This is part of an ongoing series, entitled "Homecoming" that follows the main character, Jack, as he returns to Southern California. The title of this first story becomes relevant half-way through, so read on, MacDuff! read on!
i have also previously written another story in adult friends entitled "Mr. Walkowski"
thanks, mr
Be a better friend, newshound, and know-it-all with Yahoo! Mobile. Try it now. Walter Kelly had been one hot lay five years ago. He was tall, muscular and charming. Everything he said made me laugh and he loved to have sex. He did have a bit of belly back then, and his elongated upper body made his body sort of waddle when he walked. But I hadn't been looking for Mr. Superhot. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done had someone dreamboat guy hit on me - I probably would have flinched and walked away. Walter, however, was perfect: he was good-looking enough that I desired him, but not so much that he intimidated me. And if he had some fat around the tummy, I didn't mind because I wasn't looking for a boyfriend, but for a daddy.
I was a twenty-three year old twink who had come out recently and was looking for someone who I could trust to really fuck me. And it was Walter. I would squirm and moan and he would gently lie me down on the bed and then pin my smaller body with his. Then while I panicked and sucked in my breath he would slowly force his fat cock inside of me. He was a patient man. Inch by inch, he would push in while I desperately tried to relax and let it come in.
I was super tight back then and had lots of defense mechanisms; I managed the perverse double feat of desperately wanting to be fucked like a little schoolgirl and being absolutely terrified of it. I would walk around Hillcrest with my wranglers on and my shoulders squared and a chip on them, 2 tons heavy. But once I walked into Walter's dark, college-dorm like apartment, I would slink over and coo in his ear. I would rub my hands over his shoulders while he sat in his chair in front of his computer trying to write. If I hadn't gotten his attention yet I would seductively strip in front of him and then bend over away from him and stick my milk white ass in the air. I would say "Good god I'm horny." Then he would smile and swivel my way. He loved to watch me naked; he loved bodies. Then, like I said before, he would fuck me.
After he was all the way in and he had pulled out and gone back in he would begin to slowly fuck me. My mind would finally give way and the pain and terror would flee and I would warm up down there. I could feel my ass get loose and lubey (Can't hate a guy who uses lots of lube) and I would delight in the wet slappy sound of his legs smacking against mine as he pumped my ass.
There was one curious thing about Walter though. He would take forever to cum. I finally wouldn't be able to stand it anymore - no matter how good it would feel eventually (honestly sometimes I think I just liked the idea of it more than the actual act) he was just too thick to take easily for a long period of time. He, however, would go and go and go. Even when he popped out of me and I lay there covered in my own gism, he would still be there flogging the dolphin.
I never shouted out too much stuff during the sex. If I had just screamed out "Fuck me hard in my boypussy, daddy!" I think he would emptied buckets of cum all over me. I was still too inhibited. But what I could do was tell him stories. Since I was still shy I would always begin them with "Oh, did I ever tell you the time when I ..." and what would follow would be a hot description of 16 year old me getting fucked in gym by a god-like gym teacher. Or me watching one of my schoolmates seducing some hot G.I. in the woods. Eventually I switched characters and let my imagination wonder. It wasn't too challenging though. All I would have to do was get to the part where the big manly man was about to fuck the boyish young guy and he would erupt in orgasm.
Thing was, we weren't just fucking; we were dating. That part never sat well with me. He would want to go out and see plays and movies and stuff and go to Café on Park to talk about books. And he was great conversation, but I used to wonder what he could possibly see in me. If it were just sex, then I could understand; I needed someone who I could trust to fuck me and he, in return, got to fuck a really hot piece of 23 year old ass. As mature as I was (and who can say really?) what would a 36 year old man have in common with a 23 year old guy - romantically speaking? But that was the thing, he always acted like my peer.
One day while we were naked in bed, I finally put it together. I was just getting to the part in the story where the lacrosse star's hunky father and the slender art student had gotten trapped in the men's bathroom. I was whispering into Walter's ear and Walter was furiously pounding his meat. Walter wanted to know what the lacrosse star's father looked like, how taut his muscles were, how hard his twelve-inch cock was and how desperately he wanted to fuck that little art student. As he exploded all over himself, lights went off in my brain. In short, Walter identified with the twink. From the condition of his room, to the way we hung out to the fact that didn't really have any friends his age. In his minds eye, he was a randy teenage boy. Why he never went after some 40-something manly man was beyond me.
We split up after a couple of months. If we had just been lovers we might have lasted, but the last thing I wanted for a boyfriend was a slightly fat man who was thirteen years older than I was. It was amicable. We lost touch when I went to the middle-east and I hadn't thought about him in years.
