daddybear54

I wouldn't have minded seeing Mateo put Andreas into the hospital for a month or so. Still, great to see him getting hauled off in cuffs, with Alex calling it like it is: "pathetic." Ingenious plot twist to get Mateo back to Monrovia, where life in the palace is about to get livened up even more.

Chapter 3 Go Big -- and Go Home “Whatever it is you’re working on there, you’ve been buried in it for hours. Take a break, already, and let’s go for a swim and have a drink.” Rich shook himself out of his concentrated memory trip to find Tommy dressed (or, more accurately, underdressed) for the pool and holding a cocktail shaker. “What’s in that?” he asked. Tommy gave him a salacious grin. “You have to ask what’s in here?” he asked, as he rubbed his bulge. “Oh, you meant in here,” and he waggled the cocktail shaker. “Extra dry Tanqueray martinis. The glasses are all set to go in the kitchen. Come on, already.” Rich closed the computer, made his way to the closet, and quickly stripped down, switching to a speedo. He then headed for the kitchen, where Tommy was just pouring the martinis. Tommy looked up at him. “Olive or twist?” “No, Tommy, I’m not rewriting Dickens for him.” Tommy made a face at him. “Why ask? You know I always like a twist of lemon.” “It’s just from the super-serious expression on your face, I thought you might need an olive instead, to match your mood.” “Well, to answer your question, the usual, please. And to answer your other question, I sat down and started writing the memoir we talked about this morning. I’m deep into the story of Carlo now, and it’s proving emotionally tough. Especially knowing he’s dead now.” “Then why do it?” “Tommy, it just feels like something I need to do. For me, principally, but for all the other people in my life as well. Family, friends, partners… I need to set my story down and now is the time. “Confessional time?” “Yeah, I guess so. But a pool break sounds like a marvellous idea.” Out the door they went, parked the martini glasses on the edge of the pool, and then slipped into the water down the stairs. The early evening, the setting sun, the cool water, the gentle warm breeze, the ice-cold martini, all worked wonders on Rich’s mood. Sitting on the underwater ledge, nuzzling Tommy’s cheek and neck in between gentle kisses helped, too, at restoring his natural Saturday evening buoyancy. Eventually, with the drinks gone and the sun about to disappear behind the island’s mountainous spine, he plunged under the water, and proceeded to swim a dozen or so laps, more for ironing out the kinks of a day spent hunched over his laptop than for any other reason. Three times a week, Rich and Tommy would head down to the public indoor pool in Portavedra for more serious swim workouts. On other days, in a more recreational mood, either or both of them might go to the public beach north of the city where Rich’s grandparents had lived when he was a boy. Both of them were long gone now, of course, and so was their home, replaced by a luxury boutique hotel. But the beach, like all beaches in Alcantara except the ones along the edges of the airport, remained open to the public at all daylight hours. With the sun gone, and the air getting chilly, they climbed out and towelled off, then headed inside where Tommy got to work on one of his killer dinners. Rich tried to help, but Tommy shooed him out of the kitchen, saying that this was Rich’s welcome-home dinner, and he was not allowed to do any of the work on it. Rich compromised by setting the table, putting out the wine glasses, and uncorking the wine. After a heavenly meal of seared tuna on homemade rice noodles with a Cajun spice and lime glaze, they settled back in the living room with coffee and talked for a while about what Tommy had been up to during Rich’s absence. Predictably, it was the usual round of faculty meetings, preparing and delivering lectures, chairing his two weekly seminar groups, meetings with students, and grading papers. When bedtime rolled around, both of them were content to just snuggle up to each other and sleep the night away. In the morning, after the normal swim and breakfast, Tommy asked, “So, what’s on the agenda today? Any surprise meetings with the premier or the president?” Logical as always, Rich pointed out, “Well, if I knew about them, they wouldn’t be surprises.” Then his face saddened. “Speaking of which, I’m going to have to keep on writing that memoir today. I’m coming up to the surprise that ended my relationship with Carlo, and I have to get it written and out of my system. Then I can relax for the rest of the day.” “I know what you’re like. When you have to do it, you have to do it now. Just promise me that if it gets too upsetting, you’ll knock off and come and find me. I’m going to spend my Sunday puttering around in the kitchen garden – the morning, anyway.” “I promise, Tommy – and thank you.” ******************** Over the next week, we made a number of trips with my car, gathering Carlo’s stuff up and getting him moved in with me. As we did, I saw exactly what he meant about his place, the small rooms, the incessant interruptions from his roommates and the three girls next door (one of his roommates had a thing with one of them). At last, the job was done, and we went out for dinner again to celebrate. As we were lying cuddled together in bed after that night’s round of hair-raising sex (Carlo had given me a fuck to remember), he sighed and said, wistfully, “God, I wish we could ditch the rubbers and fuck bare. Skin to skin, all natural. That’d be so awesome.” Practical me came right back at him. “Yeah, sounds great, but we’d need to stop playing with other guys and we’d need to get tested a few times before we could do it.” “Have you been playing with anyone else, Rick?” “Not for months. You use up so much of my energy, I’ve got none left for anyone else! You?” “About six weeks ago, not since. Do you want to do it?” I thought about it for a minute or two, taking my time. It was risky, sure, but if we did everything we could to minimize the risk, then why not? “Yes. Only one problem: I don’t have a doctor out here.” Pain in the neck. You still had to go through a doctor to get access to an HIV test. Some cities had walk-in clinics, but I didn’t know of one in Vancouver. “Let’s use mine.” “Okay, set it up. Let’s do it before school starts again, I’m going to be buried in work.” “You? Work??? I thought you just whistled and those straight As jumped right up into your lap!” “Ha ha. This is law school we’re talking about, that’s not going to be a pushover.” We had to wait a bit for an appointment, but two weeks later, we went together to see Carlo’s doctor. I was only mildly surprised when both Derek, the nurse, and Dr. Brennan himself turned out to be unquestionably gay. After all, Carlo was a couple of years older than me and far more deeply immersed in gay life than I had been when I met him. We had an amusing conversation, jokingly fending off Dr. Brennan’s laughing assertion that we both looked like we needed “a really, really thorough genital and anal examination.” A week later we went back and got the test results, and we were both negative. We waited three more months, then retested. Negative again. We’d told the doctor what we wanted to do, and his response was simple. “Be careful, be exclusive, and come back to get retested every three months. Have fun, boys.” That night, as we lay together in bed, we were both almost hesitant. We’d rushed to the bedroom as soon as we finished eating dinner and cleaning up, and we were both rock-hard before we even began undressing. Not only that but, for once, we undressed ourselves, quickly, as if we couldn’t wait to get to the main event – and we couldn’t. And then, there we were, lying still, looking at each other. It was weird. In a way, it felt just like the first time all over again, a feeling that this was a door in life which, once opened, could never be shut again. At last, Carlo spoke gently as he caressed my face. “Do you want to go first, or do you want me to do the honours?” “You’ve been leading the way all along. I’m glad to follow your lead again.” I lifted my legs, allowing Carlo to do his usual magical relaxation work on my ass. His tongue and fingers moved even more gently than ever, perhaps because he sensed that this was an expression of love. It had to be right; it had to be perfect. Was it just the moment, or was there really an extra degree of intention, of concentration, of communication between us as Carlo slowly probed me with his tongue and his fingers? Even now, so many years later, I can’t say for certain. The one thing I did know was that I loved him even more for doing this in such a special way. At last, it was time, and both of us were ready. With no hesitation and no rushing, Carlo slowly but firmly pushed his cock deeply, all the way inside my hole until his hips were resting against my butt. I could feel the difference. I could feel the warmth of his hard cock, gently rocking inside me. I could feel the sensation of his skin rubbing against mine, there in my hole, where that had never happened before. No one in my life had ever entered me with a raw cock. And no matter how many times it happened in the future, Carlo would always remain the first man who’d ever given me this extraordinary sensation. If it was incredible for me, I know it was no less for him, as I looked up to see his face wreathed in a beatific smile. “Oh, my God, Rick – I had no idea your ass would feel so smooth and silky and warm.” “Your cock feels so amazing inside me too. Naked, warm, skin to skin, it’s so natural.” Carlo laughed. “There’s an awful lot of people out there who don’t think what we’re doing is natural at all.” “To hell with them. Times are changing, and we’re going to be so accepted in another 30 years, like we’ve never been for centuries.” “I can’t wait.” “Neither can I, so pull your mind back to the present and show me what you can really do inside me with no obstacles.” And with that, he began. Slowly, firmly, he worked his cock in and out of my hole while both of us absorbed every detail of these wonderful new sensations. The heightened degree of feeling between our bodies, between our hearts and souls, made this a different kind of sex than I had ever experienced before. We were totally in touch, totally in tune, two bodies become one in our quest. Carlo grabbed me by the shoulders, then rolled onto his back, bringing me up on top. It felt no less amazing to ride him in this position, to be able to vary the angle a bit on every downstroke and truly feel his rigid cock stroking every part of my insides. It was too good to last. With both of us complete novices at bareback sex, we had yet to learn how quickly that direct personal contact could bring on an earth-shattering climax. But we were about to find out. Suddenly Carlo gasped aloud. “Ohmigod, Rick, you’re going to make me shoot!” I grabbed my tool and began frantically stroking, trying to finish with him, but he slapped my hand away. “No, don’t! I want you to give it to me once I finish myself off.” “Shoot it, Carlo! Let that load fly!” “Aren’t you going to pull off?” “Not on your life. You’re going to shoot it deep inside me and fill