King of the Twinks

[daddybear54]

Chapter 7:  Penthouse Confidential

 

 

Life in the penthouse kept right on going for almost two more years.

 

Alan fulfilled his promise, lining Ricky up with a steady, full time job in an upscale men’s wear store just a few doors down the street from the condo building.

 

“How much would you like me to contribute to the household  expenses each month?”

 

“Nothing, Ricky. It’s all under control. You’ll have pocket money, but also you’ll have a chance to start a savings and investment program. Actually, I’ve set one up for you, with a $25,000 starter gift. That’s the minimum amount to open one of these.”

 

Alan went on to explain how the pooled funds in the program were invested by the managers in multiple kinds of investment vehicles, and shifted around to take full advantage of the rises and falls in the various markets. The trick, as he explained to his boy, was to regard the fund not as mad money but, as he put it, “a long-term investment in your future. When you come to the point where larger sums of money can help you achieve your lifetime goals, that’s when you use it.”

 

Ricky promptly went on line and, with Alan’s assistance, set up an automatic monthly payment from his account into the fund pool. Alan smiled broadly at this choice. He  couldn’t help reflecting that this boy was the absolute opposite of the last one, a carefree wasteful spender who had as little money when Alan gently dropped him as he’d had eighteen months before when they had first met. By this time, Alan had set Ricky up with a desk and all the necessaries in the living room of one of the guest suites, and just like that, the impoverished young guy from East Mudhole had his own private office in one of the most deluxe addresses in greater Los Angeles.

 

Ricky surprised Alan in other ways as well. He heard from Ricky’s boss (an old friend) that, unlike some of his contemporaries, Ricky didn’t make a habit of wandering in to work late, or of texting whenever there were customers in the store. In fact, he took to putting his phone on silent mode and leaving it in his pocket. His friends, Dylan especially, teased him mercilessly about being so anti-social, but the customers appreciated the way he gave them his full attention and listened carefully to their requirements.

 

Just by giving this level of full attention to his work on the sales floor, he racked up an impressive total of sales in his first month. His success was achieved in spite of the fact that some of the customers’ requirements really needed to be put on ice. One afternoon, he heard some grumbling and bitten-off swear words coming from one of the change rooms. Knocking gently on the door, he asked, “Need any help?”

 

The customer, a handsome, darkly Latin thirty-something man, opened the door, saying “This zipper’s stuck.”

 

Ricky had already fished the zipper soap out of his pocket before he realized that the zipper wasn’t so much stuck as it was blocked by a sizable – and growing – lump in the man’s briefs. He reached out and squeezed it a couple of times, then backed it up and zipped the trousers. As he did so, he winked at the customer. “There. All under control now.” He then reached into his pocket, pulled out a scrap piece of paper, and scribbled his phone number on it with a note, “After 5 p.m.”

 

The man, who gave his name as Adriano, was waiting outside when Ricky left at his 5 p.m. quitting time. Ricky was perfectly set up for some hot action because Alan had a business dinner to attend and wouldn’t be home until around nine o’clock. Adriano led Ricky to his condo, almost across the street from the building with the penthouse.

 

As soon as they were into the apartment, Adriano came behind Ricky and embraced him, running his hands up and down the slender body as he ground his bulge into the enticing curve of Ricky’s ass. Ricky reached back and grasped Adriano’s thighs, pulling him even closer against the curve of the boy’s ass.

 

“Oh, yeah, grind that thing against my ass, let me feel it – like I want to feel it inside me.”

 

Adriano clapped a hand over Ricky’s mouth. “Quiet, you little slut. I don’t want a nonstop porn soundtrack. I’ve heard all about you and your hot, wet ass that’s always open for dick, and I’m going to breed you – but don’t you give me orders. I’m giving the orders here. Got that?” He emphasized the words with a slap on Ricky’s butt, and Ricky nodded. Silent, and looking scared, but inwardly gleeful at being ordered around.

 

“Take off my shirt.” Ricky tugged Adriano’s shirt free of his trousers and lifted it up and over his head, practically drooling at the sight of the furry, muscular chest which came into view. He just loved a bit of body hair – not too much, but this man obviously groomed it with care, and it looked super-sexy and super-masculine. Ricky dropped to his knees, still wearing his suit and tie, and began mouthing and rubbing the bulge in Adriano’s tight pants, coaxing it into full life.

 

He started undoing Adriano’s waistband, got it open, and tugged down the same zipper that he had pulled up into place a few hours earlier. Even with the zipper all the way down, he had to tug on the waistband to get the tightly-fitted trousers over the man’s firm, muscular ass. Adriano kicked his shoes away, and Ricky got his trousers down and off. Then he went right back to work on Adriano’s tight, bulging G-string briefs.

 

“Get back up here, slut. Get those clothes off, I want to see you all over so I know what I’m getting.”

 

Ricky quickly got undressed, taking his suit and tie and folding them neatly on a chair close by. He piled his shirt and socks on the floor next to it, and stood there, naked except for his tight blue briefs. His cock was bulging just as much as Adriano’s, and leaving a wet spot on the front, but that wasn’t what Adriano was interested in. He wrapped his arms around Ricky again, stroking the boyish chest as he ground his bulge against the round, bulging ass cheeks which Ricky had built up with pride in the gym. Then he slid a hand down, inside the waistband, and began fingering and teasing the hole, which quivered and twitched as soon as he touched it.

 

Adriano lifted  Ricky right up off the floor, carried him into the bedroom and flung him face-down across the bed like a piece of wood. Almost before Ricky landed, the hunk leaped on the bed behind him and pulled his briefs right off, then buried his face into the crack and began eating Ricky’s ass at full throttle.

 

Ricky groaned, but Adriano slapped his ass again as a signal to shut his mouth. It was hard. Ricky was usually vocal when he was getting eaten, and this man was a master of ass action with his mouth. Ricky clenched his teeth together to keep quiet while that tongue was probing and pushing and thrusting into him.

 

Adriano got up on his knees, rolled Ricky over like a sack of oats, and barked, “Get that off and suck me.” Ricky tugged down the G-string and laid down on the bed on his face, lifting his head to suck the guy’s cock. As it got bigger and bigger in his mouth, he realized that this guy was going to be a challenge, especially if he wanted it rough. His dick was growing out to a full ten inches, and while it wasn’t nearly as thick as Steve’s monster had been, it was still going to give him the gears when it got inside him.

 

He slobbered and slurped on that big stick, getting as much of it down his throat as he could take, while Adriano leaned forward over his prone body, playing and fingering his ass some more. After he’d sucked that long tool for about five minutes, and his jaw was getting sore, Adriano pulled away, got behind him, spread his legs apart, and planted his dick against Ricky’s hole. Ricky tried to relax his hole as much as he could, knowing that ten inches of manmeat was going to be all the way up in his butt in just seconds.

 

To his surprise, and despite his animal growling, Adriano actually took his time getting it into the boy butt. He started with just the head, moving it back and forth an inch at a time inside Ricky. Ricky got the message, remembering that Adriano’s tool had jumped every time he’d gotten to the head when he was sucking. Extra sensitive head on his cock. Ricky worked his ass on the head of Adriano’s tool, and Adriano moaned, “Good work, slut. My dick likes your ass.”

 

Then he became sterner, more decisive, pushing steadily inwards while Ricky struggled to let the whole thing into him. At last, they made it, and Adriano was pressing his hips downwards against Ricky’s firm round ass, his ten inches of cock buried all the way inside Ricky’s hole.

 

For the next twenty minutes, Adriano pounded Ricky’s ass in that one position. It was obviously his favourite way to take a boy, because it took less than five minutes for him to get all the way there and spurt out a first blast of semen into Ricky’s tight hole. Unlike a lot of men, he neither shrank nor stopped, continuing right on fucking as soon as the contractions of his orgasm ebbed away. After another fifteen minutes or so, Adriano stopped, pulled out, rolled onto his back, and snapped at Ricky to “ride me, boy.”

 

Ricky scrambled into position, planted his ass over that rigid fuck rod and slowly sat back down on it, then began riding up and down, doing his signature twisting of his butt to get the cock to rub against his prostate as he went. Despite his best efforts to keep it quiet, he knew that Adriano’s tool was going to fuck a load right out of him, any minute, any second, any….

 

“Fuck, I’m cumming.”

 

The slap that landed on his ass pulled the trigger, and his cock, erupted, pumping his seed into the air to splatter back down across Adriano’s furry, muscled body. His hole was grabbing hard at the cock inside him as his own meat exploded and pumped out his load. As he finished cumming, Adriano snapped at him, “Get down there and clean up your mess, boy.”

 

Ricky didn’t need to be asked twice. He loved working his tongue all over that furry chest and those taut abs, licking and slurping up all of the cream he’d just deposited. Once he got it all, Adriano, rolled him onto his back. Then he mounted on top of Ricky, pushing his legs up to expose his hole again. He bent down, ate Ricky’s ass for another minute, and then took his big tool and plunged back in. No more slow motion. Now he was fucking like a madman, slamming in and yanking back, going at top speed, his hips rattling out a tattoo of loud smacks against Ricky’s ass cheeks. Ricky could tell he was about to get bred again, and he did his best to work his hole on Adriano’s tool, to draw the load up and out.

 

Adriano slammed down against Ricky’s ass, pressing in hard as his cock spasmed and erupted inside the boy’s body, shooting a second and even larger load of sperm into the tunnel. As the flood slowed down, he pulled out, began jerking again, and in a few seconds his cock spasmed some more and he jammed it back into Ricky, pumping out several more squirts of his man milk into the now-tired ass.

 

At last he pulled out. Ricky let his legs down, and lay there, exhausted. He’d cum a second time while Adriano was piledriving him, and he’d only just realized it now, feeling the ropes of his own seed all over his body. Adriano gave him another slap, this time almost more of an affectionate pat, and said, “Let’s hit the shower.”

 

It was the 180 degree polar opposite of the tough top man of a few moments earlier. Now, Adriano was laughing and giggling as they washed each other off, like a playful boy himself. Ricky was surprised to realize that it suited him just as much as the stern dominant top had done. The guy might look like a textbook Latin stud, but inside he was more of a chameleon, changing colours at a moment’s notice.

 

By the time he got dressed and left, at seven thirty, with a heartfelt kiss goodbye and a very sore ass, Ricky had learned another life lesson about that most puzzling of all creatures on the planet, the Random Hook-Up.

 

Back home, he enjoyed a long leisurely sit in the hot tub on the terrace, and actually dozed off there – because he was awakened by a foot bumping into him as Alan settled into the tub alongside him. Alan’s arm went around his boy, snuggling him close.

 

“Did you have a good day?”

 

“Well, yes, Daddy.”

 

“That sounded a little tentative.”

 

“Put it this way, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is that I’ve got two big loads inside me.”

 

Alan beamed at that. “And the bad news?”

 

“It was a wild ride. I’m too worn out for any more tonight.”

 

“If you can hold onto it until tomorrow, I’ll be a happy camper.”

 

“Thank you for understanding, Daddy.” Alan held him closely and kissed him tenderly. Inwardly, Ricky blessed his luck yet again at getting himself a daddy who was so easygoing and willing to give him as much room as he needed. In another hour, they were snuggled down together in bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms as they both loved to do. And in the morning, Alan took him gently, not wanting to put that lovely ass completely out of commission, and he fucked Ricky slowly and easily, enjoying the feeling of Adriano’s loads around his cock, until he had planted one more load of his own inside his boy.

 

Life continued along similar lines for the next weeks and months. Ricky had several visits with Steve and Jim, visits which always included some sexual antics. In return, he and Alan invited the other two to the penthouse, and they had one memorable four-way in which Ricky took loads in his butt from all three of the others, with Alan going last while Ricky sucked Jim’s cock and Steve ate Alan’s ass.

 

Then there was the memorable day when Alan left town for three days for some lengthy meetings in Dallas, and Ricky, having a day off, decided to just relax in the sunshine out in the hot tub. He’d forgotten that it was Tuesday. Just after ten o’clock, as he was dozing in the sunshine with the water bubbling around him and relaxing his muscles, the door slid open.

 

“Daddy?”

 

The response was an unfamiliar voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

 

Ricky’s eyes shot open.

 

“I’m Ryan, the housekeeper.”

 

The tall man with a head of wavy strawberry blond hair extended a hand to Ricky, who held onto it perhaps a second longer than was strictly necessary.

 

“I’m Ricky. Sorry about this, I totally forgot it was Tuesday. I’ll get out of here and head down to the pool instead, so I’m out of your way.”

