulge. A red speedo, tight and straining to hold in a muscled ass and a full crotch. Noah watched as the speedo's owner--a bronzed and buff blond--kicked aside his standard-issue lifeguard shorts onto the pool deck.

The blond Adonis took several slow and deliberate steps to the edge of the pool and paused. The country club crowd seemed to wordlessly plead for a longer look, and the muscled hunk happily obliged. Watchful young mothers ignored their swimming toddlers, dark-eyed widows glanced up from their glossy magazines, blushing teenage girls leaned together and giggled, and a white-haired old queen underneath a floppy sunhat attempted to surreptitiously sneak a photo with an iPad. And then there was Noah on the first tee box, far removed from the poolside scene, peering through the branches of an oak tree at that alluring bulge.

It was a gift, really, to have such an eagle eye, Noah thought. What a shame it would be to miss such a spectacle--such a fine specimen. His eyes lingered on the ample curves of the stud's ass. Then, suddenly, that muscled body sprang to life and dove into the pool. Noah admired the bulge for one last moment before it plunged out of view, leaving only a neat spray of water in its wake.

"Hey, hey! Boy!"

The daydreams swirling in Noah's mind--scenes of the hard-bodied lifeguard thrusting into him, a whistle dangling down from his sweaty, muscled chest--all dissipated like smoke.

"Hey! Hey! You! You, boy!"

Noah's attention came back to the reality of the first tee box, where his shoulders strained under the familiar weight of two heavy golf bags. The shouting in question came from a small Persian man in a black pinstripe suit. An apparently very angry little man. Noah watched with a blank expression as the man strode from the paved cart path and onto the trim grass of the tee box. He threw a finger up and brought it within inches of Noah's face--or his neck, really, since his face was too high of a reach for the man.

"What do you think you are doing, boy?"

He waited for Noah's reply. Noah shrugged, somehow managing to lift the heavy bags on his shoulders.

"Uh...caddying?"

The man's eyes sharpened their stare. "I see that! Stupid boy! Who said you could caddy for this foursome?"

"I dunno. Carl sent me down for this tee time when--"

"Lazy fucking idiot. Doesn't he read the schedule? Useless!" the man shouted to no one in particular. He seemed to restrain himself for a moment. He looked to the grass in silence, and then gazed back up at Noah with a wary stare.

"You are new," he said slowly.

"Yeah."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"You go to college? Or are you working some other job?"

"College."

This seemed to calm the man a little.

"You know what you are doing, boy?"

"Caddying?"

"Yes, caddying. You are good?"

"I think so."

The little man huffed. "Do not think so, know so!" He violently slapped the bag on Noah's right shoulder. "This man--this man is the managing partner of Witmore, Jones, and Locke. Number one lawyer in town." He slapped the bag on Noah's left. "And this man is a federal appeals judge. You understand me, boy?"

"Important people," Noah said plainly.

"No shit," the little man said, his voice suddenly low and dark. "Rich people."

"Jeremy! Jeremy!" the Persian ran a hand through his slick, grey hair and called out to a chubby, pug-faced caddy tottering down the cart path towards the tee box. "Hurry, boy! Hurry your belly down here."

The round hadn't even begun and Jeremy's white polo shirt was already soaked in sweat. "Yeah, Mr. J?"

"Jesus, Jeremy, you are an oaf." The little man winced as Jeremy's odor flooded the tee box. "Make sure this one doesn't screw up. OK?"

Jeremy nodded. "Don't worry, boss. He's good. We went out together yesterday." He smiled at Noah, who smiled back. "He's got good eyes."

Mr. J shot a glance at Noah. "Do you?"

"Eagle eyes," Noah said with the slightest of smirks.

Mr. J huffed again. "Stupid, boy. It'll take more than that."

***

By the third green Noah knew the score. Mr. Locke--of Witmore, Jones and Locke--was an insufferable jerk and a shit golfer. He had coughed pathetically when he kicked his ball out from behind a spruce tree on the second hole. When he had realized Noah was right there, watching and dutifully holding out a seven iron, Mr. Locke mumbled incoherently and griped about how the groundskeeper was letting the course go to hell. The judge, for his part, seemed moderately drunk. Or perhaps extremely drunk. The judge suspected--correctly--that Mr. Locke was in pursuit of a favor that he had no intention of granting, and so he decided to spend his afternoon drunk and oblivious. His golf game, Noah noted, did not suffer for it.

Mr. Locke and the judge, however, did not interest Noah much. Instead, between tracking shanked tee shots and raking sand traps behind Mr. Locke, Noah repeatedly turned his attention elsewhere, to one person in particular: Mr. Locke's son, the junior Locke.

The younger Locke, Matt, was all vigor and muscle. Noah examined him head-to-toe--or toe-to-head rather--with each backswing he took. His calves flexed full and his thick thighs strained the seams of his suspiciously short stone-khaki shorts. His muscled torso turned and twisted underneath the blue sheen of his polo while his biceps and triceps each swelled and relaxed in turn. Beneath the broad brim of his baseball cap his jaw--stern and determined--was at odds with his soft, pink lips. His eyes hid in the shadow of his cap, only flickering into the sunlight--green and bright--at rare, fleeting moments. It was the face of a brat turned bro now searching for what could possibly come next; it was a body that Noah very much wanted to see more of.

Matt was twenty-five and about to finish law school. Noah knew this because at least once every twenty minutes Mr. Locke turned to the judge and said, "Matt's twenty-five and about to finish law school. Can you believe it? Where has the time gone?" The judge feigned surprise the first few times Mr. Locke said this, but after that he didn't bother to respond with so much as a grunt. Instead he looked aimlessly over to his own son, who rounded out the foursome. The judge's son looked to be about forty-five and about to finish building a model of the Death Star in his basement, though the judge opted not to confirm this out loud. The long-haired, neck-bearded man-child muffed his way through the game and was completely--and from his perspective, happily--ignored.

By the fifth hole Matt commanded nearly all of Noah's attention. Noah was carefully studying the sweat beading on Matt's neck and dripping down onto the top of his pecs--laid bare by his unbuttoned polo. If Noah had suddenly gone blind then and there he could have passed the rest of his life drawing that same small, exposed patch of Matt's chest over and over--content in the eternal darkness.

On the sixth hole Noah got caught looking, and on the seventh hole Matt got caught looking back. Following the latter instance Matt smirked and sank his putt. On the eighth tee Matt broke the silence between them.

"Can I clear it with a three wood? What do you think?" Matt said.

"Excuse me?"

"Three wood enough? To clear the creek down there."

Noah looked down the fairway to the far-off creek and pretended to think about this critically. In reality he was scanning his peripheral vision to catch a glimpse of the bemusement on Matt's boyish face as he watched him think.

"Well?"

"You, um--you should ask Jeremy. He knows the yardage better. I think it's 220." Noah sheepishly turned his eyes away from Matt's stare and began to walk away.

"Wait, wait," Matt said, putting a hand firm against Noah's shoulder to hold him in place. "I didn't ask the yardage. I asked what you thought. Can I clear it? Three wood." Matt held up the club with his other hand.