That is until I ran into him yesterday. He looked damn good, thinner, sleeker and he still had all his hair. I was different also. As trite as it may sound, the middle-east changed me. PT every day caused me to lose about ten pounds of baby-fat. Weeks of lifting weights and carrying sixty-pound bags built the muscles of my shoulders, arms and chest. When I look in the mirror now, I no longer see the lithe young swimmer, but a hard, lean man. Something else changed too, when the heat was on - and I was in some fucking hairy situations - I started depending on myself. Stuck behind a two-foot stone wall, separated from my group by enemy fire, I was forced to take a cold hard look at myself, and I saw I could live with what I found there. It's a divine, liberating moment when you realize you will take care of yourself. Other stuff happened, fucked up stuff, I won't go into it. But suffice to say, the experience changed my sex-life. I didn't desire the daddies anymore, I still found some older men attractive, but I didn't long for some older, wiser man to wrap his arms around me and protect me anymore. I didn't want someone to shield my eyes and soothe me, I wanted someone to listen to me. To me.
It was a shock to come back to San Dog and look at many of my old lovers for the first time. What kind of men had I been sleeping with? Many of them were condescending, shallow hypocrites. Not Walter Kelley, though - still dating twinks and still dreaming of Colt models.
I managed to finagle an invite back to his apartment out of him. He kept babbling about his current project (he was ever the director, always on the cusp) and when we finally bid goodbye. I watched him walk away and saw that ass wiggle away as if for the first time. I had never really noticed what a pert, tight bubble butt he had before. I wanted nothing more than to step up behind him and pull those jeans down. Then stroke his quavering, pale ass cheeks with my hand. Gently push in between and massage some lube into his tight little hole.
Later we were at his apartment. He was seated at his computer showing me some animated short he had put together. He was having trouble keeping his focus though. His eyes, kept wandering first to my biceps (I had nice round ones now - all the more accentuated by my tight t-shirt) and then to the bulge in the front of my jeans. I was wearing sleek, boot cut jeans from banana republic and a pair of briefs that pushed my package out as opposed to down. I had always had a bigger cock than Walter, but this was the first time I had ever flaunted it. I smiled at him and he caught himself and went back to the project. He was hot for me, now I had to handle things very delicately.
"You're looking real good, Walter. Almost exactly like that picture of you when you were 18 and stripping in Orlando." I said. He flushed and smiled.
"Thanks-" he began. I casually swung my hand to my crotch and gave it a good squeeze.
"Real. Good." I repeated. A look crossed his eyes. Disbelief. Then a small smile. I squeezed my package again and rubbed my hand over it. Walter liked bodies. He smiled broader, like someone who was about to win a board game. Oh Walter. Tsk tsk. He stood up and began to make his way towards me.
"Get on the bed." I said. He paused. This was the moment that would decide it, eve if he didn't know yet. Then with another smile, this one indulgent, he got on the bed. I stood at the foot of the bed, and he lay down looking up at me. I stripped off my shirt, gave my chest a rub and then looked at him. Oh boy did Walter want to get fucked, I just had to show him.
"You're so hot now, Walter. Show me. Take off your shirt and show me how hot you are." He sat up a little bit and took off his shirt. He had joined the swim team and it showed. His little-boy belly, the one that used to stick out when he walked, had disappeared, replaced by a smooth, flat stomach with the barest rippling of abs. I brought my hand down and rubbed it gently, in small circles, Walter closed his eyes and purred. Above his abdomen were his pecs. They were still big and round, like before, but now they were taut, with his big juicy nipples straining out of them. I slid my finger up the crevasse between them, then molded my hand to his pec. Squeezed his nipples between my fingers. Gently at first. Then I pulled hard.
"Hey." He said, eyes flaring open in indignation. I smiled back at him and placed a finger at my lips. With the other hand, I reached down and stroked the area right above his crotch. Right where his pubic hair began. This soothed him. Walter, I am going to push your boundaries past their limits. You have no idea.
"Lean back," I whispered. He did so. Until finally he was lying on his back. I reached to his shorts and unsnapped them. "Let's see if anything else has changed." I murmured. Walter smiled and acquiesced. I gently drew his pants off and then rubbed his boner through his cotton briefs. Like a father to a sleepy child, I slowly disrobed him. Until he was naked on the bed, his legs spread apart, his thick seven-inch cock standing up in the air.
"You are a very beautiful boy, Walter." I said. He was a beautiful 41 year-old man lying below me, quivering, yearning for my touch.