 

He stood up in the hot tub and saw Ryan’s eyes immediately drop down to his crotch, encased (but barely) in his favourite swimsuit, the tiny little one that barely held everything in place. Ricky was taking a quick inventory of Ryan, too, as he stood up, from the firm pecs swelling the front of his t-shirt to the sizable thighs pushing through his work pants, and the noticeable bulge in the crotch. The big arm muscles straining the tight sleeves of his t-shirt didn’t escape notice either. This was one hot muscular stud, and from the looks of him definitely interested.

 

Ryan laughed. “I heard about you from my new boyfriend, but he sold you short. You’re a damn sight cuter and sexier than he let on.”

 

“Do I know him?”

 

“He certainly knows who you are. His name’s Leo. Does that ring a bell?”

 

Ricky laughed. “Sure does. He was pretty unforgettable. He’s back up here in L.A. now?”

 

Ryan nodded. “The second night I met him, we were exchanging notes about our lives after we fucked. I told him where I was working, and he immediately asked if I’d met and fucked Alan’s new boy toy yet. So I found out about you before I even found out much about him.”

 

Ricky had stepped out of the tub and was putting on a bit of a show for Ryan’s benefit as he dried himself off. He couldn’t help noticing that Ryan’s pants were bulging even more. He stepped closer, palmed the bulge, and put on a fake southern-belle accent. “Oh, mah gosh, honey, is that thing yall are carryin there all for lil ole me?”

 

Ryan laughed. He liked this boy’s insouciant manner. Alan’s previous boy toy had been much more sullen and full of himself. “I’d love to, Ricky, but I’m on duty and this big penthouse is hell to keep clean – not because you fellows are messy, but because there’s so damn much of it. Check in with me again at four o’clock when I’m done, that’s a different story.”

 

Ricky gave a mock sigh of frustration, winked at Ryan, and headed inside to get dressed and go out for the morning. As he went, he threw the single word “Deal!” over his shoulder. Ryan watched his sweet ass twitching in that tiny swimsuit as he went, gave his crotch one firm rub, and then shut off the water jets and his imagination, and got down to work.

 

It was the time of day when his friends might be expected at the café down the block if they weren’t working at the time. Ricky dropped down to the café for a cappuccino, and sure enough, there were Terry and Dylan sitting together and chatting. He joined them once he got his drink, and at once found he was getting interrogated about all his recent sexual antics.

 

Dylan was looking distinctly jealous when he heard about the four-way. Terry, though, laughed heartily. “Dylan, I think I unleashed a monster when I took this young innocent to Steven’s party. Now, there’s no stopping him. Attention all WeHo men, lock up your partners because Ricky, the insatiable bottom, is on the loose!”

 

That set both Dylan and Ricky laughing.

 

“Sorry, guys, I have to go. Dylan, watch yourself with him – he is dangerous!” Terry laughed again as he picked up his cup and headed out the door.

 

“What are you up to today, Dyl?”

 

“Just got a new job at Shooting Stars. I go on duty at five o’clock. I fit it in around my existing work hours for my temp agency.”

 

“Shooting Stars – oh, right, the bar two blocks down on the right.”

 

“Yup. It’s a popular place for sure. Jim and Steve like to hang out there. Lots of other regulars too. Alan used to be a regular after Aaron left – until you came along and took him off the market again.”

 

Ricky laughed. “He’s never taken me there. He does all his matchmaking out by the pool, pointing me in the direction of guys he knows would like to breed me. And you know what he likes when I come home to him.”

 

They both laughed again, Dylan shaking his head in puzzlement at Alan’s preferences. There was just no accounting for some guys’ tastes, but Alan was definitely an extreme example, at least in Dylan’s limited but rapidly growing experience.

 

But Ricky went on, eagerly. “Anyway, wait till I tell you what happened this morning.” He then proceeded to explain about how he met the housekeeper, and about the conversation which ensued.

 

“And that’s all you did? You talked? Ricky, I know you too well to fall for that one!”

 

“Seriously, yes. He had to get on with his work. But he did say it would be a different story if I came back when his work hours were done.”

 

“And when is that?”

 

“Four o’clock.”

 

“Damn. A couple of hours earlier, I’d have loved to come along for the party. But that’s too close for comfort. I refuse to be late to work at Shooting Stars. This new job is paying me well, the tips are awesome, and if it means I can get out of the hellhole I’m trapped in sooner, I’m all for it.” Ricky nodded agreement. He had heard enough already about Dylan’s undesirable straight roommates, the two guys who could only talk in monosyllabic grunts, and the lesbian woman who acted like she was too good for any of the rest of them. Or, as Dylan himself had put it, “She sure thinks her shit doesn’t stink.”

 

They sat there chatting for long enough that both of them ordered another cappuccino, and something to eat for lunch. Each of them had no hesitation classifying the other as “best friend” since the conversation always flowed easily, no topic was off the table, and they were in a fair way to understanding each other better than either of them had ever understood anyone in their entire lives. The occasional hot sexual encounters they enjoyed together were the icing on the cake.

 

Finally, at one o’clock, Dylan left to go home and grab a couple of hours of shuteye before work time. Ricky headed back up to the penthouse. He heard Ryan humming tunelessly over the whine of the vacuum cleaner down in the guest wing. He smiled to himself, went into the master suite, and got changed into one of his less provocative swimsuits for an afternoon at the pool. Three hours of lying out in the sun put him in a good mood. He even took time to exchange “Can you do my back?” sunscreen rubs with Will, another cute twink who’d fucked him once a few months earlier. The sun was warm, life was good, and he could feel both his bulge and his hole twitching every time one of the hot guys there walked past him.

 

A few minutes before four o’clock, he picked his stuff up and left, heading downstairs and over to the other wing, then back up to the penthouse. As he let himself in, he heard no sounds, Shrugging philosophically, he headed down the hall into the suite – and stopped dead. There, a real sight for sore eyes, was the muscular Ryan, lying sprawled out on the master bed with every inch of him – including his rigid eight-inch cock – on view to the all-seeing eyes of the universe.

 

Ricky stopped dead, staring at the spectacle and unconsciously rubbing his bulge which was already growing and crowding the space in his swimsuit.

 

Ryan broke the spell by speaking. “Well, don’t just stand there staring at it, get over here and show me what you can do with it!”

 

Ricky dropped his phone and keycard on the table and took a flying leap onto the bed, coming down right in between Ryan’s massive thighs, and then crawling forward until his eager mouth came in contact with the head of Ryan’s cock.

 

It was thick. Almost as thick as Steve’s massive tower of power, if that were possible, but not as long. That made it look shorter than it actually was – but Ricky soon discovered the truth of the matter when he tried, and miserably failed, to deep-throat the thing.

 

But it didn’t matter, because it was Ricky’s ass that really interested Ryan. He was probably the happiest camper in all of WeHo when Ricky planted his cute boy ass on top of that big, thick meat and then slowly sat down all the way, taking every bit of it deep inside himself. Ricky was getting to be a really expert bareback rider by this time, sliding up and down the dick, twisting around to take it at all kinds of different angles, and changing from forward to reverse positions on the turn of a dime. Ryan took control again when he felt his load rising, and grasped Ricky by his tight little waist, holding him still while he thrust his cock forcefully upwards into Ricky’s ass, slamming that cute boy butt harder and harder until he exploded, pumping a massive load of cum deep inside Ricky’s body.

 

Afterwards, as they chatted for a few minutes out of the shower, Ricky just had to ask the Big Question. “So, with you and Leo, do you breed him, or does he breed you?”

 

“What makes you think I’d let him breed me?”

 

“Because when I met him in Hawaii, he was playing ‘strictly top only’ and doing a very convincing job of it.” Ricky thought for a second. “More convincing than you.”

 

“Then what makes you think that he’d bottom for me?”

 

“Because he told me that he used to be Alan’s boy a few years back, and when you’re Alan’s boy, you bottom.”

 

Ryan looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Now that’s something I didn’t know. But just to satisfy your raging curiosity, we switch it up – both of us, 50/50.”

 

“Ever do three-ways and four-ways?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Let’s swap digits. Being Alan’s boy means you’re always on the lookout for guys to breed you so you’re ready for him.”

 

Both of them laughed at that. But it was Ricky who was destined to have the last laugh. A couple of weeks later, Ryan invited him for a three-way on a free afternoon. As soon as Ricky walked in the door, he was greeted by Leo with a face-splitting grin, a rigid cock, and a pretended air of grievance. “You’ve got some nerve, telling Ryan that I used to be Alan’s boy! If I wanted him to know that, I’d have told him myself!” Ricky faked a contrite, I’m-sorry expression. Inside, of course, he was thinking, “Sorry Not Sorry!”

 

Then Ryan put his oar in. “So, why didn’t you want to tell me?”

 

“Because then I’d have had to tell you that I’d seen you out with Alan the year before, so I knew that you’d been his boy before I was.”

 

The sunset colour spreading across Ryan’s face clashed violently with his strawberry-blond hair, besides saying all that had to be said in response to Leo’s snarky comment.

 

Ricky smoothed the waters. “Okay, fine, so we’re all students of the School of Alan Bryors. I’ll tell you exactly what I want: minimum two big loads in my ass. You two can sort out the rest between you.”

 

In the event, the day worked out even better because Ricky also got a chance to fuck and breed Ryan, who admitted (in a sheepish tone) that he owed Ricky one. His strongly-muscled ass pulled out the almost impossible combination of a record-sized load in record time from Ricky’s tool. As well, Ricky collected a bonus load down the throat from Leo – and got to clean both Leo and Ryan off after they’d been inside his boy hole.

 

Alan got the biggest bonus of all by fucking his boy that night with two big loads inside him, and then getting to fuck him again the next morning with all three loads still securely in place.

 

Alan and Ricky travelled together. A weekend in New York, a week on South Beach, a couple of weeks in the fall in southern Europe. Ricky now had his first passport and was beginning to see a bit of the world. Everywhere they went, Ricky managed to find more and more guys willing to breed his hole. He was equally fascinated by learning the histories and cultures of other countries, and by observing the different ways that societies functioned in those cultures. His worldview was changing, growing by leaps and bounds, and he was so thankful to Alan for making it all possible.

 

Of course, he had to have luggage to do that all that jet-setting about, and Alan bought him an appropriately discreet set of three expensive pieces. He presented it to Ricky on his boy’s birthday, just before the Europe trip, with a flourish, and the words, “His Royal Highness’s matched luggage!” Since they’d just watched Spaceballs the week before, they both laughed at the joke.

 

Then there was the week they spent in Kauai, a trip on which Alan invited Dylan to cum along.  “After all,” as he said in a wry tone with a wink, “I was the one who suggested it.”

 

As soon as Alan had issued that invitation, and Dylan had accepted eagerly, Ricky leaped right into planning everything he wanted to do during the week. He made notes about places to hike, beaches to visit, restaurants he wanted to sample, everything. Alan laughed at his zeal and did his best to get Ricky to take a dose of reality. “You know, Ricky, that island is a lot bigger than it looks on a map. If you get through half of that list in a week, I’ll be impressed.”

 

“I know, Alan, but I want to give Dylan lots of choices, and then see just how much we can do in the time we’ve got.”

 

Alan had to admit that this was a good plan, both for a trip and as a philosophy of life – “…see how much we can do in the time we’ve got.” He wondered if Ricky was aware of that extra resonance and thought that he probably wasn’t. But at the same time, as he reminded himself, it was never wise to underestimate his boy’s insight and intuition.

 

The trip ended up being a raging success, and the boys did indeed get through a lot of Ricky’s list – including the one bucket list item he hadn’t written down, having sex under a waterfall. They had to go early in the morning to pull that one off without getting arrested, but they managed it and came home with at least one really x-rated Hawaiian memory.

 

They’d revelled in the spectacular wild scenery of the island, going on multiple day-long hikes in the mountains and the Waimea Canyon, and along the Na Pali Coast, before returning to unwind in the enormous pool or in the private hot tub outside their chalet at the exclusive FourWinds Resort. Of course, here as everywhere else he went, Alan knew everyone who was worth knowing, and so they had a private dinner with the genial (and discreetly gay) patriarch of the resort, the General Manager, Ken Murayama.

 

Then there was the day when Alan was off attending to some business, because no matter where they went Alan had business matters needing his attention. As Ricky said to Dylan, while they lounged in the hot tub, you didn’t get to be that wealthy without working at it and doing so single-mindedly at that. The boys decided to ring for some drinks. The private butler who was attached to their chalet for the week, a young Hawaiian man named Derek, brought them mai tais and a dish of bar snacks, and was prepared to ask if there would be anything else.

 

While he was off getting the drinks, Ricky had said to Dylan, “I think he’s one of the tribe. Want to go for it?” They quickly set to work rubbing each other’s bulges until Derek returned.

