Part 6 -- Denver
It was a week and a half before I was going to leave for Denver that Carolyn Mitchell knocked on the front door, apologizing that she hadn't come over to see me sooner or to meet my mother. Carolyn had recently moved into a house across the street and a few houses down from ours. She was the mother of my best friend in High School, Daniel Mitchell. I could hardly look her in the eye for scoping out the handsome, young man standing beside her and smiling at me.
"You don't recognize me, do you, Mike?"
"Oh my God, you're Dana, aren't you?"
Dana and his older brother Daniel were both adopted. All through High School Dana had been a pain in the ass for Daniel and me. Now he was another kind of pain; he was so good looking I thought I might die of cardiac arrest if I looked at him too long.
Carolyn jokingly remarked, "Who would recognize him. His died, black hair is a local fad with high school boys, and so is the blond streak along one side. Sometimes I don't even recognize him."
Carolyn was just touching base. She knew my parents had been gone for the whole summer and wondered where they were. (Small town curiosity.) I told her where they'd been and they'd be arriving home the day before I left for Denver, plus the fact my mom had called earlier in the evening to say they were closing her mother's house in Iowa and bringing her home with them until she was better able to manage on her own; instructing me to move my bed downstairs into the Sun Room and move her grand piano from the Sun Room into the Living Room.
I offered them coffee, a coke or some ice cream. Carolyn and I had coffee; Dana had both a coke and ice cream. Carolyn said they were leaving tomorrow for a week in Estes Park and Dana had been there so many times he wanted to stay home. And, being a senior this year, he also wanted to talk to me about the State Colleges and Universities.
After Carolyn left, Dana stayed on. I wanted so bad to put the make on him but knew I didn't dare. I needn't have worried; before our talk about colleges ended he had put the make on me.
I told Dana that the University of Colorado was where I'd gone and was the most familiar with. However, most of the State Schools were grouped together, north of Denver. The University of Northern Colorado was in Greeley and the Colorado State University was in Ft. Collins. Then I mentioned the University of Denver and Regis College were both in metro Denver; Regis being a Catholic Institution. He knew all of this but I include it in the story for your information.
We talked awhile about how his interests should dictate his choice and I suggested he get catalogs from all of them before he really decided and that the catalogs were available the library but didn't believe he could check them out as they were for reference only.
We got down to what I'd been wanting to ever since I laid eyes on him when he asked me about sex in Boulder, where the University of Colorado was located. I laughed because the school was in the midst of a scandal wherein the University was accused of recruiting football players with the offer of providing sex for them. I knew he must have known about it.
He did.
He responded that was not the kind of sex he was interested in. He was interested in gay sex and said he'd always known I was gay. He couldn't tell me how he knew; just that he somehow knew. I guessed he'd developed gaydar at an early age.
After two beers each, I was sucking his cock.
And, what a nice cock it was. In fact it was as beautiful as he was.
He returned the favor.
I couldn't help staring at him. He was broad shouldered and had husky looking pecs but, otherwise, was very much a trim, slender, teenager. I loved his dyed hair. His teeth were his only flaw; they we small, uneven and not really white. Somehow, even they enhanced his appearance. It was as if he'd have been unbelievably perfect without at least one, small flaw.
Five minutes after his parents left for Estes Park he was at my front door. He helped me disassemble my bed, move it downstairs and reassemble it as well as to get the piano into the family room. In fact he spent 90 percent of his time with me. He was quite the young beer drinker.
Three nights he stayed overnight. We consumed a lot of beer. We engaged in a lot of sex.
Damn but I wished I'd met the kid two months ago when I first arrived home. He had a terrific cock to suck and a sweet ass to fuck. Anyway and he promised to look me up in Denver.
After finding and settling into an apartment, selected because of its convenience to the office, I called both Pete and Sunny to give them my new address and my telephone numbers at work and the apartment.
It was a disappointment to me that Gene felt obligated to stay on with Allen because Allen hadn't charged him any rent until he started school and received his first pay check. I understood though. In fact, we both agreed that we'd bonded in Boulder so tightly during the four years we lived together that besides lovers we were friends, in fact we were practically brothers and nothing could diminish the feelings we shared.
Gene divulged a recent development in Allen and their relationship. When in Boulder, the only thing that Allen would allow done to him sexually was getting his big, black, curved cock sucked.
Now, Gene was fucking him. Gene liked fucking ass, as I well knew, and he was happier living with Allen since that development had occurred.
However, we agreed to get together once or twice a month, even if entailed getting a motel room.
