Dr Tim and the Boys

The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, don't.

In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.

The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.

One of my favorite Nifty writers is Jeff, who writes as "Draginacht." Jeff has just concluded part 2 of his wonderful story, "David's Initiation" (Beginnings, February 13, '04). Jeff tells us he's going to rest for a few months, but that a part 3 will be forthcoming. Congratulations, Jeff! Like your other loyal readers, I'll look forward to more of David's life.

Tom W., my indispensable editor, has once again become my co-author by writing the scene at the end of this chapter where Max and David go for a run in the snow. Fun stuff, Tommy! Thanks! Patrick suggested the final scene where Father Max disciplines the recalcitrant David. Thanks, Cariad.

timmead88@yahoo.com Chapter 42: Winter Games

PHILIP:

I hadn't moved in with Geoff, and he hadn't moved in with me. We spent nights at both our places. I wasn't eager for either of us to get rid of his apartment. Having only one place for the two of us worried me. It seemed so permanent.

We did see a lot of each other, though. One snowy Saturday night in February I was worried about Geoff driving back from Nighttown alone. Yeah, I know he's a big boy. Older than me, in fact. But I worried. So I went along. The management has a little table for me, off to one side, but with a good view of the piano. By that time, the other two guys in the trio knew about G. and me, and they were very friendly. If my gaydar was worth anything, Tony, the drummer, was gay. I kept meaning to ask Geoff, but it always slipped my mind.

The guys played well, as usual, and, despite the weather, the restaurant was full all evening. Although the place is known all over the Cleveland area, I think it must have a lot of regulars from the heights communities.

Anyway, when we came out to go to the car, it was cold, windy, and still snowing. I was glad we had brought my Durango. Even though it's old, it's a better car in bad weather than that old VW of Geoff's. Route 8 was a mess, visibility was terrible, and the drive took us two hours, almost twice what it would have taken if the roadways were dry. Even though it was late when we got to his place (where it had been agreed I'd spend the night and the next day), Geoff was still too pumped from performing to go to bed right away, and I was just tense enough from the drive that I wasn't ready to crash yet either.

He suggested hot chocolate. How cute is that! I'd have liked a brandy, but I knew he didn't have any, and the cocoa actually sounded good.

Geoff's place doesn't have a dining room, but there's a decent sized table in the kitchen. That's where we sat to have our chocolate. I was staring at his pale, curly blond hair when he looked straight at me with his baby blues. My cock twitched.

"I think I forgot to tell you I had lunch with Kent Statten yesterday."

Oh, Christ,' I thought. What did Kent tell him?'

"I didn't know you knew him."

"Oh, yeah, Trey introduced us early last fall. I have only seen him a few times, but he seems like a nice guy. Sexy, too," he added, grinning.

I still didn't know whether Geoff was playing games or being as straightforward as he seemed. If Kent had been telling Geoff about us being fuckbuddies off and on for six months, I'd kill him. So help me, I would. He knew how much I was into Geoff. Come to think of it, he warned me once about hurting Geoff. I swallowed a gulp of the still very hot cocoa and it burned going down. I jumped up and went to the sink to get a glass of water.

Geoff came with me, looking worried, making soothing noises. After I had drunk the better part of a glass of cold water, I shook my head. "That was a stupid thing to do."

"We've all done it, babe. But you knew the cocoa was hot. Did I say something to upset you?"

"No, G., it's OK. Now, let's see, what were we talking about?"

"I was telling you I'd had lunch with Kent. He said he'd seen you not long ago, but that you didn't have time to talk much."

Well,' I thought, that's one way of describing it.' I had asked him home with me, and he'd told me straight out that he wasn't going to do that as long as I was with Geoff.

"Yeah, babe, he seemed like he was in a hurry to get somewhere that day. Uh, what else did he have to say?"

"Oh, like I said, we bumped into each other at the Union, and we just talked about stuff. Nothing specific. He said he wished he could hear the trio, but that he was always working at Stefan's on weekends. He mentioned that that professor friend of Trey's, Tim Mead, had been in with his partner, what's his name?"

"Ced Jones."

"Yeah, that's it. They had a guy with them that was in town interviewing for a job in the English Department."

"Did Statten say what he was like?"

Geoff grinned. "Oh, yeah. He's about Mead's age. Almost as short, but much more muscular. Kent said he was Italian-looking, handsome, dark eyes and hair, a `stache. Kent also said he was gay."

"Was the guy a real fairy type?"

"I don't think so. I think Kent's gaydar was working. And he said the three of them seemed really comfortable together."

"Well, I'm all for more gays on the faculty. Too bad I'll be graduated before he gets here and won't get to check him out."

"Yeah, I hate it that you're graduating."

"Well, babe, the cold, cruel world awaits. Besides, you're getting your master's this spring, too."

"Yeah."

Later, after a delicious fuck (G's a really eager, bouncy bottom!), he had drifted off to sleep and I was lying there, thinking.