me up with your cum!” As soon as I said that, Carlo’s face screwed up tight, he let out a roar, and I felt his cock begin pulsating inside me. He was cumming, cumming, gushing out a torrent of his sperm deep into my hole – the first load I’d ever taken inside my body. He roared again, and his cock spasmed into a second round, and more, until finally he was shooting blanks. At last, I fell across his body, bringing my face to his, and we kissed passionately as our breathing slowly wound back down. His cock slowly slipped out of me, followed by another new sensation – the feeling of his wet load oozing out and trickling down over my taint, dropping back onto my balls and then down onto his cock and balls. That galvanized me into action. I reared up onto my knees and said, “Carlo, I’m going to fuck you, using your own cum as lube. Roll onto your face.” He did. I dived down into the crack, eating and slurping at his ass like I’d never done before. While I was doing that, I reached behind myself and scooped the sperm off my butt. I added some spit for good measure, and then I brought my palmful of cum to his ass crack, and spread it onto him, using my finger to push it into his now-wet hole. I then wiped the palm of my hand over my cock and aimed it right at the target. Carlo was absolutely quivering with anticipation as I placed the tip against his hole and began to lean. He wanted it, so badly; his hole opened up and all but sucked me into him. I kept going, slowly, until I was embedded all the way inside him and was lying right down on top of his muscular back. If it had felt wonderful having him bare inside me, I was beyond ecstatic at the thrill of being bare inside him, feeling his tight hole and warm insides surrounding me. “Carlo, I’m not going to last long, I’m just about ready to cum right now because it feels so amazing.” “Well, why wait? Go for it.” With that, I began pumping into him, driving my speed slowly up from first gear into highway overdrive. By the time I was really pounding him, my hips smacking against his firm round ass cheeks, I could feel my orgasm mounting and knew it was going to happen – soon. “Oh, fuck… Carlo… I’m going to shoot… your tight ass is sucking the cum right out of me…” “Do it, Rick… cream me… fill me up with your load… cum inside me!” That did it. I slammed furiously into him, deeper than I’d ever gotten, and let it fly. I counted eight or nine separate shots before I lost count, and still my dick was pulsating like a mad thing inside him. At last, the pulses stopped, my breathing began to slow down, and I lay at ease on top of him, kissing his neck and shoulders – until he turned his head, to let me kiss him properly. At last, he spoke. “Is it just me, or did that feel like we just lost our virginity all over again?” “You are so right, baby. God, I love you!” We rolled onto our sides and fell asleep like that, with my cock still semi-hard inside him. For the next month and a half, I was beyond happy. We swam in the sun, we went on long walks, bike rides, and lazed about in the parks. Both of us were working, but as I remember that summer, it seems that all we had was oceans of spare time. We had the most incredible sex nearly every night, and sometimes in the daytime too. With practice, we soon learned how to prevent ourselves from cumming too quickly, how to vary pace and angle and depth of our strokes to prolong the experience of fucking naked, skin to skin, and finally sharing our loads into each other’s bodies. We sucked, we fucked, we pumped innumerable loads of our seed with each other, and we loved every minute of it. This idyllic existence came to an abrupt halt when school began again. I’d never encountered anything like it in my life. It wasn’t just that I suddenly found myself having to work at school for the first time, bad as that was. First year at law stretched me so badly that I was scrambling, struggling to keep afloat. Since it was a new experience, I didn’t handle it well at all. In my usual thorough way, I tried to keep abreast of dotting every “i” and crossing every “t” in each of the cases we studied. I had never before been forced to master the skill of focusing right in on the key points, and I kept losing sight of the forest because I was trying to memorize every leaf on every tree. All this intense work was taking up more and more hours every day, and it was playing havoc with my social life, tying me to my desk or to a table in the library for longer and longer periods. Even my sacrosanct swimming workouts were becoming less and less frequent. In particular, the seductive siren call of law school was destroying my life with Carlo. Not that I saw it that way at the time, of course. Our sex life was slowly dwindling. I would walk home in a zombie daze late every night, flop into bed and pass out. Sex now happened almost exclusively on the weekends, and it was still wonderful when it happened – or so I felt – but it happened less and less often. Looking back after all these years, it’s easy to see now that our relationship was drifting onto the rocks and was going to crack up. It was the way it finally happened that ripped me apart. One Saturday afternoon in early February, we had Jackie and Tyler over for drinks. Jackie had been one of Carlo’s roommates in his hyper-active former apartment, and Tyler (his new boyfriend) had actually been in high school with me in Toronto for a year or so. They’d gotten back from a Grand Tour of Europe that fall and wanted to share it all with us. And that included a handful of magazines that Tyler tossed on the coffee table in front of me (while Carlo was mixing drinks in the kitchen), urging me to “see what life in Europe is like!” This was in the days when Canada Customs was still fiercely guarding the moral integrity of the nation by impounding and destroying vast amounts of pornography every year. Whatever did get through was usually pretty mild stuff. These mags were something else again. The third one, though, stopped me dead in my tracks. There was something familiar – chillingly familiar – about the body and dick of the cover model (the title of the mag covered his face). I froze. To his credit, Tyler quickly sensed that something was wrong. He began gathering up his magazines again, but I hung onto the one I was holding. I was, oddly enough, very proud of myself that neither my hands nor my voice were shaking. But I didn’t fool Tyler for a second. “No, Tyler, I’m finding this one very interesting.” I flipped through the pages, finding the cover shoot. It featured eight pages of promo stills for an upcoming film starring “the hot new sensation, Alfonso Torres!” The photos concealed nothing. Not the asses. Not the dicks. And not the clearly bare dick of “Alfonso” sliding into the cute little ass of the blond twink under him. Nor the equally bare dick of the big muscle stud pushing into his hole at the same time. It looked like one fucking hot fuck chain. Except, of course, that his real name wasn’t Alfonso. It was Carlo. My Carlo. Barebacking one guy, and getting barebacked by another guy, on camera, for the whole world to see. Then Jackie – dear, obtuse, stupid Jackie – said, “Wow, that must be hot if it grabbed Rick’s attention!” Before Tyler could stop him, he jumped up, came, and looked over my shoulder. And stared. And said, “Oh, fuuuuck.” Just like that. With his voice curving down towards the floor, the single epithet landing with a thud. Tyler stood up, grabbed Jackie, and steered him – none too gently, either – towards the door. He quickly struggled to invent an excuse about having just remembered another engagement or something. And just then, Carlo came back in with the tray. “What? You guys aren’t going? You just got here!” Tyler gave their excuses, leaving Carlo plainly baffled, but they said goodbye quickly, and went. “Rick, what the hell was that all about?” And then, looking at me more closely, “What’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” “It’s on the coffee table. Excellent quality photo work.” I couldn’t even look at him as he sat down, picked up the magazine, and flipped through it in a daze. In my head, I was busy lecturing myself. Don’t go all emotional. You’ll just demean yourself. Don’t play the victim, be the judge on the bench. Remember that line from “The Winslow Boy” – “Cold, clear logic, and buckets of it, should be the lawyer’s only equipment.” Just do what you have to do and get it over with as quickly and neatly as possible. Carlo spoke. “Rick, what do you want me to say?” “I want you to answer two questions for me. One: did you guys cum inside each other?” “Yes.” He was honest. I had to give him that. “And two: have there been any others?” “Yes.” I was silent. Then he flared out at me. “Rick, what the hell else would you expect? You’ve been damn near non-existent for the last six months, buried in your legal studies.” “I’d expect you to tell me. I’m not upset about you fooling around with other guys, that’s your business. If you want to play dice with your health, your life, by doing them bareback, that’s your business too. But here, you’re playing fast and loose with my health, with my life, and that’s where it becomes my business. That’s what you should have told me.” “I know. I should have. And I’m sorry.” “Carlo, you’ll need to start looking for another place. And start packing up your things. You can sleep here on the pullout until you’re ready to go.” “You can’t mean that, Rick! What we have is so amazing, so powerful… that love is worth fighting for, to bring it back to life.” “It’s about trust. I trusted you, and you trusted me, and now you’ve shattered that trust. I could forgive you some day, maybe, but could I ever trust you again? I doubt it. I’m going to bed – alone. And in the morning, I’m going to Doctor Brennan to get tested – alone.” I went into the bedroom, shut the door, and flopped onto the bed, crying silently. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him hear me weeping. Within a week, he’d found a new place and moved out. I couldn’t even bring myself to say goodbye. What I could do – and did, unflinchingly, for years – was to blame myself for being such a selfish, self-centred idiot. Carlo was right about one thing: what we’d had was amazing, it was powerful, and I’d thrown it all away with both hands, without even a second thought, to pursue my own personal ambition. His reaction was unforgivable, yes, but it was just that: a reaction, triggered by my withdrawal, by my inaction. I’d gotten exactly what I deserved. At least, the repeated testing showed that I was still negative. Some years later, I would discover that it was even worse than I’d thought. The film had been shot right there in Vancouver. The producer had wanted to use our apartment, but Carlo had at least had the common sense to veto that plan and they’d gone to a hotel instead. In any case, the film, first in a successful series, was only the last step. He’d been recruited by the producer when the producer had hired him for a hot night together, from an ad in a gay paper. He’d been escorting, fucking clients in our bed, probably bareback, while I was at school. “Have there been any others?” Oh, yes – more than likely, too many to count.

