Special Assistant.
Part 12
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that I have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. These are all new stories. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
As Virgil climaxed in my ass, I felt his cock bloat, then squirt. The ejaculations were explosive and I felt each volley. Virgil seemed like a nice guy, but I was taken back by my reaction to his orgasm. A wave of affection swept over me. When he stopped shooting, we hugged.
"Thank you," he whispered. We held each other. In the pool area Randall was still ranting and abusing Steven.
"My hotel is a few blocks away," Virgil said, "Would you like to go there for a night cap?" As before, I could tell he expected to be rejected.
"I'd like that," I said. "It would be a lot quieter there." Virgil smiled. We left the small alcove and went to the shower room. As we entered the room, Steven came in with Randall. Randall forced Steven to the floor and began pissing on him. Steven whimpered, but I noticed his cock was rock hard. Several other men came in and added their piss to the brew. Steven was drenched in urine. His cock began to spurt.
Different stokes for different folks has been my motto, but I didn't like the scene. The men verbally abused Steven, who seemed to like it. One of the men made Steven get on his knees, then he fucked him hard. He shot off and another man took his turn in Steven's ass. It was a gang bang.
Virgil, got dressed and I left, then went to his hotel. We didn't talk until we were in his suite alone. "Would you like a night cap?" he asked.
"I think I would," I replied. "I'm afraid that scene bothered me."
"Me too," he said as he made the drinks. "Sex can be messy when good, I guess that man liked it." Virgil didn't know who Steven was. Steven was a behind the scenes operative and kept a comparatively low profile.
"In theory I think whatever floats your boat is okay," I mused. "Although, I don't feel too good about sadism and masochism. I like sex when everyone enjoys it."
"Amen to that brother!" Virgil said. "Maybe I'm hopelessly vanilla, but it seems to me sex is its own reward. I guess that guy liked it?"
"If his erection is any indicator, he did," I said. "He must need to pretend he's being forced to have sex."
"That was pretending?"
"Yes, the guy being fucked by the Indonesian told me it was an act they've put on before," I said. "Apparently one guy likes to dominate and humiliate. The other man likes to be abused."
"The perfect couple?"
"Maybe. Some men like role playing. You know the "you play doctor and I'll play patient" sort of thing. I'm not one of those men, but I can understand it," I said. "It seems to me liking sex only when it's used as punishment is not the same. I'm gay and I like man sex. You like it too, and we can get together and both have a good time. It's unhealthy if you're gay and hate being gay and need to be abused and treated like dirt in order to have an orgasm."
"It's really unhealthy if you need to abuse someone to get your rocks off. I hope you enjoyed it with me?" Virgil asked.
I looked at Virgil. He reminded me of the hopelessly browbeaten husband in Keeping up Appearances. Virgil was an ordinary guy, not handsome and not exceptional. He handed me my drink and we sat.
"I did enjoy it. You did too, I hope?" I asked.
"It was wonderful. I don't do this often. It's hard to get away," Virgil said. "When you look they way I do, it's hard to attract people. You're so young."
"You're married?" I asked.
"As married as a man can be. It's been a good marriage too," he replied. "Once and a while I just like to have sex with a man. I've never loved a man, but the sex is so good. That may be hard to understand. My wife is very proper."
I laughed. "I have no problem with that at all; I understand. " I said. "I'm not very proper. Sometimes it's good to let it rip and go at it."
"It hard for me to do that. Relaxing is not one of my skills," Virgil said. "I'm too polite."
"Can you make an effort tonight?" I asked as I put my hand on his leg.
Virgil smiled and we went to his bedroom. He did relax and the sex was good. In the privacy of the hotel room, he let go. He wanted me to fuck him. He was tight, but once I was in he went crazy. It was as if he had won the lottery. It's nice to be appreciated and we traded places a few times.
The second time I fucked him, my cock went in easily and way deeper. We made that rare direct cock to brain connection. I had done that a few times before. This was Virgil's first. My cock head was pretty sensitive by then. The line of his ass must have been just as sensitive, so my cocks every movement was extraordinary.
It got too intense a few times, Virgil was whimpering. I slowed and let Virgil rest and catch his breath. He had already shot off twice earlier, so there was no pressure for him to shoot. I kept on slowly thrusting into his ass. I had shot off earlier too, but when I climaxed this time I came close to shooting a few internal organs into Virgil's ass with the sperm.
I went home the next morning. Virgil had to go back to New York, but I gave him my phone number. I didn't think he would call, but he looked pleased I gave him my number.
Back at my apartment I had a message from Baskervill asking me to call. I dialed the number and got an answering machine. He called back a minute later. He thanked me for going with him to the club. "We didn't hit it off, but I struck pay dirt," he said. "After Randall finished with Steven, he gave me a royal fucking. You know, the kind that leaves you smiling for a week. Steven was spitting nails by the end of the night. Steve's a sex pig, but he wants Randall to stay pure! So you believe that. Randall's a whore, and Steve wants him to be true!"
"I take it Steve isn't a friend?" I asked.
"I don't like fucking ass holes!" Baskervill said. "Steve will turn on you in a minute if he thinks there's any advantage to him in it. He did that to a friend of mine, so anything I can do to hurt him is fine with me. By the way, Uncle Cal wants you to call him too." Baskervill gave me Cal's number.
