NYBBGUY58

Update on porn stars who've nailed me -I'm sure everyone is just WAITING for me to post an update... I forgot that I'd been with Tony Bishop (who was/is something of a grumpy misanthrope) DavidnSF (fun, but likes to fuck without lube...challenging) And...newly nailed by Rob Yeager, who is a lot of fun. He's really into worship, just read a little of Pozzed: A Love Story (https://breeding.zone/topic/36558-pozzed-a-love-story/) to get an idea of what I like. If that's your scene, he's your man!

While I'm fairly open, I will say that my strong preference both when I was/could top and as a bottom is for taking/giving loads in the ass.

From what I've heard from guys around NYC, no. Strictly safe...and he was impossible to set up appointments with. The one time I tried, he said okay call to confirm and then didn't answer when I called him. I think he wants overnights, and I'm not an overnight kind of guy...

Yup. Saw him more than once...?

Antonio Biaggi? Among others...agree that Adam Russo is a walking wet dream.

Jon Vincent, years ago...with condom. Kevin Slater, bare; Tommy Delucca, bare; Christian, bare. All were fun....

Workin' on it...suddenly it's a little easier.

Chapter 23) Nice Matin was a French restaurant shoehorned into a narrow, long space, but its high ceilings, distinctive chandeliers designed around the structural columns and the décor (light brown and cream with black accents) prevented it from feeling claustrophobic in any way. There was a medium-sized curved bar to the left of the entrance, but the rest of the floor space was devoted to well-spaced tables and towards the back, on the left side, a few booths. It wasn’t packed on a weeknight, but was lively and a bit noisy. We arrived before my father did and were immediately seated in “our” booth. Predictably, the staff went gaga over Mike; the hostess, who knew us as regulars, was obviously dazzled as my mom made the introduction. Our usual waiter, Fabrice, seemed extra attentive, but maybe I was gloating. Or territorial. Mike had dressed to impress, pairing his soft gray jeans with a clinging black turtleneck that looked so sexy all I wanted to do was rip it off him. As we were leaving Mom had taken one look at his short bomber-style jacket layered over a hoodie and insisted that he wear the soft navy wool overcoat that she’d bought for my father a couple of years ago, for which he’d thanked her but never wore it. “It’s chilly out, and we have a bit of a walk,” she said firmly, as she pressed the cashmere knit gloves, watch cap and scarf that she’d purchased to go with the coat on him as well. We exchanged looks, and I gave a little shrug, hopefully communicating that he’d never win this one, just give up. I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying that she just wanted someone to finally wear the damn things. I could have told her they’d end up hanging in the closet: Dad had always insisted that even the softest wool or cashmere was itchy. The coat looked fabulous on Mike – with his body, just about anything would. My father finally arrived about 15 minutes late. “Dad!” I exclaimed excitedly, and stood to hug him. He seemed a little taken aback – he wasn’t accustomed to public displays of affection – but he responded after a brief delay, then shared a handshake with Mike who’d leapt to his feet right behind me. “You’re certainly in a good mood for someone who had to get up at the crack of dawn,” he said to me as he took his seat next to my mom. “It’s my vacation, why shouldn’t I be in a good mood?” I shot back. “Hard day?” mom asked sympathetically after she gave him a welcoming peck on the cheek, immediately working to diffuse any tension. And once I really looked at him, I could see how tired he was, noting that he was in suit and tie rather than his customary business casual. That meant he’d either been meeting with clients or spent most of the day in court. “Yeah,” he sighed as she helped him shed his jacket. “It’s the end-of-the-year crunch. I swear being a lawyer is like working at Macy’s. I earn most of my salary right before the holidays,” he remarked as he sipped his glass of water. We all laughed at that comparison. “Have some bread,” mom said, pushing the basket and the butter dish towards him. Fabrice came over a moment later to check on us, bearing my dad’s favorite end of the day drink – a goblet of merlot – without any prompting. “Good evening, Mr. Leibowitz,” he said in his French-accented English. “Are you ready to order, or do you need a moment?” “Fabrice, you’re the best waiter anywhere. Ready now,” Dad said. “Why don’t we start with a couple of hummus appetizers for the table, and then we’ll all have our usual – the prix fixe dinner.” “Excellent, monsieur.” Mike looked at the menu and gulped. Sticker shock – there was nothing like New York prices. Each of us got to choose three courses: appetizer, main dish and dessert. Mom opted for kale salad, halibut and berries with cream; Dad also chose kale salad, mostly to appease my mother so he could then order steak frites and chocolate cake; I decided on romaine salad, roast chicken and chocolate cake, too. Mike looked acutely uncomfortable when it was his turn. “Uh, I…I could just have a burger…” he began. “Well, if you would really rather, but it must take a lot of nutrients to maintain your physique,” she said, shaking her head and eyeing his chest and arms. “We can always pack up any food you can’t finish.” She likely knew that Mike could most certainly finish three courses, and was smoothing things over with polite fiction. I nudged his left ankle with my right foot under the table; he shot me an irritated glance, correctly divining my message: order the fucking prix fixe. He reluctantly chose romaine salad, the steak (at my parent’s prompting) and peanut butter ice cream with chocolate and salted caramel sauce at mine (so we could share desserts). “How was the trip?” my dad asked unoriginally as we shared hummus and flatbread. “It was great,” I answered. “No problems at all.” “Darren was exhausted, he slept the whole way here,” Mike corrected. I hoped that the dirty look I shot at Mike communicated what I was thinking: Fink! My father seemed to be amused by this exchange. “That sounds like the perfect trip to me,” he answered, “restful for everyone.” As I considered whether that statement concealed a jab at me, my mom interjected in a deliberate change of subject, “What do you usually eat for breakfast? We mostly eat plain yogurt with muesli or granola and fruit, but is that going to be enough for you?” “Darren has already introduced me to the joys of plain yogurt,” Mike said drily. “I mix it in a protein smoothie first thing in the morning. And then I usually go out and jog or hit the gym.” “There’s an exercise room in the building,” my mother began. “Which Dad never uses,” I piped up mischievously. “Hey! I play racquetball,” my father shot back. “Once a month at most,” I deadpanned with a roll of my eyes. I’d give him “restful.” “And you can jog outside if you want, but I usually just run up the 10 flights of stairs from the lobby to our apartment or use the treadmill,” my mom finished, ignoring Dad’s and my exchange. I saw the corners of Mike’s mouth twitch, so I assumed that we’d successfully diverted his attention from any discomfort over the high price of dinner. “You’re on a football scholarship, right? And this is your senior year?” my dad asked. “Yeah,” Mike answered. “So, what are you plans when you’ve finished your bachelor’s degree?” “I’m considering either graduate work in chemistry or law school,” Mike said. Dad perked up. “Really? You’ve taken the LSATs?” he queried, ignoring the mention of science. “Where are you planning to apply?” My father fired off questions at Mike about his plans. It was almost as if he was trying to figure out Mike’s prospects so he could either approve of our relationship or not. Mortifying. This career catechism was interrupted, if not ended, by the arrival of our salads. “Dad and I have a dinner tomorrow night,” my mother said, taking advantage of a lull in the comparison of Yale law vs Columbia, Penn State, Fordham and NYU. “Don’t remind me,” my father groaned. “It’s for a very good cause, Ken, Dita is the event chair and we’re part of the advisory committee. Anyway,” my mother continued, ruthlessly sweeping aside my father’s carping, “Emmy is arriving back in town tomorrow afternoon, so I thought it would be nice if you and Mike had dinner with her so she isn’t alone the first night of her vacation.” “Em? Sure, that’d be great.” Em was my very best friend in the world. We had suffered through private school and extra-curricular activities together, along with a fluctuating band of similarly disaffected friends. “I told Dita it wouldn’t be any problem, so they’ll be stopping by to visit on the way to our dinner and we’ll have wine and hors d’oeuvres. Your Aunt Dita especially wanted to see you.” Aunt Dita was Uncle Jeffy’s wife and my mom’s closest friend. Not only because my dad and Uncle Jeffy were close, but because they’d bonded over IVF. That was part of my bond with Em: we called ourselves “test-tube” babies. Once dinner was finished, we walked back home. “Oh, I got you theater tickets for next week…” my mom began as we hung up our coats. “Hamilton?” I asked hopefully, naming the current Broadway mega-hit. “No, sweetie, that was impossible, I’m sorry. Aladdin. You loved the movie.” When I was 10, yes. But I put a good face on it, figuring any Disney musical would be fun and splashy. “That’ll be fun,” I said. “A trip down memory lane, right?” I said to Mike. “I never saw the movie,” Mike said. “What?” I exclaimed. “Yeah. My parents said it promoted demonism and that there was no mention of God.” I hadn’t considered his parent’s strict religious dogma, and just assumed that Disney would be harmless enough for anyone. “We cpi;d watch the film tonight. Is that okay?” I asked my parents as an afterthought. “Fine, I’m not going to be able to stay up much longer,” my dad said. “I have to be back in the office tomorrow morning by 9:00 if I expect to leave a little early for cocktails and that damned dinner.” I could tell my mom was restraining some sardonic comment, not wanting to encourage him by paying attention to his whining. She took Maxi for his quick night-time walk. Then we all got ready for bed and met in the library. I inserted the disc on the TV and started the movie; my parents had settled on the chaise, Mike and I curled up together on the loveseat. Surprisingly, the film had aged well and was still entertaining, from the opening montage of the Disney castle backed by fireworks to the closing credits with some final ad-libs from Robin Williams. I could tell how engrossed Mike was by the simple plot when I felt the rumble of laughter in his chest for the comedic bits and the tension in his body during the action sequences. When it was finished, I realized that Mom and Dad had fallen asleep together on the chaise. Maxi was out like a light in one of the recliners. I motioned to Mike to keep quiet, and gently spread a blanket over them before turning off the light. “That was fun,” Mike said when we got back to my room and had curled up in bed under the covers. “Glad you liked it,” I answered, wondering what other things he was deprived of by his intolerant family. “So Mr. Darren, sir, what will your pleasure be?” Mike whispered in my ear. “Let me think…” I said with faux innocence. “Maybe this?” he said and kissed me deeply. “Good guess,” I murmured against his lips before diving back in. Here was one thing his parents hadn’t successfully deprived him of. We kissed again, shifting so that he was on top of me, tongues meeting, testing, tasting, breathing speeding up to keep pace with our pulses and heart rates. Then he was kissing my chin and zeroing in on the most sensitive spots on my neck, pulling at the t-shirt I wore as a pajama top to caress my skin, leaving tingling trails of sensation behind. I arched under him and let out a small involuntary moan; he pinned me back in place, worked his hands underneath my hips and thrust against me. His dick was hard, and so was mine – I could practically feel them throb in time together. “I want you to fuck me hard, use me, take your pleasure…” my less than coherent babbling cut short with a gasp when he kissed my ear, then started to lick it. “Your wish is my command, Mr. Darren,” he said, briefly interrupting his amorous assault. I could feel and hear his breath on my ear, and I twisted under him, but he held me in place with his superior size and strength. My hands were exploring his back and I curled my arms and gripped his shoulders, panting and groaning. “Please…” I gasped, and sagged back into the mattress when he stopped for a moment. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered seductively. “Everything,” I answered. “You’ll have to be more explicit,” he teased. I moaned in frustration. “But you know…” “I want you to say it,” he said back. “You’ll have to beg me. It gets me hot to hear you talk dirty.” I sighed, but gave in. What was there to be embarrassed about? This man had seen and heard me say all kinds of stuff in the heat of the moment. “Make me worship you,” I breathed into his ear. “Straddle my face and tell me how to please you.” He paused then said, “Exactly what you want me to do,” he said. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell me to sniff and lick and kiss you dick and balls and especially your ass.” He was shifting now; I could see him in the dim nightlight I’d had in my room since childhood kneeling over my face with his back towards me. He slowly lowered himself, gently pushing his ass crack over my nose with the exact right amount of pressure – enough that I could feel his weight, but I could still inhale his manscent deeply. The wonders of muscular control… “That’s it boy, sniff me. Like that smell?” “Yes,” I said obediently. “Good boy. Keep at it until I say to do something else. How’s that smell? Tell me what you like about sniffing that man’s ass.” “I love how strong it smells,” I said between sniffs, “it makes me want to lick and kiss every inch of that beautiful muscle butt.” “You just love it, don’t you, love submitting to me.” “Yeah, yeah,” I said urgently. “Make me do it.” “I am, boy. Inhale deep so I can hear it.” I did as he asked. “Louder, deeper. Let me know how much you like smelling my man stink.” I inhaled again as loudly as I could, then planted a kiss in his butt crack. He immediately increased the pressure on my face. “Did I tell you to kiss my ass yet? Just keep sniffing, I’ll tell you when I want you to do something else.” I inhaled deeply and made sure to exhale forcefully so he could feel the warm breath on his ass. “Yeah, you’re my good little boy, my slave. You have to do whatever I tell you.” Mike grabbed the back of my head and held it in place securely against his butt. “Sniff again, get the smell of that funky hole in your lungs. That’s real man stink, just how my ass should smell, so you can be my nasty little bitch. Now kiss it,” he said, moving his ass over my mouth with my nose now behind his balls. “Smell my balls? That’s where the cum that I’m going to shoot inside your hot little ass is.” Mike really had range…from tender lover to dirty, dominating top and back. He was pulling off his sweats, then yanking off my t-shirt and sleep pants; his ass was back over my mouth. He said one word: “Lick.” I shivered with desire and did exactly as he said, curling my tongue, then extending it to reach his towards his balls and back again. “Yeah, boy, eat that asshole, get that tongue inside my butt. Make me hard so I can fuck you good like a man fucks his bitch.” I kept up licking, throwing in the occasional kiss, he didn’t object now, too caught up in the pleasure. Mike crossed his ankles, propping my head up, then began to thrust, rubbing his ass against my lips and tongue. “That’s what my ass does when I fuck you,” he hissed at me. “I want you to think about it when I’m inside you, using you, that my butt muscles are pushing my dick in and out until I shoot my toxic load inside you.” Then he was moving back, flipping me on my stomach, raising my hips with the silk fuck sheet over a pillow. I felt him lube my ass with his right hand, while he jacked himself with his left hand, spreading the Vaseline in a thin coat that would ease the passage, but not be too greasy…and he was pushing himself inside of me, sinking his thick, throbbing dick in until I could feel the delicate scratch of his pubic hair against my ass. He laid down and worked his hands underneath me, gripping at the juncture of my thighs and pelvis to keep me in place, then drew back and pushed in, rubbing against my prostate in a way that made my toes curl. “Fuck me,” I gasped involuntarily and unoriginally. “Yeah, baby,” Mike said back, seemingly not to be concerned about originality at this moment. “Take it. You have to,” he growled. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine since the minute I fucked you during your initiation, no, since I laid eyes on you at orientation.” His thrusts were getting stronger, longer and deeper. “You’ll always be mine, your ass belongs to me,” he gasped as he began to lose control, hammering into my ass, no holding back, nothing gentle, just the raw power of bare sex between men. “Take it,” he murmured in my ear, “take it, yeah, take it…aaaaaaaaah,” he groaned as he flooded me with his charged sperm. I arched my back to get him deep inside me and make sure I got every drop inside my hungry hole. That’s when my own orgasm began, my ass clutching his dick spasmodically while it throbbed and quivered, coating my insides with his DNA. Mike collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily, kissing the back of neck and shoulders. “Having you to myself makes me into an animal. I’m going to fuck you all night.” All the charged cum I could ask for… “Bring it on, stud,” I challenged.