Noah eyed him expressionlessly. "Nah." He slipped past Matt's hand.

"Wait a sec. Hold up, hold up," Matt said playfully. "No faith in me? You've watched my drives."

Noah turned around to face him. Matt tipped up his chin proudly. "I know you've been watching me." His voice was lower now, and filled with mischief.

"Maybe," Noah said noncommittally.

Matt laughed. "So a driver then, huh? I guess I'll play it safe." He turned towards his bag to change clubs.

"No," Noah said to his back.

"No what?" Matt was perplexed.

"You can't clear it with that either."

Matt's eyes went wide and he smiled at the provocation. "Excuse me, son? Are you for real?"

"You asked what I thought."

"I can drive 250--easy."

"Maybe, but you can't clear that creek."

"You sure about that?"

"Yup."

"Jeremy, give me my damn driver!"

Noah stepped back as Matt teed up his ball and settled into his stance.

"Fucking thinks I can't clear it," Matt muttered. He broke from his stance and pointed his driver at Noah. "Watch this." Noah smiled.

The drive was picture perfect. The ball sailed high into the blue afternoon sky. It outdistanced the senior Locke by nearly a hundred yards, and the judge by fifty. Its path was straight as an arrow, not drifting so much as five yards left or right of dead center. All six of them watched from the tee box--their hands shielding their eyes from the sun--as the ball dropped into the creek with a small, elegant splash.

Noah couldn't help but smile when Matt's eyes found his.

"You fucker."

***

Noah wiped the sweat from his brow as he sat in the hot grass beside the tenth tee box and waited for Mr. Locke and company to emerge from the clubhouse. An errant bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and stung his eye. Noah winced and rubbed his eye.

"Here."

Noah looked up to see Matt looming over him. The fingers of his outstretched hand wrapped around two cans of beer. The cans were frosty--perspiring almost as much as Noah in the mounting midday heat.

"Thanks. Jeremy's inside," Noah said as he took one of the cans.

"I know. He's laid out on the tile floor in a back hallway. Looks like he fucking died." He wiggled the remaining can. "Take it."

Noah carefully took the second can. "Yeah. That's apparently how he recharges between the front and back nine."

"Whatever it takes," Matt said as he sat on the grass next to Noah. As he lowered himself to the ground his leg--damp with sweat--rubbed against Noah's thigh accidently. Maybe accidentally, maybe not.

"Alright," Matt said as he waved another pair of cans in his other hand. "Two each. We're shotgunning the first before my old man and the judge get back out here." He pulled his car keys from his pocket and punched a hole in his can. "Here."

Noah warily accepted the keys. He turned them over, examining them in his hand, and then curled his lips. "Shoulda figured you'd drive a BMW."

Matt laughed. "Shut the fuck up."

Noah deftly sliced into his can and handed the keys back.

"With the precision of a true college sophomore," Matt said admiringly. "Ready and...go!"

The cans were drained in a flash. Matt let out an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction. He crushed his can in his hand. "Here, I'll take it," he said, reaching out for Noah's empty can. Noah handed it off. Matt crushed it and flung it back at Noah's chest.

"Hey!"

Matt shot a sly smile at him. "You deserve it. You fucked up my drive."

"Did I?"

"Yeah. You got in my head." Matt lifted his cap and tapped his head, revealing his close-cropped dark hair. For a brief moment the harsh sun illuminated his bright green eyes--eyes that looked intently at Noah.

Noah could not find any words to reply, so he simply stared for a moment.

"How do you know I'm a sophomore?"

Words formed on Matt's tongue but he stopped himself, holding back a pathetic lie. He paused. When he began again his words were softer--and truthful.

"I know who you are."

Noah searched for a reply. After a moment it came.

"Why?"

"Doesn't matter why."

That's all that matters, Noah thought. "OK," he said.

Matt cracked open his second beer and Noah followed suit.

"You swim, right?"

"Dive."

"That's it. Right. I've seen you. I've seen you diving."

"Where?"

"Some swim meet...or diving meet...or whatever it's called." Matt flicked at the tab of his can before taking another sip.

"OK...was I...good?" The question--thrown like a lifesaver into the rising awkwardness of the conversation--was so pathetic it made them both laugh.

"Yeah, you were good," Matt said.

"Good," Noah said.

"You certainly looked good," Matt said, as if speaking to no one in particular.

Noah blushed. "There's, uh, not much left to the imagination is there?"

Matt smirked. "I dunno about that. I was imagining plenty."

They both looked down to the grass between their knees--unable to face one another in that moment.

"So you're about to finish law school?"

"Where on earth did you hear that? It was supposed to be a secret!" Matt said with mock surprise.

Noah smiled. "Well, he seems very proud of you."

"Jesus, enough of this. I'm boring. Tell me, why are you sweating your balls off all summer caddying? Caddying for shitheads like my dad and the judge."

"Money."

Matt nodded approvingly. "Can't argue with that. How much do you need?"

"More than you've got."

"I'll float you a loan."

"You haven't got the cash."

Matt smirked. "But, remember, I drive a BMW. I'm clearly very rich."

"Nah, I bet you lease the damn thing."

Matt nearly spit out a sip of beer. "Little fucker."

"Little? I'm taller than you. You know that, right?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Definitely. And definitely stronger than you."

"Stronger? Really, son? You're gonna start in on that shit?"

"Soft-skinned, baby-faced rich little bitch."

"Woah, woah. Soft-skinned? Baby-faced? You know what? That sounds OK to me."

"Nah."

"Very appealing, actually. That sounds like I'm a catch."

"Nah."

"Yeah, yeah," Matt said, turning his whole body towards Noah. "That sounds like I'm pretty fucking desirable. Is that what you're trying to say, Noah? That I'm desirable? That I'm some fucking hot piece?"

Matt bit his lower lip and Noah suddenly realized his dick was throbbing in his shorts. Matt stared him down--suddenly flush with courage. Noah was nowhere near as confident, and was relieved at the interruption from Mr. Locke's voice shouting from the clubhouse.

"Let's go, boys. I'm ready to dominate the back nine!"

"It's tougher than the front, I've heard," the judge said cautiously as the pair approached the tee box.

"Sure is," Mr. Locke shot back, "but I'm ready for a hard nine. How about you boys?"

Matt kept his eyes on Noah. "A hard nine sounds great to me, dad." He struggled to keep his composure as he stood. Once on his feet he offered a hand to Noah.

Noah grabbed Matt's hand and murmured, just loud enough for Matt to hear. "You are fucking cheesy as fuck."

Matt pulled him up and then, with a quick jerk, pulled Noah's body close to his. Noah was startled. His cock swelled again and he worried he was tenting his shorts for all to see. He was close enough to feel Matt's hot breath on his face. Matt refused to release his hand; his bicep bulged in the sleeve of his polo as he held Noah in place. He whispered back.

"I believe the word you're looking for is horny. Horny as fuck."