I was scared for a moment there earlier when I heard Kent had approached him at the Union. I was sure Kent had decided to tell Geoff what I'd done the last time I saw him. And I didn't want that. I was sorry after I'd done it. Kent was right to tell me to fuck off. I'm lucky to have this sweet guy in my life. He's beautiful. He's sexy. And he loves to fuck.

But do I want this thing to go on after graduation? We'd have to do some careful planning and be lucky in looking for jobs to do that. And I just don't know whether I want anything that long-term anyway. I feel like a shit when I see how Geoff looks at me. And I really love being with him. But long term? I just don't know . . . .

DANTE:

I think I love Jare, honest. But either he's going to get me thrown in jail, or I'm going to have to strangle him before his birthday.

We mostly only get to see each other at the hospital. With our classes and all, we don't have much leftover time. One Saturday, though, he was going to have lunch with Steve, and then he asked me to meet him at the movie at the mall. He wanted to see "Chicago." Honestly, why would a couple of guys aged 17 and 19 want to see a musical? That's so stereotypically gay! I told him that and complained a little, but eventually I said I'd go.

When we got there, we were just a little late. They were showing the flick we wanted to see in two of their twelve theaters. I asked the guy taking tickets which one would be less crowded. He told me they'd not opened theater seven until five was nearly full, so seven would be a good bet.

We had loaded up with popcorn and Cokes. Jared took the lead and went all the way down front, so that there were several rows between us and anyone sitting behind us. I figured we'd have stiff necks and eye strain by the time the thing was over, but I was doing this for him, so I didn't bitch. Much.

It wasn't such a bad movie after all. I didn't think Richard Gere was as sexy as Jared did. I mean, he's OLD, man! But it was funny, and the dancing was pretty good.

I wasn't able to pay much attention to the last 45 minutes or so because of Jared. After we'd finished our popcorn, he put his hand in my crotch and began to rub. I put his hand back on his side of the armrest. A few minutes later, he did it again. By now, I was getting hard, so it took more willpower to move his hand away. I don't know how many times we went through that routine.

We were slumped down in our seats so we could look up at the screen, which towered over us. I doubt that anyone behind us could see more than the tops of our heads.

Jare leaned over and began to lick my ear. I almost yelled, right there in the theater. And his hand was back in my crotch. In fact, he was unfastening the button on my jeans. I'll swear, the kid is an octopus. He was tonguing my ear and opening my fly, and I couldn't fight him off without attracting too much attention.

You can guess what happened. He pulled my cock out through the fly of my boxers and was jacking it slowly. I was putting out some precum, and he'd rub that over the head. It was all I could do not to scream. All time he was doing that, he was licking my neck, my cheek, my ear, sticking his tongue in my ear. My mind had shut off. If I was going to jail, it would just have to happen. I couldn't make him quit, and I didn't really want him to. So, yes, I came. He had saved his empty cardboard Coke cup, and he caught my cum in that. Well, a little got on his fingers, and he licked that off. Then he kissed me and fed it back to me. I wonder how he knows all this if he's such a virgin.

When we got back to my car, I drove to a deserted area of the parking lot where there was a lot of snow piled up. I put the car in park and set the brake. It was too cold to turn the engine off. "You just can't control yourself, can you?"

He grinned and said, "I guess not."

I pulled the horny little bastard to me and began to French him like crazy. I also began to grope his cock, which was making quite a bulge in the heavy canvas cargo pants he was wearing.

"You didn't get off in there, did ya babe?"

"Nope. What ya gonna do about it?"

I rubbed his nips through his sweater and gave him the same licking treatment he'd given me. Occasionally I'd reach down and squeeze his cock, but I made no effort to take it out. After a lot of kissing and rubbing and licking and tonguing, I had the boy practically frantic with lust.

So I put my belt back on and drove off. He just sat there looking stunned and panting. I think he'd expected that he was going to get at least a blow job out of his little scheme.

I didn't say anything on the way to his house, and, surprisingly, neither did he. When I pulled into his driveway, I said, "That's some pretty good wood you've thrown there, Jared. Maybe you'd better go take care of that. See ya at the hospital later."

"But, Danny . . . "

"Hey, stud, we promised we were going to wait, remember? I take that seriously, and I expect you to. Besides, it's only a few more weeks. We can manage. And think how great it's going to be when we celebrate your birthday!"

He gave me this sort of sad puppy dog look. "Honest, Dan, I'm not sure I can."

I put my hand on his hard cock and squeezed it through his pants. "Sure you can, big guy. Now, gotta get home. See ya later."

He was a little distant at the hospital that evening for a while, but he apologized later and told me he was sorry.

"Hey, Jare babe, I want you just as much as you want me. You don't need to be sorry for showing me how you feel. We've just got to chill a little. You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do. I really do. It's just so hard." Then we both giggled at what he'd said, and things were cool after that.