 

“Your drinks, gentlemen,” he started to say – but the words died in his throat as Ricky climbed up out of the hot tub, with his cock already climbing north of the waistband of his tiny red swimsuit. Dylan followed him, and although his cock was still contained it was obvious that his bright blue brief was about to lose the unequal battle. Derek gulped, set the tray down (barely in time), and stared at the two of them, losing control as his hand moved down to try to adjust his own crotch.

 

“Bring those drinks inside, please, Derek,” Ricky said, in the most matter-of-fact way, as he picked up a towel and began to rub it slowly and sensually over himself. Derek gulped again, picked up the tray, and followed Ricky’s enticing round ass back inside the chalet.

 

Once Derek had safely put the tray down again, he proceeded to get onto his knees and begin playing with Ricky’s ass, tugging the tiny swimsuit downwards to expose that delectable crack and hole. In no time, he shoved his face inside that deep crack and began eating and slurping away, while Dylan pulled his swimsuit off and stood, watching as he idly jerked his cock.

 

When Derek stood up to remove his clothes, Dylan moved right in and slid his cock inside his friend’s body, just to keep Ricky at a fever pitch for the butler’s attention. He pulled out and stepped aside again when Derek was naked and ready, and Derek then slid his beautifully curved brown rod inside Ricky and began fucking him, slowly at first, but gradually getting faster. Then he turned to Dylan and said, “Get that one inside me!” And there they were, the boys acting as the two slices of bread in a fuck sandwich while Derek served as the piggy filling. It didn’t last long, as the three cocks erupted, with perfect timing, within seconds of each other.

 

After they’d finished cumming, Dylan pulled out and slurped his load back out of Derek’s ass while Ricky cleaned Derek’s cock off. Then Dylan pushed Ricky down onto his face and proceeded to dribble the load of cum down into Ricky’s crack, before adding his cock and pushing as much of as possible inside Ricky’s hole. Once Dylan had all that cum safely pushed in, he kept up his pumping motions, driving his cock deep inside his friend’s ass over and over until the strain got to be too much and he fired off another load into Ricky’s saturated hole. Watching this scene unfolding proved to be more than Derek could bear to ignore, and he got his own cock deep inside Dylan, rebuilding the sandwich with Dylan in the middle before Derek exploded in a second orgasm into Dylan’s tight butt.

 

The three guys collapsed across each other on the floor, heaving big breaths and slowly recovering from the epic fuck session. Finally, Ricky got up, got some money from his wallet and tucked it into Derek’s pocket as a tip, then led the way to the huge walk-in shower where the three of them took turns cleaning each other off before Derek got dressed, thanked Ricky for the extra tip with a kiss and a final quick grope, and then calmly resumed his butler’s duties.

 

That night, Alan decided he just wanted to have dinner from room service. The three of them sat decorously around the dining table, making conversation while Derek brought the dishes and wine which they ordered, served it all, and then stood by for further instructions. Alan, though, caught the sudden air of sexual tension, looked at Ricky with raised eyebrows, and got a small blush and a nod in return. Alan proceeded to give Derek an extra-large tip and thanked him “for the excellent service throughout the day.”

 

That night, Alan was the happiest of the three, getting to enjoy both of the boys’ well-loaded holes, and giving each of them a load in turn. All in all, as he said during the flight home, the most memorable by far of all his many trips to the Hawaiian Islands.

 

Dylan spent one more night with them after the flight back to Los Angeles, not just because he enjoyed it but because Alan and Ricky were both rubbing off on him, and he wanted badly to make it a way of thanking the two of them for including him in their adventures. Although Dylan would never be Alan’s boy in the same way that Ricky was, he was becoming more and more Alan’s boy in spirit, catching the older man’s innate air of courtesy and consideration and making it more and more a part of his own self. Alan certainly noticed that, and smiled to himself at the thought that Dylan and Ricky were both becoming a little more like younger versions of him. But, as Alan was soon to discover, that consideration was no more foolproof in them than it was in him.

 

A couple of weeks after their return from Kauai, Ricky got a text from Terry, asking him to meet at Shooting Stars that night at six o’clock, and saying that it was important. He told Alan that he would take care of dinner for himself, most likely somewhere out, and he headed to the bar right after work. Walking in, he spotted Terry sitting with Dylan, and steered over that way.

 

“Hi, Terry. Hi, Dyl. Say, what’s this big urgent matter?”

 

Terry laughed. “We’ll wait for the others before we get started.”

 

He was not to be drawn, so the three of them talked about other things until they were joined by Ryan and Leo, and by another guy, a young Brazilian beach boy twink named Duarte. Then Terry spoke to them.

 

“Here’s the deal, fellows. So, there’s this guy I’ve been playing with off and on for a while, and he’s told me that he has to go to the Middle East for work, for at least two years and maybe more. But he doesn’t want to give up his condo here, and he’s looking for someone to rent it to while he’s away. It’s in a newish building down the street a block or so that way,” and he gestured in the opposite direction to the building where Ricky and Alan lived.

 

“I kind of thought it might be cool if we all moved in together. It’s big. Not as big as the Royal Palace where Prince Ricky here is living in splendour, but it’s a good size. There are four bedrooms, each with its own ensuite full bathroom, and the public areas are good and big too. And he’s renting it fully furnished. So I asked him about how much rent he’s hoping to get. Of course he mentioned a big number, and even though he stressed that all utilities were included,  I just looked sad and told him that I doubted my friends would be able to afford that. It’s too bad, I went on, that he’d have to go out on a limb and rent his place to someone he didn’t even know when the six of us could be trusted to care for it as if it were our own and not turn it into the best little whorehouse in WeHo or anything like that. And that did the trick. He came back with a much lower number. So let’s talk numbers.”

 

After about twenty minutes of intensive number crunching, the guys figured out that the lower rental figure was doable at their current income levels, and decided to go for the deal, leaving Terry as the point man to finalize everything.

 

A week later, he called another meeting, and said that the owner wanted a security deposit as well as first month’s rent. Ricky knew that it was time for him to dip into his savings fund which had grown and prospered. It took him a few more days to free up the cash, and then the five of them met the owner and jointly signed the rental contract. It would take effect in three weeks as the owner was leaving for the Middle East the previous Monday. Once the date came around, there was a final brief delay while Terry got the official authorization from the owner to the property management consultants, but at last that was taken care of, and they had an official move-in date on a Friday. Terry texted the others to notify them on Monday evening.

 

Ricky spent the next three days in a fever of preparation. His every minute was filled with planning and preparations for his move. He organized and began packing his clothes, arranged and boxed up the things on his desk in the office. He handed the new address information to his boss at the store. He told a few of his close friends about his upcoming change of address. In fact, he’d only forgotten to tell one person.

 

Alan.

 

Alan was no fool. He sensed Ricky’s sudden absorption in something, could tell that it was a big deal, and put two and two together, arriving at the right answer. Unlike many other men, Alan didn’t go snooping around. He didn’t go poking into Ricky’s business. He didn’t ask questions behind Ricky’s back. It wasn’t his style, and in any case he had realized for a long time that this moment was going to come. But now it was coming sooner than he had expected it, and definitely sooner than he was ready for it.

 

On the third evening, when they were in bed together and Alan was playing with Ricky’s hole, he decided to ask a question – using an opening which Ricky had given him. “Ricky, this is the third day in a row you haven’t had any load inside you for me. Been through all the guys in the city?” He said it in a light-hearted way which took any sting out of the words.

 

But Ricky was suddenly stricken to the heart. His mind leaped quickly from the realization that he’d been too busy to go and get laid to the realization that he hadn’t told Alan what was happening. And he had to do it – and do it now.

 

He rolled over to face Alan, took Alan’s hands in his, and spoke slowly. “Alan, I’m so sorry. I’ve just realized that I didn’t tell you what was happening, and you were the first person I should have told.” His eyes were getting wet.

 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes. But I swear, I didn’t mean to walk out with no warning. I just got so excited about making all the preparations.”

 

“Tell me all about it.”

 

Twenty minutes later, all thoughts of sex forgotten, they were cuddled up together as Ricky finished explaining it all to Alan. He’d been shocked at what he’d done, how he’d overlooked telling this one man who had done so much for him. He’d been even more shocked that Alan wasn’t upset at his thoughtlessness.

 

The truth of the matter was that Ricky’s sudden rushes of enthusiasm were one of the things which Alan treasured most in his boy. He also sensed, strongly, that Ricky’s enthusiasm and energy were key elements that would take him fast and far in life. Alan knew that it wasn’t the place or time for him, the man who had ended a dozen relationships with cute young twinks, to sit in judgement on this one who had made his move first.

 

Alan held Ricky close, stroking him gently as the younger man’s rush of panic slowly subsided into a calm acceptance that he himself shared. There was no point in either of them trying to fight it, for this was the way of the world. The two of them fell asleep like that, with Ricky’s head in his favourite position – pillowed on Alan’s chest. Truth be told, it was Alan’s favourite position too.

 

In the morning, Ricky slowly awoke to a feeling of fullness in his lower body. He knew that feeling well, now, but was still surprised that Alan wanted him, after what he’d done. But he went with the flow, and for one last time, he felt – more strongly than ever – the sensation that this man was making love to him. He was lying on his face, his butt open, and Alan was on top of him, lying closely along his back as he moved gently in and out of Ricky’s ass. His strokes only speeded up slightly as his cum flowed into his boy’s hole.

 

But Alan wasn’t finished. He wanted to go longer, to breed Ricky again, to build one final set of memories of this boy for himself to cherish. He nudged Ricky to roll over, and lifted his legs up, bending down to eat his fresh load from Ricky’s hole while Ricky uttered little squeals of delight. When his cock was hard again, Alan moved up between Ricky’s legs and slowly slid back into his boy’s beautiful ass. And Ricky, as if it were the only thing to do, the most natural thing in the world, brought his legs down and locked his ankles over Alan’s back at the same time as he wrapped his arms around Alan’s chest, pulling his daddy into a full and close embrace as their mouths locked together.

 

They stayed locked together like that right to the end, right to the moments when Alan’s fucking motions speeded up, when he rammed his cock deep inside his boy’s fuckhole one last time and shot out one final load of his seed deep inside his boy’s ass. Ricky took it all, knowing in the depths of his heart that Alan was blessing him on his way into the world. And they never broke their kiss for even a second.

 

Three hours later, breakfast eaten, they were ready when the guys arrived. Terry had borrowed a big van to go around to each of the guys’ places and collect their stuff, and this was the last call. Ricky had filled up the three suitcases and packed a pair of boxes with his desk equipment. Almost all of it was gifts from Alan, of course – although he still kept and enjoyed using the clothes Mitch had bought for him in Albuquerque.

 

As Alan pulled him into a final embrace and kiss, Terry and Ryan discreetly looked away. And then they picked up the bags and boxes and headed out.

 

Alan remained behind, alone. He knew that it was time, and that it was his job at this time to step aside and leave his boy free to continue growing into full adult life. Even so, he could not help feeling the loss of a unique and special relationship. And so he said, aloud, “Goodbye, my boy.”

 

But then he caught himself up in surprise. What was this feeling? Why was he crying? He couldn’t have explained  it to Ricky, not at that time, and he wouldn’t have even if he had understood the truth – which he did not, not yet. All the same, he said it again, the words echoing loudly in the empty penthouse. “Goodbye, my boy. I’m going to miss  you.” And Alan wept.

[drew4fun]

Great writing my friend, thank you!

[daddybear54]

7 hours ago, drew4fun said:

Great writing my friend, thank you!

@drew4fun Thank you very much!

[daddybear54]

Chapter 8:  Twink Heaven

 

 

At the end of the first full week, the six guys had settled into a workable routine in their new home in a luxury condo. Each of them had found a niche role in making the whole operation work smoothly. Dylan had taken on the role of money manager, making sure that each of the others forwarded the appropriate amounts to him so that he could make the monthly rental payment. Ricky took on the management of the kitchen, assigning each of the guys a set space in one of the two big refrigerators, while commandeering a larger section for his own cooking supplies. Thanks to the time he’d spent studying Alan’s techniques and learning how to use them, Ricky became the house chef. Terry helped him out by polling the other guys for menu suggestions for their three weekly group dinners which Ricky prepared on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday nights, and by doing the grocery shopping for those meals.

 

Ryan cracked the whip in working out a schedule for everyone to contribute to housekeeping duties in the public areas, with each pair responsible for their own suite. Leo took care of the common honor bar, keeping the refreshments stocked up, tracking the consumption, and continually “reminding” people to sign for what they took. Duarte, as the newbie in the group, got the job of maintaining and cleaning the fourth room, which was designated as the playroom, and for which people had to sign up for any free night to avoid displacing their own roommate. That wasn’t as huge an issue as it seemed since Leo and Ryan were already a couple, and Dylan and Ricky, although officially “just friends,” usually could be found playing together with their guest(s) of the moment.