***

Mr. Locke's tee shot on the twelfth hole wasn't actually that bad, if his intended target was the lake on the fourth hole. He got a decent height on the shot, Noah observed, but once it topped out it took a nasty bend rightwards and sliced through the branches of a maple tree. The group watched in unison as the ball landed with a splash.

"In the rough, I guess," Mr. Locke said. "It'll be playable." He confidently marched off the tee box.

The judge looked at Noah with arched eyebrows. "Hope he's got waders in there," he said pointing to Mr. Locke's bag on Noah's shoulder. He suddenly burped--as if to punctuate his point. Noah's eyes watered with the assaulting, hot stench of bourbon and popcorn.

Noah caught up to Mr. Locke underneath the shade of a maple tree. He reached into Mr. Locke's bag to pull out a golf ball retriever. Mr. Locke heard Noah extending the metal pole and turned his head with a sneer.

"What the hell is that for?"

Noah knew better than to reply. We all saw your shitty shot take a dive, Noah thought. At least respect the fact that I'm going to try to fish your ten-dollar golf ball out of the lake, you fucking prick.

As they neared the lake's edge Mr. Locke slipped a ball from his pocket and dropped in a clearing in the grass.

"See? I thought you had good eyes, kid. It's right here. In the rough, like I said."

It was a brazen move, even for as bad a cheater as he was, Noah thought. But of course there was nothing to say. He wanted a big tip, didn't he? So he simply handed Mr. Locke a five iron with one hand and then began to retract the ball retriever in the other.

"Now, wait, wait, wait. If you wanna fish around in there and see if there are any good finds, by all means."

Noah could hardly contain himself. A cheater and cheap as fuck. He watched Mr. Locke fire another crooked shot off between the trunks of the maple trees--this one at least somewhat in the direction of the twelfth green. Then he re-extended the retriever.

"Take a minute or two. See what you find."

Motherfucker, Noah thought.

What he found were three driving range balls, a Titleist that was at least 20 years old, and what looked like the skull of a squirrel. He laid them out to dry on the steep bank beside the lake and carefully inched himself closer to the water for one more sweep.

"Quite the treasure."

Matt had snuck up on him. He looked down on Noah from atop the bank--his lips curled with a self-satisfied smile.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Aw. Poor baby."

"Your dad might be worse at cheating than he is at golfing."

Matt laughed. "I know."

"And that's fucking saying something."

"I know."

Noah grunted and outstretched the retriever.

"Hey, wait! I actually think I see it."

Noah turned to look up at him warily. "Where?"

"Just left of where you're aiming."

"Jesus Christ. Here?"

"No. Further. Reach a little further."

"Dammit," Noah mumbled as he lowered himself to the water's edge. "Here?"

"Yeah, yeah. That's it. But a little further. Reach."

"I'm reaching!"

"Reach more!"

"You are a little bi--"

Noah knew his fate the instant he felt Matt's golf cleat softly pressed between his shoulder blades. In quick succession there was a firm push, a giggle from Matt, and a swift descent into the lake. The water was surprisingly deep, and it took Noah a few tries to get back on his feet. As he struggled Matt's laughter grew louder and louder.

"You piece of shit!" Noah shouted as he struggled to trudge out of the water. "Come here! I'm gonna throw your ass in next." Noah bound up in the bank and grabbed wildly for Matt, who managed to duck despite being in the throes of his fit of laughter.

"Hey, hey!" he chided Noah, who continued to chase him. "I've got my phone on me. My phone!"

"Fuck your phone!"

Noah managed to get a hand around Matt's wrist. He was enraged. Matt's laughter ended abruptly under Noah's firm grip. Matt seemed surprised--and a bit terrified--by his wild anger. Frankly, Noah himself was a little surprised at how mad he was. It was these rich shitheads, he thought, walking all over him, whenever they could. And this fucker--not even bending over to push him in with his hands. Just fucking kicking him in, like a dog.

"Easy, man. Easy!" Matt said, recoiling from Noah's strong grasp. "Calm down."

"Fuck off."

"Calm down. It was a stupid fucking joke."

Noah kept hold of Matt and caught his breath. Matt eyed him carefully as his whole body slowly relaxed.

"I'm sorry, OK? That was stupid."

Noah glared at him.

"Hey!" Mr. Locke's voice boomed from the other side of the trees. "What the hell's going on? Get back over here!"

"Coming!" Matt shouted. He looked to Noah. "Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Just take it off. You look ridiculous."

Noah hesitated.

"Jesus," Matt said. "Come on." He pulled at Noah's soaked polo and began to lift it over his head.

"Stop!" Noah protested. "I can--I can do it. I can do it myself!"

Their arms fought against each other as they each tried peel the soaked shirt from Noah's body. Finally, after a moment's tussle, Noah's arms sprang free and the shirt flopped down onto the grass. They were left standing face to face--inches in apart--with Noah's heaving torso looming over Matt.

Matt gulped. Noah was all muscle. His thick pecs and rigid abs were wet and shining in the sun. His wide, sculpted shoulders were nearly at Matt's eye level. Matt looked to Noah's nipples, pert after the shock of cold lake water, and then he glanced up to Noah's blue eyes.

Noah fixed him with an icy stare. Matt--suddenly bumbling and bashful--struggled to speak. He finally stepped to the side and picked up Noah's shirt.

"Here. This will, uh--this will make it a little less obvious." He twisted the shirt and wrung a half-gallon of lake water out of the fabric.

Noah, still fuming, finally spoke. "It's gonna be pretty fucking obvious."

"Well, um, yeah." Matt laughed nervously. "I know but...here." He cautiously held out the shirt to Noah, who snatched it from him.

"Jesus," Noah grumbled as he unraveled the polo.

"Sorry."

"Listen," Noah began sharply. He grabbed Matt's forearm. "I'm not your fucking bitch."

Matt nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Whatever." Noah pushed him aside and walked off between the trees.

***

It wasn't until the eighteenth fairway that Matt dared approach Noah again. Noah was intently striding down the fairway, leading the group by several dozen yards, in search of another shitty shot by Mr. Locke. Matt caught up to him just as he caught sight of Mr. Locke's ball--deep amid a swath of tall grass, and squarely behind a massive tree trunk.

Noah didn't hesitate. He plucked the ball up and tossed it onto the fairway. Matt was at a loss of words.

"What?" Noah snarled when he saw Matt gawking at him.

Matt composed himself. "You're gonna be his favorite caddy if you keep that up."

Noah brushed aside the joke. "Whatever." He walked past Matt to the fairway.

"Hey...hey!" Matt shouted.

"What?" Noah turned around and glared at Matt.

"Listen. I just wanted to say that--that I know who you are because--because I wanted to know who you are." Noah stared at him blankly as Matt searched for the right words. "I mean--I mean that you're someone worth knowing."

"OK," Noah said, his voice softening ever so slightly.

"I know about your family. About your brother. I know about--or I know a little about it. I know that you're...impressive."

A moment of silence passed between them. Noah was about to respond when Mr. Locke approached.

"Would you look at that!" he said with glee as he saw his ball. "What a nice shot that turned out to be!"