• • • TREY:

One Friday evening (or early Saturday morning, to be more accurate), Chaz got in from an away game about 2:00. He came in quietly. After taking off his clothes and dropping them in a pile, as usual, on the floor, he pissed, brushed his teeth, and slipped into the bed next to me. I was lying on my side with my back to him. He kissed the back of my neck and turned over onto his stomach, where he promptly went to sleep.

Chaz was usually exhausted after a game, and I ordinarily let him initiate sex on those nights. Sometimes he wanted it, sometimes he didn't. But tonight I wanted it. He'd had a game the previous night, and he'd come home and gone right to sleep then, too.

I pulled the covers back and lay down between his legs. I grabbed his fuzzy butt cheeks and spread them apart with my hands. Wasting no time, I began to rim him. Well, there wasn't much rimming to it. I began to lap his pucker pretty vigorously. Soon, he was wiggling his butt and moaning. Mustering all the saliva I could, I wet down his rosebud thoroughly and then began to stick my tongue into his hole. He tasted like the soap he had showered with after the game. I was momentarily grateful to Raul for teaching me about the delights of rimming. And, as I thought of it, for teaching me lots of other things that previous summer, too.

Chaz was awake by this time and moaning. After one particularly penetrating jab of my tongue, he giggled.

"What's gotten into you, man? You really are a tiger tonight, aren't you?"

I growled and kept on with what I was doing. When I had him hot, wet, and wiggling his butt for more, I spat on my hand and wet my cock. That's all the lube he was going to get. Recognizing what I was doing, he pulled his knees forward, so that his butt came up off the bed a little way. His hard mounds shone palely in the glow coming in the window from the street light outside. I knee-walked up to him, my cock hot and throbbing. Leaning over him, with my hands on the bed on either side of him, I positioned my rod against his hole and pushed gently. It was almost as if he swallowed me. Almost instantly my pubes were against his cheeks.

Chaz purred and began making little fucking motions. Working together, we had a long, slow, gentle fuck, though at some point before I came, he quit helping and just lay there. I assumed he was still enjoying it, but he wasn't giving me any vocal feedback either by that time. It had been several nights since we'd made love, however, and I was enjoying the whole thing tremendously. When I came, I came a lot. Afterward, I collapsed onto his back and kissed between his shoulder blades and moved up to the nape of his neck. When my dick softened, I pulled out and rolled over onto my back. I grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and cleaned up my dick as best I could.

"What, Greeley, wasn't that even worth a comment?"

No answer. My lover was asleep! He had gone to sleep while I was plowing his ass. How's that for humiliating? But, then, I thought, the poor guy was no doubt tired. On the other hand, was our sex getting too humdrum? I got an idea. After thinking about it for a while, I dozed off.

The next morning was a Saturday, so both Chaz and I slept later than on weekdays. But, as usual, he was up before me. When I woke, about 9:30, he was out of bed.

I got up, went into the bathroom, peed for a long time, rinsed with mouthwash in preparation for our first kiss of the day, pulled on some sweat pants and a tee, and padded into the kitchen. Chaz was there, fully dressed, eating cereal. There were a glass of o.j. and a napkin at my place.

He grinned at me. "Good morning, stud."

"Morning, Chaz." I kissed him. He tasted like Cheerios.

He grinned. "I can just see the headline now, `Basketball Star Gets Raped.'"

"The headline would have to read, `Basketball Star Gets Raped by Tennis Star.' Besides," and I grinned back at him through my usual morning stupor, "rape is non-consensual, and you were a very willing participant. At least at first."

"What do you mean, at first?"

"You went to sleep on me just about the time I was coming!"

"Aww, did I really do that?"

"No shit!"

"I'm sorry Tiger. I guess it's just been a tough week."

"How'd the game come out last night?" I asked, pouring myself some Cheerios.

He grinned. "98-93. That's eight in a row. We haven't lost since the Pitt game."

"All because the team has Greeley back, no doubt."

He made a dismissive wave of his hand. "Naw, we're just playing well as a team now."

"Well, I'm proud of you, big guy. Now, do you still want to go to the mall today?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I need a pair of cords now that it's gotten so friggin' cold."

We did go to the mall, to the Big and Tall department at Dillard's. I went along, partly because he likes me to approve his clothes, partly because we were going to grab some lunch later.

We found some great-looking cords in his size by Nautica. I suggested he should try them on since he had never worn their pants before. He asked what color. I selected a pair in navy and another in a sort of loden green and handed them to him. He took them both in one big hand, waved them at a clerk some distance away at a cash register and indicated he was going to the dressing room. The clerk, who was on his cell phone, smiled and nodded.

As I stood there, I imagined Chaz's progress. He'd be in the dressing room. He'd have to sit down to take off his shoes, so he could get his jeans off and the cords on. When he'd had time to take off one shoe, I glanced at the clerk. He was engrossed in his phone call and paying no attention to me. I went into the dressing room area. I was pretty sure no one else was in there. Sure enough, only one door was closed.

