That sound never gets old - I'm talking about the sound of russ moaning through his gag, when he's spread eagled on my bed. Tonight's his night to get tickled. He doesn't know yet that, well, even though I threw a fuck into him last night, I'm still horny. He's gonna be sore when he gets home. Let me introduce myself before I go on. I'm Lane. Southern guy. You might have figured it out from the name. Anyhow, I wound up in the city the way a lot of southern guys do: lead actor in all the school shows, head of the drama club, yadda yadda. "YOU SHOULD AUDITION IN NEW YORK!" everyone said. So I did. How many actors heard that and became professional waiters and amateur actors? I came close. No waiting tables for me, but... someone is back stage making sure everyone's costume is clean and ready every night. I tell you: nothing I learned at school prepared me for my future career as well as my mom insisting that I learn every aspect of, as she put it "domestic engineering." I loved doing laundry - I still do. Let other guys go with the no iron crap. Me? My shirts get the full treatment: after I take them out of the washer (I know, I know... I should hand wash them. Daddy only has SO much time, though), they get the hot iron treatment. Buttoned on the hangars. Just like Joan: no wire ones, thank you very much. Laundry got me my job, and I've had it for about six years. What got me russ? Well, you're gonna find out. You're gonna find out about our odd relationship which may change, but .. let's just say it's been an interesting ride.
I met russ the old fashioned way: the subway platform. SIGH. The good old days. As far as I can tell, on line dating and plugging yourself into iphones have all but eliminated good old fashioned cruising. That's how I met russ though. It was like this: he isn't really my type - or at least, he wasn't. I guess he is now, since he's all I want. Dark hair, receding hairline. Good looking features, not drop dead handsome. I guess the only thing that said "Lane's type" was his five o'clock shadow, at nine in the morning. Polyester slacks that really didn't fit him well, standard "poly cotton" blend shirt (lavender though), and one of those spring jackets you see on Dads when they play golf. Sound hot? I think not. And I couldn't keep my eyes off him. He was reading one of those "You can better yourself" books. I don't remember the title: you know the type. (I always used to say, if they worked, well, there'd be a lot more fighting in the street because we ALL can't be better than everyone else). Anyhow, don't ask me to explain: I can't. I'm being a polite Southern boy here: I found him "compelling." I stared at him until he looked up, and then I smiled. He was embarrassed, and he looked away. The train was not running well that morning and I started staring again. He looked up, and I smiled. This time, he didn't grin when he looked away, and I kept on staring, and smiling. When I turned away, he came up to me. "Excuse me," he asked "Are you cruising me?" He didn't look angry, he just looked seriously confused. Time to turn on the southern charm. "Well, it took you long enough to figure it out. Yes I am." I smiled. I've been told that I could undress a man with my smile. russ didn't do as much as take off his jacket, but he was intrigued. "Well, I'm flattered, but I don't want you to waste your time. I'm straight. I have a girlfriend." "Oh, I wasn't looking for an engagement ring, fella. And you know the old saying: even spaghetti is straight until you get it wet and hot." It took russ a bit to figure out what I was saying, and then he laughed. "That's cute. And again, I'm flattered, but... you're wasting your time. You could do better. Take care." He walked away just as the train was pulling in. FINALLY. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," I told myself, and got into the train. I sat down and pulled out my magazine. I was in the middle of an article on one of those Broadway belters who also happens to have a gay entourage. "Hey. We get to meet again." There was a seat next to me and... three guesses who was sitting down. "Well, hello there. Now don't you worry young man. I'm gonna keep my eyes on my magazine and you won't see my smile again. Not even once. " "Uh, I'm sorry if I offended you, I didn't mean that." Ok, now Lane has handled that kind of line different ways. I'm never sure which way is the right way: "well, buy me a drink and we're even," or "no offense taken," followed by some bullshit. That's the one I took . "Oh, I wasn't offended. You know, I was an actor, and I'm a gay man . If you can't handle rejection at my age, give it up." Now I did smile at him. "I'm Lane by the way." "I'm Russ." He held out his hand and I shook it. Firm. A "man's" handshake. "Nice to meet you Russ." I looked up. I could miss my stop or.... "Maybe I'll see you again, but this is where I get off. You made my day, Russ." "Hey, can I make your early evening? Maybe get a drink?" HOLD ON. Straight boy Russ was inviting this southern queen for a drink? Hmmm. Again, to quote momma, when things didn't seem right "someone forgot to put sugar in the oatmeal." I still don't know what she meant, and I can't ask her, rest her sould, but it sounded right for what just happened. "Sure. I start work at 6:30. It needs to be quick. " He gave me the name of a sports bar. I grinned because I knew it, but this was a place where I'd be in trouble. White collar straight jocks getting smashed. Six beer queers. I'd taken home how many of them? Don't ask, cause I won't tell.