***

Noah looked at the ticket. A hundred bucks. Not bad, not great, but worth the trouble. He was ready to put the afternoon behind him. To put that fucking Matt behind him, though he was slowly realizing that might not be so easy.

He turned toward the locker room to peel off his damp clothes and take a shower. As he neared the door a golf cart screeched to a halt in front of him. A familiar face called out from behind the wheel.

"Get in!" Matt's lips were curled into a mischievous grin.

Noah furrowed his brow, saying nothing.

"Come on! Don't be a little bitch. Just get in." Matt slapped the seat next to him.

"Fine," Noah said. He slowly climbed onto the cart. The moment he stepped inside Matt floored it, throwing Noah back into the passenger seat. Matt drove the cart at full speed down a winding cart path.

"Whoo!" Matt shouted. He slapped Noah on the thigh.

"Where are we going?" Noah grabbed onto a handlebar to keep from rolling out of the cart with Matt's frenzied driving.

"Where do you think?" Matt yelled over the wind rushing through the cart. His voice was wild and energetic.

Matt was about to reply when he saw the eighth tee box and knew exactly where they were headed. And why.

"OK, hot shit," Matt said as they pulled up to the tee box. "Time to put your money where your mouth is." He leapt out of the cart and grabbed his driver out of the back. "Let's see if you can clear the creek."

Noah huffed.

"What's the matter?" Matt teased. "Can't do it, can you?"

"I didn't say that," Noah said, sitting in the cart--arms crossed.

"That's the sense I'm getting. Can't do it. All talk."

"Whatever."

Matt kept smiling and prodding. Against his will a smile began to creep across Noah's face.

"There it is. C'mon," Matt said. "I'll make it interesting."

"How's that?"

"You make it, I'll double my old man's tip. Two hundred bucks."

Noah perked up. "If I miss?"

"It's called double or nothing man. High stakes."

Noah balked.

"Not for little bitches," Matt said. "So if you're not up for it, I understand. We can just drive right--"

"Gimme the club," Noah said. He stepped out of the cart.

Matt handed him the driver. Noah looked down at it and sneered. "You know what? Give me your three wood."

"Excuse me?" Matt said--shocked and exhilarated by Noah's boldness.

"Three wood."

"OK, man. If you wanna show off, fine. Easiest money I'll ever make."

Noah silently took the club from Matt and headed to the tee.

Startled squirrels scurried along tree branches at the sound of the thwack. The ball sailed high and straight. It seemed to follow the exact path that Matt's had taken hours before. Or so Noah guessed. Dammit, he thought. A sweaty fucking afternoon of work was headed down the drain--right in front of his eyes.

But ball sailed on--and on. It cleared the water easily, bouncing to a halt some twenty yards past the far bank of the creek. Noah turned to face a shocked, open-mouthed Matt.

"Pay up." He held out his hand.

"With a fucking three wood. Fucking embarrassing!" Matt laughed.

Noah laughed along with him. A tension deep within him began to release its grip and dissipate into the early evening air.

"Well?"

"Alright, alright. I've got the cash at the clubhouse." Matt put away the three wood and hopped into the cart. "Let's go."

"No," Noah said, standing beside the cart. He took on a defiant tone, and refused to get in.

"What? I'll pay up. Don't worry."

"I want something else, too."

Matt shot him a confused look. "What?"

Noah locked his icy blue eyes on Matt's bright green eyes. He stood tall over Matt, seated in the cart. His eyes made a demand of Matt's eyes--of his body.

Matt swallowed hard. "Get in."

***

The board of the Westmoor Country Club meets once of month in the aptly named Board Room. The room is long and grand, with a dramatically high ceiling. A massive marble fireplace sprawls along the northern wall while floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the southern wall. Clustered in the corners are antique chairs and tables and lamps, all facing the massive mahogany table that centers the room.

The Board Room is tucked in a corner of the clubhouse, down a narrow hallway, far from a bustle of the grand ballroom and the parlor--and nowhere near the dining room. Aside from the monthly board meeting, and the rare reservation for a birthday or graduation party, the room sits quiet and unused. Matt knew this well as he led Noah down the narrow hallway and quietly opened the double doors to the Board Room.

"C'mon," he whispered, waving Noah inside.

He carefully closed the doors and then rushed to the fireplace. Noah looked at him with a puzzled frown. Matt returned to the doors with a fire iron and slipped it through the brass handles of the double doors, sealing the room shut.

"Are you for real? I have literally never seen that in real life," Noah said.

Matt pulled on the handles, assuring himself the doors were soundly shut and--let's be honest--showing off a little.

"Are you from the 1930's or something?"

Matt shot a cute smile at Noah. "Nice trick, huh?"

"Yeah, sure," Noah said, thinking out loud. "But it begs a question."

"What's that?"

Noah smirked at him. "Just how many boys do you bring back here?"

Matt didn't miss a beat. "At least five, but not more than ten."

"Ah, everybody look out. He's a romantic. And possibly a nymphomaniac."

Matt bit his lip as he sauntered up close to Noah.

"I showed you my trick," Matt said, stopping inches from Noah. He reached up and carefully adjusted the collar of Noah's pathetic, damp polo. "Now you show me one."

A tingle ran down Noah's backside as he felt Matt's warm breaths on his neck.

"Just one?" he managed to say--his playful charm losing ground under Matt's sensual stare.

Matt smiled and ran his fingertips from Noah's neck down along his chest and abs. He finished by gently grazing his fingers along the growing bulge in Noah's shorts.

"I'll take all you've got to offer."

Noah then felt Matt's lips--those soft, pink lips that he had been admiring all day--settle down, warm and wet, onto his. Matt began gently, but soon the moment overtook them both. It was happening, they both thought.

Yes, Noah thought, that is really this hot boy's tongue in my mouth. That is really his hand on the side of my waist. And there's his other hand, wrapping around my neck and pulling me close. That is his firm, muscled torso pressing into mine. And, yes, there's his crotch grazing against mine. Calm down, relax, Noah thought. Don't blow your load like an eager idiot. Nice and easy.

As if there was any chance of that.

Matt's eyes widened as Noah sprang to life. Noah's lips suddenly battled back against his with a wild, passionate force. Noah's tongue overpowered him and slipped deep into his mouth. Matt felt the firm grip of Noah's arms wrapping around his back. One hand reached up, coursing a smooth path through his short, dark hair.

Suddenly Noah grasped a fistful of hair and jerked Matt's head back. Matt winced. He opened his eyes--his head held firm and still in Noah's grip--and saw Noah eying him carefully. Noah's lips were wet from their kissing, he noted, and his blue-eyed gaze bore deep--demanding to know something more of Matt, to know all of Matt.

Matt swallowed hard, unable to meet Noah's gaze for more than a moment. Noah released his grip on Matt's hair. Matt felt a wave of relief soon followed by a pang of yearning. He wanted Noah to grab him again, he wanted to be manhandled--to be overpowered. Grab my fucking hair again, Matt begged silently, grab whatever you like.

Noah's lips pressed smoothly onto his. This worked too, Matt thought.