I hope he ends up getting arrested and put behind bars for the next 15 years or so. It would look good on him. But I do feel sorry for Felipe now. He really ended up with egg all over his face. And LOL at Liam's walk of shame.

@Assmunch downtime from the computer is good for the soul. Enjoy your vacation getaway!

Chapter 2 Getting Educated – The Hard Way Later that afternoon, after another swim, Rich was feeling considerably refreshed. He thought again about the conversation that morning over a biography, and about his own inner thoughts. And with that, he realized that this was something he needed to do by himself, for himself, as a way of pulling back up every aspect of his life and seeing what his past had to say about the future he hoped to have. Simple to do, of course – it was just a matter of writing. Right? But Rich found he was immediately faced with the challenge of so many diarists and memoirists: how and where to start. He sat and stared for some minutes at his computer, until the screen timed out and went blank. Shaking his head in annoyance, he swiped the touchpad, reactivated the machine, opened a document file, and began. ******************** Richard Dunnatore (that’s me) was born in Toronto, Canada, in 1967. My country of birth was 100 years old, by that name, a few weeks after my birthday, although human habitation there extended back by many, many thousands of years earlier. Ricky, as I was known as a child, grew up in a fascinating household -- a rather unusual one for Canada in the 1960s. My dad was descended from two long-standing and very large Scottish families, “pure Scottish” as far back as anyone knew – which, of course, meant that our shared blood doubtless included substantial doses of Briton, Celt, Roman, Norse, and more. My mom was another matter. She was born in the international melting pot of Alcantara, her family background a wild mixture of a dozen or more different nationalities. It was from my father that I inherited his typically Scots stubbornness and an analytical turn of mind, while my mother gave me her wicked little grin, her sense of humour, and an even lighter-toned version of her caramel-coloured skin. From the earliest age I can remember, I was always called “Ricky” by all family and friends. Like most kids, if I ever heard the full, formal, “Richard Anthony Dunnatore,” I knew I was in trouble. How did my parents meet? Then as now, many young people from Alcantara would come to Canada for higher education. Mom and Dad met in a class at university in Toronto and got engaged even before they graduated -- something quite a few Alcantaran students still do. I’m not wasting a lot of time on my school years. They had no real bearing on the man I would become. I progressed through the elementary, junior high, and high school levels of the curriculum with no effort at all. Concepts that many classmates struggled with seemed to click into place in my mind like the tumblers of a lock. That left me plenty of time for out-of-school activities, one of which in particular took up a big chunk of my life as I got older: swimming. Not really surprising. The family (which now included my 3-years-younger sister, Chloe) would go every year at Christmas and spring holiday periods to visit with Mom’s family in Alcantara. That country was not then nearly as heavily developed and loaded down with imported money as it would later become, and Grandma and Grandpa lived in a quite modest house on a small beach, a twenty-minute drive outside the town of Portavedra. My mom told me in after years that she had to keep a really sharp eye on me and get Grandma and Grandpa to do the same – because, as soon as I was old enough to toddle on my own feet, I could be counted on to make a beeline for the ocean on every possible occasion. By age 5 I was already a competent swimmer and, by the time I reached age 8 or 9, I was getting really serious about it. Later on, I would begin to add up the facts and realize that my father came from some serious old money in Canada and had already inherited enough to make our lives more than comfortable. My Alcantaran grandparents weren’t from the same economic circle at all, and that disparity was a source of edginess between them and my dad. They were always polite and pleasant with each other, but that was as far as it went. At any rate, my obvious skill at and love for swimming led my parents to enrol me in a swim club in Toronto at age 9, and my progress leaped forward in great strides. In no time, I was winning age group championships, first in the city, and then provincially. As I moved onwards to high school, I enrolled in an elite training program for potential international competitors. Even before my swimming career got that far, though, I had realized something very important. I couldn’t tell you exactly when it started, but I found that I wanted to spend every spare minute scoping out the bodies of all the other male swimmers, especially the more mature teenaged guys. The fact that we were all wearing tight brief speedos for streamlining in the water gave me plenty to look at, but it also gave me something to hide. I quickly found out that I would get teased within an inch of my life when my fellow swimmers spotted me growing a woody in my suit, so I had to make a conscious effort to think about something else at practice. That included what happened even more from looking at the coaches – Coach Anderson with his massive, hairy chest and Coach Rolphe with his slimmer, classic swimmer build and sizable bulge. Later on, at home, was another matter. I’d stored up all the visuals from practices in my very retentive memory and those mental images fuelled many of my late-night jack-off sessions, too numerous to be counted. By the time I’d gotten into high school, I’d shortened my name to “Rick” (because it sounded, as I thought, more “manly”). By this time, too, there was already a certain amount of “experimenting” going on among the boys on the swim team during road trips. Given my acute awareness of my own feelings, it wasn’t hard for me to figure out which of the guys were “just fooling around” and which were seriously interested in each other. Derikk Maddeson was one guy who seemed to be seriously interested in me, and I certainly was interested in him. On one trip, he managed to arrange things so that I would be rooming with him, and experimentation went a little further. It was cautious, it was furtive, and it was definitely uncomfortable – it hurt like hell, actually -- but that was the night I lost my cherry. On the next trip, he let me return the favour – if you could call it that. I wasn’t a bit more competent at it than he was, and the cheap hotel lotion made a horrible lube. By the time I graduated from high school, top of my class, it was obvious to both me and the coaches that my swimming career had reached its apex, and that my times simply weren’t good enough for the Olympics to be in my future. With that in mind, I explained to my parents that I really wanted to go to a top university in another province. My stated reason was that I wanted to “broaden my mental horizons and life experiences.” While that would assuredly be helpful, what I really wanted, of course, was to be free to do some more detailed exploration of my sexuality without too much parental oversight. So, I chose to pursue a degree in political science at Mainland University in Vancouver. It was a smart choice as that city on the west coast was already well-provided with young men who shared my interests, in school -- and out of it. While I aced all my courses with no trouble, it was the summers that I enjoyed the most. That was when I could lounge on the sand of any of the numerous beaches, working on my tan and swimming in the ocean, or swim laps in the outdoor public pools. Either situation provided ample opportunities to meet other serious swimmers like myself, and ample opportunities to meet men who were like me in other ways. In no time, I found out where the popular bars and other hangouts were and began hooking up with some interesting guys. At the end of my first term, when I went home for a Christmas visit, I stepped up for the hardest task I’d ever faced in my life. I wasn’t at all sure how my parents would react, especially my father, but they had to know, and it was up to me to tell them. The second night home, I sat down with them after dinner, and simply said, “Dad… Mom… I’m gay.” There was a silence of a few seconds. Then my mother laughed. “You thought I hadn’t figured that out for myself years ago?” “How did you guess?” “No guessing. Look, Ricky, it’s just that… mothers just know. We may not talk about it, but we know.” I never did break her of calling me Ricky. All the same, I heaved a massive sigh of relief. My father, though, sat silent, looking rather less happy. “Dad?” At last, he spoke. “I’m sorry, son. I know what you’re hoping I would say, but I’m just not ready to go there yet. Just let me ask you this: are you sure?” I replied quietly. “I’m sure. I wouldn’t tell you this if I weren’t sure, but I’ve known pretty much since the age when I joined the swim club -- and yes, I’m sure.” “And does it make you happy, Rick?” “What will make me happy will be living as myself, openly, truly, not