I opened it and slipped in, closing and locking it behind me. Chaz was standing there with his back to the door. He'd hung his coat and pants on a hook and was standing there in sock feet with his back to me, his undershirt and sweater hanging down over his CK briefs.

"Hi, big boy," I said, in the sultriest voice I could manage.

He turned around and grinned. "Hey, babe! Did anybody see you come in here?"

I returned the grin. "Yeah, but I just told the clerk you need help getting undressed."

He looked startled for a moment. Then he smiled and said, "Yeah, right."

The smile turned to a look of panic when I took a step closer and pulled his briefs down to his ankles.

"Tiger! What ya doin', babe?"

"You're about to find out." I stuck the index finger of my right hand in his mouth. Although he still looked worried, he obligingly sucked on it. When he had it good and wet, I dropped to my knees.

I used the other hand to push his right leg away from the left, so he had a wider stance. Then I reached through his legs and gently began to rub his pucker with the wet finger.

Interestingly, though he pushed his butt to meet the finger, he said, "We can't do that here! What if someone hears us? Or comes in?"

"I locked the door. And I won't make any noise. So if you don't, we're OK."

I stuck my wet finger up his hole, none too gently. After all, he had just had my fat cock up there the night before. He gasped.

"Now, babe, you ARE going to have to be quiet."

"But . . . ."

"Shut up, Greeley. You didn't come last night, and we wouldn't want you to feel deprived, would we? So here goes!"

His huge schlong was already half hard, whether from nervousness or anticipation I don't know. As I began to massage his nut, his tool grew. And grew. I know very well how big the damned thing is, but there on my knees, staring at it cross-eyed because it was so close, I appreciated once again what a magnificent endowment Chaz actually had.

I grabbed it with my left hand and licked the drop of precum off the tip. Then I treated it like an ice cream cone, licking first the top, and then up the sides. Chaz began to squeak quietly. Without letting go of his dong, I tilted my head back and gave him a look.

"Sheesh," he muttered.

Knowing the clerk might get suspicious if Chaz were in here too long, I took him into my mouth and began to tongue his piss slit. He was breathing heavily, but at least wasn't saying anything. The doors of these dressing rooms were, thankfully, full-length doors, unlike those in some dressing rooms. But they were louvered, so sounds would go right through them, closed and locked or not. That risk was part of the fun.

I began to suck and bob in earnest on Chaz's pole. I wanted to hum or growl, knowing that would make him even hotter, but decided I'd better not go that far, under the circumstances.

It didn't take long. Chaz hadn't come for at least three days, unless he had been beating off somewhere, and he and I had agreed to save our cum for each other. So he came. And came. So much I could hardly swallow fast enough. He growled "Ohmygod" loud enough to be heard if anyone were outside the door. I was hoping we were alone in the dressing room area, but then I thought it was exciting that someone might be out there and aware of what we were doing.

I pulled his briefs up so that he could reach them without bending over (it WAS crowded in that little room), surreptitiously wiping my middle finger on them as I did so, and he pulled them the rest of the way up. I handed him a pair of the cords.

He tried on first one pair and then the other. They fit perfectly. They were wide-wale corduroy with a nice drape over his big package and great butt. He asked which color he should choose.

"Get them both. Navy goes with everything, and I think the loden ones would look great with your pale blue sweater and with that claret shirt you've got. It isn't as if you can't afford them both, is it?"

He grinned, put on his jeans and shoes, and we went to the desk. The clerk, a tall, thin, very swish guy, had finished his phone call. He smiled at us and asked, "Did you gentlemen find something you liked?"

Charles grinned and said, "Yeah, I really liked it. Uh, them!"

As the clerk was ringing up the sale and Chaz was handing him his card, the clerk looked at me and did a double take. He appeared surprised at something. Then he quickly went back to completing Chaz's purchase.

"Bye," he said with a smirk, "have a real nice day."

Later, at Applebee's, as we were having our lunch, Chaz asked, "Tiger, you surprised the shit out of me back there in the store. What brought that on?"

"Well, stud," I said, grinning, "maybe our sex has gotten too vanilla. If I can't keep you awake long enough to get fucked, I thought we should try something a little more daring. Besides, I thought that sort of thing was your shtick."

"Hey, Withers, from what you've told me about last summer, you and Raul did some pretty wild things."

"Yeah," I said, "I guess we did."

"But, look, I'm sorry I went to sleep on you last night. The last thing I remember is being so happy and feeling so good. Didn't mean to make you think I don't appreciate you."

I grabbed his hand, not caring at that moment who might see us. "Hey, I'm not mad, studly! I just thought you needed to get off, since it had been a while, and I thought I'd try to spice things up a little."

Then he gave me the lopsided smile, the one that always melts my heart and hardens my cock. "You sure as hell did that, sweetheart. Maybe we should do something a little off the wall once in a while, so we won't get in a rut. But look out. I promise there won't be any repeats of the Stefan's incident, but you never know what might happen."

"Deal."

"Oh, and dude, there's a big patch of almost-dry cum on your sweater," he said, smirking at me.