 

But it was still an issue – and the other five quickly noticed that Duarte had an inside track on the sign-up sheet for the playroom and wasn’t slow to take advantage. Not only that, the guys also noticed that Duarte’s playmates almost always proved to be well-known porn stars. A quick search of OnlyFans turned up Duarte’s page and  disclosed that a great deal of filming was being done in that playroom.

 

At that point, Terry had to call a halt. He spoke sternly to Duarte, reminding him that they had promised the owner they weren’t going to use his condo as a whorehouse, and ordering him to find other locations for his filming. After that, Duarte still had his visitors, but Terry kept an eye on Duarte’s OnlyFans to be sure the filming was taking place somewhere else from then on. If he was being honest, Terry would have admitted that Duarte’s OnlyFans was also good company for those nights when he himself wasn’t otherwise occupied.

 

Ricky, likewise, was curious – but what he wanted to know was how and where Duarte was meeting all these porn studs and twinks. He finally found out one day when Duarte’s visitor of the day arrived while Duarte was still in the bathroom getting ready. Ricky recognized the big muscle hunk right away as the famous porn stud Archer McManus. So he’d asked, straight out, how he met Duarte, and Archer told him that he’d run into Duarte at a bar party after Duarte had finished a film shoot for Twink Heaven Videos.

 

Ricky was more than willing to get Archer McManus undressed and ready to work, but just then Duarte came in, thanked Ricky (in his charming Brazilian accent) for letting Archer in and then they vanished quickly into the playroom.

 

“Are all the guys here as cute and sexy as you and that hot blond number who let me in?” Duarte laughed, but Archer actually wanted to know. Duarte quickly explained the set-up and Archer laughed. “Nice – I’d love to go through the whole lot of them. Be sure to let me know when you guys have a party!”

 

Duarte pretended to be a little upset. “I think you are coming here to see me.”

 

“Just making small talk while I wait for you to show me what you’ve got.”

 

Duarte laughed, then turned around and slowly skinned his shirt up over his head. He ran his hands down the sides to his waist and got his fingers inside his pants, then began slowly sliding them down, doing a pretty good job of staging a strip club dance for his guest. He got his pants down far enough to disclose the thong back of his G-string, then bent forward to pull the pants off his feet – and it was at that point that Archer seized him by the hips and pulled him backwards onto the bulge in his own pants.

 

“Ohhh…yeah….” The words came out of Duarte’s mouth in a low, husky purr. Archer pulled harder, grinding Duarte’s firm round ass cheeks against his rapidly-hardening dick, letting the boy know in no uncertain terms who was the boss. Duarte managed to kick his pants away, leaving only the slender back of the G-string and the front of Archer’s jeans between his ass and the tool that wanted to plunder his hole.

 

But Duarte, although he may have had the slender build of a twink, was strong too. He twisted out of Archer’s grip, swung around, and clamped a hand onto that bulge before dropping to his knees and beginning to work on it with his hot mouth. As he gummed the lump, he exhaled forcefully, again and again, knowing that his breath would heat up the jeans and any underwear Archer might have on underneath.

 

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Archer meant the words in the full literal sense. It had been quite a while since he’d met a guy who knew enough to do that, and the warming effect on his sensitive dickhead made him even more rigidly erect than before. “Damn, I need to fuck that hot mouth.”

 

Duarte got the hint. He reached for the zipper and pulled it down, then popped the waistband open and – sure enough – there was Archer McManus, in his full naked glory under the jeans, his head thrusting, jumping, demanding to get to the open air. Duarte slid his jeans down as quickly as he could, and Archer stepped out of them. Then he seized Duarte by the sides of his head and plunged his big, solid tool down the young Brazilian’s throat.

 

Duarte struggled. He was well experienced, and certainly no shrinking violet, but getting the whole of Archer McManus jammed down his throat at one go was a bigger challenge than he’d ever felt before, and it had him choking. He managed to pull back, coughing, and protested, “You don’t warn me!”

 

Archer took it a bit easier on him. Truth be told, he would get so caught up in the moment that he’d forget whether his bottom had encountered his massive tool before or not. As for Duarte, he went to work on it and got most of it down his throat in due course, certainly enough that Archer could feel the sides of his gullet caressing the head. When Archer was leaking enough pre-cum to make life difficult again, Duarte pulled off, and crawled up on the bed, then turned his cute ass towards the man with the iron cock.

 

Archer soon planted his solid tool against Duarte’s tight hole, pressing firmly until the head made its way inside. Duarte moaned loudly as the rest of the cock followed the head deep inside his hot hole. Archer stood still for another moment, clenching his muscles repeatedly to make his dick jump inside the smooth Brazilian butt, and then he began to pump.

 

Duarte certainly got a ride for the record books that afternoon. Archer kept driving into him from every angle, and in almost every position he could imagine. He’d seen a couple of Archer’s scenes in films, and they often featured double cumshots. Archer would fire a first load into a boy’s ass and keep pumping without even stopping until he dumped a second blast of his cum into the boy – at which point he would pull out and let the camera see the slow-motion gush of two loads of cum pouring down the twink’s taint. Then he would scoop up the cum with his cock and shove it all back in.

 

Archer outdid himself on this occasion. It was five days since his last shoot. He’d spent two of those days travelling home from Thailand to Fort Lauderdale, and two more resting up from crossing all those time zones. By this time he had an epic case of overfilled balls,  and he was more than ready to share the wealth around. For the next hour and a quarter, he kept fucking Duarte nonstop, changing positions on the fly without even pulling out. This wasn’t as hard as it sounds, since Archer was more than strong enough to shift Duarte around, and his cock was big enough to stay firmly anchored in the hole while he did it.

 

When he came the first time, doggie style, Duarte said, “Damn, that was hot.” And Archer kept fucking.

 

When the second load spurted into him, with Archer lying along his back, Duarte cried out, “Meu Deus, isso é incrível!” And Archer kept right on fucking.

 

The third load shot upwards into Duarte when he was riding reverse cowgirl. Holy shit, Duarte thought, doesn’t this guy ever slow down? Archer, of course kept right on fucking.

 

The fourth load was finally getting down to almost the size of most guys’ normal cumshots, and Archer delivered it when he was fucking Duarte missionary. After he’d fired his cum into Duarte’s now-overloaded hole, he’d slowed right down and kept moving gently in and out as he embraced Duarte and they kissed each other gently and easily. And Duarte fell in love.

 

Outside the playroom, Ricky had been joined in the living room by Dylan. Both of them were getting a little anxious. They both had hot dates coming at the same time, in just over 45 minutes. They’d tossed a coin to see which of them would get the playroom, and Dylan had won (it had been booked, as “Dylan or Ricky,” so Duarte would certainly know it had to be ready).

 

Just as Dylan was saying, for the third time, “I’m gonna go knock on the door”, while Ricky tried to restrain him, the door opened and the two sex maniacs emerged – Archer McManus looking fresh as a daisy while Duarte had tried to tidy himself up, but still appeared rather well-worn, and was walking with decided caution.

 

“Duarte, I hope....”

 

“Deelan, do not worry. Is all ready. We clean it for you.”

 

While Dylan went to check for himself, Duarte gave Archer a long, lingering goodbye kiss, and then turned back to Ricky after closing the door with a clearly visible case of stars in his eyes.

 

“So hot, Rickee, he fuck me like a crazy guy, fill me up four times, and clean the whole room and bathrooom for me. I make him into a good husband.”

 

Ricky wished him well. Privately, he had his doubts. An ex-porn performer who’d fucked him a few months earlier had once dated Archer McManus a few times, and told Ricky (with a hint of bitterness) that Archer was known as “Never tie me down” for excellent reasons. On the other hand, it was already obvious that Duarte was one of those people whose vocabulary simply didn’t contain such words as can’t, won’t, never, and impossible.

 

That became doubly obvious when the whole group sat down to dinner the next night, to a menu of pan-sauteed shrimps with spicy Mexican rice, salsa, and assorted veggies. Discussion turned to Duarte’s adventure the day before. Well, Duarte turned it there – he was perfectly happy to flaunt his ability to withstand the onslaught of Archer McManus for 90 minutes and 4 cumshots, not to mention the way Archer took care of the cleanup for him. “I make him into a good husband,” he said again, smugly.

 

Terry, Leo, and Ryan all hooted with laughter. “Good luck with that, Duarte!” Terry added with a derisive snort. “They don’t call him ‘Never Tie Me Down’ for no reason!”

 

Duarte remained serenely convinced. “I do it, you see.”

 

When they were cleaning up after dinner, Dylan spoke quietly to Ricky. “You didn’t laugh. Do you really think he’ll pull it off?”

 

“I don’t know, Dyl, but I’m sure he’ll try. The way I figure it, Archer will either end up hitting him with a wedding ring or a restraining order. We’ll see which one wins out.”

 

“Fifty bucks says it’s the restraining order,” Dylan replied.

 

“Ah-hah, serious money. Fifty says it’s the wedding ring!”

 

“Want to put a time limit on it?”

 

“Good idea. Give him five years or the bet’s off.” And they shook hands on the wager.

 

Ricky had taken a significant step up at work. Six months before he’d moved, he had gotten shifted onto the regular schedule roster. This move also gave Ricky an appreciably steadier schedule, as the roster sales reps simply switched between two time slots: 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM or 3:00 PM to 9:00 PM. Either way, he was guaranteed some of the peak hours at the pool for sunning and swimming and teasing and flirting, and he took full advantage of the privilege. Over the years, he had built up his ass into the cutest bubble or peach in sight, and with trial and error had finally settled on two brands of swimwear which did the most to accentuate the curves, and lift and separate the cheeks to highlight the crack.

 

Thus prepared, Ricky had no trouble getting a date whenever he felt the urge (which was often). Some of them were one-offs, but there were also guys whose return visits were desirable, no strings attached. The best news came about six months after he’d settled into Twink Heaven, when he came down to the pool on a Sunday afternoon to see Jim and Steve sunning there. Of course he went over to talk to them, and that’s when he found out that they had moved from their former building into this one, settling into the penthouse which was not as grand as Alan’s penthouse had been, but a great step up for them at only a small increase on their former management fees.

 

Of course, Ricky wasted no time getting an invitation for dinner and more. But it got even better. A few weeks later, Jim and Steve hosted a housewarming party and invited a number of friends, both in and out of the building. They also invited the entire Twink Heaven gang.

 

It was at this big party that the boys’ condo got formally christened. Leo and Ryan had been chatting with an older couple, two guys whom Leo had met during his bar serving stint in Hawaii a couple of years earlier. One of the couple asked Leo, “So, where are you living right now?”

 

Leo, without a moment’s hesitation, batted right back. “In Twink Heaven.”

 

The other member of the couple, who had a weakness for slim young guys, immediately perked up. “That sounds interesting. Where and what is it?”

 

Leo filled him in, and Ricky and Dylan both joined him in explaining the meaning of the name. And Twink Heaven their home was called, from that night on. In the space of five minutes, these two older guys had wangled an invitation for some fun with Ryan and Leo, and the chance to meet the others. Leo and Ryan asked Ricky if he could prepare a dinner for eight instead of six, provided they paid for the extra food and wine. He agreed, and Gio and Aris were duly invited for the following Thursday.

 

Since it was going to be a four-way (or so he and Ryan expected), Leo negotiated with Duarte to give up the playroom for that evening, “just this once, okay, you get it often enough.”

 

The dinner party was a howling success. Ricky’s chicken tikka masala and mushroom risotto were praised by everyone. Gio and Aris found quickly that all the guys around the table were friendly, funny (even if Terry was occasionally a bit acidic in his comments), and good company. After dinner, Ricky and Terry cleaned the kitchen up while everyone else moved to the living room for a final round of wine.

 

Once the wine glasses had been emptied out, Ryan and Leo took their guests “to see the rest of the apartment,” (“Yeah, I bet” was Terry’s response), while Duarte and Terry headed out to the bar. Dylan and Ricky decided to stay put and just enjoy a quiet evening and early to bed, for a change of pace.

 

About an hour later, though, their peace and quiet was disturbed by a knock on their door. Dylan opened it and faced a dishevelled Leo. “Guys, you gotta come and give us a hand. These two daddy goats are wearing us out and they’re nowhere near done yet.”

 

“They’re on the little blue pills?”

 

“Got to be. Honest to God, they’re insatiable! It was nothing like this when I met them in Hawaii!”

 

Ricky was already undressed, and Dylan now skinned off his briefs. “What the hell, lead the way.”

