Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between more or less consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, read no further. If you have any feedback, please drop me a line at niftyguy_30307@yahoo.com
Thanks a lot to all of the guys who have written. I appreciate the encouragement.
Note: Each new chapter in this series assumes the reader has read the preceding chapters.
It was late when I walked back to the staff quarters, but I could easily make out the path by the light of the full moon. The luminous disc hung almost directly overhead. High noon of a ghost day, and all my work was done. I didn't see anyone else on the way up to my room, but I did notice a streak of light coming from underneath Sam's closed bedroom door. I hesitated for a minute before lightly tapping my knuckles on the painted wood. Hearing Sam's muffled voice, I eased the door open.
He was in bed reading, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey yourself. You just getting in?"
"Yeah. You about ready to turn in?"
"I suppose so. Were you working late, or out recreating?"
"Work, I guess." I paused. "Do you mind if I invite myself to sleep in here tonight? I mean, just sleep?"
Sam looked at me for a minute before replying. "Well, I guess I can't very well say no, considering how I barged in on you the other night. At least you have the manners to ask."
Feeling strangely relieved, I quickly ran to brush my teeth, kicked off my shoes and socks and slipped out of my khakis. By the time I returned, Sam had turned off the light and migrated over in the bed, leaving space for me to lie beside him. We lay there quietly for a few minutes, neither talking nor touching. Finally, Sam spoke.
"So, is something up with you, Mike?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
"Really? Why?"
"I don't know. You just seem a little quiet, maybe."
"Oh. Well, I guess I've got some things on my mind."
"Work things?" I asked.
Sam let out a sharp, unamused laugh. "Work, family, whatever. It's all the same." He turned towards me and propped his head up with his hand. "But you still didn't answer my question. Enough about me. What's up with you?"
A twinge of fear vibrated in my gut. I didn't know how Sam would react if I told him about what was really bothering me, namely the way I had just spent the evening. Part of the jumble was that I didn't really know what was going on between the two of us. Part of it was that I didn't really know what I thought about the turn that my life suddenly seemed to be taking, so it was hard to know what another person would think. All I did know was that I wanted to be with someone who would just be there with me, for me. Lying there, in that bed, on that night, I wanted Sam to be that person.
"I'm not sure I want to talk about it," I replied.
"Not sure meaning that you do want to talk about it, but you're afraid."
"Maybe I'm not sure the same way you weren't sure you wanted to talk about something else the other day."
Sam was silent for a minute. "Mike, some things aren't meant to be shared. I'm grown up enough to know that, and I'd bet you'll learn it all too soon. If you want to talk, just let me know. If you don't want to talk, that's fine too." He paused. "You know that I like you, right?"
I could feel my face flush. "I like you, too. That's why I'm in bed with you."
"Just in case you can't see in the dark, that made me smile. I didn't know that you were so logical. But I predict you're going to like lots of different guys over the next couple of months. Some of them for maybe twenty minutes in the locker room, some for a whole weekend, and maybe some for even longer than that. We'll just have to see how it all works out in the long run. In the meantime, I think I'll be happy whenever you want to pay me a visit."
Sam's candid assessment did not seem to require a response. In view of what had happened since we had last slept together, I couldn't really argue with the substance. So I leaned over, gave him a quick peck, and rolled over, hoping to get some needed sleep.
Drifting, breathing, sighing, turning. I'm asleep, but I'm also awake. I'm walking down the corridor, where I walked before. I'm looking for the card room. That's where Rich told me to go. He said that it would be easy, nothing much. When I knock on the door, someone answers, and there are four more inside, grinning, happy to see I'm there. The game can start now.
"You kept us waiting," says one man. "Let's get started," says another. "Do we need to tell him the rules?" asks a third. "He'll figure it out soon enough," says a fourth. "Let's just deal the damn cards," says the last.
Everybody wants a drink as they deal the first hand. I put the ice in the heavy crystal glasses and pour the scotch, and someone wins the first hand, because a flush beats two pair. All eyes turn to me.
"Time to take off the shirt," the winner says, winking at me. I learn that, in this game, I lose something in every hand, and the winner takes what was mine.
Three of a kind beats nothing, and I lose my belt.
A straight flush beats a full house, and I lose a shoe.
A pair of queens beats a pair of nines, and I lose the other shoe.
Two pair beats an ace, and I lose my khakis.
Their anticipation is as thick as the air is with cigar smoke, and they tell me that my cock had better be hard when the boxers come off, and I will it to happen.
A royal flush beats a pair of aces, and I lose my boxers. I'm standing there, waiting.
"Bring me another scotch," says the one who answered the door. I obey the order and bring him the drink. He grins at his companions. "It's better if you stir it up a bit." He grasps the base of my cock, angling it down, and plunges it into the amber fluid, and I flinch from the cold stinging heat burning at my piss slit. "What's the matter? That hurt? What about this?" He grabs a hair on my scrotum and yanks, pulling the follicle out. "Look boys, a souvenir! Anybody else want one?"