I looked down, and he was right. Oh, damn! I obviously didn't swallow it all and some of it spilled on my chest. I realized that must have been what startled the clerk at Dillard's.

"Tiger, you're blushing like Tim!"

Cedric came through the kitchen door.

"Honey, I'm ho-oome!" he called as he walked across the kitchen and into the living room.

Tim, who had been reading, took off his glasses, stood up, and went to meet Cedric. The two had one of their long, wet kisses. As usual, Cedric had one of Tim's buttocks in each hand, pulling the smaller man up to him.

"Whew! That is always something special, lover!" Cedric exclaimed.

"Yeah. But I wish you wouldn't always do that `I'm home' routine."

"Why, babe?"

"It makes me feel like your wife."

Ced grinned. "If you're my wife, how come you ain't pregnant yet?"

Tim returned the grin and said, "It's not for lack of trying."

They sat together on the sofa. Cedric unlaced his ankle-high boots and slipped them off. Tim was already shoeless.

"Now," Cedric asked, putting his arm around Tim's shoulders, "what's all this about you feeling like my wife?"

"See, you're doing it!"

"Doing what?"

"You're being the big, protective male, and you're being patronizing!"

Cedric looked stricken. "Patronizing? I hate being patronized. Was I doing that? I'm sorry, babe. But I didn't realize I was doing it. You'll have to coach me, OK?"

"Relax, Ced, it's not that big a deal. It's just that . . . ." He appeared to be searching for words.

"Yeah?"

"Well, look at us. You're the big macho jock stud. And I'm this pale, skinny little geeky guy. Anyone looking at us would assume that I was your wife, the submissive one."

Cedric snorted. "Submissive, you?"

"Well, that's just the point, babe. I don't feel like a woman, and I don't want to feel as if I were your woman. Your mate, yes. Your life partner, if you want me. I just don't want to be your wife."

Cedric grinned. "Then maybe I'd better have the babies."

"How about a quickie before supper?"

"Sure. What's for supper, by the way?"

"How would I know? I'm not the wife, remember? Now, you lead the way upstairs because I want to see your ass at eye level."

"Hey, stud," Cedric replied, "you can see my ass at eye level any time you want!"

"Then get along. I'm right behind you and enjoying the view. It's putting wicked thoughts into my mind. Let's see if we can't get you pregnant, black boy!"

An hour later, spent, the two lay side by side in their bed, covered by a sheet and a quilt.

Tim rolled on his side, looked at his lover, and asked, "Feel all those spermies swimming around in there? Feel pregnant yet?"

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna have a little light brown baby with red hair and green eyes." Both men chuckled.

"Seriously, Ced, would you ever want to adopt a kid?"

"Oh, yeah, someday. I don't think that's in the picture until after law school, though, do you?"

"Well, probably not. I'd want our kid to have both of us around. But you'd be willing to think about it?"

Cedric rolled onto his side facing Tim and pulled him close. He smoothed Tim's hair with one hand and fondled his bottom with the other. "Tim, sweetheart, when the time is right, I'd love that. I think we'll both make wonderful fathers." He stressed the last word. Tim nuzzled Cedric's neck.

They were quiet for a while. Then Cedric's stomach growled.

Tim giggled. "Well, I guess we'd better think about feeding you. Actually, I made some stuffed green bell peppers a while ago. They're in the fridge. We can have those with a salad, and we can have a drink while they're in the oven.

Cedric rolled his eyes. "Only a wife would take that good care of her man, honey."

Tim moved from Cedric's neck to the nearest nipple, which he took between his teeth. He pulled it out from Ced's chest until the larger man began to moan. "Yeah, babe, you know how to do that, too. Oooh! Ouch! Oww! OK, I give. I'm sorry, stud. You're the boss, the chef de cuisine, the MAN! Now, can we go downstairs and start supper?"

"We're a little funky. Want to have a shower first?"

Cedric grinned. "I like a little funk once in a while. Let's wait until bedtime to shower. Who knows, we may need another one by then anyway."

They both pulled on the jeans and shirts they had been wearing, along with warm socks, and padded downstairs.

Cedric put the oven on, popped in the casserole dish of peppers, and set the timer while Tim was pouring each of them a glass of wine and getting out some cheese and crackers.

"Hmm, Tim, this is good. What is it?"

"It's that Australian shiraz we picked up the other day at the West Point Market."

Cedric swirled the red in his glass and held it up to the light. "Nice stuff. So, tell me, what's new in the English Department that I don't know about?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Rick Modarelli has accepted the position here."

"Cool! Did you ever figure out what the loose end was that was bothering you after he was here?"

"Yeah, but not until I was thinking back over his vita today. He did his undergraduate work at Cranmer. Isn't that where Doug taught?"

"I'm not sure I know where he taught. You got more time to talk with him than I did while we were down there."

"Well, I'm going to call Doug. If I'm right, they should have been there at about the same time. I'd like to know whether Doug knew him."