I could never tell the difference when I bottomed, but maybe I'm completely clueless...

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed it. There's more to come...eventually.

Wow, just checked and the story is at 40K views!!! Thanks!

Sorry I took so long this time. It's been an...eventful few months. There's more to come...

Finally...sorry...lots of stuff going on. __________________________ Chapter 22) “Darr? Honey? Wake up, we’re here,” said an insistent voice. I felt a hand grasp my left arm and apply a little pressure. “What, huh?” I said as I was forced awake and found myself looking into Mike’s eyes. “Good morning,” I said drowsily, smiling, stroking his cheek and giving him a kiss. He chuckled. “You’re really out of it. We’re here.” “Where here?” I said shaking my head, then running my hands over my face and through my hair in an attempt to clear my fuzzy brain. “New York, where else? The flight landed and everyone else has gotten off the jet, they’re just waiting for us.” “I guess I fell asleep,” I said, yawning while I dug under the seat in front of me for my messenger bag. “That’s one way of putting it,” Mike answered, giving me a hand up and taking charge of our coats and his backpack as we deplaned while smiling our thanks to the flight crew. I couldn’t believe we had completed the trip and that there hadn’t been a single hitch: no midnight raid, no death threats spray painted on the door and no broken windows. But in late November when I called, the only pair of tickets available for the week before Christmas was a flight that left at 6:15 AM. That meant getting to the airport by 4:45 AM at the latest. I was anything but a morning person, so Mike had to more or less drag me out of bed. Rod and his business partner, Jack, drove us to the airport, taking a round-about route. As far as I could tell, no one followed us. I delivered holiday bonus checks that my parents had sent for Rod and Jack, then Rod escorted us inside and kept watch as we checked our bags and went through security. We’d purchased muffins and coffee before boarding the first flight and more coffee and egg sandwiches during a layover in Detroit. But even with all the caffeine I sucked down I’d slept through both flights. Having Mike near allowed me to relax – I felt safe and secure. Now we were in the terminal at New York’s LaGuardia Airport walking towards baggage claim. I was still pretty fatigued; it was hard to keep pace with Mike’s long-legged strides, seemingly completely unaffected by the early start and long trip. “How is it I’ve never noticed before that you’re a morning person?” I asked him. He shrugged. “Farm boy here.” “You’re a farm boy? Literally?” I said in disbelief. “Yup. My family lives in southwestern Pennsylvania, just over the state line from Maryland. We grow organic vegetables, there’s an apple orchard and we raise free-range chickens and ducks. My dad is also a park ranger.” “The things I’m still learning about you.” This was why he owned a couple of pairs of heavy-duty work boots. We hadn’t talked a lot about Mike’s family; my sense was he found the topic painful, so I hadn’t pushed it. I knew that they were Christian fundamentalists of some sort, didn’t observe Christmas and that Mike was the eldest of three boys, but that was it. We made it down the small flight of stairs to baggage claim, all the while buffeted by the swirling pre-holiday crowd. “My mom said she’d meet us somewhere around…” I began and then heard her call my name. “Mom!” I exclaimed as she made her way toward us, wearing a dark coat over a chunky knit black sweater and black leggings and boots, with a rose pink cashmere scarf looped around her neck. We hugged, and then she turned to greet Mike, taking his large hands in her slender, delicate ones. “Mike, welcome to New York. It’s wonderful to see you again, I’m so glad you could visit with us for the holidays,” my mom said. “Oh, no, thank you Mrs. Leib…I mean, Mimi,” he answered, remembering that she hadn’t taken my dad’s name, and wanted him to call her Mimi anyway. “I really appreciate the chance to see New York and spend time with Darren and you and Mr. Leibowitz.” “You’re always welcome in our home,” my mother said. “Let’s grab your bags, and I’ll get a car to pick us up.” Twenty minutes later we were on our way into the city in a comfortable SUV. I was in the back seat with Mike; my mom rode shotgun. I leaned against Mike, my eyes at half-mast. Mom sighed. “You stayed up late to do laundry and pack, didn’t you,” she said to me. “Yeah. I was booked all day yesterday, two tests with just a lunch break,” I said through a yawn. “How was the trip?” “It was fine, almost no turbulence. Darren slept soundly all the way here,” Mike answered for me. “I think we’ll have a quiet day, then, if that’s okay with you. We’ll have lunch once you’re settled and tonight we have dinner reservations at Nice Matin. After that, you can watch a movie or do whatever you’d like.” “Nice Matin, my favorite…sounds good,” I mumbled and slipped into a light doze as I felt Mike’s muscular arm slip around me. This homecoming was in complete contrast to Thanksgiving, when I spent the ride home fuming and feeling sorry for myself. Since things had been so quiet – no incidents at school for weeks – Uncle Jeffy, Mom and Dad had decided that having Mike accompany me was enough. At 6’2” tall and 215 pounds he had more than enough muscle to take care of anybody who even tried to harass me. Since we didn’t plan on spending much (if any) time apart, hired muscle would have been redundant. We’d be able to sightsee at our leisure; I was looking forward to taking him to my favorite places along with the usual tourist stuff, like Ellis Island, the Empire State Building and the 9/11 Memorial. I drifted out of my nap to hear my mom say, “…relieved you’re with him. I think he’s – well, to say the least – more comfortable with you than with professionals. Though the guards we hired for Thanksgiving were very nice, this will be much more fun for Darren. And for his father and me.” I pretended to be asleep and just managed to keep from laughing at Mom’s characterization of Trent and Nick as “very nice.” But I certainly agreed that having Mike here was more relaxing than sneaking around like I did last time, for all that I enjoyed myself with those two studs. No one fucked me quite the way Mike did, and with him I could work on being bred for keeps. So far no sign that it’d worked – not even a cough or a sneeze. I wondered how long it would take. Maybe even now the virus was taking hold? I must have drifted off again, because it seemed like seconds later that the SUV was letting us off at the apartment house where I’d grown up. Mom slipped the driver a cash tip after he helped us unload our luggage. Mike looked around, wide-eyed as he took in the neighborhood where we lived. Across 81st Street was Hayden Planetarium, and just beyond it was the Museum of Natural History. To the left, at the eastern end of the block, Central Park beckoned; to the west was Columbus Avenue with its shops and restaurants, Pizzeria Uno prominent on the corner. His expression was admiring as he gazed at the elegant Beaux Arts façade of the building that I’d always called home. Javier was on duty and he opened the door greeting me enthusiastically. “Mr. Darren, good to see you back so soon. Nice for your family you could visit for the holidays,” he said as he shook my hand. “Thanks, Javier. Your family is good?” “Couldn’t be better. The oldest is on the honor roll at school for three months running!” Javier answered, his face beaming with pride. “Congratulations,” I said. Javier looked at Mike inquiringly, and I realized I hadn’t considered how to introduce Mike. I made a snap decision that I wasn’t going to hide anything on this trip. Everyone knew I was gay; when I decided to come out at age 15, it had been impossible to shut me up on the subject. “This is Mike Prescott, my boyfriend. Mike this is Javier, the best doorman in the world.” They shook hands; if Javier was surprised he hid it well. In spite of the slight tension I felt in the moment, I was unable to stifle a huge yawn. “Darren, sweetie, we better get you upstairs,” my Mom said, steering me towards the elevator, Mike following. “He was up late packing, even though they had an early flight,” she explained to Javier over her shoulder. “Kids,” he said, commiserating parent-to-parent with my mom. As soon as we got off the elevator we could hear Maxi’s barks interspersed with high-pitched yelps. “He only barks that way when you come home,” my mother said as she unlocked the door. Maxi burst in the hall as soon as the door opened, whining hysterically, sniffing at my suitcase, jumping on me, then running around in circles, unable to contain himself. “C’mon Maxi,” I said as we entered the apartment and he followed immediately, now inspecting Mike’s suitcase. “Uh, he isn’t going to, um…‘mark’ his territory, right?” Mike asked uneasily. “Oh, no, he’s very well trained,” my mother assured him. “Maximillian Amadeus Grandiamus, come here and meet Mike,” I said as I picked the dog up and accepted his “kisses.” “Maximillian Amadeus what?” Mike echoed, starting to laugh. “Grandiamus. Long dog, long name. He goes by Maxi, really.” “Well, hi there Maxi,” Mike said, carefully offering the back of his hand. Predictably, the dog immediately nuzzled Mike’s hand expecting to be petted. “He’s just like you, pushy and demanding,” Mike said with a grin. “He knows what he wants, that’s all. And he has good taste.” “Can’t argue with that,” Mike said. I put Maxi down, took Mike’s letterman jacket – I never would have believed that I’d date the captain of the football team, even though the season was cancelled – and hung it in the hall closet next to my long winter coat, then led the way out of the entryway into the front hall. Mike paused for a moment to look around, then said, “This is a beautiful place you have, Mrs., uh, Mimi.” My mom smiled. “Thanks so much, Mike. I thought we’d put you in the guest room…” “Mom,” I interrupted impatiently, “Mike and I have been sharing a bed for the past four months. What’s the point of putting him anyplace other than my room?” She looked startled. “Well, uh, I…” “Plus I know Grandma and Grandpa let you and Dad sleep together when you weren’t married.” “Your grandmother has a big mouth,” my mom grumbled, accurately pinpointing my source. “Daddy and I were engaged to be married at the time.” I continued to press my case. “It’s not like you have to worry that I’m going to get pregnant.” Mom massaged her temples and said, “Fine, I give up. Your grandparents are going to be staying overnight after the Chanukah party, anyway, so this will make it easier.” “Grandma and Grandpa are visiting from Florida?” I said, excited at the prospect of seeing them; I would love for them to meet Mike. “What about their apartment downstairs?” When my grandparents sold the place to Mom and Dad, they bought a smaller apartment in the building as a pied-á-terre for when they visited New York. My mom looked faintly uncomfortable. “No, it’s Grandma and Grandpa Leibowitz.” I stared back at her, speechless. “Sweetie, I know you find them…difficult…” “Difficult?” I echoed sarcastically. “I guess you could say that, since my father’s mother strongly implied that I was mentally ill when she found out that I’m gay and told you to send me for conversion therapy.” I had refused to refer to my dad’s parents as my grandparents ever since the ugly scene just before I left for college. Mike watched us lob arguments back and forth as if he were at the U.S. Open, wisely remaining silent. “Darren, the entire family is coming here this year for the gift exchange, your aunts, uncles and cousins from both sides. We couldn’t exclude them.” “Great. Perfect. Maybe Mike and I can take Maxi for a two-day walk. Or I’ll call Nana and ask her if we can hide out at her place. When were you planning to let me know they were coming?” “Do you have to be so difficult?” my mom countered without answering me. “I know it’s uncomfortable for you. But Dad and I have made it clear that you’ve brought a friend to visit from school and that they have to be on their best behavior.” “Do they know he’s my boyfriend?” I asked bluntly. “Well…not exactly.” I exhaled, controlling myself with difficulty. But I could see how anxious my mom was, so I relented, entertaining myself with the thought of laying a big, wet smooch on Mike in front of my father’s parents. “Okay. As long as they’re civil, I’ll be civil back.” She smiled, relieved. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ll be surrounded by family and Mike.” I planned to remain glued to Mike or someone to avoid any time alone where I could be cornered and harangued for the duration of their stay. Maybe I should insist on having Trent and Nick here, too. If there was ever a time for bodyguards… I yawned widely again, feeling twice as exhausted after the burst of adrenaline had worn off. “Mike, follow me,” I said. “Let’s unpack then have lunch.” “Sweetie, it’s a little early,” my mom said. Glancing at my watch, which had the time at 11:45 AM, I had to concede she was correct. “But you’ve been travelling all morning, I’m sure you could use a snack, and then lunch a little later,” she said. We went to my room, Maxi bringing up the rear. As soon as we were in my room, he jumped up on the bed, circled a couple times, and then settled down for a little nap. All the excitement had worn him out; at six years old, he wasn’t a puppy anymore. Mike looked around as we unpacked, taking in the calming colors and my choices in decoration, and seemed to like them. “You have a private bathroom?” “Yeah, this used to be my nanny’s room.” “You had a nanny?” he said, surprised. “With working parents, it’s not uncommon in New York.” “The way you speak to your mom…” he said, coming to a halt. “Yeah?” I said puzzled. “Do you always argue like that?” “Not always, but, yeah, we discuss things that involve the whole family. Why?” “If I ever question my parents…well, it’s not pretty.” “Really?” “Yeah, my dad makes most of the decisions.” “What century are they living in? The 19th?” “It’s all from the Bible.” “Oy, then it’s more like second century. BCE.” Mike laughed at my candid opinion. “Now I know how you had the courage to go back at Zetcher the way you did. You’d had a lifetime of practice.” “I guess it’s an Upper-West-Side-New-York-Jewish-liberal thing. I was encouraged to question everything and not accept easy answers.” Then I giggled a little. “But I don’t think Mom and Dad were quite ready for me.” “I’ll bet they weren’t.” “Ha-ha,” I answered sarcastically. After a snack of toast with almond butter and hot tea, I showed Mike the rest of the apartment, Maxi sticking closer than my shadow. It was like seeing it anew through Mike’s eyes – things I take for granted