With a soft thud Matt's back landed against the wood paneled wall. Noah pinned him--and then began to strip him. The seams of Matt's polo stretched as Noah lifted the shirt over Matt's head in one forceful movement. They both looked down at Matt's bare torso. Sunlight streamed through the curtains and threw shadows across his abs and pecs. Matt looked down at his chiseled body, wondering if it was enough. Noah looked down at that same body, knowing he wanted it all for himself.

Noah cradled Matt's face in his hands and continued on kissing him--now somehow more passionately, more deliberately. Matt, for his part, scrambled to reach down and pull off Noah's shirt. He struggled to lift it, however, because Noah was reluctant to let go of Matt's face and lift his hands. Finally he relented. The damp shirt clung to Noah's muscled frame, and it took both their efforts to clumsily peel the shirt off.

"Wow," Matt said. He ran his fingertips along Noah's firm pecs.

Noah laughed. "Dude, you literally saw me shirtless like an hour ago. Did I get more ripped in the past hour?"

Matt traced a fingertip around Noah's nipple.

"No, it's just--it's just that it's different when I know...when I know that--"

"That what?"

"That this is happening."

Noah laughed and pulled Matt's chest flush against his. A swelling heat began to rise from the touch of their bodies.

"What's happening? What's this" Noah asked playfully. He laid a quick, gentle kiss on Matt's lips and then pulled back, waiting for a reply. Matt's eyes stayed closed for a moment.

"There's not a word."

"Huh?"

"There's not a word for it."

Noah frowned. "For this?"

"Yeah," said Matt, more sure of himself now.

"I can think of some."

"Maybe."

"Sure, uh...kissing."

"No."

"Making out."

"Nah."

"Sex."

"Nope."

"Romance?"

"No."

Noah huffed. "Me about to fuck your brains out. How about that?"

Matt smiled. "Still no, but I like the idea."

Noah shook his head. "You're kinda nuts, huh?"

"Fully. Fully nuts."

"That's fine. I can work with that."

Their mouths and tongues met and tangled again. Matt's hands roamed up and down Noah's muscled back--one moment pressing his fingertips into Noah's firm flesh, then next scratching them along his soft, warm skin. In his reaching and grasping Matt realized Noah was almost too much for him. Bigger, stronger, wilder. Noah was kissing and sucking at his neck now; he thought he might melt into a puddle at the sensation. He rolled his head back--his skull hitting the wall with a thud. What if he just bit my neck right now, Matt thought? Sunk his teeth in and made me scream? He wanted to be bit, pounded, dominated--he wanted to be wrecked by this boy. All of the boy.

But how much of him was there, he wondered? One way to find out.

Noah felt a tug at his waist as Matt struggled to unbutton his shorts. He leaned back to give Matt's hands room to work. For someone who had apparently been with his fair share of boys, Matt was bad at this part, Noah thought. Close, close--almost had it, but this his fingers slipped. Finally--with a little more twist in the wrist--Noah felt his shorts loosen. He wiggled his hips and they fell to his feet.

A pair of black briefs--stuffed full to the brim with a stiff cock--was Matt's reward. His wandering hands quickly found Noah's shaft and grasped it hungrily through the tight fabric.

Jesus, Matt thought. Noah's girth and length were at once alarming and mesmerizing. This is what you wanted, he thought. His hole twitched with anticipation.

"Like that?" Noah said, grinding his crotch against Matt.

Matt's fingertips worked along Noah's shift until they found the swollen cockhead and there, amidst the stretched fabric, a spot wetter than the rest--precum.

"I could bust right now," Noah whispered.

Matt panicked. The fuck he could! He had plans for this boy--plans for this dick. He released his grip on the throbbing shaft, lest he fire that gun accidentally.

Noah used the moment to grab for Matt's shorts and unbutton them in one swift motion.

"That's how you do it," he teased.

"Is that your trick?" Matt said as his shorts fell to his ankles.

"Not even close," Noah said, and then he dropped to his knees.

Matt closed his eyes in anticipation. For a few moments there was nothing, just the cool air of the room against his bare thighs--and his dick twitching in his red briefs. He waited for a grasping palm, or fingertips slipping under his elastic waistband. Neither came. He was about to open his eyes when he felt the next act: Noah's lips closing over his shaft. They massaged his cock through the confines of his briefs--now churning against the base his cock, now working along his length, now wetting the fabric over his tender tip with warm saliva.

God, how he wanted to pull down his briefs and let his cock spring to life. But Noah would move at his own pace, Matt thought. He slipped his hands behind himself and pinned them to the wall.

Noah, for his part, had nearly exhausted his supply of restraint. Matt's briefs were sexy and alluring, and teasing his cock this way was fun, but Noah was ready to taste this boy. It was a nice thick dick, he thought. Better than he might he have hoped for. It was time to feel it down his throat.

Matt finally opened his eyes when he felt Noah peeling down the front of his briefs. He looked down anxiously. He feared some dissatisfied expression, or worse, some polite smile. There was neither. Noah's eyes flared wide as Matt's cock pulsed before him. Noah looked at it and said nothing for a moment--his nostrils bathing the shaft in warm air. Then, with a sudden start, his mouth descended on the cock, nearly swallowing it whole.

Matt's body trembled. The warm, wet clasp of Noah's mouth sent a shudder through him. His shoulders quaked and his head rattled against the wood paneling. That could have been it, he thought. He nearly had blown his load right then. He took deep breaths and tried to calm himself. This was tough work, because Noah's mouth was doing all sorts of acrobatics that seemed focus on only one goal: making Matt's cock explode into a million pieces.

Noah found his rhythm rapidly. His lips parted delicately over Matt's cocktip. He then made quick work of the first half of Matt's shaft, bathing it in saliva and massaging it with his wandering tongue. Next he paused and carefully worked the remainder of the pulsing rod deep into his throat. Thus choked on cock, he held himself there as long as he could--tears welling, drool pooling--until his lungs demanded oxygen. Then he slid the shaft free, took a deep breath, and began again at the top--or rather the tip.

Torture, Matt thought. Absolute torture. He wanted to live forever--or at least an evening--in the image of Noah's mouth filled with his cock. But he could barely look down, for fear of coming too soon. But what the fuck, he thought? Why not unload? Why not, when those lips were around the base of his cock and his shaft was snug down Noah's throat, just let it rip? Absolutely bombard this stud with what would definitely be an onslaught of cum. Fill him to the brim, let it spill from his mouth and drip down his chin.

Fuck, Matt cautioned himself, don't even think about it.

But it was all he could think about. And, as Noah began using a hand to pump along as he sucked, Matt realized he was on shaky ground. Any moment he might erupt.

Noah grabbed Matt's cock with the base and slapped it against his outstretched tongue.

"Like that?"

Matt sighed. "Fuck," he said plainly.

Noah pumped his shaft and carefully squeezed it to milk a drop of precum at its tip. He smiled at the perfect, gleaming bead before lapping it up with a flick of his tongue.

"You wanna feed me your load?"

"More than anything."

"You got a big one for me?"

Matt nodded.

"Good."

"I'm so close."