I called Cal and again got an answering machine. He called back a half hour later. He introduced himself again in case I didn't remember him. "I have a charitable opportunity for you," he said. "I ran into a friend of mine last night. A nice guy but not my type, if you get my drift. I saw you got along well with that older man, so I wondered if this guy might be your cup of tea?"
"I'm a bit worn out," I said.
"You don't have to do anything. I'd appreciate it if you would just stop by and say hello," Cal said. "I'm at the Watergate Hotel." Cal was use to being obeyed and I walked over to the hotel after for lunch with them.
Cal introduced his friend as Gerald. I had no idea who he was, but somehow I knew he was someone. Eventually I figured it he must have been in the CIA or involved with some other high powered intelligence agency. Gerald was massive. He looked like an old football player who had gone to pot. He and Cal had been lovers at one time, but had grown apart. I knew Cal like young boys, so poor Gerald was left behind.
Lunch was room service, but good. Cal had to leave after wards, leaving me alone with Gerald. "I saw your at the party last night," he said.
"I missed you," I said. "It was dark there!"
He laughed. "It wasn't my kind of scene," he said.
"You're not into group play?"
"I don't mind that," he said. "Sadism isn't my thing. It turned me off. It scares me to see someone in that position with that need. It's dangerous."
"You know Steven?" I asked.
"I've known him for years. I thought he was just your average run-of-the-mill party hack," Gerald said. "He always would do anything, and I mean absolutely anything to get his candidate elected. That had appeal to some men. It never occurred to me he would reach the top."
"It's hard to reconcile a man who is so aggressive with being a masochist," I said.
"You don't know the President, do you?" Gerald asked rhetorically. "He likes to embarrass people and to see how far he can push a man. Watching a man humiliate himself in public and destroy his career gives him a rush."
"Like Colin Powell?"
"I will bet the President loved watching Colin humiliate himself in front of the UN. Colin must have known it was all bullshit, but he was forced to prove his loyalty," he replied. "The President is an underachiever, a party boy. My guess is he's a coward who hates heroic, gifted men. I think he genuinely hates heroic men who are battle tested. Whatever you might think of McCain or Kerry, they passed the test of battle. The President despises that."
"Is that why he tends to forget to mention the fighting men and women in the armed forces?" I asked. "He likes going to bases, but keeps away from his handiwork at Walter Reed."
"I think that's a part of it," Gerald replied. "You note he never goes after his opponents directly. It's always through proxies. Steven is the puppeteer. Steven is always proving his loyalty by trying to destroy the President's opponents. The worst thing in the President's book is being right. The President can't admit a mistake and he can't say he's sorry. By definition, that means those who are right are his enemies."
"Does that also mean that those who were wrong, but agreed with the President are his friends?"
"You're catching on. Being wrong is the path to success in this administration," Gerald replied. "The more total the misjudgement, the more complete the failure, the more attractive the President finds you. He forces out the competent and replaces them with failures. Deep in his heart, he's a failure and he's most comfortable surrounded by failures." The phone rang. Gerald went to answer it in the other room of the suite.
Gerald returned and said he had to attend an unexpected meeting. He said he'd like to get together and I gave him my phone number. I walked home through the trendy shopping areas which line the banks of the Potomac between the Watergate complex and Georgetown.
"Jason!" a voice cried out. I turned and saw Randall. He came up to me. "I didn't know you ran with that crowd," he said. I explained my `son for a night' arrangement with Baskervill.
"It's a good group to get in with, they're loaded and like to help men with their careers," he said. "Did you have some fun?"
"I did all right," I said. "You looked as if you were having a great time."
"I did. Sometimes you like a trip to the wild side," Randall replied. "Do you live near by?"
"Yes. I have a small place three blocks off Wisconsin."
"Any chance you have an extra bedroom?" he asked. "I've got a hot date lined up."
I smiled. "One bedroom only," I replied. "Three would be a crowd." The second I said that, I realized I had made a mistake.
"Three would be no problem at all," he said. Where your place?" Like a fool I told him. He said he'd be there in a half hour or not at all. I went home. A half hour later no one came by and I gave a sigh of relief. Fifteen mi utes later the doorbell rang. It was Randall.
With him was Walford Durand, a White House correspondent for a 24-hour new channel. He didn't have much time, so we got naked and fucked like rabbits for a half hour. Walford shot off, showered, got dressed and left.
"That was quick," I said to Randal who was in bed next to me.
"Walford's not one to beat around the bush. Being fair and balanced doesn't take as much time as you would think," Randal said with a smirk. "They pride themselves on being rude. They think it's macho. Only gay men would be polite." As he we talked, he reached over and stroked my cock. "Jason," he whispered, "I'm still hard too. Roll over and open up some, we can have a good time."
I didn't want to, but I was revved up with no where to go. Randall pushed me so I was face down. Then he straddled me. His cock slipped into my ass. It really hit the spot. He was relaxed and took his time. He liked to tell me how good he was. "Ain't this the best cock you've had up your ass?" he asked. I nodded. It wasn't the best cock I had ever felt, but I was good, I wasn't in a position to complain.
"You know, buddy, my cock can stay hard for hours," Randall said. "Hard enough to get me to the top. Steve is a wonder. You can't give him enough. Piss is the food of the gods for him. He laps it up like mother's milk."
"Did he get you into the press room?" I asked.
"Sure, I got me in, no questions asked," Randall answered. "It's a sweet deal for everyone. I get to move up in the world, and Steve gets a quicky from time to time."
"Everyone is happy?"
"Everyone."