were now somehow refreshed. “That picture was in your book, Mimi, right?” he asked, indicating the large framed portrait of my parents and me hanging over the sofa, taken when I was around a year old. I was caught in mid-laugh, seated on my mom’s lap, clutching my father’s index finger; his other arm was around my mom, and both of them were looking down at me with wide smiles. I’d always liked it, but hadn’t known that it was in that stupid memoir. “You’ve read it?” she said nervously, casting a worried glance in my direction. “It was assigned in a writing course I took, it’s a really sweet story.” She smiled, gratified, then said “I’m afraid Darren was ambushed with it when he was in eighth grade.” “You should read it,” Mike told me. “Sure,” I said back. When hell freezes over. He moved on to the piano that sat at an angle next to the sofa. “This must be an antique,” Mike said, running his hand over the smooth, polished surface of the rosewood Steinway grand. “It’s beautiful.” “You know pianos?” I asked. “A bit, because my parents made sure I saw a lot of classical music concerts. But it’s the woodwork that’s really special,” he said, running a careful finger over the elaborately carved lattice music stand, with the Steinway logo (a lyre) in the center. Finally, I showed him the adjoining library/TV room. There was an entertainment center that included a wide-screen flat panel television; the family PC and shelves filled with books, pictures, CDs and DVDs. A loveseat, a couple of recliner chairs and a chaise longue large enough for two constituted the seating arrangements. “This is the most comfortable seat in the house,” I said, sitting on the dark gray, plushy chaise. Maxi jumped up and made himself comfortable on my lap. “See, Maxi agrees with me.” Mike sat down then leaned back, experimentally, groaning a little. “You are not kidding,” he said yawning as he rubbed behind the dog behind his ears. Maxi looked as if he’d be content to stay in place for the rest of the day. “This is the perfect spot for relaxation.” Looking from Mike to me, my mom said “You both look ready for a nap.” Mike stretched and yawned. “I think you’re right. We’ve been going since before dawn.” She dimmed the lights, then slid the pocket door partway closed. “I’ll wake you for lunch in another hour or so.” Mike turned on his side, put his arms around me and nuzzled my ear. “If I weren’t so sleepy I’d probably rape your ass right about now.” “Sounds good,” I said on yet another yawn. “Wake me up when you’re ready.” Maxi was already breathing quietly and evenly, his body a warm, comforting weight. With Mike’s muscled arm across my chest I was perfectly comfortable. “You okay? Need a blanket?” I murmured, now only half-awake. “This is fine,” Mike whispered. “You do a great job of keeping me warm.” And that was the last thing either of us said as we both gave in to the pull of exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep. Sometime later I was pulled from sleep by the realization that I needed to go to the bathroom. Immediately. I didn’t really want to get up, but I didn’t have much choice. Fortunately the guest bath was immediately adjacent to the library, just off a short connecting hallway between the front hall and this room. I gently disengaged myself from Mike’s embrace; Maxi was nowhere to be seen. Once the urgent need had been seen to, I glanced at my watch: 2:41 PM. Mom must have let us sleep, and I was now ravenous. When I returned to the library, Mike was awake. “Sorry,” I said. “It was urgent.” “I could use a trip to the bathroom myself,” he said stretching. And I could watch him stretch and flex his muscles all day, I sighed to myself. I showed him to the guest bath, then went to see what had happened with my mom and lunch. I found her sitting at the kitchen table, working on her laptop. She closed it when she saw me and said, “You’re up.” “Mom, you didn’t wait on lunch, did you?” “No, I already ate, but the two of you were so soundly asleep, I decided not to wake you. Besides, your father called to move dinner back to 7:00 PM, so there’s no rush. Ready for something to eat now?” “Definitely. I’ll get Mike.” I found Mike in my room where he’d gone to get the gift bag for my mom he’d put together with my help: organic, fair trade dark chocolate and coffee beans. “You didn’t have to do that,” my mom said when he presented her with the bag of goodies. “My mom taught me to never go to someone’s home empty-handed,” he answered back. Since he has telepathic abilities when it comes to food, Maxi appeared, ready to join us as soon we sat at the kitchen table. Mom served mashed sardine sandwiches on whole-grain sourdough and homemade lentil soup with tea or coffee. “I hope this is okay,” she said apologetically to Mike. “Sardines are kind of an acquired taste.” He had taken a bite of sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “Not a problem, Mimi, it’s delicious. In my parent’s house we ate whatever was served, no questions asked. A lot of it was from the farm, anyway.” “The farm?” “Yeah, my parents run an organic farm…” “In southwestern Pennsylvania,” my mom finished. “How did you know that?” I asked. It wasn’t right that she knew more about my boyfriend than I did…and a little suspicious. “I wrote a piece about organic farms. I didn’t realize that Mikes’ family was the same set of Prescotts as Prescott Organic Farm. What a funny coincidence,” she explained. “Oh, yeah, I remember there was an article about the place, it really boosted business,” Mike said. Okay, I’m officially nuts, I told myself listening to the conversation. There was a reasonable explanation for my mom’s knowledge. “I remember your parents vividly. Most organic farmers are decidedly left-wing in their sympathies, but they’re fundamentalist Christian environmentalists. That’s rare,” my mother told him. We finished lunch with organic applesauce from the Prescott farm, appropriately enough. Afterwards, we took Maxi to the dog run. Then we went home the long way, going around the block so we could get a look at the entrance to the Museum of Natural History and the Hayden Planetarium on our way home. Once in the elevator, I caught sight of myself in the mirror: my face and neck were covered in stubble and my hair looked like a rat’s nest after sleeping on it. “Yuck, I look like shit. I better shower again and shave this time,” I said while I futilely tried to finger-comb my hair into some semblance of order. “You always look good to me,” Mike said, sliding his arm around my shoulders and pulling me against him. I could feel his arousal through the soft gray jeans he was wearing and pushed my butt into his crotch. “Maybe we could shower together?” Maxi, not quite sure of what was going on, jumped on me, giving a short, distressed yap. “It’s okay Maxi, I like it when he does this,” I said, picking him up. “He’s your chaperone?” Mike asked as we got off the elevator. “No, he’s just not used to seeing me with an affectionate boyfriend. And he has a rooted objection to anyone getting more attention than he does.” I set the dog down as soon as we got inside the apartment, and he made a beeline for the kitchen and his water dish, lapping noisily. Then he padded over to his favorite spot in the living room for his afternoon nap. We hung our coats; the apartment was completely silent. I’d been expecting my mom to greet us, but she must have stepped out. “How about that ‘shower’?” Mike said, pushing against me from behind. “Right this way,” I said grinding my hips against him. We wasted no time, going directly to my bedroom; I allowed him to precede me, closing the door quietly and then locking it. I turned around and launched myself at Mike, my arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. I caught him off-guard, but after a brief hesitation he returned my kiss and was hoisting me up to wrap my legs around his hips. He maneuvered us to my bed putting me down without breaking the kiss, then lay on top of me. I could feel his muscular weight pressing me into the mattress, the enticing aroma of his and my perspiration blending and the taste of his lips, uniquely him. I let myself just drink it all in, every nerve ending screaming for more, to be closer. He stopped kissing me to say, “We have to inaugurate this bed.” “Huh?” I said, not really caring what he meant, pulling him down again. “I still can’t believe that your high school boyfriends didn’t even try for that luscious little butt of yours,” Mike said as he turned us on our sides so he could squeeze my ass. “What a bunch of idiots.” “Yeah, all both of them,” I said and shrugged, fairly sure now was not the time to tell him that Trent and Nick had beaten him to fucking me in this bed. It was Mike’s and my first time in my bed at home, and that’s what counted. Hot as those two guys were, I didn’t feel anything that even approached the connection Mike and I had. I kissed him again, rolling us so he was on top. “They weren’t big on kissing me, either.” “What. The. Fuck?” Mike said, disbelievingly. “Where did you meet these assholes? How could anybody not want to kiss you and fuck you all the time?” “Don’t imitate them, then” I whispered. “Quit talking and fuck me already, it’s been almost a week since we had sex!” Finals week had been non-stop – we’d just fallen in bed every night and went directly to sleep. One night Mike even had to stay up studying for a while after I’d gone to bed. “You’re just like Maxi, pushy and…” “Yep, I’m an animal,” I interrupted, punctuating that utterance with a playful growl. We sat up and started to undress each other, pulling off layers of clothing: sweaters, followed by t-shirts. I dropped to my knees in front of him and unlaced his heavy work boots, then took the opportunity to bury my face in his crotch. Mike began to unbuckle his belt, but I grabbed his hand and stopped him. “Hey,” he said, “I wanna get naked with you.” “I want to enjoy the trip,” I said with what I hoped would be a mischievous smile. “Very funny,” Mike said, correctly realizing I was turning his own rationale for taking sex slowly on him. “I’m really horned, and if we play too much before, I’ll shoot in my jeans.” “So taking it slow only matters when you want to?” I teased, lightly nipping at the growing hardness in his jeans. “Ahhh,” Mike said, pulling my head off of his dick. “You nearly made me cum.” “I’m sure you’ve got plenty to spare,” I said. Determined to spin out the foreplay as long as I could, I was much more gentle now, nuzzling his erection delicately with my nose, inhaling his scent again, pressing gentle kisses that evolved into licking the shaft that I could feel twitch in response. I stopped for a moment and looked up at him, deep into his handsome, chiseled face, those beautiful brown eyes and his thick, dark hair, which he’d had neatly barbered for the trip. “Doing this with you gets me so hot,” I said breathlessly. “Please let me serve you,” I begged. “You really are a total submission pig,” Mike said with an affectionate grin. “Is that a complaint?” I teased. He shook his head and said, “But you have to do whatever I say. Stand up,” he ordered, his usual smooth baritone a bark. I felt my stomach tighten and my dick got instantly hard as I did as he ordered. “Strip,” he demanded. I slowly unbuckled my belt and pulled it through the loops languidly, dangling it from my hand before dropping it on the floor. “Yeah, babe, that’s what I like,” Mike growled, leaning back on my bed to watch the show. I took off my cowboy boots as gracefully as possible, in other words, not very. Then I unbuttoned the waistband on my jeans and unzipped the zipper a little at a time, doing my best to give him what I hoped was a smoldering look. “Take it off,” he said. I turned my back on him and did a few bumps and grinds, then eased down my jeans, giving him an eyeful of my ass encased in the tight black briefs I was wearing. “More,” he urged me. I put my thumbs in the waistband of my briefs, and let them dip, giving him a quick glimpse of my butt, looked over my shoulder with a teasing smile as I turned to face him. I walked over to him and began to do a lap dance, gyrating in place without touching him or letting him touch me. Finally, out of patience, he pulled me down and dragged my briefs off of me, then fingered my asshole, gently tickling before he pushed a fingertip through the tight ring of muscle. I groaned at his touch and pushed back. “I need it,” I whispered. That was all it took for Mike to push me gently to the side, stand and hastily throw off his jeans and briefs then retrieve the jar of Vaseline he’d packed along with the black silk sheet used for my initiation that had been repurposed (rightfully, in my opinion) as a fuck sheet that he spread so I could lie on it. His dick was drooling pre-cum, practically pulsing. I moved to take him in my mouth, but he pushed me back on the bed and briefly sucked my dick before taking my legs over his shoulders, lubing himself carefully so that he didn’t cum prematurely, then lubed me with the greasy stuff before entering me in one rapid thrust. I gasped with a combination of pain and pleasure, and then Mike was thrusting in and out, trying to go slowly but unable to do anything but thrust harder and faster, both of us panting and grunting. He leaned down and covered my mouth with his; I reached around and began to tickle his balls and butthole. His thrusts seemed to double in speed; his dick was at the perfect angle to rub against my prostate, pressure steadily building, the pleasure nearly unbearable. “Cum with me,” he rasped as his thrusts turned brutal, impaling me with each thrust until he gasped explosively, and rammed against me three times before burying himself inside me up to his balls filling me with his toxic load. I could feel his pubic hair scratch the tender skin between my legs, felt his dick throb and pulse inside of me, triggering my own orgasm that seemed like a shower of sparks racing through my nervous system from scalp to the soles of my feet. Mike had collapsed on top of me; I could feel his heartbeat racing, then slowing as he relaxed on top of me, sated for now. He propped himself on his elbows and kissed me languidly, our mouths soft now with the melting sweetness of our first kisses in our room back at school. “I’m really glad I came,” he began. “Me, too,” I said, giving a quick squeeze of my sphincters that made him shudder and gasp. “I mean, came to New York with you,” he said reproachfully. “Oh, that,” I said with elaborate casualness. “You mean you’re glad I bullied you into visiting New York?” “I didn’t consider what the best part would be.” “What’s that?” I asked when he didn’t continue. Mike kissed me on the lips again, then nuzzled my ear before whispering “That I’d have you all to myself.” And my own bonus: I could get all the poz cum I wanted during vacation.