 

In three more minutes, Ricky and Dylan were lying on their backs on the bed in the playroom, with Gio’s curving dick buried inside Ricky’s hole, while Aris had his tool completely embedded inside Dylan. Leo and Ryan contented themselves with stroking and sucking on the boys’ cocks while the two older guys reamed them out with their rigid tools. The entire room already smelled powerfully of man sex.

 

After five more minutes, Gio grunted, “I’m fucking cumming!”

 

“So am I,” Aris replied. “Hot boy ass!”

 

In a few more moments, the sounds of men in orgasm filled the room. As soon as Gio had calmed down, he snapped, “Switch.”

 

“Right.”

 

The two cocks came out of the two holes, still as completely rigid as if the men hadn’t fucked anyone for a week. In seconds, they were buried hilt-deep again, pounding away in the two boy butts and headed at top speed for their fourth orgasms of the night. Being the men they were, Ricky and Dylan both had plenty of experience in cumming while being fucked and bred, and their cocks were now dripping wet and ready to explode.

 

This time it was Aris who came first, erupting at full force inside Ricky’s ass. A few moments later, Gio blew his load up into Dylan’s well-filled gut. Both of the boys exploded, showering themselves with cum at the same moment that the tops were shooting inside them. Almost at once, Gio began pumping yet again, but Dylan pushed him away. “No, no more. Enough!” Ricky did the same, and the two older men stood there, dicks rampant and dripping, and looking around for more ass to breed.

 

“Where are all the others?” Gio asked, in a demanding tone. “I want more hole to fuck.”

 

“Sorry, Gio, they’ve all gone out.”

 

Just then, they heard a loud click, and a voice called from the front door, “Hey, anyone is home?”

 

It was Duarte’s misfortune, or good fortune, that he came home right at that moment, having found the bar boring, while Terry was busy lining up an evening with one of his string of ex-daddies.

 

Gio stepped out of the playroom, coming face to face with Duarte – who took one look at that raging erection and promptly dropped to his knees and swallowed it. He was only able to work at that for 30 seconds, before Gio pulled him up, snapped, “Clothes off!” and dragged him into the playroom. Aris immediately zeroed right in on the new meat as well.

 

By now, the two top daddies were starting to slow down a bit, meaning that they were only fucking at 85% of top speed and were now taking much more time to pull up their fifth loads. That meant that Duarte got a good long session of being spitroasted, with Gio inside his ass while Aris drove his long tool down Duarte’s throat. They kept that up for a good fifteen minutes, and then switched ends. Duarte, who loved being manhandled, was happier than a pig in shit with two hot cocks for him to service.

 

But all good things must come to an end. In about ten more minutes, Aris groaned that he was about to cum, ready to breed Duarte’s hole. Gio said, “You first – I’ll cum inside him right behind you.”

 

In another minute, Aris suddenly switched back into overdrive and pumped a nice-sized load of cream into Duarte. As soon as he finished, he yelled, “Switch!” and he and Gio traded places. This time, after letting Duarte clean his cock for a minute, Aris leaned down and swallowed Duarte’s cock, feeling like getting a load to swallow in his mouth. He sucked with great vigour and determination. Gio fucked with even more stamina and power.

 

“Fucking cumming,” Gio growled and let his fifth load trickle out inside Duarte’s well-worn ass just as Duarte blasted off into Aris who was busily sucking out all of his load. Since Duarte was busy, Ricky undertook the congenial task of cleaning off Gio’s cock for him. And then, finally, the two older guys headed for the bathroom to shower up. Duarte went and threw on some clothes to wait for them to leave so he could begin the task of changing the bed and cleaning the room and bathroom. The others all wished Gio and Aris a good night and settled back in the living room. They even persuaded Duarte, whose normal motto was “do it now,” to leave the cleanup for later.

 

After their dinner guests had left, with profuse thanks for the wonderful food and entertainment, the five survivors of the battlefield all sat, staring at each other with dazed expressions on their faces. Even the insatiable Duarte and the nearly unstoppable Ricky were looking like they had nothing left to give. Another round of wine was deemed essential by all five. It had been an exhausting evening.

 

Terry came home, well filled in the ass himself, at about three o’clock in the morning and stared in puzzlement at the sight of his five housemates all passed out, in various stages of undress, on every seat in the living room. He left them to sleep it off in peace and went off to his own bed.

 

Ricky had a day off on Saturday that week, and he decided to spend it at the pool. It was a good chance for a test drive of his new white thong, the most daring swimwear he’d ever owned. Jim and Steve were there, too, as well as some of the usual sun worshippers, several of whom had already fucked Ricky. But Jim and Steve had another guy with them. Ricky had never seen him before, but he had no trouble recognizing another famous porn star, Arpad Nagy. Nagy was neither the biggest nor the most well hung guy present, but the bulge in his swimsuit looked damned hot and Ricky was in a mood to get a bonus load or two inside him.

 

He got up and wandered around the pool to say hello. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Jim and Steve were watching like hawks to see what would happen. If he’d looked around, he’d have seen that everyone else at the pool was watching too. But his eyes were fixed on his target. The guy’s bulge was definitely getting bigger, and his eyes were riveted on Ricky’s swollen crotch.

 

Ricky spent several minutes making small talk, casually scratching his basket and then rubbing his hand briefly over his exposed ass cheeks. The Hungarian stud definitely seemed interested and responsive, but then the energy shifted, and his responses cooled down again. Ricky sensed right away that his chance had vanished, although he didn’t know why, and he finally said, “Well, see you around,” and made his way back to his own chair.

 

Ricky didn’t have a date that night, everyone else was out and about somewhere, and he was feeling horny as hell after finishing off his solitary dinner of a burger and salad. He decided to just go out for a while and see what sort of action he could get into. Underdressed to kill in a pair of white spandex shorts and a white crop top, he headed out as darkness fell. He’d only done this once or twice before, cruising for random loads from strangers, but it was incredibly exciting, seeing how fast he could turn guys on and make them breed his cute boy butt.

 

In the space of two hours Ricky managed to get filled up by three guys in all. One fucked him in the park down the street, the other two took him up to their apartment for a spitroast quickie – with both of them breeding him as they switched ends frequently.

 

After that, feeling satisfied, he headed home. Just as he approached the building, he saw a man come out of the building and walk slowly away in the opposite direction. Head down a bit, and just a glimpse, but he knew right away it was Arpad Nagy. Ricky speeded up his steps and caught up to the porn star.

 

“Hey, sexy, feeling lonely tonight?”

 

Nagy glanced quickly around, then grabbed Ricky by the shoulders and shoved him into the alleyway right beside them.

 

“Get in here.”

 

He dragged Ricky about twenty steps into the alleyway, just enough to get behind a fire escape, then spun him around and pushed him up against the wall. His hand grasped the waistband of those tiny shorts, then dug inside and fingered the younger guy’s crack. Nagy leaned close, and grunted, “Is this what you wanted?”

 

Ricky smiled and said, “Fuck, yes. I want your dick inside me.”

 

Nagy was already hard. He yanked Ricky’s shorts down, exposing that full ripe peach. His finger went to the hole, and found it was already loose and wet. Sloppy seconds.

 

“How many loads have you got in here already?”

 

“Three.”

 

“This one’s going to be as big as two more. Haven’t fucked in four days and I’m loaded and ready.”

 

“Ooh, yeahhhh….”

 

Nagy pulled his pants open, spat on his hand twice, wiped it on his now rock-solid cock, and pushed Ricky’s head up against the wall as he said, “Stick your ass out.” Ricky complied, and the porn stud shoved his big tool deep into Ricky’s loose, wet hole in one long thrust.

 

“Fuck, yeah!” Ricky’s response wasn’t a scream of pain, more a cry of triumph.

 

Nagy planted his head on Ricky’s shoulder and began talking. “You like this, don’t you? Yeah, you’re a good little slut, pulling your pants down and taking my cock in a dark alley. You really like this. Really want my fucking load.”

 

“Oh, yeah! Fuck me and breed me.”

 

“You’re not going to be able to keep it all in. It’ll be running out of your ass and staining those pretty white shorts.”

 

“Give to me. I want it.”

 

Ricky could feel that thick stud dick cramming its way in and out of his ass and loved it, wanted it, had to have it. The man was grunting now, slamming into him and reaming his hole out, and Ricky could tell he was about to get bred again.

 

Nagy groaned. “Fucking gonna cum.”

 

“Yeah! Cum inside my ass. Give it to me!”

 

The Hungarian porn stud blasted off inside Ricky’s ass, slamming in as hard as he could go on each pulse, as if to shoot so far inside that it would take a week to come back out. When he pulled out, Ricky turned around, wanting to lick and suck that dick clean. But the man wiped his dick on his shirt tail, ignoring Ricky’s pleading eyes, tucked it back in and zipped up, slapping Ricky’s ass, and growling, “Great fuck. Keep it in you.” Then he walked disdainfully away, leaving Ricky standing there in the alley, smiling happily as the cum slowly trickled down his taint.

 

The spandex shorts had very visible cum stains over the crack when he walked back into the building a few minutes later. The concierge knew better than to take any “notice” of his little problem, since it was, in any case a frequent sight here, as in all condo buildings in and around WeHo.

 

 

 

 

[NLbear]

Ah..... continuation of the story. Great!

[DCWildBtm]

Skillful connectivity to Hawaiian 9. Great work overall!

[daddybear54]

 

Chapter 9:  Interlude – Family Day

 

 

It was the week after Labour Day, and although the skies were still sunny and the air still warm, the shorter daylight hours hinted that winter was coming.

 

On Thursday night of that week, Terry said at dinner, “Guys, there’s something we haven’t done all year, but I’d love to do it this Sunday, if all of you are free. Let’s pack up some food and drinks and spend the day at the beach together, as a family, because that’s really what we are now.”

 

Everyone was instantly on board with the idea, and there followed a quick discussion about ways and means, timing, and how to handle the food and drinks. On Sunday morning, despite some habitual grumbling about getting up before noon, everyone was ready to go in good time because they all knew that space on the beach would be at a premium and they wanted enough room to be together in one place.

 

At ten o’clock they came down to the front door in swimsuits and t-shirts, loaded their towels, beach gear, and two big coolers into a pair of Ubers, and headed off down to Santa Monica. They were actually in good time, and got a nice spot without any trouble, fairly close to some of the volleyball courts which a few of the guys wanted to be able to use.

 

There they spread out a broad carpet of a dozen towels, giving room for the big umbrella, the coolers, a couple of beach chairs, and ample space for any or all of them to stretch out on the towels and catch some rays.

 

It didn’t take long at all for the other occupants of the beach to notice and (in some cases) zero in on the group of six hot young men all in sexy, body-hugging swimwear. Strangely enough, though, none of the six young guys appeared to notice or even care about all the people pointing cameras at them throughout the day.

 

It turned out to be an amazing day for everyone. The six of them swam, they sunned, they played volleyball and frisbee, they ate the picnic lunch which Ricky had pulled together, they downed bottles of water and beer and wine, they slept, they talked, and they let the combination of the Pacific surf and the California sun wash and dry away all their daily problems and hassles and worries.

 

Everyone was a little surprised that Ryan was the one who seemed to be everywhere with his phone, capturing every moment, every laugh, every pratfall, every snarky comment, every wacky facial expression in a huge library of photos and video clips.

 

Of all the six of them, the one who dived right into the whole day with the greatest enthusiasm was Terry. Although he was definitely a joker and had light-hearted moments, the day-to-day Terry also could be irascible, sarcastic, short-tempered, as sharp-tongued (in Ryan’s words) as an old country gossip. This day on the beach, all those sides of him had vanished. On this Sunday, he was all light-hearted and happy, laughing at his own tumble when leaping for the frisbee, chasing enthusiastically after a beach towel that was going for a stroll hand-in-hand with the wind, spraying himself with a beer which he had absent-mindedly shaken up a few times, and loving every moment of it.

 

Dylan summed it up by saying to Ricky, “See that eagle tattoo on Terry’s shoulder? That’s who he is and that’s what he’s doing today – spreading his wings and flying high. And that’s awesome.”

 

Around three o’clock, when Ricky started getting antsy about having enough time to prepare dinner for everyone and wanted to get going, Dylan casually tossed out the suggestion that they forget the gourmet meal for once and just order out for pizza once they got home. The motion passed unanimously, and Ricky was secretly relieved that he could be off duty. He was having too much fun to want to go home.

 

The six young men lingered on the sand right to the day’s end, sitting side by side in a row with their arms draped around each other’s shoulders as they watched the sun dipping slowly into the flaming red ocean. As the colour faded out of the sky, they gathered up their gear and headed back to the road, where the two Ubers Terry had ordered up were waiting for them. In went all the beach gear and six bone-weary but very happy young men.