hiding or holding back, or pretending to be someone I’m not. If I meet someone special, and share my life with him, that will be the icing on the cake.” It was unusual to see my dad, the master of snap decision-making, taking his time to ponder his next move. But, finally, he spoke again. “Well, Rick, since you’re sure, and since it will make you happy to live this way, I’ll give you my blessing. I can’t truly say that I understand it yet, but I hope that someday it will all become clearer to me and then I will truly be able to be happy with you, and for you.” “Thank you, Dad. And thank you, too, Mom.” “Ricky, are you planning to tell Chloe?” “Yes, I’ll let her know next time I see her. But, Mom, she’s so much like you that I suspect she will already have guessed too.” Mom gave me a massive hug as I said goodnight. Dad hugged me too, which was unusual for him. It was much more tentative, more “distanced,” but it really moved me that he had already come so far to meet me where I was living my life. Back in Vancouver for the second term, I discovered the existence of a swim club whose members worked out regularly in one of the indoor pools during the winter, and (as they told me) outdoors in the summer. Certainly, not all the guys in the club were gay but the classic swimmer physiques in tight suits made me feel right at home. This was an environment I loved. I loved it so much that I actually went and signed up for a lifeguard certification course, something I’d never done before. Predictably, I aced it and was then able to get a part-time job that helped with living expenses as much as with cruising for sex. Have you ever stopped to figure out how many horny young guys harbour secret lifeguard fantasies? I did some on-the-ground market research in that field, and I got myself several hot dates just by sitting a certain way on the lifeguard stand and casually scratching my inner thigh. After years of practice, I’d learned to turn my gaydar right off when I got into the pool, bringing to my swimming the same fierce level of concentration I always had done. After workouts? Well, that was another matter. Once in a while, someone would get brave and start something in the showers. More often, though, I’d get an invite to “hang out” afterwards. Some of those hangouts were individual, but some were threesomes or more. Sometimes I’d get invited to stay over, but most of these encounters were quickies, intended to “scratch the itch,” but nothing more than that. Actually, the first time I “slept over” was at my first orgy, where I fell asleep somewhere near the bottom of a pile of exhausted male bodies with dripping dicks. It was, in fact, on a sunny day at the pool (in August, before my final year) that I found myself swimming in the lane next to a devastatingly handsome young Italianate guy with a lightly furred chest, dark eyes, and glossy black curly hair. He wasn’t a member of the club, but I had seen him around the pool on occasion. After we’d finished our laps for the day, we went for a coffee, and wound up back in my apartment. I poured Carlo a beer, with another for myself, and then went into the bathroom to hang up my wet swimsuit and towel. As I was stretching up with the towel towards the shower rod, I felt two arms go around my waist and a hard body pressing against my back, with an even harder dick prodding into my crack. Truth be told, I’d been having plenty of sex but all of it was very much at the elementary level – suck it, stick it in, fuck, cum. This was actually the first time I had ever experienced the subtle thrill of feeling another man get intimate with me while we still had our clothes on. Every other time I’d been with a guy, right back to Derikk, we’d just dropped our clothes and gotten right down to it. Since we were both horny, and Carlo was plainly more experienced, it soon graduated into a first lesson in the equivalent thrill of slowly undressing another guy. It was on our second (and first planned) date that he pushed me down on my face on the bed and spread my legs apart. I knew what that meant and began mentally relaxing myself. What happened was not what I expected. I felt something warm and moist on my ass cheek and realized that Carlo was kissing my ass. I sure hadn’t asked him to do it, nor had I told him to “kiss my ass.” I’d heard that saying any number of times, but this was the first time I’d ever experienced it. The sensations that flooded through me were incredible as he made love to my cheeks, then spread them apart and slowly licked his way down to the bottom of my crack. If I’d been startled before, I now flew far past astonished as Carlo slowly, but determinedly, licked and sucked and wiggled his tongue over the tight knot of my hole until – at last – it relaxed enough for him to worm his tongue right inside me. Then, he went right to town, tonguing my hole, sliding in and out, pushing it, and twisting his tongue around to keep working on my muscle. All the while, his fingers were determinedly squeezing and massaging my cheeks as if they were two loaves of bread that he was kneading. Then he took a finger and began to slide it into me, still licking and teasing my anus with his tongue. That finger began doing incredible things inside my tight hole, twisting around and stroking me in every direction. Then, the fingertip found my prostate – and I damn near blew my load right then and there. But Carlo could read the signs to perfection. He quickly eased off and went back to sliding that finger in and out of me. Then a second finger joined the first one. Now those two digits were doing a mating dance of their own inside my hole, twirling around each other, bowing and straightening, pointing to all the degrees of the compass in the most unexpected ways. I’d never felt anything like this before, and it was all I could do to keep from yelling out loud from the ecstatic thrills he was giving me. I didn’t yell, but all the while I kept moaning and sighing and urging him to keep going. He withdrew his tongue and fingers for a minute, and then I felt the cool sensation of lube on my crack, and his lubed-up fingers sliding inside me. At last, he withdrew his fingers. I felt the bare tip of his cock pushing lightly but firmly against my hole – and I froze up. By this time, I was far from being a shrinking virgin. I’d been around the block, as the old saying goes, more than a few times. I’d fucked and been fucked by quite a few guys, but I certainly knew “what was what” when it came to safe sex and always remembered to use condoms – after all, this was 1989, and the Plague had been raging through the world’s gay communities with devastating effect for over a decade. So I told Carlo, bluntly, “No condom, no fuck.” I was actually delighted when he agreed with me, and took up a condom from my bedside table, unwrapping it, and unrolling it down his tool. It was a really great dick he had – seven inches long, nice and thick, and with a slight upturn at the tip that was guaranteed to produce maximum pleasure inside any ass. I rolled on my back, pulled my legs up, and watched, eagerly, as he placed the tip against my hole and began pushing gently into me. One of the things I liked about Carlo was that he never rushed me, never did anything I wasn’t ready to do. But on this occasion, he proved that he could be more demanding. I asked him to stop and hold still, but he insisted that I would be fine if I just breathed deeply and relaxed, letting him all the way into me. I did – and he did – and in another minute his hips were planted firmly right against my butt cheeks and his cock was giving me a fantastic sensation of fullness. It was the first time I could ever remember feeling like a man’s tool belonged inside me, not like it was an alien invader that had to be repelled. That was thanks to Carlo’s careful and thorough preparations. Lesson learned. As he began pumping his cock in and out of my ass, I found myself moving right along with him, and enjoying every minute of the experience. Carlo then gave me another lesson, disguised as a hot fuck. He started showing me, by doing them, all kinds of different positions that a top could use on a bottom. While I was enjoying the sensations of being fucked by a true expert, my busy mind was storing all this information away for future use – such as for me to use on Carlo the next time. But then I stopped my mental filing and started gasping for air as my load began mounting up to my dick. I was going to cum, and very soon. Carlo of course recognized the symptoms and bore down even more, thrusting deep inside me on each stroke until I finally choked out the words, “Gonna cum… gonna cum! And cum I did. My cock, for the first time ever, hadn’t wilted or shrivelled in the pain of penetration and now it began jolting up and down, firing big squirts of man cream up across my body and face – the first shot even hit the headboard above me. The contractions of my ass as I came did Carlo in, too, and he quickly slid out of my hole, yanked the condom off, and began jerking madly. After about 3 seconds of pounding his meat, he groaned and fired his own load across my abs, mixing with mine. He kept right on jerking until the last drops dribbled slowly out. He then collapsed on top of me, letting our