I have to thank everyone who has left positive feedback and all the readers (close to 35K) of this story. In the midst of such stressful times, socially, politically and culturally, it's really heartening to create something that brings people pleasure!

Thanks! So glad you like it. And I knew you'd like that last little throw-away that wasn't a throw-away.

So glad you think it was worth the wait...

Sorry it took so long...I had trouble figuring out where to go. Enjoy! ____________________________ Chapter 21) “Your parents are so great,” Aaron told me as he finished a slice of pepperoni pizza. We were gathered in the living room around the battered coffee table in front of the worn couch; I was on the floor with Mike to my left and Carlos to my right; Ike, Aaron and Aiden were on the couch. The rest of the frat was scattered around the house, but everyone was chowing down on pizza and salad wherever they were. “Mom is big on making sure everyone is well fed. Just be thankful it’s the end of a holiday weekend,” I said after I’d swallowed a mouthful of Caesar salad. “Why?” Ike asked. “Because I wouldn’t put it past her to have ordered enough steamed tofu and bok choy with brown rice for the house. She’s big on healthy eating, but loosens up a little on holidays.” “This explains the five whole-wheat crust veggie pizzas,” Aiden remarked. “Yep,” I said, packing the single syllable with enough resignation to earn a few snickers. “I’ll have them for lunch and dinner for the next couple days.” “If there’s any left,” Ike said. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Carlos said. “It’s like a bunch of fucking locusts in there,” he added, nodding at the dining room where the majority of our frat brothers were still congregated. “Carlos, I just remembered, my dad told me you ID’ed the guys on the security disc,” I said. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. I let a minute of silence elapse. “Well?” I prompted. Why did I have the feeling he didn’t want to talk about it? “Don’t worry baby, we got it covered,” Carlos said. Looked like my feeling was more than just an emotional state. “Don’t give me that,” I said. “What?” Carlos said, the picture of wounded innocence. “The ‘don’t bother your pretty little head’ rap,” I snapped. “Darren needs to know,” Ike said emphatically. Carlos sighed heavily. “Was it anyone I might have met?” I asked sarcastically. “Yeah,” Carlos said. “Vest, Aston and Barnes were there along with a couple of their other buddies.” “Who?” “The three assholes who cornered you before Rod was on the job,” Aiden said. “I thought you’d already, uh, talked to them,” I said, employing a euphemism for Mike, Aiden and Carlos telling the three guys he’d named – all members of the football team – to stay the fuck away from me. Or else. “It didn’t take, but we’ll say it again. A little more loudly this time,” Mike said with unmistakable menace. “Loudly?” I echoed. “You don’t want to know, Darren,” Ike said. “This way if word gets back to our lawyer, you won’t know anything.” I decided I’d better resign myself to their doing whatever they were going to do. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to go unpack,” I said as I got to my feet. “Weren’t you going to do that about an hour ago?” Aaron inquired with an impossibly innocent smile. “Yeah, I was. But I decided I’d rather fuck with Mike,” I said with the sweetest smile I could muster. Silence. “What, no snappy comeback for the truth?” “Why don’t I help you, sweetheart?” Mike said. “I’ll bet that suitcase is still packed tomorrow morning,” Ike said, and everyone laughed. I ignored them. Hours later, Mike and I were in bed, just having finished fucking for the third time that day. We were spooned together; Mike’s left arm was draped over my torso. “You still haven’t unpacked,” Mike said. “I know,” I sighed, and snuggled closer to him. We were quiet for a moment. “The nights were the worst,” I said, twining my fingers with his; he murmured his assent. “I had awful dreams.” “Me, too.” “Really?” I said twisting around to face him. “Yeah. That’s why I was in such a lousy mood when we spoke, I was totally exhausted.” “What did you dream?” I asked him. He stroked my cheek, and said “That you were in trouble but I couldn’t get to you. What about you?” “Mine were all about hostile crowds coming after me, and I had no place to hide.” “So I was right,” he said, holding me close. “I’m sorry…” “Please, don’t apologize again. I said I understood and I do.” We were quiet for a minute. “I really should unpack,” I said, reluctantly disengaging and hauling myself upright, “or I’ll never hear the end of it. And then it’s time for bed.” I busied myself stowing clothing, took my shower caddy with all my toiletries to the bathroom and did my pre-bedtime ablutions, then Mike took his turn. Once we were in bed with the lights out, cuddled together, I finally asked the question that had been nagging me: “How are we going to get through Winter break and intersession?” He kissed my shoulder. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he answered. “I leave as soon as my finals are over, and then I get back a couple days before classes start. When are you scheduled to go? Maybe we could change our reservations and spend New Year’s…” “Uh, honey, I don’t visit home for Winter break,” Mike interrupted gently. “What?” It was dark, so he couldn’t see my face but I’m sure he heard my confusion loud and clear. “My family doesn’t celebrate Christmas.” I sat up and turned on the bedside lamp at its dimmest setting. “I thought your family was seriously religious. You said born again Christian on both sides, right?” “Yeah, well, we don’t celebrate Christmas because there’s nothing in the Bible that says Jesus was born in December. It’s pretty clear it was originally a pagan holiday that the early Catholic Church took over.” “So what are you doing for the holiday?” I asked. He shrugged. “Same as every year. I’ll stay here, rest, workout, read…” “But you can’t stay in the frat house by yourself this year, it’s not safe. Not to mention it’s terrible that your parents let you spend the holidays alone,” I interrupted. “I’m used to it,” he said dismissively. “My mom and dad go out of their way to act like it’s nothing special, so they don’t want to buy an airline ticket or even let me buy my own.” “Have they always been like this?” I asked, thinking of what it must have been like for him when he was a little boy. It made my heart ache to think of him watching as the rest of the world celebrated; ads for toys and gifts would have been everywhere. “As long as I can remember,” Mike said. I was furious with his family, even though I’d never met them and likely wouldn’t. My family didn’t celebrate Christmas, but it was unthinkable that Mom and Dad would ignore a school holiday and tell me to stay here. And that’s when I made the decision. “Then it’s simple: you’re coming to New York with me,” I stated flatly, rather than extending an invitation. “Issuing an order” would be the most accurate description. “I can’t stand the idea of you here on your own while everyone else is with friends and family.” “But…” Mike began. “Don’t worry, we don’t celebrate Christmas either. You can join us for our traditional Jewish Christmas Eve feast of Chinese food.” He gulped. “I don’t think I can afford a ticket.” “Then I’ll take care of it,” I answered, which meant Mom and Dad would. “I can’t ask your parents to pay for me to travel to New York,” he translated accurately. “You won’t have to ask them, I will. It won’t be a problem.” He opened his mouth, and I said, “Quit arguing with me. You know you’re not going to win.” He pursed his lips and gave me an exasperated look. “Just say, ‘Thanks Darr, honey. It sounds like fun.’” He heaved a sigh. “Okay I give up. Otherwise I’m not going to have a minute’s peace for the rest of the year.” “Substitute ‘my life’ in place of ‘the year’,” I fired back. “Actually, I’ll hound you in death, too.” Mike started laughing. “You would,” he said, then quickly sobered. “Thanks, sweetheart. It does sound like fun,” he said with a reluctant grin. I smiled, hoping it didn’t read as smug in victory. But I couldn’t hide that I was elated we’d be together for the holidays. “Thank you Michaelicious.” ————————— Later that week I got a call from Uncle Jeffy; I was in my room finishing up research for one of my final papers (thank heaven for a good internet connection), but I answered immediately. “Darren, how are you?” he asked. “I’m fine, semester’s winding up. How are you?” We had to go through the banalities of courtesy prior to his delivering whatever news he had. “I’m very good. There’ve been more…developments, I’ll call them, in the case. I hired an investigator to do deep research on the five guys that Carlos identified and came up with some very interesting information.” “Really?” “Yes. It seems that Sergeant Martin Hitt, who was on duty that night, is the maternal uncle of one of the attackers,” I heard papers rustle as he looked for the information “Jim Barnes.” “What?” I said, horrified. “I can’t even trust the cops in this town?” “In addition my investigator was able to trace the movements of our five young men and the police sergeant that night, and she found out that immediately after their attack on the house, they went out drinking with Mr. Zetcher. In interviews the bar keeper and wait staff were able to help construct a fairly persuasive case that Sergeant Hitt and Mr. Zetcher were completely aware of their plans.” “So now what? Are we going to have to hire a private police force?” I demanded. “No, Darren, not at all. I’ll be there to conduct depositions next week. I’ve notified opposing counsel, and have faxed and FEDEXed a letter to the state attorney general with a copy to the state senator and representative demanding a special prosecutor and protection for you from state police, since it looks like the local authorities are part of the problem. I’ve also notified the FBI.” He sounded pleased, very much in control of the situation. “This case is going to blow wide open,” Uncle Jeffy continued, “and I’ve got these bastards by the short hairs. Your mother will be writing a piece for her column and her blog, plus she’s contacted an acquaintance who is a producer of 60 Minutes. The university and the defendants will beg to settle and I will make them pay. But you must be on guard, Darr, and that means being security-conscious. The alarm on the house has to be set every night without fail, and I’ve spoken to Carlos about creating a back-up video system in case someone tries to disable the cameras. The security company has been instructed to alert the state police along with the local police department if there are any other incidents.” “Okay,” I said. “I promise to be extra careful.” “Good, but Rod is going to meet with the entire fraternity to impress on them the importance of saying nothing at all about your schedule or theirs, and especially about Winter break plans. It seems our hooligans had a good idea you’d be alone in the house when they hit, and had figured that out from casual conversations about the Thanksgiving holiday. You’ll have to take some roundabout routes and vary how you get to and from your classes every day so no one can peg you to a routine…” “Isn’t that a little over the top?” I interrupted. “Darren Matthew Leibowitz, do I have to remind you that you were nearly strangled to death only a few months ago? We need to take every precaution as long as you’re still a student at the University. So from now on you’ll have two bodyguards with you whenever you’re out on campus.” I sighed. Wonderful. Maybe they’ll want to fuck me, too? I thought sourly. Moving back to New York looked pretty good right now. But I wouldn’t – couldn't – leave Mike. Oy. ————————— “Okay…are you ready for this?” I called to the assembled members of the frat, and signaled to Carlos to start the track, which started with sirens and a repeated shout of “oh shit.” I rapped, like Fergie, having drafted Aiden and Aaron (impassive in sun glasses) as back up: It’s me Darren The PIMP Aiden, Aaron! (Hey, Darren) (What’s up baby?!?) Come on When I come to the clubs, step aside (Oh, shit) Part the seas, don’t be having me on line (Oh, shit) V.I.P ‘cause you know I gotta shine (Oh, shit) I’m Darren Dare And me love you long time (Oh shit) This was the opening of the Alpha Iota Delta Sigma holiday party the Friday night before finals week. First was a meeting to update everyone on developments in the civil and criminal cases; since everyone was in one place, it was the perfect time to have a party. This time the whole thing had to be completely under wraps, no one but current frat members. If opposing counsel heard anything they’d make the most of it – after leaking it to the media – and use it to bolster the idea that I was an out of control cum slut. Of course that was true, but it was nobody’s business but mine. I’d tried to get someone else interested in doing an ice-breaker, but everyone I asked moaned that finals week was in two days, and who had time to think about putting together anything. I went with Fergie’s London Bridge and changed a few words: for one thing, I was “Darren Dare,” not “Fergie-Ferg.” When we hit “Every time I climb up on a dude/paparazzi put my business in the news” everyone responded with hoots and laughter. For the…choreography was a little too grand, steps was more like it, Aiden Aaron and I did the “London Bridge is falling down” game that kids play, with me skipping between them, stopping when their arms came down on either side of me. There was a buffet of party food, my holiday gift to the frat (chips, salsa, pizza, chicken wings and assorted cookies) that was, unbelievably, being ignored. Everyone was moving to the