 

Back at Twink Heaven, they stripped off wet swimsuits, put away food containers, bagged up cans and bottle for the recycling, and threw on casual duds for the balance of the evening. By the time that was all done, the pizzas had arrived, and another round of drinks got broken out. It was Ricky who said aloud what all of them were thinking. “Terry, our leader, the head of the Twink Heaven Family, thanks for suggesting today and helping us all to grow closer to each other.”

 

“To Terry!” they all shouted in unison and drank to him while he blushed as red as the sunset they’d all seen an hour earlier.

 

After the pizzas were gone, they all lingered in the living room, chatting and laughing. The day was too special to be cut short. Leo was the one who asked, “Guys, let’s go around the circle. What was your most special moment of the day, and why was it special to you?”

 

The answers were as varied as the personalities of the six, but of them all, it was Terry’s reply that lodged itself in Ricky’s memory. Terry’s response had been, “Sitting on the sand and watching the sunset with my family.”

 

It was an answer that almost any of them might have given. Duarte and Ryan were the only ones who maintained any ties with their birth families, and in Duarte’s case the connections were “proper” and “formal” rather than any closer relationship. Ricky had walked away from his mother’s endless carping, while Leo, Dylan, and Terry had all been thrown out and banished. It was no wonder that everyone nodded, and murmured agreement at Terry’s response to Leo’s off-the-cuff question.

 

It was after midnight when the guys belatedly remembered that tomorrow was a work day for most of them, and some sleep might be a good idea. As it happened, Ricky had a day off and Dylan had an afternoon shift, so they were the last two to get up and head to their room, putting out the lights as they went.

 

Once they’d crawled into bed together, Dylan turned to Ricky and kissed him, letting Ricky feel that his cock was in a frisky mood. Ricky chuckled. “Not a word or look all day, and now he decides he wants to play.”

 

“That’s right. Do you want to pitch or catch?”

 

Ricky had actually never heard that metaphor before, but he understood it perfectly without asking.

 

“I’m the starting pitcher tonight.”

 

Dylan pulled Ricky closer, massaging his cock to get it hard enough. He then bent down and proceeded to give Ricky one of the best blowjobs of his life. When Ricky urged him to go for the home run, he swung around and backed onto Ricky’s cock, letting it find his hole and sink inside it. And then Ricky rolled Dylan onto his face, coming up on top of him and lying along his back with his cock embedded in Dylan’s hole. It brought back memories of Alan, and of how his daddy had always made this position feel so special, so intimate, so loving.

 

Ricky was having similar feelings now towards Dylan, his best friend, and proceeded to give Dylan the full Alan treatment, complete with caresses, kisses, and gentle murmurs in the ear, right up to the moment when he speeded up just a bit and let his sperm flow, coating Dylan’s colon with his seed as Dylan’s cock fired off into his clenching hand. Then Ricky rolled off to the side, still inside for a few more minutes before he slipped out. They fell asleep like that, with Ricky spooning Dylan and caressing him with his embracing arms.

 

They would have been surprised – or perhaps they wouldn’t have been surprised at all – if they’d known that a similar scene was unfolding in the other two bedrooms at the same time. Terry’s little idea of a day at the beach had brought out and built up a generous amount of familial love to be shared around in Twink Heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

[daddybear54]

14 hours ago, NLbear said:

Ah..... continuation of the story. Great!

I knew you'd be waiting for those certain people to start showing up!  😉

[daddybear54]

20 minutes ago, DCWildBtm said:

Skillful connectivity to Hawaiian 9. Great work overall!

@DCWildBtm because, of course, that was where Ricky got invented. You'll be seeing more of those guys too. Thank you!

[daddybear54]

Chapter 10:  Getting to Know the New Guys

 

 

Through the course of the winter, Duarte had a couple more dates with Archer McManus, although these ones didn’t take place in Twink Heaven – Duarte had gotten enough teasing from the guys after the first one. That didn’t stop Dylan from trying to find out.

 

“So where are you guys going for your date tonight, Duarte?”

 

“We go… somewhere.”

 

“For dinner?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And after dinner?”

 

“Then we go… somewhere else.”

 

Dylan had just discovered that Duarte was a total expert in the fine old art of acting coy.

 

A couple of weeks later, Duarte was left at a loose end when Archer had to leave town. He’d gotten an extended gig dancing in a club and filming porn on the side in Prague, and would be away for a couple of months, maybe more. Duarte drooped around the house for a week or so, sulking and pining for the man of his dreams, but then recovered enough to start having some visitors again, just to keep his equipment in good working order.

 

Then there was the night when Ryan came home and found a mysterious note from Leo on the door of their room. “Dylan wouldn’t let me have the playroom. Please sleep somewhere else. Urgent!” Fortunately for Leo and his unexpected guest, Ryan was a pretty laid-back guy. He just shrugged philosophically, and after listening at the door for a minute (and hearing nothing very definite, just some heavy breathing) he went back to the living room, via a detour to the linen closet to grab the emergency bedroll, and then went to sleep on the sofa. He was awakened twice: once when Dylan’s hot date of the night left rather noisily, and the other when Leo ushered his guest quickly and quietly through the apartment and out the door. Ryan caught only a passing glimpse of a tall man with curly dark hair.

 

In a set-up with six gay guys sharing one spare room for entertaining visitors, stuff was bound to happen.

 

One day, Ricky happened to be taking a floor-to-floor shortcut on the stairs to drop a borrowed book off at a friend’s apartment. When he came out of the stairwell on the ninth floor, the elevator door opened and Arpad Nagy stepped out, walking down the hall away from him. He noted which door the porn model opened with his key, but then he stepped aside into the alcove of another door to avoid being spotted. Making a note of the apartment number, he smiled to himself and returned to his business.

 

That Thursday, he decided to pay an unannounced booty call at seven in the evening. He walked down to Nagy’s apartment again and knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. The door opened a fraction on the chain, and a voice growled, “I’ve got company coming! Get lost!”

 

“Okayyy,” Ricky replied, a shade plaintively, but also curious as hell as to who the evening visitor might be. He slipped down the hall, dodging again into another door alcove as the elevator chimed. He peered around the corner. This was a bigger, huskier man, but that was all he could see through the dark blue hoodie with the hood pulled up over the head. The man was carrying a well-stuffed backpack. He knocked on Nagy’s apartment, the door opened, and the voice said, “Well! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” as the door closed again.

 

Ricky walked back down and leaned against the wall next to Arpad Nagy’s door, listening for sounds from inside.  He heard a series of indeterminate little bangs and thumps, interspersed with some plainly sexual moans. Then he heard the voice again.

 

“Fuck… fuck… Daniel, that’s so fucking good. Eat my ass… stick your tongue in me… get me ready….”

 

Ricky had his hand clamped onto his own bulge, squeezing it with considerable energy as it rapidly hardened. The name “Daniel” didn’t convey any meaning to him, but the words and the assorted sounds sure did. He got the front of his trousers yanked open, as he continued listening. More assorted banging sounds, and then the voice again: “Fuck, Daniel, quit wasting time. I can’t wait for it. Get that dick inside me and fuck my brains out!”

 

“You want this cock?”

 

“Fuck yes! Quit teasing me and fuck me!”

 

The sounds got louder and clearer. Ricky had his hand wrapped around his raging erection and was jacking at top speed. From behind the door came the loud slapping sounds of hips smacking against butt cheeks, and the harsh, irregular breathing of the top driving into his bottom’s hole as fast as he could go. At that speed, he thought, they won’t last long. They didn’t.

 

“Fucking cumming….”

 

Then followed the unmistakable grunts and groans of two men in full rut spurting out their seed, followed in turn by the loud thumps of two exhausted sex fiends falling onto the floor. That did it. Ricky moaned loudly as his cock exploded in his hand, spraying a fountain of cum up and all over the painted wall of the corridor. He quickly zipped up and got the hell out of there, leaving behind another mess for the superintendent to clean off the wall the next morning.

 

Back in his own room, Ricky tore off his clothes and lay on the bed, his cock jutting straight up into the air above him. He wrapped his hand around the shaft and began pumping, his mind replaying a mental recording of the soundtrack from that hot scene behind the door of Arpad Nagy’s apartment. In his imagination, he was seeing  that golden man, the Hawaiian Nine, looming above him and pounding down into his tight hole. In just a few minutes he fired another load into the air, but his cock still refused to go down.

 

It was at this point that Dylan walked in after working into the evening. He took one look at his friend’s naked body and rigid cock, and said, “Oooh, is that for me?”

 

Ricky opened his eyes, and snapped, “No! But I want yours inside me, now. I want you to fuck my hole and breed me deep and hard.”

 

Never one to refuse such an alluring invitation, Dylan quickly ripped all his clothes off and got onto the bed, pushing his hard tool into Ricky’s ass. Ricky groaned and began beating his meat again as Dylan started pounding into him, deep and hard as requested. Dylan could tell Ricky was getting close and he speeded up to match, which was easy since he hadn’t shot off in three days. In no time, Ricky was winding up to shooting Load Number Three while Dylan was himself rapidly approaching the point of no return. It all happened very quickly, as Ricky’s tool convulsed and sprayed yet another jet of cum into the air, while his hole grabbed hard at Dylan’s pounding cock. That death grip brought Dylan right up to the point in short order, and before Ricky had finished his orgasm Dylan was blasting off deep inside him. As the final vestiges of Dylan’s explosion tailed off, he collapsed across Ricky’s prone body, gasping for air.

 

After both of them got their breath back, Dylan said, “All right, now suppose you tell me what brought on that sudden wave of terminal horniness.” After Ricky explained what he had overheard, Dylan nodded. “Yeah, that would do it, especially when you’ve been trying to add his cock to your collection of ‘Famous Dicks That Have Fucked Me’.” Ricky had never told Dylan about the quickie in the alleyway.

 

It was a few months after that before Ricky saw the Hungarian porn stud again. Once again he was sunning out by the pool when he saw Arpad Nagy walk out of the building, followed by a bigger, huskier man whose very brief red swimsuit appeared to be painted on over a hefty bulge. Ricky eyed the big man, thinking that he looked familiar. Then he put down his sunglasses to pull off his t-shirt and Ricky recognized him – the famous porn stud and company owner known as the Hawaiian Nine.

 

He watched the two of them pull a pair of loungers close together and then sit and lean back, linking hands with each other as they did so. Ricky was a little startled. Rumours had swirled for years about these two being an item, as Dylan had told him soon after his arrival in California, but nobody ever had any first-hand report of actually seeing them together. Then the company, Hawaiian Nine Films, had been sold and the Hawaiian Nine himself had vanished, going M.I.A. from WeHo for over a year.

 

Ricky, of course, had no idea of all the complex interplay of attitudes, emotions, and personalities behind the scenes of that story, and wouldn’t have cared if  he did know. The foremost thought in his head was simple lust. He’d been dreaming of taking that massive thick cock inside his ass ever since the first time he’d seen the man at work, on Alan’s bedroom wall theatre screen, and now that epic tool was here, and practically within his reach. Just the thought of it was enough to make his hole start twitching.

 

His hole twitched even harder when the two of them stood up and dived into the water for a swim, and then came out of the pool and up the steps near his seat. Just seeing the six soft inches of cock in the front of that tiny red suit made Ricky’s cock start oozing. He gave them a few minutes to settle down again, and then got up and wandered over that way to say hello.

 

The sad truth was that Ricky really had no experience in flirting. It wasn’t something he’d ever had to practise. But this time, Nagy forced the issue by starting the conversation so that Ricky had to reply in kind.

 

“Yes? Do I know you from somewhere?”

 

That was a particularly dirty opening gambit, and the smirk on Nagy’s face showed that he knew it. Ricky, too, knew damn well that with the boyfriend sitting right there, and more than big enough to flatten him, this was not the time to say, “Yeah, have you forgotten how you pulled me into that alley and fucked my brains out last fall?”

 

He fumbled and stumbled a reply. His next few utterances weren’t much more coherent. Ricky was desperately trying to think of something complimentary to say that didn’t sound either sarcastic or like a really bad porn script – without success. Finally, though, the Hawaiian Nine took pity on him and handed him a bottle of suntan oil. “Here. Do our backs.”

 

The two of them rolled over, and Ricky popped open the bottle. This, he could do. He straddled Arpad Nagy’s back first and gave his best in a backrub with the oil, working it right down to the waistband of the man’s swimsuit, and then coming up the backs of his legs to the leg openings.

 

But when he shifted over to the Hawaiian Nine, that was when he really began to lose it. The guy was so beautifully muscular, his rich copper-brown skin tone so enticing, so fucking perfect in every way, and Ricky found that digging in with his hands was just making  his cock harder and wetter by the second. Why, oh why, he thought, did I have to go and wear the light pink swimsuit today? The black one wouldn’t have shown the precum stains. But he kept working away, until he had thoroughly covered the back of the hunk’s broad shoulders and taut waist. Then the two of them rolled back over, thanked him politely but with no hint of encouragement, and settled back with eyes closed and hands linked.