Noah smiled. "Not yet, bitch. You come when I say."

In one swift and powerful flurry of movement Noah spun Matt about-face. Before Matt could make sense of what was happening, or even try to protest, his face was pressed hard against the wood paneling and Noah's hot breath was on his hole.

"That's it, boy. Spread for me," Noah commanded.

Matt felt like a puppet under Noah's control. Noah's firm hands pushed his thighs apart, then pulled his ass outwards, then grabbed and spread his cheeks. Matt hoped for the feel of a cocktip against his twitching hole to come next. Instead he felt the tender, wet touch of Noah's tongue massaging his smooth hole. That worked too, he thought.

Noah's tongue was not there to play, Matt thought. The stud ate ass like it was an Olympic sport. His tongue pushed and prodded at Matt's hole with unrelenting force. The message was clear: Noah wanted inside him--badly.

Matt cooed and moaned uncontrollably with each stroke of Noah's tongue.

"Nice fucking ass," Noah murmured approvingly.

Matt felt a fingertip press gently, then firmly at his hole. He relaxed and let Noah slip inside him.

"Damn. Tight! How are you so tight?" Noah wondered aloud.

Matt smiled at the wall.

"A pretty fucking hole. Too bad."

"Why too bad?"

"Too bad I'm gonna have to wreck it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Matt laughed. "I'll forgive you."

Noah didn't laugh along. "We'll see about that."

Noah stood and walked over to a green velvet chair. He settled his muscled frame down low into the chair--his bulging black briefs extended out to Matt. An invitation Matt had no intention of turning down.

"Come here, bitch. Work on this dick."

The hair on Matt's arms stood on end. Noah's sultry, demanding tones put him into a trance. If he could have turned himself inside out for Noah right then and there, he would have.

Matt knelt before Noah's swollen bulge. He carefully slipped his fingertips behind the elastic waistband and pulled down the black briefs. There was a flash of flesh as Noah's thick shaft slipped free of the tight briefs. Matt briefly noted the tan lines from Noah's long hours diving in a speedo.

Jesus, Matt thought. Noah's dick swayed and throbbed before him, inches from his face. Can I take this? Noah's cock was long and thick, very much the complement to his tall, muscled body. But while it was pretty to look at, and even lovelier to grasp in his palm--as Matt now did--, its girth was daunting. As Matt began to gently stroke along the shaft he could only imagine searing pain when this rod stretched his tight hole. He wondered if he could even truly take it.

But what was there to do but try?

First, however, there was the task at hand. Matt's lips closed over Noah's cocktip. The taste of precum and the warmth of Noah's swollen cock overwhelmed Matt. Soon he was ravenous--intent on swallowing that dick.

Matt could take no more than a third of Noah's length before he had to intently focus on calming his body and relaxing his throat. You're not going to die choking on this cock, Matt told himself. Though if you do, what a great way to go. He took a deep breath and got two-thirds of that massive shaft inside him. His eyes watered and his body trembled. He pulled off of the shaft, now glistening with his saliva, and steeled himself for another attempt.

Noah looked down with admiration. Most boys didn't even try, he thought. Most of them, realizing the anatomical impossibility of swallowing him whole, just sucked at his cocktip and pumped his shaft with their hands. It did the job, certainly, but it was sometimes uninspiring. Few had the nerve--or perhaps the naivete--to try to take his whole length. Watching Matt's face flush red and tears run down his cheeks, Noah had nothing but respect.

However, he wasn't about to admit that.

"Come on, bitch. Can't you take it?"

A pathetic jumble of gurgling and gasping noises was all Noah heard in reply.

"Choke on that dick. That's it."

Matt's lips slipped closer and closer to the base of Noah's shaft with each attempt. And Noah felt the clasp of Matt's throat grow tighter and tighter as his tip plunged deeper and deeper.

Finally he did it. Finally Matt's lips made it to the tickle of Noah's bush. Damn, Noah thought, this boy is something wild. A smirk spread across his face as Matt fell motionless--holding still with that entire shaft stuffed inside him. He's just showing off now, Noah thought. But he'd earned the right. Matt's face grew redder and redder; the veins on his neck bulged. Noah's smirk faded as he began to worry that Matt might actually choke on his shaft. He began to reach a hand down to pry Matt from his crotch when finally the stud pulled back.

Matt gasped for air. It took several moments for him to recompose himself enough to speak, but when did there was only one thing he wanted to say.

"Fuck me."

He rose to his feet and bent over the mahogany table--his forearms braced on the tabletop, his back arched, his ass presented for the taking.

Noah spit in his hand and stroked his swollen cock as he approached Matt's smooth hole. He hardly needed the extra lubrication; his shaft was fully lathered in Matt's saliva.

God, what a perfect hole, Noah thought. Pink and smooth, Matt's hole could not have been more alluring. Noah's eyes could look at nothing else as he approached Matt's body. He wanted to bury himself inside that hole and never leave.

Matt was still catching his breath when he felt Noah's firm hands gently grip the sides of his ass cheeks. Here it comes, he thought. This could only go really well or...not. He'd only gone running from one cock before--an absolute freak of nature monster dick. But that was embarrassing beyond belief, and Matt he no intention of repeating the experience. He braced himself for the impact--for the stretching, searing pain.

He felt, unexpectedly, two things at the same time: Noah's swollen cocktip settling against his hole and Noah's lips kissing at the back of his neck. Surprised, Matt turned his head to meet Noah's lips and kiss him. By the time their lips had joined and their tongues had intertwined Matt realized Noah was inside him. Nice move, Matt thought.

Noah, his tone now soft and sweet, whispered into Matt's ear.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

Matt nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"I think so," Matt said.

"Here. See if this is OK."

Matt winced. He was glad he wasn't facing Noah. That massive shaft was now a third of the way in, and its full girth was now passing through Matt's hole. He reached a hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"Sorry," Noah said. "I can pull out."

"No, no. Stay there. Let me see if I can--"

Matt took deep breaths and tried to relax. He arched his back further. The feeling was intense. It was pain, sure, Matt admitted. But not like other times. He wanted this so badly. And he knew what this was: he will absolutely filled with this boy. He was overwhelmed by this boy. And that thought carried him along.

Noah kissed Matt's neck again. He had been here before. As much as he teased and made demands of Matt's ass, he knew this is where things might end. It went that way with so many boys. Some screeched and hid behind bedsheets to escape his cock; some tried a million positions--in vain--to open themselves up; and some silently suffered their way through his pumping. As much as Noah liked to pound a tight hole, his heart sank at the thought of bringing even a moment of displeasure into the affair. If Matt couldn't take him, so be it. There were other ways this could go.

"Better," Matt said.

Noah tried to get a glimpse of his face from behind.

"Don't lie," Noah said. "It's fine if you--"

"More."

"Huh?"

"Give me more--a little more."

"OK."

Noah slowly slid another inch inside Matt.

Matt sighed.

"That OK?"

"That's..that's...really nice."