music; Mike was standing up front. Like the official video, I pushed up against him, grinding my hips into his crotch, licking the front of his shirt, and grazing his lips with mine. Unlike the video, he wasn’t dressed as a sentry to the British royal family and sure didn’t stand there impassively. I faltered on the last verse of the rap, and gave up all together once we started kissing. Fortunately, the playlist that Carlos had assembled segued directly to the original version. The room took on the feel of a sex-fueled rave, a latter-day bacchanal. All around us, guys were stripping off their clothes; Mike and I stripped in record time. His hands were everywhere on my body: long strokes on my torso and down my back, fondling my butt, teasing my ass crack with his fingers. I was panting, rubbing against him, my dick hard and drooling. I pulled his head down and whisper/shouted in his ear “Breed me now.” “Drink this,” he said, handing me a glass of what looked like lemonade, but had a salty taste. Ah – “Communion libation.” I didn’t know what was in it, but I suspected there was a dose of “G” carefully calibrated to make me relax without putting me totally under. He pushed me onto one of the arm chairs, spread with the black silk sheet that I’d been covered with for my initiation, now serving its rightful purpose as a fuck sheet. My ass was towards him; I could feel his lips on the back of my neck and shoulders. Next, I felt him slipping a cum cube inside of me, the cold both a shock and a turn on, and then he was rubbing his engorged shaft against my butthole. “Fuck me,” I shouted, now frustrated. I wanted his dick inside me, massaging the cum out of my prostate and wanted to feel him shooting inside of me, flooding my ass with his hot, toxic load. We hadn’t had sex in a couple days, partly to save up for tonight, partly because we were both overwhelmed with preparing for finals and finishing off classes for the semester. So impatient,” he said into my ear as he pushed his hard dick into my asshole. He entered slowly, agonizingly so. I tried to push back, to hurry him up, but he grabbed my hips and held them in place. “We’re going to take this at my speed for a change,” he said. I groaned in frustration, and started to reach back between us to stroke Mike’s balls, but the position I was in made it hard. Then Carlos joined us, and after scoping out the situation offered, “I’ll hold his hands in place, man. You concentrate on fucking him.” “This isn’t fair,” I said, starting to laugh even though I was frustrated and horny. “You’re such a greedy little pig, you never let any of us fuck you nice and deep and slow,” Mike whispered in my ear. “It’ll make cumming twice as intense.” “If I don’t die of old age first,” I snapped. “Damn it, fuck me harder.” “Not yet, Darr. I want you to feel every inch of my raw dick slip inside of you,” he said pushing forward a fraction more. Mike kissed and licked my ears and the back of my neck as he gradually, torturously entered me. It was…well, awesome, but he was going to drive me crazy. I tried a different tack: begging. “Please, Mike, please,” I pleaded as I tried to twist my hips out of his hard grasp. “I need it.” I kept whining out variations of the same thing, but it didn’t have any effect. After a minute of that, Carlos shut me up with an intense, open-mouthed kiss. Now even more sensation crowded in on me: Carlos’ warm lips and thrusting tongue combined with the slow, steady building of pressure as Mike advanced his dick a nanometer at a time. Finally, after what felt like hours but was only minutes, I felt Mike’s pubic hair press against my butt. He pulled back a bit faster but still too slowly as far as I was concerned, and then gently pressed forward. I moaned into Carlos’ mouth as Mike fell into a measured tempo, fast enough that my prostate was getting a thorough massage, but not hard enough to put me over the edge. It was maddening and incredible. I was experiencing the benefits of going slowly, but my body was crying out for release, my dick twitching. Mike whispered into my ear, “Your ass is so sweet. Love fucking all that poz cum into your butt.” His thrusts sped up a little, but he eased off and started long-dicking me to prolong the exquisite torture he was putting me through, slowing to probe my prostate with his dickhead. After a few minutes of that, he couldn’t hold back and his thrusts started to gain speed and force, and I could feel my own release starting to build. “Harder,” I managed to gasp between kisses with Carlos. “This is what you want, honey, isn’t it?” Mike panted into my ear. “Being fucked good and hard by a man’s cock inside that tight little hole of yours. Push your ass out, open up and take my dick and all my….CUM!” he finished, roaring out the last word as his hips went into over drive. He froze in place, and could feel his cocking flexing inside of me right on top of my prostate. That was it for me, and I joined him in a super-intense orgasm that I could feel from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. It left me gasping and limp; Mike’s arms were wrapped around me and I became aware that he was kissing the back of my neck and shoulders. How long had that had been going on? “My turn,” said Carlos, and he walked around to the other side of the chair and turned me to face him. I was as limp as spaghetti when he wrapped the sheet around me, lifted me and carried me to the sofa. Carlos set me down between Ike’s legs, who arranged the sheet underneath my hips, then wrapped his muscular arms around me to hold me in place. Carlos took my legs over his shoulders and began to enter me, pushing in slowly and steadily. It was a continuation of the erotic torture that Mike had begun: every nerve ending felt super-sensitive in the wake of the release I’d just experienced, and Carlos’ dick was stretching me to the max. But I was completely limp as Carlos began thrusting in and out. “Oh, man, Mike got you all ready for me. Your ass is so slick I don’t need lube, and you’re so relaxed my dick slipped inside really easy.” “Maybe easy on your end,” I murmured. “I swear I can feel your cock in the back of my throat.” “That’s how it’s supposed to feel, buen chico, when I put my big, fat pinga up inside you…you like that, baby?” I moaned inarticulately in response. “We’re all gonna fuck you” Ike said, “end the semester the way we started it – with a gang-bang of your hot hole. Only this time everyone will dick you – 21 charged loads, plus the cum cube.” It was then I noticed that everyone was standing in a circle around the sofa, all naked, sporting dicks of varying levels of size and arousal. I felt a flash of lust at the thought that all of them were just waiting to fuck me, one after the other. My breathing quickened, and my not-so-inner cum slut was ready and raring to go. “I want it,” I groaned. “Every last drop from all of you.” Carlos began to fuck me harder, as if the idea of the gang bang was too exciting for him to hold back. Then he groaned and held himself in place, buried in me. “Did you come?” I asked. “Almost,” he panted. “Hard to resist…but this is good for you baby. You think too much about the destination…you gotta learn to enjoy the trip.” “Couldn’t we do that on the way to the Italian restaurant instead?” I said plaintively, making everyone in hearing distance laugh, then spread it on to those who missed it creating successive waves of laughter. “Just lie back, let me take care of you,” Carlos leaned forward and whispered, kissing me and brushing my hair back where it had fallen over my eyes. Then he sat up and began the slow, torturous build again, only to stop short once more…and again. Each time I leaked more precum, and was all but desperate for release when finally Carlos began really banging hard against me. I could feel he’d reached the point of no stopping, no return. “Here it comes, baby, a big load of toxic Latin leche, gonna knock you up good,” he said as he ruthlessly hammered my butt. Ike was kissing my neck and playing with my nipples as Carlos went into overdrive, fucking another load out of me that spattered over my chest. “Muchos caliente, baby,” he moaned while he kept pumping in and out to prolong the orgasm, finally covering my mouth with his before pulling out. “I’m next,” said Ike. “The bitch is in heat, no one needs to hold him in place,” he announced as he spread me and pushed himself inside. Next, he pulled my legs over his shoulders so he was totally buried in my ass and slowly moved in and out. “Take that big, black raw cock in your white butt. You like having a big black stallion fill you with charged cum?” “Yes,” I panted. “Do it, fuck me.” “Like this?” Ike said, and started long-dicking me, ramming against me as hard as he could. It hurt a little, but was a huge turn on: a big, muscular black guy taking control, using my ass however he wanted. “Breed me, fill me up now!” “Man, haven’t you learned the benefits of going slow yet?” he asked as he changed over to soft, slow strokes. My back arched; I swore I could feel my eyes rolling back in my head; perspiration beaded all over my body. I couldn’t move even though I badly want to. I had no will, no choice but to go at the pace whoever was fucking me set. It was wonderful. And terrible. The rest of the night seemed to melt away as the drink Mike had given me did its work. I was aware of every touch and caress, but the guys kind of melted one into another, as did my orgasms. The one standout was the acolyte who was nominally with McCloskey. He was a smooth, petite little Puerto Rican boy, Noel who I’d fucked once. The surprise was that for all his diminutive stature he not only had a luscious ass but was hung. Huge. “I never fucked anybody before this,” he said apologetically as he carefully slid inside me. I sighed as I felt his cock head opening me up. “You’re doing fine,” I murmured hoarsely. “Just think of everything you like a top to do when he fucks you…” I trailed off. With that advice, Noel pulled my legs over his shoulders and sheathed himself completely inside my ass. “Take it, cunt,” he snarled. “Take that Rican dick.” Ah…Noel liked to be called names and given orders I thought dreamily. “It’s all yours,” I breathed. “Take it, use me…I love getting fucked.” I was able to get my arm under and between us to stroke his balls and ass. Due to his inexperience, he couldn’t hold back, and in short order he was pounding against me, gave a sharp cry in Spanish as he released his load inside of me. Everyone in the room literally cheered as they watched him shoot his first load inside an ass; he was breathing as heavily as if he’d just finished a decathlon. “That was really hot,” he said. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.” “How about right now, since you came so quickly?” I said, and squeezed his half-hard dick with my sphincter. “Oh, yeah, baby,” Noel said. “Keep doing that and I’ll come again in about 30 seconds.” I massaged his dick with my ass, and – the miracle of youthful sex drive – he was fucking me again and shot another load inside me. “Okay, move your sweet ass,” Ruhiu said. “My turn.” By the time everyone had finished fucking me it was closing in on midnight, and everyone descended on the buffet. “Can I get something to eat?” I asked Mike sleepily. “I've got plenty of dick,” he teased. “Seriously – I’m hungry after all that,” I complained. “I got you a plate,” Aiden said, handing me a dish piled with chips and salsa, a slice of pizza, chicken wings and a couple of chocolate chip cookies, along with a large glass of sparkling water with ice. “Sorry, no wine for you – not safe after that dose of G,” said Aiden, proving my suspicions to be correct. “It’s perfect,” I said as I gulped half of it down and then went to work on the food. Mike got his own plate and sat next to me; we took turns feeding each other. “Another great party. You’re the perfect Social Director,” Mike said. “Speaking of which,” I said as I attempted to stand, “I’d better organize the clean-up.” “No, no, sweetheart. Aaron is coordinating that. You’ve done enough for one night.” I settled against him and closed my eyes, relieved that I didn’t have to try to move or even think. “Time for bed, honey,” Mike said. “I don’t think I can manage the stairs,” I murmured sleepily. “No worries,” he said. Setting our plates aside, he lifted me and carried me upstairs to our room. I insisted on flossing and brushing after the late-night snack, and then was ready to go to bed; we got in and snuggled together. “It was really hot watching you get banged by all those guys,” he whispered. I could feel his dick hardening against me. “Pervert,” I said teasingly. “100%...you bring it out,” he said, and kissed my lips, then my chin, my neck, my shoulders. Even though I was half asleep, I felt my own desire began to build and grow. I rolled over on my back and Mike parted my legs with his knee in one smooth motion. Then he was lifting my hips, my right leg around his waist, my left leg over his shoulder. That made it easy for me to reach around and caress his sensitive ball sack as he pushed inside me and began to pump in and out of my ass again. “Not too fast,” I said in a low seductive voice. “You’ve won me over…” He smiled down and proceeded to give me the ride of my life up to that point. After about the fifth or sixth guy – I’d lost count – I stopped cumming, exhausted but happy. But Mike knew just the right angle, the right pressure, the right speed to not only get me excited but to bring me off every time. What else were boyfriends for? Besides, I’d kept one little thing a secret from everyone that had made me extra horny for their spunk. I’d come to a decision on my own: I hadn’t taken a dose of Truvada in a week. So this time the breeding would take.