"Isn't it a little late to be checking on Rick now?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it is. But I'm intrigued by something."

"And that would be . . . ?"

"Rick has lots of letters of recommendation from his professors at Brown. But no letters from Cranmer. His transcript is in the folder, and I'm not violating anything if I tell you he had an excellent GPA. But it seems strange that he wouldn't have asked some of his major professors to write letters for his dossier when he left there."

"Well, I imagine any department that was going to hire him would be more interested in how he did in his doctoral studies, wouldn't they?"

"Oh, yes. But it's customary to include at least a couple of letters from your major professors at the school where you did your undergraduate work. I just wonder why Rick didn't."

"Are you worried about that? You think he's hiding something?"

"No. What could he be hiding, after all? All the letters from Brown are beyond glowing. But you know me, I can't stand loose ends."

"Yeah, babe, you do tend to be a bit compulsive at times. So why don't you call Doug?"

"I'm ready for more wine right now. How about you?"

"I think one's enough for me tonight, babe."

As he went to the kitchen, Tim said, "One of these days we'll call Stan and Doug, and I'll ask Doug about Rick. No big deal."

MAX:

Saturday morning. David had returned late last night from a trip to the West Coast and was sleeping peacefully at my side. I was spooned up behind him, so I buried my nose in his warm, silky hair and breathed in deeply. The familiar smell of cinnamon and ginger that I had come to associate with him flooded my senses. I nuzzled his neck, but David didn't stir. I didn't have the heart to wake him up yet, so I got up and went to the kitchen in order to get breakfast going.

I knew what David liked in the morning: whole wheat toast with butter and a scrambled egg, freshly squeezed oj, yogurt with fruit, and, in winter, cinnamon tea. I fixed a tray, carried it over to the bedroom, and put it on the nightstand. Then I took a strand of his hair between my fingers and tickled his nose with it. He frowned and grimaced a bit, then he sneezed. In that moment he looked like a fox cub.

"Wake up, studmuffin, breakfast is ready!"

He groaned, but didn`t stir. I tickled his nose some more.

"Oh stop it, already!" he complained, turning his head away from me.

"Sheesh, you're grumpy." I leaned down to him and gave him a lick over his ear. His eyes opened to grey slits, as he squinted at me, appearing more foxlike than ever.

"Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines," I said under my breath, more to myself than to him.

"Mmh? What was that?"

"It's from the Song of Solomon. I always liked that verse. And you really look like a fox right then."

"Oh? I don`t remember any foxes in the Bible. What does it mean?"

"They stand for the little sins, actually. They munch the grapes, and we get no wine."

"Oh, I see. The wine is you, holy man, and I'm the fox corrupting you! That how you see us?"

"To be truthful, when I imagine those little foxes munching the grapes, it's such a sweet picture, I wouldn't have the heart to "take" them. And no, I don't think you're corrupting me."

"If anybody's spoiling anyone here, it's you spoiling me, anyway. Thanks for bringing me breakfast, lover. Now, feed your fox."

I obliged, and we had a leisurely breakfast in bed. Afterward we showered together, lathering each other up and making out. David still seemed a bit tired and worn to me, so we didn't do anything else. When we toweled each other dry, I playfully tweaked him in the waist (there was more to tweak than there had been a while back), and said to him, teasingly, "You're getting fat, Taylor."

He really sputtered at that. "What? Fat? Me? Just you wait, Hewitt. You'll pay for that one. Not right now, but you will pay." He swatted my rump, and it stung. My half-hard cock twitched. If David had noticed, he didn't comment on it.

Later, when we did our weekend shopping he said to me, "You were right earlier, you know. I have gained some weight since I started working. Too much time spent sitting on my ass, I guess. Maybe I should start working out again."

"How about you come running with me before lunch?"

"You want to run? This morning? Where? Surely not outside, right?"

"Sure, outside!"

"But there's snow! It's freezing!"

"Oh come on! I know you're no sissy. Trust me, you'll like it."

So, an hour later found us climbing out of my car in the parking lot near the university arboretum. It was cold and sunny, the sky at its bluest. We started off slowly. When we were sufficiently warmed up, we stretched. Then we ran. The trails through the "arb" had been cleared, but the rest of the place gleamed with the morning sun on the snow. The air was crisp, and we were alone in this world of white as we ran along the winding paths. I felt like I had been made to be running here and now, it was so perfect. I was completely immersed in the experience, so I didn't notice David had fallen back.

Until he yelled behind me. "Hey! Not so fast!"

I looked around. Oh, when had he gotten that far behind me? I slowed down so he could keep up with me.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he panted.

"Am I close?" I quipped.

"Close indeed. But to what, you won't know till later."

"Promises, promises."

"Listen, I've really had enough. I'm not used to this."

"Okay, let's just slow down to a jog for another mile, and then we can walk back to the car."

We did that, and slowly our panting became regular breathing again.

"That was a perfectly stupid idea," David stated.