combined cum glue us together as we kissed. It was the greatest fuck I’d ever had – up to that point. But it got even better. I studied many more lessons during that first meeting with Carlo, and on the numerous subsequent dates we had during the remainder of my final year. He was experienced, and I do mean experienced. Carlo tutored me through the high school levels and well into the college degree program of man-to-man sex. He taught me everything there was to know about a man’s cock, his balls, his taint, his ass, his anus, his throat, his nipples, his feet, and – well, basically everything a truly well-educated gay guy ought to know. Compared to this man’s expert and polished performance during sex, everyone else I’d fucked with seemed like a clumsy beginner. I know I did, too, before I first hooked up with Carlo, but after a few months of playing with him regularly, I began to feel like I was on my way towards becoming an expert myself. Then there was the night when I’d taken the top role, sucking a first load out of Carlo, then rimming him practically into next week, and then fucking him for close to half an hour before shooting my load onto him. I’d learned that his favourite position as bottom was to lie on his face, with me lying right on top of him, slowly working my dick in and out of his hole. I really enjoyed that close contact as well. What I noticed, as I humped him at a leisurely pace, was that I could feel his heartbeat and it was perfectly synchronized with mine. That, I felt sure, had to mean something. When I finally speeded up my fucking motions, heading for my climax, Carlo was moaning louder and longer than I’d ever heard him before. At last, I pulled my cock out of him, slid off the rubber, and began jerking it as he rolled over onto his back and looked up at me. He was gasping for air as much as I was, and I drove my finger back inside his ass and rubbed his prostate. Instantly, he came, hands-free, just as the first shot came spurting out of my cock -- and there we were, both of us blasting cum like mad all over his furry, muscular chest and abs. After we’d calmed down again, he said, “Damn, Rick, you are getting really, really good at doing me.” I felt like I’d just been handed my diploma, summa cum laude. I began hearing comments from my friends, wondering if I was taken because I never seemed to be hanging out with anyone else. I’m sure they all assumed that Carlo and I were an item because we were spending so much time together. As well as timing our pool workouts so we could swim together most days, we were hooking up several times a week, and meeting at other moments for coffee or lunch. He never seemed to treat our relationship as anything more than fuck buddies, but if I was going to be honest with myself, I would have to admit that I was seriously falling for him. Meanwhile, my year was moving to its conclusion, and it was time to think of next steps. I knew now exactly what it was I wanted to do with my life – I wanted to become a lawyer. My parents had approved of the plan, and I had applied to several law schools. I got acceptances from all of them, but I had already decided to stay right where I was at the Mainland U. school of law. Once I got my degree transcript (top-ranked in all subjects, as usual), I signed a lease on a new and bigger apartment and figured I was all set. All set, that is, except for one thing. I had now accepted that I was seriously in love with Carlo, and he seemed to like me too, judging by the amount of time he spent at my place. I never saw his place because, as he put it, “it’s so small that there are roommates and neighbours practically in your lap at all hours of the day or night.” I knew that I needed to bring the matter to a head. I finally decided to plan a big night with a first-rate dinner, enjoy some really hot sex, and then offer him the spare keys and ask him to move in with me. I told him the evening was to celebrate my graduation. I met him at one of the classiest restaurants in town, and he, like me, had dressed up in a fashion that might be best described as “cutting edge.” Certainly, some heads swivelled when we walked in, and I claimed the reservation from the host stand. We were seated at a beautiful table, right by the window with a view of the sea and the mountains. We enjoyed every minute of a marvellous, leisurely meal that lasted close to two hours. At last, we left, and walked back to my new place, which also had a sea-and-mountains view. We sat down with another glass of wine, facing the windows, and I decided to go off my agenda and just jump straight to the big question. “Carlo, I know I said tonight was a celebration of my diploma, and it was – but there’s something more. Over the last eight months, you’ve really grown into my life in a big way, and I’ve come to depend on you and to love you in a way that I’ve never felt before for anyone. Because I love you, and want to be your boyfriend, it’s time for me to ask you: do you want to move in with me?” And I held out the keys. I don’t know what I expected as a reaction. I was prepared for acceptance, rejection (although that would have hurt), even deferral. What I didn’t expect was to see his face expressing indecision. At last, Carlo spoke. “I’m sorry, Rick, but I didn’t even see that coming. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I knew that you enjoyed spending time with me, as I enjoy spending time with you, but I just didn’t pick up that you were falling in love. And I don’t know what to say.” I’d be lying if I pretended that I wasn’t disappointed. And he knew it. He went on. “I’m sorry I disappointed you. I know I did; I can see it in your face. I wish I didn’t have to do that, but I need to be honest as you’ve been honest with me. I need some time to think about this, to see where my feelings lie and where they want to lead me.” I swallowed my disappointment. “I’m okay with that. I can wait for you.” And then I stood up, and gestured him to come with me, taking a step towards the bedroom. “You still want to? After I just let you down with a thud like that?” “Of course.” We went into the bedroom, and slowly, as usual, undressed each other, caressing each area of skin as it was revealed. I was doing my best to put a world of meaning into each caress, each little pat, each touch and hold and stroke, and I’m sure he could feel it. When we were both naked, standing, holding each other close, our hard cocks pushing against each other, Carlo kissed me, then pressed his lips against my cheek, close to my ear, and whispered to me. “Show me, Rick. Show me your feelings now, all of them. Make love to me, Rick.” Since I had been thinking of doing exactly that, it was an easy request to fulfil. I swept him up in my arms, carried him to the bed, and laid him gently down, then lay down myself next to him. Over the next hour, I did my best to use all the skills I had learned during my time with him, to bring it all back to the source and lavish it all on him. I gave his cock a slow, gentle sucking which teased every one of his nerve endings (and a good many of mine, too). I stroked and caressed every inch of his beautiful, firm, rounded ass, and then covered ever inch of it with my kisses. I tongued and fingered his hole until I had him almost screaming in ecstasy, demanding that I fuck him. Finally, rubbered and lubed up, I slid gently into his hole, lying down along his back and kissing, licking, nibbling at his ear as I slowly moved my cock in and out of him. After pumping him like this for a few minutes, I pulled out, rolled him over, and looked deep into his eyes as I took him again, slowly pushing my cock all the way back into his ass. I then leaned down and began kissing him, slipping him my tongue, letting our mouths and tongues lock together in a mating dance every bit as intense as the one going on down below. As I slowly increased the speed of my fucking, the mouth action became even more intense. Finally, though, I broke free and said, “Are you nearly there, baby? I want to come right with you.” “Yes… yes… fuck me hard, fuck the cum out of me.” I leaned up on my hands and began piledriving his ass, forcing my cock deeper inside him than I’d ever gotten before with anyone. I needed to give him the best fuck I had ever given. As I pounded him, he moaned and said, “Oh, yeah… that’s it… fucking give me that cock… fuck, yes… gonna cum… gonna CUM…!” I kept pounding him, watching, mesmerized, as the first shot leapt out of his cock, landing right across his face. That was all it took. I pulled free of his hole, tore off the rubber, and let mine fly too, as I scrambled up beside him and shot my load across his pecs and his face, until he was thoroughly covered with cum. Then I fell next to him, kissing him, and licking up as much cum as I could get before swapping it with him in more wet kisses. And then we lay there, quietly, arms and legs entwined, slowly regaining our breath. At last, Carlo spoke. “Rick, I’m sorry. I was wrong. It was staring me right in the face the whole time, and I just never knew it. You were right. We do belong together. You’re what I want, what I need. Did you put those keys away again yet?” “No. They’re right here, waiting for you.” “I love you, Rick.” “And I love you, Carlo.”