Jim's real estate office was small, but unbelievably attractive. Oriental rugs on hardwood floors, traditional furnishings, wingback, client chairs in the offices. Even the magazines in the waiting room were current and expensive. The secretary/receptionist was a woman in her early forties; good looking, a classy dresser and she had a warm, open personality. She'd worked for Jim for twenty years. Her name was Bonnie Sullivan. There was also a young kid that worked part time after school, Matt Brewer. Neither Jim, Bonnie nor Matt had any objections about my bringing Sonny to work with me. The arranged suited Sonny just fine, too. Bonnie even took her home with her on the three nights a week I went to realtor's school.
Two months later, in November, Pete called me. He had applied for and landed a job in Denver with a computer firm. He wanted to know if he could share my apartment. That didn't make for a difficult decision on my part. I agreed immediately and had a big smile on my face for a week afterwards. In fact, there was nothing I could have wished for more.
Pete and Sonny's divorce was uncontested. Pete didn't even have to go back to Arizona and appear before a judge. So, being he was not going to be socked for alimony, he felt free to make a move. The climate was about the only thing he'd liked about Southern California.
He brought his bag of sex toys with him. He was tired after the trip, so the first night together we just slept entangled together. The following morning, a Saturday, after we'd eaten breakfast and had our showers, he unzipped his bag and got out his ropes.
I tied him up, fucked him and then sucked his big cock. That is what he wanted me to do.
In fact, it was always Pete's decision as to when we'd have sex and what we'd do. Until he decided he wanted sex and what specifically he wanted to do, I didn't even ask him for any, knowing it would be useless to do so.
I never had and never would completely understand Pete. I knew he liked sex with me. He told me he did. In fact, he told me that I was the reason he'd moved back to Colorado; he realized that I was the only person that really loved him unconditionally. Yet I sometimes wondered if homosexual activity left him with a guilt conscience.
Sonny had me exactly where she wanted me and Pete quickly achieved the same. Besides making me his sex slave he made me his slave in every other respect. I did the cooking, cleaned the apartment, did his laundry and took his shirts, wool pants and jeans to the dry cleaners, along with other clothing items he wore to the office. I also picked them up paid for them.
I knew that he was using me, but I didn't care. In fact I loved it. Sex with him was beyond anything I could imagine with anyone else. Sex was on his terms, but he was generous. He was in the mood two or three times a week, sometimes oftener. And sex with him was never a quickie; it always involved a long period of foreplay including drinking, sometime pot, tongue bathing and cock worship followed by two sex acts. Generally he wanted to be fucked first and then sucked or masturbated. Neither was our after play ever rushed. It involved lying in each other's arms, smoking cigarettes and again drinking.
In short, he was an exciting sex partner, terribly arousing, completely satisfying and exhausting in a completely nice and rejuvenating way.
His 8-inch, thick cock and his walnut size balls along with his hot love hole were worth any price that he cared to exact for it, as I'd told Sonny. I was glad she didn't believe me, as selfish as I know that makes me sound.
By the end of February I had completed school and became a licensed broker. To celebrate, Jim took me to dinner, we got drunk, he took me home and for the first time and one of the few thereafter, Very rarely Pete took the part of the top, he'd tie me up, suck my cock. I pleaded with him every now and again to fuck me but he never would.
One miserably cold, windy, Saturday morning in early March a gentleman named Alex Weber came to the office to see me. He'd made an appointment a week earlier. He wanted to list his house with me. It had been for sale for a year with two other realtors but hadn't sold. I looked it up on the Multiple Listing Service. It looked like a barn, painted in the traditional barn red color with white trim, although it had been built new instead of being an old barn that had been remodeled. The interior pictures were fantastic. It had huge spacious rooms and the Living Room had a large stone fireplace and a soaring ceiling.
He told me why it hadn't sold. Being southeast of Watkins but still in Arapahoe County, people who had looked at it found it too isolated, they didn't like the flat plains, living in a rural area with only a county sheriff for protection, they felt the house unsuitable for small children and the schools were not up to par if their children were of school age. Churches, shopping centers and all the amenities a woman looked for in a location were missing. At his suggestion, to save us both travel time; I followed him to the house to have a look at it.