"So beautiful," I intoned, my voice low and hypnotic, "roll over, I want to see the muscles of your back, your glutes, the way your balls hang down." He slowly rolled over, and unconsciously gave his butt a wiggle. I pulled down my pants and gently crawled onto the bed, kneeling beside him. His lats rippled and his ass dimpled again as he unwittingly flexed it. I placed my hands on his back.
"God, you look just like the picture of you from when you were thirteen visiting Greece. I'm going to massage you, Walter." I said. I put my hands at his neck and started rubbing them. After a minute, I began to tell him a story.
"I went to Frankfurt for some R&R when I got it. I caught a hop into Ramstein and then a ride there. It was February, so cold as balls. When I was stumbling around the Turkish area south of the train station, I saw a sign for a hammam, I knew it was an opportunity." I felt his ears pick up. Walter Kelly knew what "hammam" meant.
"It was late, but this hammam was open all hours. I walked in, traded my clothes for a little towel and followed the disinterested eyes of the clerk in the direction of the entrance. Once there, the steam engulfed me. I had to blink a few times to get used to it. There were only a few lamps lit and the light was very soft. It was a smallish, marble encased room, roughly the shape of an octagon with wide benches along all sides. There was a basin for water in the middle and a wide marble slab off to one side. And I was the only one. Or at least I thought I was the only one. As my eyes adjusted and I walked to take a seat I saw him. More like felt him. His dark eyes bored into me. I ignored him until I sat down, opposite him and then I stared back. He was young, maybe twenty-two, but he was all, sleek, powerful muscle. His taut olive skin glistened with moisture in the dim grayish light. He sat with one knee up as he leaned against the wall. Rivulets of water poured down between his chest and his soaked white cloth just barely covered his crotch, so you could see the dark curly hairs peeking up out of it.
And he stared at me, with a deep, penetrating glare. He was a young buck if ever there was one. But I didn't feel like tussling. I nodded my head and then closed my eyes and relaxed backward into the wall. We sat like that for a while, Walter. He brooded, I melted and then, a German boy walked in."
I felt a frisson of excitement pass through Walter's muscles. He was smart, he knew where this story was going and it thrilled him - like a child listening to family stories finally perking up at hearing one that featured him. As I described the boy, I gradually worked my hands down to Walter's ass.
"He was beautiful, seventeen, eighteen, all gold. From his short, floppy hair, to his pale golden skin. His pouty red lips set off the flush in his face and his body. He was a lissome, spare teen. With a just barely developed chest, broadening shoulders and a pert, high-water ass. He glided into the hammam, just like a doe stepping into a forest clearing. He, too, thought he was alone. He made it to just by the marble slab when he saw the Turk. The Turk uncoiled himself from the wall and stepped assertively to the boy. He gestured to the slab, indicating that the boy should lie down on it. The boy didn't know. Then the Turk reached out and rubbed the boys shoulders, massaged his arms, stroked the boys waist and gently pushed him onto the slab.
He picked up a nearby bucket and splashed him down the front with warm water. The boy started, but the Turk held his chest down with one hand. Then he washed the boy with a soapy sponge. The tension fled the boy, and his feet stopped spasming. Then he flipped the boy over, soaped him up again, this time completely unfastening the boy's towel and gently scrubbed in between the boys crack. He felt down at the cock and ballsack that had been pushed down ward and he gave them a swipe with the sponge. Then he bucketed the boy over again and rinsed him."
I'd seen this before. You weren't supposed to visit the hammams in Baghdad, but I did anyway. I don't care too much for Iraqis though; they're all fucked up about having to be the top.
"The Turk then produced something else, a balm or oil, and rubbed some into his hands and then onto the boy. He stroked the boy's neck and his shoulders. Then, standing close to the boy, he swooped down and rubbed the boys forehead, caressing his head. He bent over and kissed the boy on his temple, again and again. Then he stepped down and rubbed the oil over the boys back, slowly pushing it into the skin, working his way to the boys buttocks and then to this legs."
At this point, I was sitting on Walter's ass, with my hard cock straining against the fabric, pushing against his cheeks. I began to slowly rub his lower back and the tops of his ass cheeks. Walter exhaled deeply and pushed back against my cock. I could see from the side of his face a relaxed smile. His eyes were closed, which meant he was deep in the enjoyment of his senses.
"The Turk slid one, long finger down the boy's crack. Then he drew it back and forth in slow strokes, pressing into the boy's hole each time. The boy's entire body shivered and the little moans he had been emitting stopped. If the Turk noticed, he didn't show, indeed he went slower, caressing the tender area around the boys hole, putting pressure on every bit of the crack and only occasionally, just gently touching the asshole."