@billy88666 Put it down to skimming through it quickly the instant I crawled out of bed and saw that a new episode had dropped. Then I went and made the coffee and some breakfast. And THEN I came back and read it again and that's when I registered the two key words and the penny dropped. You know how it is, Sunday mornings it can take a while to really wake right up. 😆

@AznslutSF Psychopathic obsession indeed.

On second thought, it just hit me (an hour later) that I know exactly who the mystery man in the middle of the theatre really is. And I'm not telling! 😉🤣

@losolent yet again, you've done what you do so well -- leading us right up to the moment and then hanging us there, waiting. Loved that incredibly hot scene with Mateo and Tom. And who is the mystery man in the middle of the theatre -- could this be Max's former boyfriend, by any chance?

Thank you, hope you will enjoy the continuation.

@evilqueerpig thanks!

Chapter 1 Sunrise on Alcantara Rich came slowly awake, lying on his side and stretching like a contented cat. His eyes opened, taking in the dim daylight filtering into the bedroom around the shutter panels at the patio glass doors. He had good reason to feel contented. He’d fallen asleep last night after pumping two rounds of seed into Tommy’s ass, and then feeling Tommy’s long Asian dick shooting its usual big load deep inside his butt. Nothing like a good load of sperm up inside your ass to help you sleep well, he thought. As that thought crossed his mind, he felt Tommy’s arms tighten around him, the hard muscles flexing as he drew Rich closer. That wasn’t the only hard part he felt, becoming aware of Tommy’s dick snuggling right into his crack, obviously hoping to take another go at him. And why not? Rich purred like the contented cat he resembled, reaching back with his arm to grasp Tommy’s taut, muscular ass and pull him closer. As he did, Tommy nuzzled his ear and then kissed his way down onto Rich’s face, while Rich slowly turned his neck to meet those kisses, as he relaxed his hole to take Tommy’s erection. Tommy kept exchanging kisses with tongue with his lover as his cock slipped inside Rich’s firm, round ass and sank in right to the bottom. “Mmm, nice and warm and wet – just the way I like it. I love fucking you when you’ve kept my load inside you all night,” Tommy murmured as he slowly began sliding in and out. “Best lube I could ever ask for,” Rich replied. “Damn right,” Tommy replied, slowly picking up the pace of his fucking motions. Sliding in and out of Rich’s ass, he began twisting his tool around like a corkscrew, making sure to stroke every part of the warm hole and especially taking care to bounce the tip off Rich’s man gland frequently, evoking frequent moans of ecstasy as he did so. Rich may not have been hard when he woke up (although Tommy certainly was) but he was rapidly catching up, his rigid cock flexing up and down and leaking precum at a rapid clip. As Rich’s breathing got faster and shallower, Tommy read the signs and knew that he was going to cum soon – and that was fine with him, too. Accelerating the pace of his fuck motions, Tommy spooned Rich harder and harder, both of them expressing their pleasure more vocally with each stroke. Tommy pushed hard with one leg, rolling Rich onto his face and bringing himself up on top. He lay right down across Rich’s broad, muscled back, slamming forcefully down into Rich’s hole and pummelling his prostate. By now, both knew that they were going to cum together and it was going to happen very soon. Rich was now gasping for air as his orgasm mounted up like a wave ready to crash down on the beach at the foot of the hill. “Oh, fuck… Tommy… fuck… I’m gonna… give it to me… I’m cumming!!!” Just as Rich panted out the last words, Tommy rapidly slam-fucked him, driving down hard and fast into Rich’s hole, then shouted out, “Fuck, yeah!” as his load erupted inside his husband, seed streaming in rapid pulses out of his rigid cock to fill Rich’s ass to overflowing. Tommy kept pumping in and out, still in overdrive, as Rich’s muscles grabbed at his tool, milking all the seed out of him as his own juices shot out on the bed underneath his taut abs. At last, Tommy slowed down and then came to a final stop, buried deep inside Rich. Rich turned his head and they kissed again, laughing at the sheer joy of being together again after a week of Rich being away from home on business. “Damn, that was good, Tommy. There’s just no stopping you.” “Sorry, Rich, I just couldn’t help it, seeing you again. I must have been dreaming about you all night because, when I woke, I found that I was up before I was up.” Slowly, Tommy eased his still-hard cock out of Rich’s ass, and then got up and went into the bathroom, returning a moment later with two wet washcloths which they used to mop the sperm off their bodies. Rich got up, too, and walked into the closet, opening a drawer, and returning a moment later wearing a red speedo. Tommy, having ditched the washcloths, followed his example, but his black suit was covered with a flashy pattern of blue, green, and yellow lightning bolts. “You know something, Rich? For a senior citizen, you really wear that damn speedo well.” “Not as well as you, Tommy – Mister Middle-Aged Japan for 2022!” Tommy made a face, and they both laughed. Rich opened the shutter panels and slid back the glass patio doors. The two of them went outside and plunged into the pool, coming up against the glass infinity wall which overlooked the view. Below and around them, the green-mantled hills rose up steeply around three sides of the compact little harbour, and across those hillsides spread the white and pastel-coloured buildings, the flower gardens, the palm trees of the compact city of Portavedra, capital of Alcantara. The rising sun shone down brightly on the city, glinting off the discreet golden cupola on the Assembly building and the freshly coppered spire of the cathedral. Off to the left, they could see the towering, angular cranes, looking like so many giant praying mantises, in the larger outer harbour where the cargo piers, the cruise ship port, and the inter-island ferry terminal were located. Out in the distance, to their right, they could just make out, through the early morning haze on the ocean, the more rugged and mountainous island of Isabella. Ever the historian and linguist, Tommy had always been acutely aware of the significance of the Spanish name, “Alcantara.” It came from the Arabic al qantara for “the bridge” and this island of Alcantara had always been the bridge by which to access the entire cluster of islands, because it possessed the only true and sheltered harbour. No wonder it had been so popular with the pirates of the Caribbean (the real ones) back in the day – and no wonder that the island of Alcantara had lent its name to the entire country when Alcantara diverged from its former Spanish overlords and set out on the path of national independence. The unique history of Alcantara had also led to it having a uniquely mixed and multicultural population, bringing together peoples from the Americas, Europe, Africa, and Asia in a single melting pot of cultural possibilities, with the unusual feature for the region of having English as the single most common language among the wildly diverse population. The government also recognized Spanish and Mayan as official languages. In the old days, people trying to land on the cliff-girt shores of Isabella had to leap ashore onto the rocks during the rare calm moments between waves as there was neither beach nor harbour. Once the mining was ready to begin, the government had to borrow huge sums of money (well, huge by Alcantaran standards), to construct an expensive artificial harbour. The loans were secured against the future output of the diamond mine – but, since the mine had been so spectacularly profitable, the loans had soon been fully paid off. As for the coral atoll of Serafina, with its tiny little sandbar islands scattered on a jewel cushion of brilliant green water inside the reef, the developers of the airport had been forced to do an extreme amount of dredging to build up enough solid land for the runway. Here, too, the diamond mine had covered the costs – and that included the sizable airport terminal. The Alcantara International Airport had a very unusual feature, in that the ferries from the islands of Alcantara and Isabella actually docked inside the security zone. Their passengers had already checked in and cleared outbound security and passport controls at the ferry terminals on the other islands, before boarding the high-speed catamarans that took them to the airport. Only the passengers departing from the over-water bungalow resorts on Serafina itself had to clear security and passport controls at the airport. Serafina wasn’t part of the view from the pool; it was out of sight behind the rugged spine of the island, over their left shoulders. Rich sighed with sheer contentment, looking out across that panorama with Tommy’s arm holding him close against his