The barn, house, whatever you wanted to call it, was beautiful. I fell in love with it as he walked me around the rooms. The main structure was 30 ft. wide by 40 ft. long, with a 20 x 30 Living Room in front and a 20 x 30 Kitchen and Dining Room combined at the back and separated only by an island counter. In the center was a huge, stone fireplace, with the most realistic gas log fire I'd ever seen. Above the Kitchen and Dining Room, but not extending clear to the exterior, supporting walls because of headroom was a 20 x 30 ft. balcony used as a Family Room. Supporting columns, beams and roof braces were painted a pewter color, the ceiling was white, the Cypress paneled walls were stained a light gray color and the living room carpet was a two-tone, gray Berber; the Kitchen and Dining Areas had tile floors, also in a gray. At both ends there were windows that rose from floor level to the peak of the roof with insets of colored glass now and then. Blue and wine colored leather furnishings enlivened the neutral color scheme.
On one side of the main area, under a shed roof, were two large Bedrooms with private baths and large closets. On the other side was a 40 ft. long covered patio as well as an uncovered patio opening off the Dining Area.
I right out told Alex I loved the house. He explained the extremely contemporary furniture went with the house as well as the abstract, geometrical paintings, both a minus to those who had viewed the property to date.
We signed the listing papers; I hurried back to Denver, talked to Pete and called Gene and Allen. They agreed to look at the house tomorrow afternoon and, if they all liked it, a joint ownership and occupancy. I made an appointment with Alex Weber. We took Jim with us.
Unlike Saturday, Sunday was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. I think Alex was a bit uncertain about things but warmed up as we toured the house. I had completely forgotten to go up to the balcony, which was accessed by a ladder. Allen and Pete flipped over it and began talking about the room was more than generous for a Study as well as a Family Room. Alex, Allen and I all had PCs and Gene could use mine, as he'd done in Boulder. However, the thing that caused the most comments was the squares and rectangles of colored glass in the gable end windows. They cast spots of colored light on various surfaces and shifted with the sun. It was a unique feature for a house; it was mood lifting, almost spiritual.
Pete's smartness was not relegated exclusively to computers; he asked how direct sun could come through a north window. Alex explained that his wife, being a gardener, had the house built on a northwest, southeast axis so every side of the house would have some sun every day and during each season. (In fact, after Jim retired, Pete became my partner in Pennington Properties).
Jim asked if the price was negotiable. Alex said he'd reduced it twice during the past year and he didn't want to come down further. He explained his wife had died; he wanted to move to Kansas City where his fiancé lived. She didn't want to move to Colorado and wanted nothing to do with the house, furnishings and accessories of a former wife.
Jim asked what exactly was included in the price. Alex responded that everything in the house and the metal building, lawn maintenance equipment, snow clearance equipment, linen, dishes, everything. The only thing he was going to take was the 54-inch TV.
Jim told Alex we were going to go outside, have a cigarette and talk for a few minutes. Alex said to wait a minute, went to the fridge and returned with a six-pack of Bud.
Outside, Jim did the talking: "Guy's the house is worth what he's asking. Shit, if you could build a barn in Denver it would be worth twice as much. If you want it, I don't think you should try to negotiate him down. Both Alex and whoever ends up providing financing is going to want 20% down. I'm going to wave my take on the 6% sales fee for Michael, so that leaves a 14% shortage. Here's what I suggest. I've known Allen like forever. I'll give you the remaining 14% on the condition that Allen, Gene and Pete all co-sign a note that the sum is payable in 10 years. However, if and when I die, the loan is free and clear. I'm going to leave the note in the office safe when I retire, Mike can tear it up and I'll come back and haunt your fucking barn; especially your fucking bedrooms. Especially when you're having sex. Also,I'll see to it that you get a loan."
Jim expedited it though escrow. In two weeks the four of us were living together in the barn, commuting to work, which proved no problem and loving it.
Living in the house changed all of us. We were obviously glad to have apartment living behind us. All of us seemed happier. Some things, though, did not change. Gene did the cooking because he was the only one with any talent at it. I did the housework. When summer came Allen and Pete took an interest in the small lawn areas and the garden. That was at least something. Gene and I laughed because it soon became apparent that he was Allen's slave with the same duties as I was Pete's slave. Gene had the worst end of the assignments with having to prepare dinner each evening and in the morning make coffee and lay out bowls for cereal and plate for rolls along with a banana, apple, grapes or some other fruit that could be eaten in the car on the way to work.
I tried to mitigate his duties by taking all four of our dry cleaning items to cleaners on my way to the office and grocery shopping on the way home in the evenings.
It is beyond the scope of this story to relate all that happened with Pete but I would like to close with relating a few of the highlights in more detail than others.