At this point in the story, the boy had actually started to back his ass up into the loving fingers, but I didn't get there just yet. Oh no. I now stepped off the bed and started massaging Walter's ass in earnest. Pushing the two bouncy globes back together. No matter how tight the rest of Walter was, he had an ass like a ten year-old boy. Firm, fleshy and sweet, so sweet and smooth. I kissed each check, felt the warmth rising from him. He wiggled his butt again. He loved it. Then I did just what the Turk did, I ran my finger along his crack. He immediately pushed back, even moving his ass up or down so that my finger was pushing against his hole. His hole, it wasn't loose, but it readily blossomed to accept my finger and soon I was pushing into him, gently, ever so gently but steadily. Just like he used to do when he would nail me. Walter, I thought, you taught me a lot. And all this, all this to get your pride to relax, to fall asleep, so you can get what you want, Walter.
"The Turk pulled the boy's ass up, so he was on his knees, bent over, face on the marble, but ass in the air. He kissed his way down to the boy's crack, pulling apart each ass cheek so we could see his little rosebud, exposed and winking. Then he moved his face in there, gently kissing in slow circles. The boy relaxed into it, pushing his small little bubble butt back on the young Turk's face. He sucked and sucked on that butt, digging his tongue into that hot sphincter, forcing it to open up. And when he stood up, that little pucker was smiling like a lazy eye."
I grabbed some lube and gently rubbed it into Walter's ass. Walter hummed and spread his legs wider, angling his ass up to meet my fingers. I quietly withdrew a condom and slid it on, holding on to the wrapper. I lowered my voice. Now for the best part.
"His towel slid off, at last I could see his cock. It stood out like a steel scepter, it was long, smooth and good god it was thick. Like the leg of a table and it stood out straight. He stroked it a few times, got it nice and slick Then in a quick motion he pounced on top of the boy. He quickly laid his body over the boy, pinning his back and right arm down with his hand. With the other he lined up his weapon against the boys ass. The boy started flailing, resisting as hard as he could. He pitched his ass about, knocking the cock away. The Turk reached back with his free hand and slapped the boy's buttocks. Hard. The thwack resounded in the otherwise quiet steamy room. The boy whimpered. Then he slapped that ass again. And again. And the boy stopped moving his ass. The Turk lined up his cock again and pushed. The boy cried out and tried to pull himself forward, away from the impaling phallus and off the marble top. But it was too late, the Turk had broken through and was now holding him back with one, muscle-bulging arm."
Walter always loved a little resistance, so I spiced it up for him. But I added another finger and pushed in with two. At this point, some analytical part of him picked up what was going to happen. His pride was suddenly scared he was having too good a time. One hand reached back, even as he was pushing up with his ass, to try to swat my hand away. I grabbed that hand and firmly tucked it under his stomach.
"The Turk ran his hand over the boys hair and caressed his head, kissing him over and over again on the neck and cheek, cooing soft things to him in Turkish. But he was still pushing in, relentlessly. The boy was straining his back, babbling unintelligibly, arching his back. But the Turk didn't let him, he held that golden boy fast in his arms, pushed that adorable face into his arm and entered into him. Penetrating him and soothing him. He told the boy he wasn't going to let him go. He intimated over and over again "I've got you. I've got you." And then he was in, all the way to the hilt. He said in German to the boy "I'm your brother. I've got you." And then in a flood of relief the boy relaxed, he was spent. He couldn't fight it anymore, and he relaxed in the Turk's muscular arms. The Turk kissed him and kissed him and ran his hands gently over the boys face..."
I put my cock at the entrance to Walter's butthole and then I pushed in. It relaxed, almost sang and let me in. I sank about three inches in before his analytical clicked in and his ass clamped tight light a vacuum. He reared up. Like a bucking bronco, he was on his hands and knees before me, trying to push himself up, trying to knock me off. It was all I could do to stay on. Right now he was grunting. If he started talking though, all was lost. I grabbed one of his shoulders and steadied myself with my knees, my cock. He opened his mouth to speak and I slammed my fist into his ribs and then again right below his solar plexus. His wind left him and collapsed back onto the bed. Perfect. Of course, now I was never going to get my cock back, because if possible his ass had become even tighter.
I shoved the condom wrapper into his mouth. "Bite it, baby" I said. "Bite it!" He did, he bit down with all his might on that wadded up aluminum wrapper. He was having trouble breathing but he was focused on that wrapper.