 

Ricky walked away, dampened in more than one sense of the word. Damn it all! So near and yet so far. He could see a half a dozen faces around the pool grinning at his disappointment and his even more obvious physical discomfort, as he struggled to contain his hard dick inside his suit which was definitely too small for the purpose. He had to jump into the pool himself, both to conceal the dark, damp patches over his crotch and to try to get his cock to deflate a bit.

 

It was obvious, though, that the two porn guys were now in permanent residence as he continued to see them around the building on occasion, and usually toting bags of camera gear and tripods. Always a polite hello, never anything more. But one thing he had learned by now, via the grapevine, was that both of them were now running an event photography/videography business and had permanently retired from the porn industry.

 

One day, Ricky paid one of his periodic social calls on Jim and Steve. He tried to discreetly drop the name of the Hawaiian Nine into the conversation, but Jim wasn’t fooled for an instant. “Oh, so you’ve got him in your starry-eyed gunsights now, have you? I’d give up on that fantasy if I were you. He’s a changed man.”

 

“That’s right,” Steve chimed in. “For years he never had sex with anyone unless there was a camera pointing at him – strictly business and only business. But now, the little boy with the arrows has shot him through the heart. He’s in luuuve, and it’s his first love as well as the great love of his life. He’s off the market, in no uncertain terms.”

 

Ricky sighed. He’d come to the right place to get the facts, as opposed to the community’s salacious, endless, garbled gossip which so often ended up giving to airy nothing a local habitation and a name, but the answer he’d gotten wasn’t the one he was hoping for. However, Steve took pity on him, and dropped in a note of comfort.

 

“But here’s what we’re going to do. We’re planning a Friday evening drinks and nibbles party for them next week. They’re our friends, and we thought it would be nice to let them meet some of our other friends in the building, and that includes you and Dylan. Seven o’clock till ten on the sixteenth.”

 

“Thanks, Steve. I’ll be sure to let Dylan know. Just give me a second here to block it off on my calendar.” He quickly entered it into his phone.

 

As he did that, Jim spoke. “Okay, that’s enough talk about the Hawaiian Nine, it’s ruining my self-confidence the way you fellows just keep bleating on and on about him.”

 

Steve and Ricky both laughed at him, and the conversation moved on to other topics. And then the visit shifted from the living room to the bedroom, where the highlight was that Steve had promised to let Ricky have the full treatment from the infamous Rod Rammer’s enormous tool. Even for a bottom as experienced as Ricky had now become, it was a struggle. That cock was so damn huge, and he had to really work at it with a lot of patience. It took nearly twenty minutes of effort before he was finally able to drop down the last inch and a half and plant his cheeks squarely on Steve’s hip bones.

 

Riding up and down on that monster wasn’t a bit easier. Jim had to sit on Steve’s face to get his hands into a position where he could help Ricky to keep his balance as he had to slide up for what felt like halfway to their penthouse’s extra-high ceiling, and then slide all the way back down again. He wasn’t able to do it very quickly, but the fact that he could do it at all and take the entire length of the legendary Rammer deep inside him over and over again put him into a very exclusive club. So did the fact that he was able to keep going for ten minutes of it, no less, until Steve lost it and let his balls empty out into Ricky’s hard-working ass. And Steve, in the meantime, had been enjoying the pleasant task of licking and slurping on Jim’s ass to keep him occupied.

 

Once Ricky had finally pulled up and off and laid down at the side of the bed to wait for his hole to close up again, Jim had taken over, giving Steve what he really wanted – a good deep ass fuck and a nice hot load of his husband’s sperm deep inside him. As he had so often before, Ricky found himself shaking his head at the thought of such a gigantic piece of man meat being wasted on a guy who actually wanted to be on the bottom.

 

Later on, after getting dressed again, they settled down for another drink (“Just Perrier for me,” Jim said with a wink), and Steve had to caution Ricky again. “Listen, Ricky, I know you’re just dying to tell the immediate world who fucked you today, but I’m begging you not to tell anyone – please. If the word gets out that Rod Rammer fucked someone again, I’ll have three-quarters of the world’s gay men beating a path to my door – not to mention all the porn producers who will want to tempt me out of retirement, over and over and over!”

 

Ricky promised, but then his curiosity got the better of him. “So how did the Hawaiian Nine get you to come out of retirement if you didn’t want to?”

 

Jim interrupted before Steve could even get his mouth opened. “My job at the time wanted me to go on a field mission in Europe for six weeks, and this poor guy just got sooo lonely without me.”

 

Steve batted right back. “Yeah, I know, Jim, your fatal attraction. Such a sex god.” He sighed and rolled his eyes, and then laughed loudly. “Actually, Ricky, I wanted to do the Nine a favour. I knew he was planning to retire and leave town, and I thought it would be a good way to cap off his career and get people off my back at the same time if I let him fuck me on screen after I fucked him. And by the way, his real name is Daniel, Daniel Nakamura, and his boyfriend’s real name is Laszlo Kertesz. And don’t forget, he really hates it when people call him the Hawaiian Nine now so please remember that when you meet him here.”

 

Ricky and Dylan arrived at the party at 7:30, late but not fashionably late – in other words, not the first to arrive but also not the last one who always has to make a Grand Entrance. Alan was already there, standing back in a discreet corner as usual, but they swung by to have a quick hello and chat with him for a minute or two. Then they headed for the drinks table, helping themselves to a couple of glasses of Perrier with lime. At that point, Steve and Jim were chatting with Daniel and Laszlo, so they headed that way next.

 

“Daniel, Laszlo, this is our resident young go-getter, Ricky, and his equally energetic friend Dylan.”

 

“We’ve met Ricky before. Dylan, good to meet you.”

 

“Thanks,” Dylan replied.

 

Then Laszlo decided to get a bit catty. “So, Dylan, do you have a hard time keeping him under control?” Daniel elbowed him discreetly.

 

Dylan chuckled. “Not at all. That’s his problem. We’re roommates and friends, but that’s all. Any messes either of us get into, we’re on our own to fix them.”

 

Ricky chimed in, “So, I’ve heard that you are running a photography/videography business now?”

 

Daniel replied, “Yes, we’re doing both. Laszlo is the photographer, and I’m on video.”

 

As he said that, Laszlo pulled out a card and handed it to Ricky, who looked it over and slipped it into his pocket. Then, proving that he could be much more controlled on his own, he asked another question about their business and the conversation flowed smoothly from there. After a few more minutes, he and Dylan excused themselves to let other people meet the guests of honour.

 

Later that night, Daniel and Laszlo sat over a final drink with Steve and Jim. Daniel was musing over the people they’d met. “Steve, that young friend of yours, Ricky, really surprised me tonight.”

 

“That’s good. I know you told me about how clumsy he was about trying to flirt with you at the pool, but that clumsy flirting is only one part of Ricky. There’s a lot more to him than that, and I’m sure he’s going to go places in the world – if he ever learns to keep his horse in the stable.”

 

They all laughed, but then Jim added his two cents worth. “And after all, he’s still young. Still a month or so shy of his twenty-first birthday.”

 

“Really?” Laszlo had raised his eyebrows a bit. “And he’s already an acting store manager at Teed and Tylor Bespoke? That’s impressive for such a young fellow.”

 

Jim smiled reflectively. “I think he’s a bit like you, Laszlo, in that he’s gone through a lot more than most people his age and picked up a whole range of life lessons very quickly. It’s all gone to make him a lot more mature than most of his contemporaries – except when he thinks about sex.”

 

That drew another laugh from all four of them.

 

In another apartment of the building, somebody else was getting catty.

 

“You did really well tonight, Ricky. Ten whole minutes of conversation and your eyes never once dropped below the belt.”

 

“Very funny, Dyl. I think perhaps you weren’t quite so controlled.”

 

“Maybe not, but it was the first time I ever met them close up. You’ve already had a couple of chances.”

 

“It’s funny.” Ricky’s voice was dropping into a more thoughtful register. “We gay guys can be so bitchy when we feel like it. Sometimes we do it way too much – and sometimes we spend way too much time and energy focusing below the belt. But I enjoyed meeting those two tonight and learning a bit more about them besides what everyone can see on their films. That was intriguing. I think I’d like to get to know both of them better. Interesting personalities.”

 

“While not forgetting their cocks and asses, right?”

 

“Well, duh!”

 

That set both of them laughing..

 

Over the next few months, it became apparent that Daniel and Laszlo shared Ricky’s feelings. A meeting in the lobby now became a chance for a quick moment’s conversation – Laszlo’s exclusive photo work for FourWinds Resort in Kauai, Ricky’s promotion to permanent store manager, Dylan nailing a manager’s job at Shell Games, a new deluxe seafood restaurant owned by the same company which owned Shooting Stars.

 

Daniel and Laszlo both perked up their ears at that one. “I hadn’t heard of that. Where is it?”

 

“Just another block and a half down the street past Shooting Stars, same side.”

 

“Laszlo, we have to try it out.”

 

“Definitely. Dylan, real change of pace for you.”

 

“Sure is. I got the line on the job from Steve, he’s working for that holding company now. Hope to see you down there soon.”

 

In this way, in bits and pieces, Ricky and Dylan built another key friendship into their circle. The four of them got so comfortable with each other that conversations often became flirtatious – but nothing more than that. A part of Ricky still found that hard to take, but only in part. Overall, he felt that he was ahead in the Game of Life by virtue of having two more solid, reliable friends in his circle. He would find out in due time just how right he was in that feeling.

 

A few months later, they got a surprising email from Daniel.

 

If you’re free tonight in WeHo,

Come on down to Shooting Stars at 8:30!

It’s a Coming-Out Party for Silvio!!!

He just joined the tribe this morning, so

Come on down, enjoy some tunes,

Dance up a storm, share food, drinks and kisses,

And we’ll show Silvio a whole lot of love!

Let’s make this the biggest night of his life!!!

 

Needless to say, they went – and brought along the entire Twink Heaven crew with them. Everybody they’d ever met in WeHo, and a good number more, had packed into the bar. There were twink boys, daddies, porn performers, muscle beach men, and so many more. The huge roar of approval when Silvio arrived with Laszlo nearly blew their ears off. Everyone was cramming onto the dance floor with shirts off, sweating, drinking, laughing, moving in unison to the music – and a fair bit of groping and pinching and squeezing too. The bar staff were going crazy trying to keep everyone well hydrated. It was the blowout party of the year, some said of the decade. And Ricky and Dylan were right there in the middle of it all.

 

At midnight, when Daniel got up to make a speech and introduce Silvio by name, Ricky couldn’t help thinking he’d seen Silvio before, but it took him a minute – and then it hit. As soon as Silvio finished speaking, and the music started again, he made his way over to Leo. “You’ve fucked with him, haven’t you, Leo?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Duh – with Silvio!”

 

“Yeah – but how did you know?”

 

“Because I saw you whizzing into the condo with him that night,” Ricky said accusingly.

 

“I knew too,” Ryan put in. “I woke up a bit from sleeping on the sofa and saw him leaving.”

 

Leo looked crestfallen. “Fuck, a guy just can’t keep any secrets around Twink Heaven!” They all laughed, but then he went on. “But I was being secretive for Silvio’s sake, and now you know why. Damn! I’m so happy he’s finally gotten out of the closet. For his sake!” he added hastily as Ryan shot him an X-ray look.

 

Later on, Ricky and Dylan were dancing in the middle of the crowd when they found themselves close to Daniel and Laszlo. Ricky just “accidentally” let his hand brush against Daniel’s pec. Daniel laughed, leaned in close, and said, “Still trying, are we?” But it was the measure of how good friends they were all becoming, that Ricky, Dylan, and Laszlo all laughed with him.

 

A few months later, they got an even more intriguing email. This one came from Silvio and was an invitation to a stag weekend for Laszlo and Daniel, who were getting married at the end of the month. It was in a clothing optional resort in Palm Springs. Dylan looked at the details, and said, “Ricky, we have to make up our minds and get in there fast – that place, I’ve been there, and it isn’t that huge; this party is going to sell out in no time!”

 

They filled in the form and emailed it back, sending their money online at the same time, and got themselves a room in the resort. Then they asked around for any friends who were also going and got together to arrange a ride.

 

Once they arrived, they found themselves in the room right next to Silvio, and the handsome younger Hawaiian guy who was sharing with him. They stopped in to say hello, and Silvio introduced them to Daniel’s younger half-brother, Darren. Ricky was all set to race Dylan for the privilege of getting into bed with these two studs, but Silvio waved them off. “You need to save it all for tomorrow, and so do we. Right, Darren?” And he winked at Darren as he said it.