Working on it...the holidays make it hard. Sigh. Glad you're enjoying it.

Dear (B)readers... Have a Happy Thanksgiving, one and all. I won't be able to post another chapter until after the holiday weekend...thanks for getting me to 30K+ views!!!!

I also remembered -- now that I've thought about -- that at one point Darren argues about going on PREP, saying that if he has to take an anti-viral used to treat HIV, why not just sero-convert? It was Mike who insisted he start it so that Darren's parents wouldn't be any angrier than they were.

All good suggestions. The last isn't completely unlikely; Darren doesn't object to "the gift" per se, it was the way no one had any choice about it or the rest of their lives that got him angry. He's all about choice...

Next chapter....hope it lives up to expectations. _______________ Chapter 20) I stared at my phone where it lay on the nightstand, not knowing what to do under the circumstances. Had Miss Manners had ever covered this situation? Dear Miss Manners: If a guy has just shot his load inside me and his dick is still buried in my ass, is it rude to check a text message? “I better look at it,” I said. Do it quickly – like tearing off a bandage, I told myself. The last text I’d gotten was from Mike, and that hadn’t led to anything good. I hoped this wasn’t a follow-up. “Can’t you just ignore it?” Nick asked. I glanced at the clock – it was 11:55 am, almost noon. “Then we take a chance that it’s a text from my mom saying that they’re able to leave earlier than they thought and are on their way home for lunch,” I warned. I felt Trent stiffen – not in a good way – and Nick’s eyes widened. Neither of them had thought of that possibility. Trent eased out of my ass. “You’re right, check and see who messaged you,” Trent said. I stood up and grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and saw the new message icon: it was from Uncle Jeffy. Now the fuck what? “Who’s it from?” Nick asked. “Not my parents. My lawyer,” I said, exasperated. Lousy timing, Uncle Jeffy. “Can’t it wait?” Trent said. “I have to find out what he wants. Do you really think I’ll be much fun knowing that his message is waiting for me on my phone?” I took the lack of further argument as tacit admission that I had a good point. I opened the message. “Darren, please call me ASAP. Sorry to interrupt your vacation.” “He wants me to call him,” I told them. “I better find out what’s going on now.” I pressed the icon and Uncle Jeffy answered immediately. I could hear what sounded like a television, voices in the background, and the clink of glasses like he was out at a restaurant. He obviously wasn’t in his office. “Darren, thanks for calling back so quickly. I’m sorry to bother you but…you know, let me go someplace quiet.” The noise dimmed, and I heard the sound of a door closing. “Sorry, I’m at my mother-in-law’s home in Arizona, we’re visiting for Thanksgiving. I wanted you to know that I heard from the police. They told me that the security camera recording was too dim to make a positive identification of anyone.” “Oh,” I said, wondering why this had to be communicated urgently. “I guess there’s not much we can do.” “Wait a minute, I’m not done. I was able to access the back-up in the DropBox folder, and it was a group of five men. I could see their faces clearly.” “Really? Do you think it was just a bad disk?” “It might have been, I suppose, but my bullshit detector is pinging,” Uncle Jeffy said darkly. “Huh?” “I want to try a little experiment before I start throwing around accusations. If I give you access to the folder, do you think you could take a shot at identifying any of them?” “I could try, Uncle Jeffy, but I don’t know that many people outside the fraternity. My social circle is a little constrained,” I said sarcastically. Uncle Jeffy chuckled. “I was afraid of that. I’m sorry we have to keep you segregated, but at this point I don’t want to risk your being hurt.” “I understand,” I said grudgingly. “Do you have Carlos’ number? He might recognize someone.” “Could you send me his contact information? I have it on my office PC, but not on my phone.” “I’ll text it as soon as we hang up. How’s everyone? Aunt Dita and Em?” “They’re great. Em loves MIT. Sorry she’s not here, she and her cousins are running around doing something or another.” “Send them my love. And tell Em she owes me a text or a call.” “Will do, Darren. Have a great holiday. And do I need to remind you? Do whatever your security guards tell you to do, and do not go anywhere without them.” “I promise.” I looked at the Nick and Trent, who were sitting on the bed listening to my half of the conversation intently. “I’ll do exactly what my security guards say to do. Take care.” Both of them snickered once I’d hung up. “Your lawyer is your Uncle?” Trent said. “Not really, he and Dad have known each other since law school.” “What was he calling you about, anyway?” Nick asked. “Oh, an issue with the security cameras at the house where I live at school. Give me a second, I have to text a contact to him.” I quickly shared the Carlos’ info with Uncle Jeffy via text, and got a thank you in return. Then I put down my phone. “Okay, guys. Now where were we?” “It’s my turn to plug your ass again,” said Nick, as he made room for me on my bed. “I’m only doing this because promised everyone I’d do whatever you told me to do,” I said as I positioned myself on my back, my legs spread in welcome. Both he and Trent laughed as Nick took my legs over his shoulders and pushed his still-erect cock inside of me. ————————— A couple hours later, each of them had cum four times in my ass if you included Trent and me the night before, which I definitely was. I glanced at the clock; it was 1:47 PM. “Gentleman, I’m ready for lunch,” I said. “You didn’t like the protein smoothies we’ve been feeding you, muchacho?” Nick said. “Ho-ho-ho. And I use the word purposely. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t like some actual food.” Trent and Nick looked at each other; Nick nodded. “Sure, let’s get something more to eat,” Trent said with a lecherous grin. I rolled my eyes, went to the bathroom to clean up a little, then pulled on my clothes. “Boo!” said Nick. “It’s late for Halloween,” I said. He smirked at me. “Why’d you get dressed again? I like your cute, smooth little body.” “Because otherwise we’d never make it out of this room. And I don’t want to shock poor Maxi.” They both had pulled on their clothes; I led the way to the kitchen. After running down the possibilities, they elected to have my mom’s homemade lentil soup and Thanksgiving Dinner sandwiches – basically a full turkey dinner crammed into a double-decker sandwich – with warm apple cider to drink. I offered them beer (which I couldn’t stand), but they said they were on duty, so no alcohol. Apparently fucking was allowed, but drinking and fucking was not. Maybe sex fell in the realm of guarding my body? I put the food together, which we ate at the kitchen table. I gave Maxi a small bowl of kibble, but he still shamelessly begged at the table. My mom spoiled him unmercifully. “Man, your mom is an amazing cook,” Nick said as he polished off his sandwich. “How does she write her columns and still have time?” “You follow her column?” I said, surprised. “Yeah, your mom is famous, a great writer. I even read her memoir.” I refrained from commenting on the book. “She plans weeks in advance, and makes something every few days and freezes it. And Dad does a lot of the baking, he says it relaxes him. The only thing Mom cooks the day of is the turkey and stuffing, and I put together the salad. It helps that she works at home a lot. She can shove something in the oven and work in here on her laptop until it’s done. There’s some pumpkin pie or pumpkin bread – both baked by my dad – for dessert if you want.” “I’d rather have some more Darren cake,” Trent said. “He helped make that too.” I’d left myself open for that one. I glanced at the clock; it was 3:00 PM. “Okay, once more each. Then we all have to take showers and I’ve got to do a quick load of laundry to conceal the evidence.” At 5:30 PM exactly, I took the last of the towels out of the drier, folded them and tucked them away in the linen closet. I’d taken a shower, made both Nick and Trent take shower, and laundered my sheets, the mattress pad and the extra towels using the washer/drier that was stowed in a corner cupboard of the kitchen. There wasn’t any tell-tale evidence that I’d spent the afternoon being fucked by my security team other than the slight soreness of my butt, and Mom and Dad wouldn’t find out about that. My phone rang, and I grabbed it, hoping and worrying at the same time…but it was Mom. Not Mike. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “Hi, Sweetie, how was your day?” “Quiet. Trent and I took Maxi for a walk, and then came back here for lunch.” I decided to tell her an edited version of the truth and avoid future complications. “Nick showed up right after we got back, he was way early. He’d gotten the time wrong, so I fed him lunch, and he spent the afternoon here, too.” “Did you get some rest?” she asked. “I went to bed for a couple hours after Maxi’s walk, and then for another hour after lunch.” How I said that without laughing was a mystery to me. “Oh, and Uncle Jeffy called.” “Really? I thought he was out of town, what did he call about?” “He is out of town, but there’s some mix-up with the security video. The police said it was too dim, but Uncle Jeffy said he could see everything clearly. I gave him Carlos’ number, he knows more about the set-up of the cameras than I do.” “Sounds like you had a relaxing day.” “Definitely, Mom,” I answered. It was getting harder to keep from giggling. “I just spoke to Dad, and he’s nearly ready to leave. He’s going to pick me up, and we’re going to Nice Matin for dinner. Oh, I made the reservation for four. Are both Trent and Nick still there?” “Yeah, but Trent is leaving soon, I think.” “I’ll call right now and add a fifth so Trent can to come to dinner. He was so nice to you, we’d be happy to have him along. And, it’s probably a good idea for you to have both of them with you.” “Definitely,” I said. I found Nick and Trent in the living room, watching some game on ESPN. Trent’s large duffle bag was next to him on the floor; I’d caught him just before he left. “You’re both invited to dinner,” I announced. “We’re going to Nice-Matin.” “I’ve walked by that place,” Trent said. “It looks fancy.” I shrugged. “Fancy-shmancy, no one dresses up there, if you want, throw on a blazer if you’ve got one. But I’m sure the staff will have no objecting to serving two hunky guys in tight t-shirts.” ————————— I was on the beach, or I thought I was…I was surrounded by tall rocks and the ground was covered with sand; I knew the ocean was just on the other side of the rocks…I was in my red bikini bathing suit; there was a gazebo and thought I spotted Mike inside. I hurried to enter it, but when I got there it