So I met russ for our drink. He could NOT have been sweeter. Yes, there was tons of humpy jock flesh in that bar. I really didn't look at much of it. I experienced russ' smile that night. Killer. So were his eyes. Brown, but with a little bit of gold in the center. He told me about his job which sounded about as boring as I think you could imagine. He was an analyst at one of those investment banks. His specialty was bridge construction. I kept awake by trying to figure out just HOW hairy he was, because now that I was close to him for an extended period of time, I saw the hair coming out of the top of his shirt. If you're like me (heaven forbid), you can check out a man quicker than you can say "soups on," and I did. Was he semi-hard, or was he really that big (spoiler alert: it was the former). Much to my surprise, he seemed perfectly comfortable with me. Very few people are. "You know, Lane, I've never been with another dude" he said at one point in our conversation, at a point where it made absolutely no sense. "Well, there's a first time for everybody, russ honey, and when you're ready, someone will be happy to introduce you to it, I'm sure." I looked at my watch. OH SHIT I was gonna have to hurry. That (w)itch wanted her crinoline "just so." (Know how those stories talk about "oh she's such a regular person and so kind? My leading lady was NOT). "Russ, I really have to go. It was a pleasure meeting you." I reached into my pocket to get some money to pay for my drink. "No, no Lane. It was my invitation. I got this. I'm not quite ready to go home." "Well, thank you, " I said. "Let me return the invitation." I grabbed a napkin and wrote down my address and phone number. "I'm having a party next week. Please stop by if you like. Nothing fancy, just actor types." "Hey, thanks. Any chicks?" "Yeah, real ones and drag queens." He laughed. "Thanks again. I'll try to come." Now I had to scurry to the theater and begin planning the party that I decided to have five minutes prior.
Fortunately, if you know actors and actresses, the only words more welcome than "you got the part" are "free food and drink," and Mr Lane Dynes can cook a mean country captain. And a pecan pie. And a few other things. And even if I couldn't, well, the liquor cabinet was filled with "the good stuff." Momma knew nothing about men, and everything about booze. When she was leaving us, she told me that, and said "Lane, sweetie, here's all you need to know about men. When they're hard, you can get anything you want. Secret advice: a finger in a man's ass will get you engaged. To get to married? DON'T DO IT." She left me her liquor. She also told me that while she didn't advocate getting a man drunk, she wasn't against it either. Russ DID come to the party. Late. I was STUNNED. He didn't know about my liquor collection and he brought a bottle of scotch. Good stuff. "I didn't know what you like so regift it if you don't" he smiled, and looked kind of boyishly cute. "This boy is not going home tonight," I said to myself. "Oh, thank you, but trust me. Open that bottle and put it on the table and it'll be gone in half an hour." "But I got it for you, Lane." "That's sweet. Actors share and share alike though (bullshit, but he wasn't an actor, so it didn't matter). "You want me to take your coat? I'll hang it on the rack near the bathroom. " He was wearing the same jacket and I THINK he had tried to dress up with a pair of dark blue pants with a faint black plaid as background. He had on a white shirt with a blue and red windowpane. All of that was irrelevant. The smile and eyes. "No, it's ok. I can't stay long, but I did want to drop by." "Well, honey, sit here. Rule 1 of parties. Make them come to you (more bullshit, but let me tell you, I was not letting this one get into the clutches of my "friends." And as he sat down I noticed: either he was more than semi-hard or he had grown an inch or two since our subway ride (spoiler alert: see above). I try not to drink too hard when I host a party, but I had gone perhaps one over the line that night. Russ tried to get up at one point and my dominant side came out. "YOU SIT RIGHT BACK DOWN RUSSELL." "Uh, my full name is Russ but... ok. " If he had looked at the right place at that point, he would have been wondering about me the way I had wondered about him. "Lane, I need to go to the bathroom. Is it ok if I get up now?" He hadn't minded when I rested my hand on his thigh and in fact, I think he smiled when I put it there. "Yes, but hurry up. My plans to ravage you won't be denied." He laughed as he went to the lavatory. Maybe he wasn't sophisticated enough. The coat rack was near the bathroom, and he could have taken his coat and left. Instead, he came back. This time, he rested his thigh against mine, and when my arm went around his shoulders, he grinned