"Ha! You're pissed because you couldn't keep up with me! We gotta work on your stamina, get you in better shape." I knew I was needling him, okay? So I guess I had it coming.

Suddenly, David tackled me, and we landed in a heap of snow just off the path, him on top. With both of his hands he grabbed both of mine and stretched my arms out over my head. Grinding his groin into mine, he proceeded to kiss me senseless. His tongue was hotter than ever, as he conquered, pillaged and plundered my mouth. When he pulled back I was breathless, mindless, unable to move.

"David," I managed to gasp finally, "stop this! Someone might see us."

"There's nobody around. No one in their right mind would be. Just us."

Quick as lightning he dove downward again, pulled my tracksuit pants and my briefs down to free my now erect cock. Then he took it in his mouth. All of it, in one go. I moaned and shuddered beneath him, forgetting about the snow under me. He pulled back and sucked at my cockhead. Then he swallowed me down again. When he pulled back the next time, I bucked up, wanting to get deep into David's hot mouth again. He held still and let me fuck his mouth like I wanted to. The heat of his mouth helped me nearly forget how cold my ass was getting.

Then all of a sudden his mouth was no longer there. Confused I looked up, just in time to see a substantial load of snow landing on my nether regions. Son of a bitch! I jumped up, hectically brushing the snow off my stuff. My cock, which hadn't gone down at all, waved in the chilly winter air. David blinked up at me, still crouching there, a devilish gleam in his eyes.

"You...you...oh! David Taylor! I can't believe you did that!"

Getting up, still with that gleam in his eyes, he said to me in a very level voice, "This, baby, is not the way to talk to me if you want me to take care of that lil problem of yours."

I shivered inwardly at these words. My hard, cold cock twitched. I stared at David's face, considering the implications. Then I thought, Why not, and answered slowly, deliberately, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. Please, David, will you take care of my problem?"

His grey eyes bore into mine, assessing me. He must have found his answer, because next he put the tip of a finger under my chin, making me look up at him. "You're going to be a good boy?"

"I'll be very good," I promised, and a heat wave ran through me as I said it. Putting my best puppy dog look into my eyes I asked, "Can we go home now, babe?"

"Home? I don't think so. You want it, you're gonna get it. Right here, right now."

With these words he took me by the shoulders and pushed me backward, step by step (which wasn`t easy since my trousers still hung around my knees), directing me into the woods till I felt my back met a tree. Then he went on his knees, put his lips at my cockhead and sucked me in again, excruciatingly slowly.

"David, please," I choked out.

"Mmh?" he moaned around my dick.

"Stop this!"

He backed off, but not completely. My cockhead stayed in his mouth as he sucked and licked around it alternating. He was incredibly good at it. Despite my misgivings, I loved it.

But heaven help me, we were outside! In the university arboretum, in plain daylight! What if somebody who knew me happened to come by? Walking his dog, whatever? And there were lots of people who knew me by sight! I was a priest, after all! However, David took me deep inside his throat again, while one of his hands grabbed my balls, yanking them with just the right amount of tugging. I bucked into him and cried out.

"David, shit! So good! Please, stop! Not here!!"

He didn't listen to me, of course. I guess I could have pushed him back, but at this point I already lacked the resolve necessary to do that. He let go of my balls and grabbed my ass cheeks with both hands. Pulling and pushing on them, he made me fuck his mouth fast and hard. Every now and then, he held me deeply embedded in his hot throat, and moaned around my hard dick. I sent common sense packing and closed my eyes in surrender. Precisely at that moment he let go of my cock.

"Do you want me to stop now?"

Oh, hell. No, I really didn't. I was beyond coherent speech, so I just shook my head `no.'

"Want me to continue?"

I nodded `yes.'

"You gotta tell me, Max. I want to hear the words."

"Please, David," I croaked, "please suck my dick." There, I had said it. And I felt strangely relieved.

"You want one more lick?" With a tight grip he held my marble hard dick at its root. It was wet with his spit and I thought I could see steam rising off it in the ice-cold air. The cold should have made it shrink, probably, but it was beyond that. The eternal hard-on, or that's what it felt like. There was only one thing that could melt this icicle, and that was David's mouth.

Holding on to the tree with both hands now, I nodded.

Slowly, David licked my dick, starting down at its root, up its underside, and to the tip.

"Yes," I moaned, "more!"

I got another lick. Nothing more. I understood. He really wanted me to ask for it. So I spelled it out for him. This wasn't easy for me, at first. I told him where to lick, where to touch me, and how. He did exactly as I told him. I started out whispering these things to him, but in the end he had me yelling. I was standing propped up against that tree, the rough bark under my fingers, fucking his mouth, shouting, "Yeah, like that! Take me deeper, swallow my dick down! Yeah, swallow around it! Now! Yeah, go on! More! Hold me there! Uhh!"

I was so far gone, at last I took his head in an iron grip and fucked his mouth hard, any way I wanted it. David was gasping for breath under my attack and now he was the one holding on to me. His upper body was pressed against my legs and I felt him shudder. When I came I yelled in completion. I felt primal, free and unrestricted. I rode my high for what seemed an eternity to me. God, I never knew I could let go like that.