side as he inhaled the heady perfumes of the tropical flowers around the terrace and pool. They’d been together for over 20 years, married for 12, and Rich still thought himself the luckiest man in the world, with a rewarding career, this beautiful home, an incredible view, the gorgeous pool, and – better than any of those – his wonderful husband, Tommy. Tommy, for his part, was realizing that the view hadn’t really changed in the last 24 hours, even though his first thought was that it had. He’d still been out here every morning for a swim before breakfast for the last week, the usual routine. The whole vista just looked so much more colourful and attractive on this sunny Saturday morning, now that he had his man back beside him again. They spent the next 20 minutes or so swimming and splashing around, with a little groping and grab-ass just for laughs. Rich called time. As he swam over to the ladder, Tommy was right behind him. Rich started up the ladder, then stopped as he felt his trunks sliding down off his ass – immediately followed by the unmistakable sensation of Tommy’s lips caressing his skin. But then Tommy tugged as little too hard on Rich’s speedo, and Rich let go of the ladder, falling back into the pool right on top of him. As they spluttered for air, Rich wagged his finger at Tommy, laughing. “Naughty boy! Have you forgotten why we have to wear swimsuits all the time out here?” “Uh-huh. Old Mrs. What’s-Her-Name over there called the cops on us when we tried skinny dipping the first week we were here.” “That’s right. And she’s still living there, and I bet she still has her binoculars right by her living-room window.” Cooled off, they climbed out of the pool, still laughing, then went inside, and threw on some casual clothes – before heading downstairs to make coffee and breakfast. Twenty minutes later, they were sitting outside again at the table by the pool, enjoying the warm sun and the pleasure of their company. Somehow, Tommy thought, even the brioche, fruit, yogurt, and coffee had tasted better today. With a second round of coffee poured, Tommy was studying the online news from various different websites, while Rich just basked in the sun. Suddenly, Tommy let out a low whistle, saying, “There’s the kind of story you don’t see as much now as you did back in the day.” Rich sat up. “What is it?” Tommy handed Rich his tablet. The headline above a photo on a popular gay news site read: 90s GAY PORN STAR SUCCUMBS TO AIDS To Tommy’s astonishment, the tablet started shaking in Rich’s hand. Tommy took it away quickly, before Rich could drop it, and gently took Rich’s hand. “What is it, Rich?” Rich had to struggle to form the words. At last, he managed to say, “That’s Carlo.” “Who?” “That porn star. ‘Alfonso Torres.’ His real name is… was… Carlo Montini.” “Yes. That detail’s in the story, which you haven’t read yet. How did you know that, Rich?” Tommy wasn’t angry or suspicious, just curious. “Tommy, it’s Carlo. I told you about him. My first partner, the one I was with when I was going to law school in Canada.” “Ohhhh.” Tommy’s voice slid slowly down the scale as Rich’s answer sank in. It was easy for him to see that Rich was reliving old memories, some comfortable and some much less so, and he just set the tablet aside and held back from saying any more. It was ten minutes or so later that Rich surfaced from his deep, dark cave of memories, and found Tommy watching him – not anxiously, certainly not trying to be nosy, just his usual caring, protective self. “Sorry about that, Tommy. It just shook me a bit, seeing that picture. Brought a lot of things back up that I’ve tried hard to put behind me for good.” “You can’t bury your past, Rich. It’ll always be a part of you.” “I can’t bury my past because some historian like you is sure to dig it up again.” He winked; Tommy laughed, loudly. Then Rich went on. “Hey, maybe I should get you to write my official biography.” Tommy chuckled again. “Sorry, I only write about historically important people with hidden, dirty secrets that need to be uncovered.” “Minister of Justice and Deputy Premier for Alcantara – I think that’s pretty important.” “True – at least until the next election, then all bets are off until the voting’s done. But what’s to uncover? You already told me all the dirty bits. There’s nothing left for me to dig up! Waste of my time, you’ll have to do it yourself!” “Riiiight. And what’s that old saying about writing on asbestos paper?” They both laughed, and Tommy poured some more coffee. But then Rich descended into his thoughts once again. He wasn’t thinking specifically about Carlo, now -- more about the entire strange path of his life – the early years in a suburb of Toronto, figuring out that he was gay, the multiple partners, coming out, law school, Carlo, Frank, the move from law into politics, learning the hard way about how much of power politics happened between the sheets, then meeting Tommy and winding up in Alcantara as a political leading figure. So much more to recall along the way. And, with it, there was the uncomfortable truth that he hadn’t in fact told Tommy about all the dirty bits. Some of them danced right around the edges of his confidentiality oath as a member of Cabinet and the government. A few involved the international profile and trustworthiness of Alcantara itself. And, he thought, as a small country with a one-resource economy, being trustworthy was one of the few cards Alcantara had to play in dealing with larger and far more wealthy countries. It irritated the hell out of him that he couldn’t share these things with Tommy, but that was the nature of the beast and it left him no choice. Political life was a beast in a lot of ways, and it was sucking out his integrity and honesty even as he struggled to hang onto that lifelong stock-in-trade. Rich realized that their joking conversation about an official biography had uncovered an important truth. He needed to get in better touch with his true inner self. At the ripe old age of 55, it was high time that he started to figure out who Richard Dunnatore actually was. After a few minutes, Rich suddenly shook himself free from his reverie, stood up, and stretched. “Damn, I’m tired. I think I’ll go back to bed for a while.” “What’s on the schedule today, Rich?” “Less than nothing. I told Lucy I’d hang her out with the laundry if she tried to stick me with any appointments or meetings today. All I wanted was to get home and be with you.” “So that means I have to go back to bed too?” “Only if you want to, Tommy.” Rich was grinning, though, because Tommy was already rubbing the bulge in his shorts and that bulge was already growing. But Rich shook his head. “Uh-uh. If there’s any action going on now, it’s going to be my turn to take charge.” “Well, come on, Mr. Big Shot – what are you waiting for?” In a few more seconds, the glass doors were closed, the shutters pulled across, and the two of them were back in bed together. Or, more precisely, Tommy was lying on the bed with Rich standing over him, seductively pulling his shorts down to reveal his cock standing proud and erect. “If you want to get Mr. Big Shot’s big shot, you’re going to have to give that some attention.” Tommy leaned up and took Rich’s cock into his mouth, bringing an immediate groan of satisfaction from Rich’s throat. As he slowly sucked and licked on the tool, Rich soon found himself aching to return the favour. In another minute they were lying side by side on the bed, each busily engaged in giving pleasure to the rigid cock of the other. Both of them loved doing sixty-nine. They were so completely in tune with each other, after years of practice, that they fell instantly into each other’s rhythm without even consciously thinking of it. One minute, they would speed up the sucking motions, adding intensity to speed until it seemed that they would both explode at any moment, then the next they would slack right off, pulling free and licking the shafts to allow themselves to cool down a bit, before the next round of building up the sensations. Finally, Rich began sucking at a really furious pace, at the same time squeezing Tommy’s ass cheeks and teasing his hole. Tommy got the signal and speeded up his sucking motions on Rich’s cock. Rich’s legs began twitching in muscle spasms as his cock exploded into Tommy’s mouth, and Tommy shot his sperm into Rich’s mouth a moment later. Multiple squirts later, they slowly released each other’s satiated dicks. Rich swung around to lay his head beside Tommy on the pillow, and they kissed passionately, swapping cum loads with each other in a joyous snowball. For some minutes after they’d swallowed their combined loads, they continued kissing deeply, lovingly, gently stroking each other’s bodies and murmuring their love to each other. Rich began dozing off first, and Tommy pulled him in, letting Rich pillow his head on Tommy’s chest. He murmured, “Happy Saturday,” to Rich and let his own eyes shut, his arm cuddling his husband close to him as he drifted off to sleep again.