was empty…and then I heard the shouts. There was a crowd of people walking towards the gazebo pointing their fingers as they yelled; I was scared…there was nowhere to hide… I woke myself with a small cry, then sagged back against the pillows. Another fucking nightmare. I got up, took a couple Advil and tried, unsuccessfully, to go back to sleep; my brain was still buzzing and it was 1:30 AM. I got out of bed, slipped on my robe, and went to my parent’s room. As I was about to knock, I heard a moaning sound from inside and a faint, rhythmic squeak. I retreated, horrified. It was just wrong to think about my parents having sex, and I certainly wasn’t going to interrupt them. I looked at the door to the guest room where Nick was asleep, considering whether or not to knock on the door. I didn’t feel up for more sex, I wanted just to be comforted. The solution was obvious: I went and found Maxi, who was happy to curl up with me on the sofa. I lay down and talked to him in a low voice. “You’ll protect me, won’t you Maxi?” he just nuzzled my hand to be petted again, so I continued. “I’m tired of being afraid, Maxi,” I said, feeling my eyes burn. He seemed to sense my upset – or maybe it was that I stopped stroking him to wipe away the threatening tears – and he licked my chin and my face. I went back to petting him, and he curled up next to me, contented. Slowly, surely, I began to feel drowsy. I’ll just lie here another minute…next thing I knew it was morning, and my Mom was crouching next to the sofa, dressed in a wool bomber jacket, jeans and sneakers. Maxi was curled up next to me, pressed against my chest. “Darren, sweetie, did you sleep here all night?” Maxi stirred and jumped off the sofa, tail wagging, looking at my mom expectantly. “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep so I petted Maxi. Last thing I remember is thinking I’d close my eyes for a minute, so I guess pets live up to their reputation for reducing stress.” She smiled at me worriedly. “Did you have a nightmare?” I nodded. “Why didn’t you wake me? Or Nick?” I couldn’t bring myself to let her know I’d heard her and Dad having sex. And most certainly couldn’t say if I’d woken up Nick, we would have ended up in my bed together for a chunk of the night, and I wasn’t in the mood. “I’m not five years old, Mom. I just needed…the totally uncomplicated affection of a dog.” Said dog was currently nuzzling her, demanding attention. She sat on the floor, petted Maxi, then reached up and took my hand. “Tell me about your dream.” I remembered it in detail, so it wasn’t a problem. “It was a lot like the one the night before,” I finished. She shook her head, perched on the sofa, and hugged me; that was all it took for the tears to start. “It’s all right, sweetie pie, it’s all right,” she said. Maxi, alarmed at this display of emotion, jumped up on the sofa and tried to help by insisting that I pet him. My sobs diminished after a few minutes. I had to confess, I felt much better; there was nothing like a mom when it came to the fine art of comforting. My security guards and the guys at school were all hot and sweet, but it wasn’t the same. “The worst part,” I said, drying my eyes with a tissue from the box she handed me “is that I had a horrible fight with Mike just after I got here.” “I wondered why you’ve been looking so sad.” “He was angry that I hadn’t called to tell him what happened and that he’d heard it from Carlos and Rod.” I gave in to Maxi’s demand and gave him yet another belly rub. She smiled reminiscently. “I had a fight with your father just like that.” “Really?” “It was years before you were born. I was doing research for an article on gang violence in New York City, and got caught in a shoot-out.” At my horrified gasp she said, “I wasn’t hurt, I ducked inside a bodega, I knew the owner and we hid in the back. Once it was over, I got so wrapped up in getting interviews that I totally forgot to call Dad. He tried to call me at work, and someone mentioned that I was reporting on a shooting that I’d actually witnessed. When we finally talked he was furious at me.” “What’d you do?” “I promised to never do that again. And I made him his favorite dinner.” “I tried to apologize, but Mike wouldn’t accept it.” I started to choke up again. “What am I going to do, mama? He hung up and he didn’t even say goodbye. What if this is a…a deal breaker?” I couldn’t get myself to put my fears into words: I was afraid that Mike would never forgive me and that this was it. “Sweetie, I can’t imagine that he’d break up with you over this. I saw the way you two were together when we came right after…everything. He’s just scared about what happened, and sometimes that comes out as anger,” she said, stroking my hair. That’s roughly what Trent had told me. “I better walk Maxi before he explodes,” she said. Maxi’s ears seemed to prick at the words “walk Maxi.” “And then I’ll make whatever you want for breakfast.” “Anything?” “Within reason,” she qualified. For my mom that meant not too much sugar, fat or carbs. “Scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and dill,” I began. “Good choice,” she interjected. “Whole grain toast…” “Excellent!” “And Dad’s triple-berry pancakes.” She looked undecided for a minute, then nodded yes. “I’ll get your father up on my way out with Maxi.” “I’ll put on a pot of coffee. And make fresh-squeezed orange juice,” I added. I was in the kitchen, putting the coffee I’d just ground into the pot, when my dad shambled in wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. “Good morning,” he mumbled sleepily. “”morning, Dad,” I said. “Sorry to drag you out of bed.” I added water and started the coffee pot. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, stretching. “You managed to score us eggs and pancakes for breakfast rather than the usual plain low fat yogurt with muesli.” He gathered the ingredients for his special pancakes, assembling them on the counter, then got a large bowl, a whisk, and a measuring cup from their respective cabinets and drawers. “This takes me back to when you were a little boy,” he said, smiling. “If your mother had to travel for work you were so upset. I made it into something fun by feeding you all the foods she didn’t allow.” “I remember,” I said, grinning. “She purposely cut her trips short because she knew I would feed you Jiffy peanut butter with strawberry preserves on white bread, pizza, hamburgers, fried chicken, French fries and worst of all, pancakes for breakfast. I wouldn’t listen to your nanny about it, either. I pulled rank as on-site parent.” He was measuring out the flour and dumped it in the mixing bowl as he spoke. “Your mother tells me that you had another bad night,” he said casually while he added the rest of the ingredients and started whisking them together. I looked up from slicing oranges for the juicer and said, “Yeah, I had a nightmare.” Still not looking at me directly, speaking in that completely casual tone, “We worry that you’re under a lot of pressure, Darren.” I shrugged. “You know the minute it’s too much for you, call us. You can come home to visit or to live. Whatever you want and whatever you need.” He began folding frozen berries in the pancake batter. “I know,” I said, wondering what exactly had prompted this. “Uncle Jeffy called me yesterday while I was in the office.” “About the case?” I asked as I retrieved the juicer and plugged it in. “Not exactly. Carlos took a look at the video from the other night, and he positively identified everyone.” “So that’s good, right?” I said, pausing before I turned on the noisy appliance. My dad screwed up his face the way he did just before delivering bad news. “Not 100%. Uncle Jeffy thinks that the police lied about the disc they took, maybe even purposely damaged it themselves.” “Why would they do that?” “He’s not sure yet, but is doing background checks on the five in the video to see what turns up.” My father shook his head. “It was such a great place when I went there. I thought it would be perfect for you when Yale didn’t work out.” “It’s not all bad,” I said. “I’ve got great friends and the courses are actually interesting.” “Now I wish we’d let you stay in New York,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, nearly voicing an admission of fallibility, unheard of from my father. “It kills me to watch them stall the case and smear you while they do it.” I’d had only rare glimpses of this protective side of my dad before. Usually he took the attitude that what didn’t kill me would only make me stronger. “I know it’s hard for you,” I told him. “The school means so much to you, you give them a lot of money and…” “Fuck the university,” he interrupted, loudly. I stopped, shocked. It was unimaginable that he’d ever say anything bad about his alma mater, the place he credited with giving him the education that had allowed him to go to Yale law school and be so successful. He seemed to be struggling with some strong emotion. “I sent my only child, my son there, trusted them to care for you and what happens?” he said, anguished, pancake now batter forgotten. “You’re thrown in the middle of a parent’s worst nightmare and it was my idea…” “No, Daddy,” I found myself reverting to a childish form of address. “It wasn’t a bad idea,” I allowed. “And if I hadn’t gone there all my friends would still be in a terrible situation. What was going on was just wrong.” He scowled at me. “You are the most contrary little bastard in the universe. You kicked and screamed and argued about going there, and now when we’d like you to come home to New York, you won’t!” I shrugged again. Then we both started laughing. “I better get these pancakes going,” he said, putting a griddle on the fancy new stove they’d installed while I was away. “Don’t you have orange juice to make?” I stepped over to him, and hugged him; he seemed startled at first, then returned it, stroking my back. ————————— After nagging and begging, Nick finally gave in and consented to our going to a movie and dinner with my parents that night. He and I took Maxi for another mid-day walk, and he even let me do a little window-shopping on Columbus Avenue. I liked to sigh over the clothing I couldn’t afford on my own at Frank Stella, and I loved checking out the display at Schweitzer Linen. We picked up some iced coffee, then meandered our way back to the apartment, taking time to stop at the dog run with Maxi, where he enthusiastically galloped around with a couple of his canine buddies while we sat on a bench and watched him. “Too bad we can’t play some more this afternoon, muchacho,” Nick said. “Too bad for you, maybe,” I answered. “I’m still having trouble sitting.” “Hot, that’s what I like to hear. I like it when my boys feel it for a couple of days after I’ve fucked them,” he said in a low voice. He scooted a little closer. “You know, I’ve never considered having a full-time boyfriend to fuck, but if you’re ever in the market…” More like boy-toy, I thought but didn’t say. “I’ll