Noah smiled. Maybe this would go the other way. Maybe Matt would be one of the boys who could stretch and relax and enjoy his dick. Maybe he might even be one of the ones who go absolutely wild for his shaft. The ones who, when they realize they can take such an impressive cock and enjoy it, become unhinged--in a good way. They become absolutely spellbound, and want nothing more than to be drilled endlessly. Noah dared to get his hopes up: maybe Matt would be game.

"More?"

Matt softly laughed, surprised at himself. "Yeah, baby, let's do it."

Noah's whole body tingled. Was it the "baby", he thought? Or maybe the "let's do it"--a reminder that they were having this moment together, that they were creating something in that space, there and then? Whatever it was, it electrified him.

"Nearly there," Noah reassured him.

He watched his shaft slowly disappear inside Matt's pink hole.

"Just a little more."

"Really?" Matt said.

"Hey now," Noah said playfully. "That kinda sounds like: is it in yet?"

Matt laughed. "It's definitely in."

"That's more like it."

"Kiss me."

Matt spoke calmly and pleadingly. Noah leaned down and found Matt's lips. As they kissed Noah's cock finished its slow plunge inside Matt's ass.

"You're amazing," Noah said.

Matt smiled. "Now fuck me."

Noah began to pump his shaft. He stopped worrying about Matt for a moment a took in the feel of the tight grip of Matt's hole. The boy was soft and warm and tight and Noah never wanted to pull out of him. He knew he could come at any moment, but first he wanted to see just how much Matt wanted from him. He was ready to give whatever was asked.

Noah's paced accelerated. He began to work nearly the full length of his shaft along Matt's inside. He didn't dare pull out, for fear Matt might not let him back inside.

Matt cooed along with Noah's pumping. Noah listened intently, examining each moan to make sure it was not a subtle cry of pain. But Matt seemed relaxed--a picture of serenity. He was enjoying himself, Noah realized. He smiled.

Suddenly Matt let out a shout.

"Fuck me!"

Noah froze on hearing the outburst. It took him a moment to comprehend the words. But as Matt arched his back and spread his ass cheeks, the message was increasingly clear: this bitch wanted to get railed.

No more coddling, Noah thought. Time to pound this ass.

"Yeah, bitch. You ready?" Noah said sternly, his soft tones cast aside.

"Fuck me."

Noah quickly pumped his full length through Matt's hole--a preview of what his full force could be. Noah's hips and Matt's ass cheeks met with a slap. Matt's body trembled.

"Ready, boy? Gonna slam this fucking hole--gonna slam you so fucking hard."

Matt recovered from the shock of Noah's full strength. Fuck this boy, he thought, I can take him.

"Come on. Work that dick."

Matt felt Noah's hands grasp him firmly by the hips. An instant later the pounding began--long and fast strokes, each ending with a slap of skin on skin. After one particularly forceful thrust Matt's forearms slipped, sending his face and chest falling flat onto the wooden tabletop. Noah, who had been so lovely and caring moments before, didn't slacken his pace at all. Not only did he keep slamming away at Matt's hole, but he also pressed a hand to the back of Matt's neck--pinning him down to the table. Matt had enjoyed Noah's tender tones when the fucking began, but he was perfectly happy to be manhandled by this dominant Noah as well.

Noah's cock was relentless. Each thrust still stirred an overwhelming fire that spread from Matt's hole throughout his whole body, but there was no pain anymore--only an aching for more. Each time Noah's shaft slid from his hole he begged for its return. He wanted to be filled, to be stuffed with that thick cock. Each time Noah reached the apex of his stroke--his shaft buried completely within Matt's body--Matt felt a fullness inside him unlike any other.

Noah's pace kept accelerating. His cock fired like a piston. Matt's body relaxed into a puddle on the tabletop. Noah grabbed a fistful of Matt's hair and pressed his cheek hard against the mahogany.

Matt was being used--and he loved it. There was no tension in him anymore; his body was completely calm. He offered himself up--he offered his hole up--to Noah's cock. He silently begged for Noah to pound harder, to find some new depths of his body to plunge into. He wanted to be opened up, turned inside out--to be overwhelmed by this muscled stud.

"Turn over," Noah commanded.

As Matt rolled onto his back the two locked eyes--blue onto green.

"There you are," Noah said, in a moment of fleeting tenderness.

"Here I am," Matt said with smirk. "Having fun?"

They shared a brief smile.

Noah quickly set back to work. He wrapped his arms around Noah's firm thighs and in one powerful motion lifted Matt's legs over his shoulders and pulled Matt's ass towards his cock.

As Noah positioned himself to resume his slamming Matt looked up at the beautiful, muscled boy looming over him. Noah had worked himself into a frenzy, Matt thought. His sandy blond hair was damp with sweat. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing heavy. His thick pecs and rigid abs were covered in a sheen of perspiration. This boy was working hard, Matt thought. And he was apparently hungry for more. Noah's eyes--fixated on Matt's hole--were an image of captivation, of unbridled lust.

Matt allowed himself a moment of pride. I must be alright, he thought, to have this stud aching to get back inside me.

Noah slipped back inside him easily, and the pounding resumed. Noah used every bit of leverage he could get from his grip on Matt's thighs. Matt had wanted him to find a way to dig deeper and Noah did just that. He slammed his whole body against Noah's ass and drove his swollen shaft a half-inch deeper.

Matt's dick throbbed--stiff as a rail--while Noah worked away on his hole. Noah released his grip on one of Matt's thighs and began to pump Matt's shaft. Matt felt an immediate surge.

"Easy, easy," Matt said, putting his hand over Noah's to slow down his stroking. "I'm really close."

Noah smiled. "How close?" He picked up the pace of his pumping.

"Fuck, fuck! Really close. Don't--just--"

Noah released his grasp and let Matt's cock pulse and throb in the open air. They both watched Matt's cocktip intently, waiting for an explosion. Noah, for his part, wanted to see an eruption of cum, but Matt tried mightily to hold back.

Noah finally tipped the scales in his favor by picking up the pace of his pounding. This alone was enough to send Matt over the edge.

"Fuck!"

Matt's shaft twitched and sent streams of cum high into the air. He spattered himself thoroughly--splashes on his cheek and chin to a veritable lake on his chest and abs. His body quaked with each spurt--and there were plenty of spurts. Noah watched with wonder as the cum kept flowing.

"Fuck, what do you eat?" Noah teased him when his cock finally slowed to a dribble.

Before Matt could reply Noah had grabbed his shaft. His body went into absolute convulsions; he could not handle such attention to his exquisitely tender cock. It was always this way after he came. He squirmed side to side and moaned wildly. He tried to pry Noah's hand from his dick but Noah refused; Noah kept one hand firmly wrapped around his thigh and the other around his cock.

Noah milked the last drops of cum from Matt's dick and then leaned down to take the weary cock between his warm lips. Matt squirmed again, but he slowly relaxed, giving in to the warm massage of Noah's mouth. He ran his fingers through Noah's blond hair as the stud gently sucked him.

Noah's mouth wandered away from Matt's cock and began to lap up the cum on Matt's body. It was not quick work. Noah licked along Matt's abs and collected a mouthful of cum just from there. He swallowed and moved up to Matt's chest--again filling his mouth, again swallowing. He looked up--square into Matt's eyes--each time he swallowed.