Finally David backed off of my deflating dick. He coughed a bit and wiped his mouth. He let himself fall backward into the snow, lying there spread out and pretty much worn out, I think. I let myself fall on top of him and we closed our arms around each other.

"Thank you, love," I said, putting a little kiss on his cold nose. "Shall we go home now, so I can take care of you?"

He grinned up at me. "Oh, I came when you started fucking my mouth in earnest, if that's what you're talking about. But you can take care of me anyway. Maybe a long hot shower to start with?"

"Definitely. Damn, my ass is cold!"

I got on my feet and pulled him up, too. We brushed the snow off our clothes and ran back to the car, both in a hurry to get home, get warm, and continue, I hoped.

"You know what?" I said when we were sitting in the car. He looked at me questioningly.

"Considering what we did just now, I guess you're corrupting me after all."

He grinned broadly.

"Oh, good. I hope this means you'll take your little fox later, holy man!"

"If you munch my grapes properly I just might!"

"Amen to that."

"Amen," I echoed.

We went home and had that long, hot shower. Then, after David had used the hair dryer on his red mane, I said to him, "Boy, you really were naughty, you know."

He grinned. "Bless me father, for I have sinned."

"I can't bless you, for you HAVE sinned. I think something other than a Hail Mary is in order, boy."

He gave me a cheeky smile and asked, "Yeah, so what did you have in mind? Father."

"Naughty boys need to be spanked sometimes. I think that's in order here."

An expression of mock horror. "Oh, no father, not a spanking!"

I appeared to consider the question. "Yes, yes, I think, definitely, a spanking."

David's lovely cock was beginning to thicken just a little, as was mine.

I sat on the side of the bed. "Come over here, boy, and assume the position!"

He looked at me to see how serious I was.

Trying hard not to smile, I said, "I mean it, boy. I want you across my lap. Now!"

I wasn't sure what he'd do. But he got up and positioned himself over my lap, hands and feet on the floor, lengthening cock between my legs, ass ready, waiting, beautiful, succulent.

Could I actually do this? Could I smack that beautiful, pale, firm, sexy ass? Yes I could! And I did.

I began to smack him, alternating from one cheek to the other.

"Oh, no, Father, please don't! That hurts! I'm so sorry Father. I'll be good, I promise!"

Again I had to struggle not to laugh because he was camping it up so much. I knew I wasn't hurting him. Yet. But there was my hand print on each of his white cheeks.

"You have been disrespectful, my son. You have not shown the proper respect for a man of the cloth. You must be punished. But you know this hurts me more than it does you."

I began to whack his butt in earnest.

"The hell it does, you dirty old man!"

"Oh, my son," I said, trying to sound very sad. "What shall I do with you? You seem to be incorrigible. You must be taught proper respect for a man of the cloth and for your elders."

I continued to smack his buttocks, which were by now beginning to turn a bright pink, and he began to wiggle a little. His cock was a steel rod between my legs. My own was pressing against him.

"Oooh, Father, I'm SO sorry!"

I looked down to see that his beautiful red hair had fallen down around his head. I couldn't see his face because of its surrounding red aureole. And my need took charge.

"I think, boy, you need more than spanking."

"Yes, Father," he said, stifling a giggle, "I need more than a spanking. I've been very naughty. I need a stiffer punishment."

"So you will receive a stiffer punishment, my son. Stand up."

He did, his cock jutting out in front of him and leaking precum.

"Lie down, child."

He looked at me and smirked. "Yes, Father. I'm so sorry, Father."

David got in bed, face down, ass in the air. I reached in the night stand for the lube and slickened the fingers of my right hand.

"You understand, boy, that this is for your own good, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, Father, I DO! For my own good."

He wiggled his ass in an exaggerated manner as I worked my fingers up his chute. By now, of course, he didn't need all that preparation. But we were enjoying the role playing.

"Ooooh, Father, what are you doing? It feels so good!"

I began to massage his prostate, and he gasped, this time in earnest.

"It is not supposed to feel good, my son. You have been bad. You must be made to see the error of your ways."

"I realize my sin, Father. Now, for God's sake, fuck me!"

"As you wish, my son."

And I fucked him long and deep. When we were finished and I had pulled my spent cock out of his cum-filled chute, I collapsed onto his back. He rolled over, and I fell off. We lay on our sides, kissing. Eventually, he pulled back.

"Father, I'm not sure I have learned my lesson. Perhaps you should remind me again tonight how badly I have sinned."

"Yes, my son. Perhaps I should. Tonight. Again, for your own good."

He began to giggle, and I joined in. We lay there in fits of giggling so long we were both almost late for work.

As we were dressing, after having cleaned ourselves up, I said to him, "You know, you never munched my grapes."

"Sorry about that, padre," he said, giving me an evil leer. "I'll be sure to do that tonight."

[To be continued.]