keep it in mind,” I answered noncommittally. Aside from that he’d probably destroy my sphincter in a month, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be some guy’s…uh, not mistress. Mister? Whatever you called it, sooner or later it would blow up in my face. ————————— “Baby, you’re thinking too much again,” Carlos said. I gave him a dirty look, but had to concede he was right. We were en route to the university, currently sitting on an airplane. He’d insisted on taking the aisle seat again. “I’m worried about seeing Mike,” I confessed. “Why?” Carlos said sounding puzzled. I hadn’t meant to get into this. “We talked on Thanksgiving day after he’d spoken to you…” “I told you we should have let him know what happened,” Carlos interrupted. I sighed. “Well, you were right. We argued, and then hung up without saying goodbye.” “What? He didn’t sound angry after I talked to him.” “Goody for you,” I said. “He was plenty pissed off at me. He scolded me, then said he’d see me today. He wouldn’t listen to me at all.” “Now that’s just wrong,” Carlos said. “You’re going through enough since you’re like…the public face of the law suit, and he’s going to give you shit for not calling him right away?” “My mom and one of my bodyguards in New York said he wasn’t really angry at me, that he was just scared about what happened and feeling powerless.” “He shouldn’t take that out on you, it’s not your fault.” I huffed out an impatient breath. “You want to tell him that?” “You bet I will, baby.” Great, I’d opened my big mouth and done it. Now I could worry about them arguing over the argument I’d had with Mike. The fun just didn’t stop. We made it back to the house in the late afternoon. I called my parents as soon as we pulled up in Rod’s car. “Made it back here folks.” “Thanks for calling,” my mom said. “Oh, and expect a delivery at 6:00 PM.” “A delivery of what?” “We want it to be a surprise,” my dad said. “Fine, thanks. Talk to you in a couple days.” The windows had been repaired completely, I noted, and it looked like we’d gotten a fresh coat of paint and a new front door. As soon as I walked in the house and shed my coat, Aaron was there, hugging me tightly. “You poor thing,” he said. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I said. “Please don’t fuss, Rod and Carlos were there. Who told you what happened, anyway?” “I did,” said Rod as he shut the door. “Everyone here needs to be aware that things have escalated.” “Whatever,” I said. “Not ‘whatever,’” Rod said sternly. “You of everyone here need to be especially careful.” “Fine,” I said controlling my urge to snap at him. He was just doing his job. “I’m going to unpack,” I announced, and then a thought struck me. “Is Mike here?” “He’s in your room,” Aiden said. “He was tired and in a seriously bitchy mood, so we told him to get over it or go take a nap.” It would seem he’d had the same trouble sleeping as I had. “I’ll help you with your luggage,” Carlos said, pretending to struggle to lift it off the floor. “You’re not funny,” I told him. We climbed the staircase and went to the room I shared with Mike. What would I do if he was planning to call it quits? I wouldn’t be the “Prefect’s Consort” anymore, not that the title had ever meant all that much to me, and was now more or less irrelevant. Where would I sleep? All the other rooms were taken… The door was closed. I took a deep breath, tapped on it as a warning and then opened it and went in with Carlos right behind me. Mike was sitting in the window seat – which was directly opposite the door – holding a pillow against his chest, his face buried in it. He looked up as soon as I walked in. “Darr…honey, you’re back,” he said, giving me a relieved smile, and got up and moved towards me. We were on nickname and endearment status again, which was a good sign. “Wait just a fucking minute,” Carlos said, stepping in front of me. “Isn’t there something you want to say to him, first? Man, when I called you I didn’t mean for you to call Darren and give him a hard time.” Mike looked him straight in the eye. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been miserable for the last four days.” “What made you do such a fucking shitty thing, Mike? He’s got enough on his head without you shoveling more crap on him.” “Excuse me,” I said, stepping between them. “But would you mind not talking as if I’m not here?” Mike came towards me; I could see the circles under his eyes. He was pale and looked completely worn out. He took my hands in his, kissed both of them, then said, “I’m sorry I unloaded on you. It was really messed up, but when I heard about the whole…incident…it scared me shitless. Especially what they spray-painted on the front of the house…” “Wait a minute,” I said. “What spray-painting on the house? I turned to look at Carlos, who said, “Good to see you two are okay, I’m going…” “Nowhere.” I finished for him. “What did they spray paint?” The new door and fresh paint job on the front of the house took on a different significance. Carlos looked uncomfortable and said, “They painted ‘die faggot’ and ‘Darren Leibowitz is a dead man.’” “And this was why Rod ordered me to duck down in the back of the car.” “Part of the reason,” Carlos said. “You were so tired and stressed, he figured you didn’t need to see that.” I turned to Mike. “I think I understand how you felt a little better. Where is Rod? He and I are going to have words,” I said threateningly. “Baby, what difference does it make?” Carlos said, moving to block the door. “He’s lecturing me to be careful, but doesn’t tell me what’s going on?” Carlos couldn’t argue that one. “Sweetheart, couldn’t that wait a little?” Mike asked, coming up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against him. He nuzzled the top of my head, and bent down to plant a kiss on my right ear. I gasped at the touch of his lips. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll deal with him later.” “Rod owes you one, Mike,” Carlos said as he beat the proverbial hasty retreat, closing the door behind him before I changed my mind. “God, I missed you,” Mike said, turned me around a kissed me full on the mouth. I was helpless to do anything but respond. I hadn’t been in the mood for sex since my last nightmare, but something about us, our connection, shattered any obstacle. He was walking backwards towards the bed – he seemed to have memorized the layout of the room – and sat down without breaking our kiss. Then he was on top of me, my arms were around him, my legs parted and he was humping against me. I grabbed his ass and pulled him against me more securely and bucked under him, grinding my hips against his crotch. He was fully erect; I could feel it through the soft sweats he was wearing. I guess he wasn’t all that tired. He finally stopped kissing me, and drew back, running his thumb over my bottom lip which felt slightly swollen from kissing; then he gently caressed my left cheekbone. “I was terrified you’d be so angry you’d break up with me,” Mike said. “I’d say ‘you could have called me,’ but I guess I’m in no position to hand out criticism about phone calls. I was worried about the same thing,” I confessed. “Never,” Mike said. “I will never, ever want to break up with you, even when I’m being a total asshole.” I laughed, then said “Never is a long time.” He smiled. “Yeah. Isn’t it fucking great?” He kissed me again, and pulled me to a sitting position and stripped off my sweater and t-shirt. Then he was unbuckling my belt and had me out of my jeans before I could draw a breath. He impatiently threw off his sweats, and we came together, skin on skin, pulses pounding in unison, breathing in one another’s scent and indulging in another deep, steamy kiss. We wrestled with each other, rubbing our erect dicks alongside each other; I ran my hands all over his back and shoulders, down to his ass. I pulled him against me again, and moved impatiently. “Fuck me,” I murmured. “Please…” He reached for the Vaseline and lubed his dick, then put some more on his finger and gently probed the entrance to my body, that portal to shared pleasure. He moved his finger in and around, and once he was satisfied that I was adequately prepped, took my legs over his shoulders and pressed his cockhead against my ass. He pushed; there was a passing moment of resistance, but then he slid in me unimpeded, burying himself up to the balls inside of me. “Honey,” he breathed and pressed his lips to mine for a quick, hard kiss. “It just gets better all the time.” He was moving slowly carefully; I could tell he was trying to hold back. I didn’t know for sure, but I was willing to bet that he hadn’t cum since the morning of the day before Thanksgiving which made it…four days’ worth of cum that he was about to unload. “Don’t hold back,” I said. “Harder.” “I want it to last,” he moaned. “We just agreed that we have lots of time to be together. We can do it again,” I promised as I joined in his rhythm, pushing towards him as he pushed in, pulling back at the same time he did. His thrusts picked up in tempo, and he was grunting the way he did before cumming. “Cum with me, Darr,” he gasped out as he ground against me, angling to press against my prostate. It came as a shock, the tightening of every muscle as he pounded against my ass, breathing ragged and then the glorious, technicolor release. He was blowing out air as he froze; I could feel his dick swell and pulse inside of me. Post-coital relaxation kicked in almost immediately; he was heavy on top of me, but I loved the feel of his warm, muscled body against my own, pressing me into the mattress. He propped himself on his elbows. “Hi there,” he said. I smiled at him. “Hi back. That was awesome,” I told him. “You were awesome,” he said, taking my hand and pressing his lips to it. There was a knock at the door. This fucking room, I thought. “Who is it?” Mike called out. “Aaron. If you’ve finished your make-up sex, come on downstairs. Darren’s parents sent pizza for the whole house, but I can’t guarantee there’ll be any left if you wait.” That was the surprise from Mom and Dad. Suddenly, I was hungry in a way I hadn’t been in days. “Let’s hurry,” I said to him. “Yeah, after that I’ve got major post-sex munchies.” We hurriedly dressed, and went downstairs to join the others. “We’ll catch up on more sex after dinner,” Mike whispered to me as we got some food, and gave my ass a squeeze. “Looking forward,” I said, pushing back against him.

I've considered it. I mean 45 Poz loads in 2 days?

He's been taking PReP. I guess I didn't underline it enough, but in one of his scenes with Mike, Mike says that part of what's so hot about fucking Darren is that he's negative and Mike is positive, that it's like taking his virginity whenever they have sex. How's that for a, er, uh, positive spin on the erotic potential of being on PreP while dating a guy who's positive?

Working on it...things are busy. I finished up that last chapter while the US Presidential results were coming in.