Matt could hardly believe any of this was happening. He watched as that beautiful head of blond hair and those wide, muscular shoulders worked their way up his body towards his face. He looked deep into Noah's blue eyes and watched the soft skin of his neck as he gulped down his cum.

Noah last licked the cum off of Matt's chin and cheek. His mouth filled yet again, he kissed Matt. The cum swirled between their probing tongues. When their lips finally--reluctantly--parted they each swallowed their share.

"How do I taste?" Matt said, only half-joking.

Noah smiled. "As good as you feel."

Matt smiled back. "So...good?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"You ready for me to fill you up?"

Matt nodded as Noah slipped his shaft back into that smile pink hole.

"Fuck," Noah said, overwhelmed by the tight embrace of Matt's warm insides. "Your ass is--your ass is amazing."

Matt softly laughed. "Thanks."

"I'm gonna unload so much cum in you. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, baby. Come for me. Come."

"Fill you up."

"Yeah, baby."

Before Noah could get back to his top speed of rapid-fire thrusting he succumbed to the feel of Matt's hole. His cock throbbed and his body trembled. He fell forward onto Matt's chest as he emptied himself inside Matt's ass.

Matt felt each pulsing of Noah's cock inside his hole. He swept Noah's hair from his face and kissed him. Fucking use me, Matt thought. Put your load deep inside me. Matt wrapped his arms around the exhausted stud's shoulders and held him tight.

"Oh my God," Noah said breathlessly.

"Stay inside me. I want it all."

"OK," Noah said, and kissed him again.

Cum oozed from Matt's hole when Noah pulled out his tender cock. Noah wiped up with cum with a finger and pushed it back inside that pink hole.

"You get all of it," Noah said.

"Thanks, baby."

***

Matt slipped the fire iron from the door handles as Noah pulled up his shorts. He cracked open the doors slightly and peered down the hallway. Not a soul in sight. Thank God, he thought. They certainly hadn't been as quiet as he usually was with boys in this room.

"That was...fun," Matt said, turning back to Noah. He watched as Noah slipped into his polo. It was a shame to see that stunning body get covered up. After a fucking like that he wanted to lay for hours with his head nestled against Noah's firm chest.

"Yeah," Noah said. "You're...uh...good at...that."

Matt laughed. "I've had some practice."

"Me too."

"I could tell. You know, I don't think my ass will ever be the same again."

Noah smirked. "Yep. Now you'll just be some loose-assed slut."

"Hey!"

"No traction, just a floppy hole."

"Shut up!" Matt laughed.

"Sorry, man," Noah said with mock seriousness. "Facts are facts. You can never satisfy an average dick ever again."

Matt shot him a lustful glance. "So then I'll just have to take big dicks, then, like yours?"

Noah buttoned his polo. "Guess so," he said with a shrug.

"What a shame."

"Isn't it?"

Matt reached into his pocket.

"Here." He threw a roll of bills at Noah.

"What's this?"

"Double or nothing, right? Well you won, so there you go."

Noah unrolled the bills. "This is five hundred. You owe me two hundred."

Matt shrugged. "I added some extra."

"For what?"

"For...for services rendered. How about that?"

Noah bristled. "What?"

Matt motioned towards the table, still sticky with sweat and a few errant drops of cum. "You know, that."

"What?" Noah said, his voice rising.

"Oh, come on. Don't be--"

"You think I want your money to fuck you? Are you fucking serious?"

"Shh. Calm down! No. Listen. I know that we both wanted to--"

"Then what the fuck is this all about?" Noah shouted, holding up the bills.

"Listen, you said you needed money. I know that it would help your family and I just wanted to help so I thought I'd throw in some--"

"You don't know shit."

"Baby, I'm sorry."

"Fuck your `baby'. I don't know you." Noah threw the wad of bills at Matt's chest.

"I'm so sorry, Noah. I never wanted to offend you. It was a stupid thing to do, and stupid to say...you know...just stupid."

Noah had lost his patience. With a stiff arm he pushed Matt aside, sending him tripping into a chair while Noah blew through the doors out of the Board Room.

Matt ran after him but by the time he caught up to him Noah was among a crowd of geriatric club members in the main hallway of the clubhouse. Stupid fucking idea, he thought to himself. It was supposed to be a nice gesture--not all this. Why had he even opened his fucking mouth?

Matt watched Noah's sandy blond hair disappear around a corner. He hoped it wouldn't be the last time he saw Noah. He felt the soreness in his ass--his ass full of Noah's load. Something real had happened back there, he knew that. Whatever this tantrum was, they had a connection. He promised himself it wouldn't be the last time he saw Noah.

***

"Hey, hey! Boy! BOY!"

Noah was lost in his thoughts--his furious, racing thoughts--and he didn't see or hear Mr. J waving in his pinstripe suit. The small man was adept at moving swiftly, however, and he put himself squarely in Noah's path through the clubhouse. Noah stopped at the last moment, nearly charging right into the tiny Persian.

"Are you deaf, boy?" Mr. J chastised him.

Noah stared him. He tried to muster an apologetic look, but nothing came. He was still absorbed in thoughts of Matt.

"Why are you in the clubhouse, boy?"

"I...uh...got a little lost."

Mr. J eyed him suspiciously. "You look like shit. Why are your clothes so disgusting?"

"Um...got sweaty...on the course."

Mr. J held his nose. "Gross, disgusting boys, you caddies."

"I'm seeing myself out."

"Good. Quickly."

"OK."

As Noah began to step away from Mr. J the little man stopped him. "Ah, boy. I almost forgot."

"Yeah?"

Mr. J eyed him before continuing. "You performed...well today," he said and watched Noah's eyes carefully for a reaction.

"OK," Noah said blankly.

"Mr. Locke was very happy--extremely happy--with your performance."

"OK."

"And that has never happened before with a caddy."

"OK."

"Jesus, boy, do you know any words? Can you speak? My God!" Mr. J calmed himself. "Listen, because you seem to have the right...touch for our higher-end guests I think we will be able to find more opportunities for you. Caddying and otherwise."

"Otherwise?"

"Yes. We will see. For now just please go take a shower."

"OK."

"Oh, and one more thing. I saw on your paperwork that you are a certified lifeguard."

"Yeah."

"Perfect. Two of the silly girls who work at the pool have quit--some nonsense about summer school or something. Anyway, Brandon could use some help over there from time to time."

The image of a blond lifeguard in a red speedo flashed before Noah's eyes. He saw it as clearly as he had that morning through the branches of the oak trees.

"Brandon?"

"Yes, Brandon. Nice boy, but dumb as rocks. Anyway, we will see what he needs and let you know."

"OK."

Mr. J sniffed at him. "Did you fall in a lake, boy?"

***

Foster I. Pines

fosteripines@gmail.com

*Feedback is much appreciated, along with your thoughts on where this story should go.

*I have published a book, "A Boy's Own Island", available on Amazon if you are interested.

*Thank you for reading!