I had to give Pete credit. He was a workaholic and if he didn't call to tell me he was working late, I'd call him and find him at work. I never had the feeling he was fucking some cunt. He was also a gambler and loved to play pool for money. The first night I want to tell you about was a weekday night he called me reroute home and told me to meet him at the pool hall in Watkins, which just had to be the oldest building in town. It was also a bar.
The night crowd hadn't arrived, so we had a hamburger and a few drinks before playing pool. Me playing pool with Pete was about as much a contest as jumping off a skyscraper with Spider Man but he tolerated me until some someone else put quarters on the edge of the table which signified he wanted to pay next, always with Pete, never with me.
So, I'd sit at the bar and talk with one of the locals. None of them had yet accepted us as actually belonging but didn't care as long as we bought them a drink now and then. On this particular night, Pete tossed his head toward the door indicating he wanted me to follow him out. We went around the side of the building, sneaking out drinks out with us. The bartender didn't give a shit. Law enforcement was minimal.
Pete had a couple of joints. We smoked them; he put my hand on his crouch and squirmed as I felt him up. He had an erection. I kissed him on the side of his neck, which was as close a he'd come to kissing. Once when I'd asked him why he didn't like kissing, he replied that he didn't say that. He liked being kissed. He didn't like to kiss men.
Later, on the way home, he took his cock out of his pants, put my hand on it and, as usual, wanted it squeezed hard and his balls pulled hard. I obliged because I knew it took a lot to make him shoot a load. At home, he brushed his teeth first and I went to the bathroom after him. When I came out he was spread-eagled on the bed with an erection. I'd seem his 8-inch cock erect before but never like it was now. Maybe it was the cockring. He said only two words to me "Suck it."
On my knees, I wrapped my hand around his balls and pulled down on them, which made he cock leave its position atop his stomach and stand straight up. Other guys had called me a wet cocksucker because I liked to get a cock slick with my saliva so I could work it faster. I knew he was about to ejaculate. So was I for that matter.
Suddenly he pushed me off and lit a joint for us to share. "I want to make it last. You were getting me too near too soon."
"Was I making it feel good?"
"You know you were. Sometimes even to look at your mouth makes me horny. I swear your mouth is half cunt. That's why I moved in with you. You're my personal cock sucker and my tool better be the only one you're taking care of."
"It is. Believe me. I love your cock."
"Then make a cunt out of your mouth and go down on it. Make me cum.
This time I had to suck it up from flaccid to hard before I could get it wet and start sucking again in earnest. As soon as I got really into making love to his cock, he raised his legs and wrapped them atop my back and squeezed them against my head as he humped his lower torso off the bed and jammed his cock deep into my throat to pour out his love juice. My satisfaction was not in swallowing his cum as much as it was the fact that I was able to make him cum.
I had told him the truth. I really did love his cock. I loved all of him. I reached down, pulled up the top sheet and duvet, snuggled to his back and he turned off the lamp on his side of the bed. I never slept do deeply and so soundly as I did sleeping with Pete. His ass was like a heating pad it was so warm.
The next time after he let me suck him and we were smoking a cigarette while we came down off our sexual high, I asked him again, "Pete, please fuck me sometime."
"Why do you keep asking me that."
"Pete this is only the second time I asked."
"When's your birthday? I'll fuck you as a birthday present."
"Come on Pete it's in January. That's too long to wait. When's your birthday?"
"July."
"That's too long. Fuck me Friday night. We'll celebrate your divorce."
"That's an idea. But we'll have to get a hotel room."
"Why?"
"Because it isn't going to be any quickie. I'll need to get pretty drunk first."
"Where should I reserve a room?"
"At the Brown, in the Annex."
"Why the annex? The rooms in the original building are bigger."
"The annex rooms have more glass. You want fucked. I'm going to move the bed right up to a window and fuck you with the light on so anyone looking will be a witness to the fact that I fucked you. Besides they will brink liquor to the room even if their bar's closed."
It didn't make a lot of sense, we could bring a bottle, I drank scotch and Pete drank Jack Daniels and Bud Light. But, I went along with his wants and desires, as usual.
I made the reservation, packed the booze, left Sunny with Gene and we left for Denver.
We hit two or three bars after we'd checked in. When we got back to the hotel we were in a happy mood, but not drunk. We showered and I was ready but you never knew about Pete.
He wanted to shave my pubes, balls and ass hole; there wasn't much hair on it but he shaved me anyway, got a pair of black, women's panties out of his case, told me to put them on, tied me spread-eagled on the bed, took off, locking the room to the door as he left, telling me he'd be back in a little while.
At first I had only one thought. "Pete could be a real bastard at times."