I bent over and stroked his ears. Stroked his hair. "Baby," I said, "Shhh. Close your eyes, baby, that's right, shhh, close your eyes." He closed his eyes. His breath was still ragged. "Baby, you're him. You're the boy, and you're beautiful, baby. You're golden and lithe. You're the most beautiful boy in the entire world. And it's you in that steam room, the air is misty and you're warm, you're so warm" I felt his body relax. His breathing slowed down. I rubbed his forehead, just like the Turk did to the German boy. "You're making love to the most handsome, young Turk. It's all you and him alone in the steam. And you're hot. You're fucking hot. He wants you, too." I pushed ever so gently into his ass and it relaxed again. I pulled out to the tip and then pushed in again deeper. Then I reached under and grabbed his straining hard cock and gave it a stroke. That was the final straw. His tension broke and everything opened up to me. I slid into him and then out again and he sighed. I pushed in again. He whimpered, just the slightest sound. I pushed in again, nice and gentle and his ass pushed back.
"What happened next" he said in a little voice.
"Then," I began, as I sat up and put one hand on his waist, "the Turk stood up on his knees and pulled the german boy back to him. He began to roundly fuck that beautiful boy. Like a Seljuk warrior plundering his favorite wife in the middle of camp, he owned that hammam. The light played off his muscles as he thrust in again and again. The sweat poured off him, lubricating his massive, engorged cock and wetting the golden boy below him. The boy for his part, was a lion. On his hands and his knees, his yellow mane flopping behind him, he arched his back and pushed his ass back into the Turk. 'I'm your brother,' he roared to the Turk. The Turk smiled and reached down and rubbed his hand over the boy's cheek again. Then pushed the boys knees apart even wider and grabbed the boy's hair pulling him backwards and bringing his cock deeper into the boy. They cried out in pleasure. 'Oh God, take me. Take me brother.' They fucked and they fucked."
"Oh God! Take me!" Walter shouted. I was slamming into him now, grabbing him by his willing waist and slamming my cock into him. "The Turk pushed the boy down, putting his knees past the boys knees, angling his cock downward so that he could fuck him as deep as possible then he ploughed into him. The boy cried out, in agony and ecstasy. A few savage, deep thrusts and the boy sprayed cum all over himself. The Turk quickly withdrew, flipped the boy over and then ejaculated all over the boy's mouth and neck. He came and came until the boy was coated in pearly white."
Walter shouted, like a sharp bark and then coughed. Gism poured out of his penis all over the bed beneath him. I pushed in deep, so I could feel his entire anus surrounding my cock and I gave two short shoves and then I was gone. I kept shoving into him over and over again, independent of my will. I was killing him as I came but I didn't care and I couldn't stop it. Finally it stopped and I fell into the bed next to him. It was a water bed. Only Walter Kelly.
He didn't say anything for a while. Just curled up in a little ball. We had broken through a wall together and I could tell he didn't quite know what to do or how to process it. He was that thirteen year-old boy again. I gently reached my hand to his back, and stroked down his spine. We lay like that, me humming softly and him still. Then he shrugged off my hand and sat up. He shook his head and then stood up to grab his towel.
"Well, that was that." He said. He didn't look at me.
"Do you want to take a shower?" he asked, politely.
"No." I responded. "Okay, well then, I'm going to... It was nice seeing you again, Jack..." He trailed off. He stood there, his face only half turned to me. I waited, hoping. But he turned and headed to the shower. I couldn't stand it.
"Walter," I said. "I just fucked you and you loved it."
Walter stood still, then walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He peeked his head back out of the bathroom for a second, staring at the ground instead of me.
"What happened to the boy? Afterwards?" He asked. The question hung in the air, while I pondered what to tell him.
"He grew up." I replied. He nodded and then went back to his shower.
I got my clothes back on, I hadn't gotten too dirty. I tied my shoes and with a shrug I walked out his front door. The sunlight blinded me as I made my way back to my car. "Oh Walter! You tool!" I shouted.
Still, I hadn't been kind to Walter Kelly. Instead of gently bringing him to the mirror and saying "look how beautiful." I twisted his arm behind his back and forced him stare at something that he found to be very ugly. And I didn't tell him how the story actually ended.
After the Turk had unloaded all over the boy, he knelt down and lifted the boys face to his and kissed him. It was a deep, soul-bridging kiss. Like Snowhite and Prince Charming, except for the sperm. Then they lay there next to each other spooning, whispering to each other in Turkish and German. At that point I had to leave. And who knows? Maybe they're still there. But Walter will never know. That was something for me to keep.