a little foolishly. It WAS getting late, and people began leaving. There were only about five left, including a guy in home I had absolutely no interest, and a guy who had more than a passing interest in russ. I had to do something and I did. "Guys, thank you all for coming, but it's time for Daddy to turn out the lights, so... consider yourself shooed out." russ began to get up, and I said "Not you. We have to talk." "Uh huh...." one of my erstwhile friends said as they left. Now it was, as the books would say "just russ and I." "This was fun, Lane, but I should get going." I surprised myself with the strength with which I pushed him back on the sofa. "Did I not tell you I was planning to ravage you?" He laughed. "You did, but..." "I was telling the truth." He looked very nervous (I have that effect on men, newbies in particular). "What did you tell me: you've never done anything with a dude?" "Uh, that's right." He had the deer in the headlights look. "That's about to change. A dude is about to kiss you russ." And I did. He didn't pull away, he didn't fight it. When I pushed my tongue against his lips, he opened his mouth. Amateur hour. And I was getting harder by the second. "Not bad for your first time, sexy boy." He laughed again. "Thanks." I locked eyes with him, and moved my hand to his crotch. "You seem more eager than experienced russ." He turned beet red. "Yeah, I guess I am." "Let me introduce you to the joys of being with a dude. " I got up and took his hand. "Come come. It's late. And if I don't get horizontal by 2, I turn into a pumpkin." "It's 2??" He exclaimed. "OH SHIT. I missed the last train." Of course he lived on Long Island. "I have a feeling that was deliberate," I smiled and he didn't deny it. "Bed," I said to him and he responded teasingly in a way he would learn that I required : "Yes sir" "Now, you're new to this, so... I'm the boss." (and since then, I have been)." I put him on his back and kissed him more passionately than I had on the sofa. He began to moan. As the commercial goes "he likes it! he likes it." "There are more things than kissing russ." I have a heavy beard and I ran it over his virgin ears. He may have had a mini orgasm right there. "Oh my, looks like we found a hot spot." "I guess you did" he smiled. "WHEW. " "You know, you straight guys miss something by dating women because... they all want you to do something to them, and they never do it to you." "What's that ?" he asked "You're about to find out russ" I began opening his shirt. Yup, poly/cotton blend. At some point, I thought I'd fix that, but you know what? Dressing russ in all cotton would make him something different than he is. And I LOVE what he is. I got to see how hairy he was that night (VERY), and russ had his nipples played with for the first time. And then he DID have an orgasm. "OH. Lane. I'm sorry. I just made a mess. " "Well, don't be sorry. I'm glad my blandishments met with your approval." He looked puzzled at the word. "You can look it up on the computer tomorrrow, handsome, but now... it's my turn." I had thoughts of being slightly more kinky and more demanding, but I was thinking long term. I just opened my jeans. "I'm gonna jerk off all over your chest. Then we're gonna kiss some more. "WOW. Lane. You've got me beat by about 2 or 3 inches" he blurted out when my cock came out. Straight boys. Or sorta straight boys. You gotta love their innocence. I closed my eyes and began thinking of what I wanted to do to him. I kept him interested by running fingers from my free hand over his nipples. "SHIT THAT FEELS SO GOOD. Why didn't anyone ever...." Then, one of those things that you read about, think about happening, happened. I climaxed and a shot got his face. I missed his eye, and now, it was my turn to apologize. He smiled. "Dude, I never thought I'd excite someone like you that much. " GEEZ that boy was endearing. He still is. "We should get some sleep, honey" I said to him. "You probably will want to get an early start tomorrow. IF I let you go." "Ha ha. I'm not THAT much fun Lane." "I'll be the judge of that. now, do you sleep on the left side or the right?" The right. And, uh, I snore." Of course he did. He probably farted in bed too I thought (he did). "You want me to hold you ?" I asked. He hesitated and through the question back at me. "You wanna hold me?" "FUCK YES" I thought. Instead I just shook my head yes. "Cool. I like spooning." Now, ok, it was late, but my gaydar was still working. Spooning. A red blooded presumably heterosexual male had just used the word spooning in talking about sleeping with a southern queen. As a young northerner once said "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark." We slept until ten. And then, before I took him out for brunch, we... " Intrigued? Well, y'all come back. I'll tell more.