Then I started to worry. I didn't know if he'd gone back to one of the bars or what the fuck he was doing. What if the hotel had a fire, I'd be here tied up, unable to get out. I loved him, as I've already told you, but I couldn't bring myself to trust him 100%. I felt ashamed of myself when I found out the next day where he'd been. (He'd gone out walked a couple of blocks, smoking a cigarette, and bought a packet of Viagra tablets.)
When he came back we shared a joint while he undressed in front of me like a stripper. When naked, his big, eight inch cock, a cockring squeezed around the top of his cock and under his balls, was rock hard.
He didn't move the bed in front of the window, but turned the lights off. The streetlights, cars going by all reflected enough light off the ceiling for me to see. Pete eased into bed, untied me, pulled off my panties, kissed my neck (that was a surprise) pinched my nipples then sucked them, moved down to my genitals and sucked my balls and my erection. Finally he lubed me, raised my legs, mounted me, waited until my love hole accommodated to his big cock being in it and then fucked me hard and deep. He lasted a long time. He fucked, fucked, and fucked some more. When he erupted deep inside me I knew for sure I'd been fucked.
The next morning we went home. I had a 2 PM appointment in the office. Pete went immediately to bed. He hadn't spoken since leaving Denver. He was in a funk mood. Sonny recognized his moods as well as I did. She jumped up on the bed and plopped her back next to his. When I returned home, he and Sonny were still in bed. Around 5:30 he woke up, showered and came out to join us for cocktails before dinner. By then he was OK.
That night we snuggled together in bed and fell asleep. About 2 AM, I awoke, lying on my side. Pete lubing my love hole with his finger was what awakened me. He pulled my top leg up, inserted his hardness into me and started making love to me. Again, I knew I was being fucked for all I was worth. He knew how to fuck. He'd had a ton of girl friends and he'd fucked all of them. He liked to fuck. Maybe he was having a difficult time reaching orgasm. He was pounding me so fast and so hard, I was amazed. In fact, he slipped out once, guided it back in and pounded me still faster, still harder. I've told you before I love Pete, but I don't know if I'll ever really understand him.
In the darkness, he put his mouth close to me ear and said. "Sorry, I just needed that real bad. I hope I didn't hurt you."
"You didn't. Did you enjoy it?"
"You're damn right I did. And I'm not going to ask if you did, too. I know fucking well you did. You're a hot fuck. I didn't realize a man could be so good. We can forget the hotel room business from now on. But expect to get fucked again, on my terms, I'll fuck you when I want to fuck you, don't ask me to do it. It's going to be just like my letting you suck my dick. When I want it sucked I'll offer it to you. Don't ask for it. Can you live with that?"
"If I can live with you I can live with any terms."
"Do you really mean that?"
"Yes, Pete, I really do."
"You keep telling me you love me. Do you really mean that, too?"
"Yes, Pete, I really do. In fact you're the only person I've really loved. I've thought I loved people before. But until I met you, I really didn't know what it was to love someone. Can you understand that?"
"Yes Mike, I can. This past month I've began to realize that I love you, too. And I mean that."
"Can I ask you one thing about your terms, Pete?"
"What?"
"Will you let me kiss you once in a while? Sometimes I want to kiss you so badly I can hardly stand it."
He turned my head toward him and kissed me on the mouth.
"Does that answer your question? By the way, you don't have to wait for me to kiss you. We'll kiss anytime you want to. I've decided I like kissing you, even if you are a man. Guess it's because you're as kinky as I am."
He got out of bed, went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up, came back and fell asleep, exhausted from his sexual exercise.
I too fell asleep, but first my mind wandered back to what I'd told Sunny about Pete. No matter how kinky and weird he sometimes was, his big fucking cock made everything worthwhile and now it was mine. Forever I hoped.
I woke one more time before morning. Pete had reached over and wrapped his hand around my cock. Who's to say what's kinky about sex, especially sex between males? One thing's for sure. It's sure good!
THANKS TO ANY AND EVERYONE WHO HAS READ THIS STORY. I RECEIVED A FEW E-MAILS DURING THE EARY CHAPTERS, BUT, I HAVE THE FEELING A LOT OF GUYS READ NIFTY STORIES. THAT IS WHY I KEEP WRITING THEM NOW AND AGAIN. PREVIOUSLY, I HAVE WRITTEN MAINLY ADULT-YOUTH STORIES. SO, IF THIS IS NOT UP TO PAR, FORGIVE ME. IT HAS BEEN SOMETHING NEW FOR ME.