The game isn't over. Another hand gets dealt, and a full house wins a blowjob from me. The winner pushes me down to my knees and unzips his pants and pulls out his heavy purple cock, and all I can do is suck while the card game goes on. The next winner gets in line while the remaining three continue to play. I try to suck harder and bring the first guy off faster, but he knows what I'm doing, and he holds my face so he controls the tempo, slowing me down. And there are only two still playing by the time he shoots, and then another cock, thicker than the last, is in my mouth, but he cums quickly, and then there is the third, and it has a raunchy smelling foreskin, and I think I might gag. Now I know that the card game is over, and there are only two more cocks to suck after this one. All I can taste is cum, and all I can hear is them laughing, and all I can smell is the cloud of cigar smoke. I feel like I'm gasping for breath as the last cock invades my mouth, and my jaw aches and my throat hurts, and my cheeks sting. The nest of hair in front of me swims in my vision, but then there is the warm flood of cum that signals it is over, and I am on my hands and knees, panting.
"Good job, good job, give him a drink," someone says, and there is a glass at my lips, pouring the burning whiskey into my mouth, mixing with the acrid taste of semen. And as I am swallowing, they grab me and hold me, and the one who got the most from me, a belt, a sock, and a shirt, is mounting me from behind, fucking me, and all I know is that it hurts like hell, and I am his prize. He drives into me without anything to ease his way, and I try to crawl away, but I can't move, because they won't let me, and I don't know if it will ever be over. Someone pours more whiskey into my throat, but it isn't going to help. The only thing that will help is walking out of this goddamned room.
When they leave, I pick up the money from the table, five crisp $100 bills, and I slowly put on my clothes, and I see my way clearly, by the light of the full moon.
Warm, moist lips moving up and down my shaft, and an insistent tongue stroking and teasing me. I didn't immediately open my eyes when I woke up. I was more than happy to nestle back against the pillow and spread my legs open wider, with an I'm-sure-contented smile on my face. It was at once so tender and hot, and so intimate, to be in Sam's mouth. As he sucked and licked and nipped, my cock became more and more sensitive, and I wanted to be further inside of him, permanently encased. Finally I opened my eyes. He was intent on his task, but eventually we made eye contact and he managed to smile up at me, despite the fact that his mouth was full of my flushed, rigid cock.
"Morning," I said.
He pulled off of my cock and crawled up my body, straddling my hips and poking his moist tongue into one ear.
"Morning to you. You mind if I take advantage of you, and use your body for my own insidious purposes?"
"Is that what you're doing? I think I like your purposes. Be my guest."
Sam didn't waste any time pondering my invitation. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of lube off of his night table, reached back, and began to stroke and probe his hole, clearly preparing himself for my cock. Once he and I were both liberally coated with the slippery lube, he leaned forward and, still kneeling astride me, began to stroke my cock up and down his crack. He let out a little shiver every time he dragged my head across the puckered ring of flesh that guarded his entrance. Almost involuntarily, I began to thrust forward, trying to push my way in, but Sam seemed to want to drag it out, and he kept pulling forward just as I was about to open him up.
"I thought you knew that I was in charge here," he said, grinning down at me. "We're gonna do it when I'm ready, and I'm ready right, about, now."
It was pure heaven when he sank back on to me, impaling himself on my rigid flesh. In my mind's eye I could see inch after inch of my cock squeezing through his hole, pushing through into the velvety darkness on the other side. It was such a great feeling, invading him, that I couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment when I realized that I was completely buried inside, and his sphincter was stretched around my root. Sam's eyes were almost closed as he concentrated on the feeling he was experiencing, and he let out a little moan when I took his cock in my hand and began to slide his foreskin back and forth over his pulsating head. He leaned forward and rested his hands on my chest, covering my pale nipples before one hand migrated down to the patch of hair in the valley between my pectoral muscles.
"Mmmm, your cock feels so good, I can't even believe it," he said as his fingers stroked across my chest." We began to slowly rock against each other, grooving on the intense sensations that we were creating together. I greased up Sam's cock and began to stroke it in the same rhythm as our fucking, wanting to set up a circuit of erotic energy, from my hand into Sam's cock through his ass into my cock and through my body back to him.
Neither of us was in a hurry, and we maintained ourselves on the edge of orgasm for what felt like a truly delicious eternity. When the moment did finally arrive, Sam looked into my eyes and told me that he wanted to see me cum. Wordlessly, I nodded and let myself go, thrusting in as deeply as possible. As I came, I gave Sam's cock the one last squeeze that he needed. Sam leaned back as he erupted with almost explosive force, shooting semen straight up in the air.
We lay there, in Sam's bed, for I don't know how long, me inside of him, him on top of me. It was a very simple, very complete pleasure.