This brought to mind a lawyer character in a play I saw who said, "Cold, clear logic -- and buckets of it -- should be a lawyer's only equipment." And that's exactly the way Potter took out the garbage. Impressive.

Right on target. So many hours I can't even imagine! We're all grateful for the amount of time and effort @losolent is putting into his craft.

Our heroes are busily rewriting the protocol manual so that new security officers will be required to have sex in order to promote closeness with the royals they protect! So far, the trip is turning into a rollicking good time, in spite of 8 or 9 hours of jetlag. And now we wait for the villain of the piece to enter, in a flourish of ominous music and a puff of black smoke 🤣 @losolent loving the overall playful atmosphere among the members of the royal party.

Super intense scene, super powerful writing.

This is one of those times that this site needs a hug emoji.

What a rollercoaster ride. One minute wanting to cum right along with Tom and Kev in that phone call and the next wanting to vomit myself as those two maniacs raped Weeble. Powerful as hell, but definitely not comfortable reading.

@losolent The title of this chapter promised much, and you delivered on that, but so much more too. So many fascinating angles in the relationships among all your many characters, and so many terrific settings for Max to grow into his new role as royal consort -- he's just killing it, and that's great to see! I'm in total awe of the amount of time and effort you've invested into this ongoing saga, not just the mere act of writing such a lengthy epic, but even more the complex network of personalities and connections among all these people. Bravo, sir!

A true leader indeed, the way Assmunch has lined up all the pieces needed to show Weeble how to believe in himself. I just had the biggest grin all over my face when the Bravos were on the bus heading back to base and cheering for Weeble.

@losolent Wow, what a pile of excitement for all your loyal audience. First, the vivid description of Max's feelings as he completes the transition from scared, shy guy in the background to royal celebrity in his own right. Then on to Josh and his startled reaction to receiving the Sovereign Warrant. And finally, a different kind of excitement altogether as Tom finds himself chained to the bed and completely at the mercy of Hannes. A memorable day all around! And you've depicted it so memorably for all of us. Thank you!

Looks like Felipe is going to prove the truth of the old saying that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! So many smiling moments reading this chapter, as the entire London and Monrovian cast of characters begin melding into one big family all together.

@losolent There are so many fascinating stories playing out in this chapter, and so much anticipation building up at the end. I'm on pins and needles, waiting for the next one! While the sex between Nick and Asa was awesome, as always, even more gripping was the conversation where Nick gradually uncovered his soul, revealing the back story behind his own rigid avoidance of emotional intimacy. Wow.

That was an amazing scene! I can certainly get why you were urgent to reach this key point. I'm sure my eyes were staring, wide open, as I read it. Very powerful moment of truth for all three of them.

In another 20 years, Liam will finish turning from straight to gay because the entire staff of the palace will be gay by that time -- and it will be the first royal court since the 1700s to have an actual artist-in-residence!