 

“Maybe we can catch up with you two and your cute little twink asses on Sunday,” Darren put in, not wanting to seem disinterested.

 

Ricky and Dylan ended up hooking up that evening with Will and Eddie, the two guys who’d been responsible for all the amazing camera work on the Hawaiian Nine movies and had even jumped in for an impromptu guest appearance in one of them. That gave both Ricky and Dylan a good pair of loads to start off the weekend.

 

By one o’clock on Saturday afternoon, the deck area around the resort’s pool and extra-large hot tub was full of enthusiastic partygoers, and a fair number were already in the pool and hot tub. Ricky and Dylan wandered around, completely butt-ass naked like most of the men there. They took in the sight of the large deluxe sunbed at the far end of the courtyard, which had been decorated with a canopy fringed with multicoloured condoms and sex toys, and a huge sign reading “JUST (ABOUT) MARRIED!”

 

The two grooms-to-be were to make their grand entrance at half past one, but nobody was waiting that long to get things going, especially Ricky. He’d just spotted an impressive dick on a tall, lean black man, and he wanted to get that meat into his mouth and up his ass as soon as possible. “Catch you later, Dyl,” he said quickly, and then headed over to get the action moving. Dylan shook his head with a rueful smile on his face, watching Ricky go right into full-on orgy mode. He dropped right to his knees in front of the black stud, whose name was Marcus, and began going crazy on that cock which rapidly swelled up to a full size that challenged Steve for length if not for thickness. Marcus was quick in another way, too. It took no time at all for the taste of precum to make itself felt in Ricky’s mouth.

 

He was plunging all the way down, almost to the root of that giant black tool, when a storm of cheering erupted. Ricky didn’t even look up to see the grand entry of the guests of honour; he was preoccupied with what he was doing to Marcus.

 

In another minute, Marcus pulled him to his feet, spun him around, and pushed him down onto a nearby lounger. Ricky scrambled onto all fours, thrusting his ass out eagerly for that huge black fuck rod. Marcus planted the tip against Ricky’s hole which he could feel was already lubed up, a sensible precaution. Marcus grinned as he pressed inwards in one long smooth stroke, in and in and in until the blond boy’s ass had swallowed all but about the last inch of his shaft. He then stirred it around a bit inside the hole until something shifted, and he was able to push the last bit deep into Ricky’s fuck tube.

 

Ricky groaned deeply but didn’t try to get away. He couldn’t have if he wanted to, because Marcus had a death grip on his shoulders, holding him all the way onto that monster dick. Marcus began thrusting deep into Ricky’s tunnel, pulling almost all the way out, and then plunging all the way back in. In no time, he had worked up to a furious storm of fucking, while Ricky clutched desperately to the frame of the lounger and held on for the ride. He’d been pounded before, to be sure, but this stud took the whole thing to a completely different level. The loud smacks of Marcus’ hips against Ricky’s butt cheeks quickly drew an audience, and soon there was a good-sized crowd of fifteen or twenty horny men, standing around and stroking their own or each other’s cocks as they watched Ricky getting hammered.

 

“Fuck, man, look at that cock going in him,” one awestruck voice said.

 

Marcus ignored the audience, simply getting faster and faster and, impossibly but actually, going deeper inside. It was as if he’d opened up a whole other cavern inside Ricky that no one else had ever reached. His dark hips became a flying blur, the smacks blended together into a drumroll of noise, and then Marcus shouted, “Fucking breeding you!” as he erupted inside Ricky, pumping a huge load of his seed deep inside the WeHo twink bottom. Ricky blew off at the same time, hands free, and three or four of the onlookers lost it and spilled their loads too.

 

Eventually Marcus slowed to a halt, and pulled out, wiping the last drizzles of cum from his cock onto Ricky’s ass cheeks. That cock was still twitching slightly, as if it wanted to pump out a few more squirts. Marcus gave Ricky’s ass a slap, and said, “Great hole, slut – get some more in there.”

 

Ricky leaped to his feet with a yell of triumph, giving a fist pump, and then reaching back to swipe the cum off the outside of his ass. He licked that all up off his hand, and then called out, “Okay, who wants sloppy seconds?”

 

At once, a stocky, muscular man with a beard stepped out of the crowd. He was shorter than many of the guys there, about Ricky’s height in fact, but he wasted no time putting himself in charge. He shoved Ricky down onto the lounger on his back, lifted his legs up, and sank a thick seven-incher deep into Ricky’s hole. This guy was so wound up already from watching Marcus at work that he lasted for only a couple of minutes of pumping before blasting off inside the hole.

 

When he pulled out, another man, taller and thinner, slipped his cock into Ricky’s ass while his friend pushed another big rod down Ricky’s throat. The two of them kept spit-roasting Ricky for the next five minutes until the guy in his mouth came. He then bent down, slurped some of his load back out of Ricky’s mouth, and straightened up to swap it with his buddy in a wet kiss. That set the other guy’s explosion off, and a third massive load blew into Ricky’s hole.

 

But the audience had vanished. When those two pulled out and left, Dylan was there to get Ricky to his feet. “Come on, Ricky, you gotta see this – it’s wild!”

 

Most of the men had crowded around the canopied sunbed. Ricky and Dylan pushed through the crowd until they could see the sunbed.

 

At first, Ricky couldn’t quite make out what he was seeing. Eventually it resolved into six guys, in two groups of three, all plainly engaged in some hot sex but – equally plainly – not with each other. That was when he saw the two grooms lying flat on the sunbed, and figured out that two of the six men were sitting on their faces, two were riding on their cocks, and the last two were balls deep and fucking Laszlo and Daniel at top speed.

 

All six were naked except for black hoods pulled over their heads and faces. Suddenly, Ricky jogged Dylan’s elbow. “Hey, Dyl, notice something odd? All six of those guys are exactly the same colour.”

 

“So?”

 

“It’s not natural. Look around you. Do you see six guys anywhere here with exactly identical skin tone?”

 

“What about it?”

 

“Body paint – that’s my guess. They’re trying to look identical. And it looks like they’re all the same height and similar build. That’s no accident.”

 

“Ricky, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

 

“Uh-huh. ‘You need to save it all for tomorrow, and so do we. Right, Darren?’ Remember when he said that last night?”

 

“Wow…!”

 

But their conversation didn’t get any further. They heard a couple of muffled yells from under the two butts planted on two faces, and the guys riding their cocks jammed down all the way and held it there. At the same time, the two guys fucking them speeded up and released within seconds of each other, breeding two hot asses. Then a voice yelled, “Switch!” All six of the nameless men jumped up to change positions. That was when the boys could see that Daniel and Laszlo had been shackled to the sunbed. None of the guys changed victims, but all six of them settled down into new positions, in the same distribution.

 

It was at this point that Ricky felt a hand groping his ass and squeezing his cheek. A deep voice sounded in his ear. “Are you getting as hot as I am?” Ricky nodded. “Let’s go.” The man led him away to a lounger in a corner near the hot tub. “Go ahead, lie down.” This was an older man, one Ricky had never seen before, but he was attractive, with a good taut body – and that deep, almost hypnotic voice. Ricky settled down on the lounger. Past the man’s legs, he saw Dylan disappearing with another guy.

 

Ricky lay back, lifting his legs up to expose his hole. The stranger leaned down and fingered his hole. “You’ve been fucked already today, haven’t you. How many?”

 

“Three loads in my butt.”

 

“Hmm. I’m not too thrilled. I prefer a fresh one. How about you fuck me instead?”

 

“Of course.”

 

They changed places, the older man sinking down on the lounger and rolling onto his back as Ricky stood up. The man handed him a pocket tube of lube, he applied some to his cock, and then closed it and handed it back. He bent down, planting the tip of his cock against the man’s ass, and then leaned until he slipped inside. He began fucking, and slowly began building up speed. But then another voice sounded in his ear, and he stopped dead.

 

“That looks like fun. Are you enjoying fucking my husband?”

 

Ricky figured he’d better take a strong approach.

 

“Yes. He’s got a great ass. It feels wonderful.”

 

The new man chuckled. “I can’t argue with you. Did he ask you to fuck him because you’d taken a load already?”

 

“Three loads, actually.”

 

“Mmm, that’s great. Unlike Henry here, I love sloppy seconds.”

 

The man placed the tip of his cock against Ricky’s hole and sank all the way in with only minimal resistance. “You ever done a fuck train before?” Ricky nodded. “So you know the middle man has to control the train, right?” Ricky nodded again. “Okay, Champ, over to you.”

 

Ricky began moving slowly, back and forth, taking his time to get everything properly aligned, and then slowly added speed, accelerating the motion. The cock in his ass was hitting nicely and, from the sound of the moans, the guy under him was getting it just right too. He was also enjoying the way the man on top was playing with his nips – just lightly, teasing them, not yanking them right off, and that made Ricky extra-sensitive. Soon the three of them were attracting an audience again, and with good reason.

 

It couldn’t last long, though. The combinations of different stimuli on so many levels were pulling Ricky closer and closer to the point of cumming, even though he didn’t really want to.

 

“You’re going to cum?” the top guy asked him. Ricky nodded. “So am I, so just go for it.” As for the one on the bottom, he heard the words and immediately grasped his cock, speeding up in a hurry to catch up to the two guys doing the fucking.

 

Ricky came first, exploding with a loud cry into the ass of the man under him. Then the guy on top blew his load into Ricky’s ass. That left the bottom man, and he was still pulling hard on his cock. The top man knew what to do. He pulled out of Ricky and urged Ricky up and away. As the bottom guy plaintively called his name – “Joe!” – he plunged into his husband and fucked him vigorously, wrenching a load out that spewed all over the lounger as he came again inside his husband’s hole. Then the two of them dropped onto the lounger to kiss and cuddle, leaving Ricky standing there, feeling like the fifth wheel. He shrugged philosophically, and walked away, calling “Thanks” as he went. They gave no sign that they’d heard him.

 

Back at the sunbed, the six guys of what Ricky was thinking of as the SWAT Team were busily cumming on or in the two grooms again. Then they stood up and marched away over to the bar for some drinks and eats. The onlookers stared in awe. Then a whole series of the guys who had been watching stepped forward until there were about ten of them standing around Laszlo and Daniel, who had apparently passed out or fallen asleep from their exertions.

 

The group stood around the grooms, pulling hard on their cocks and egging each other on. Ricky joined them, thinking to himself, “Well, at least I’ll get to cum all over them.” Dylan joined them too, and the circle jacked their cocks harder and harder until their loads spilled out onto the two prone bodies, coating them with splatters of man cream from head to foot.

 

After that, Ricky and Dylan headed for the bar to get some drinks and something to eat, and to listen to the chatter of the six guys in the SWAT Team. They didn’t pick up any clues, though. The guys were totally taciturn – “Uh-huh” or “Nope” being the sum total of what they said. No names, either, they just called each other “Number Two” or “Number Five,” not by name. As Ricky said to Dylan afterwards, the only clue was who was clearly missing in action, and the only two they could be sure of were Silvio and Darren, who were nowhere to be seen.

 

After a breather, the SWAT Team went back to work and repeated the entire script of round one with their tied-down victims. Ricky guessed that they had switched up so that the ones previously doing Laszlo were now doing Daniel, and vice versa, but he couldn’t be sure.

 

What he could be sure of was that there were still lots of rampant cocks looking around for places to drop their loads, and he wanted more. He decided to head for the hot tub, since he didn’t recognize any of the guys in there as having done him already. He got down in the water, and quickly found himself being fondled all over by numerous hands. Three more guys came along and sat down on the rim of the tub, feet in the water and cocks jutting up from between their thighs.

 

“Come here, boy, and make our tools feel good.”

 

Ricky went over and bent down to begin sucking. He worked on them one at a time, down the row and back again, getting all of them more and more ready to fire as he slurped on their dicks. After about five minutes, he had all three of them oozing plenty of precum, and that’s when he decided to go for it. He went right down, full throttle, on the first guy, sucking and slurping on his cock like a madman until the guy groaned and pumped a load of seed into his mouth. Holding it there, he moved on to the second one and drew his load up and out too. The third one was a bit slower, but Ricky managed to work a finger up into the guy’s ass and teased him down below as he sucked up above, and finally got his reward there too, sucking and swallowing a third load down.

 

As he went back to his seat on the other side of the tub, a guy sitting there drew him over and got him to sit down on his lap – which meant, of course, that Ricky was impaling himself on the guy’s cock. They sat there, in the bubbling water, with Ricky slowly working up and down on the shaft inside him while they chatted with the other guys around them. The man who had Ricky on his lap began to get close, though, and grasped Ricky more firmly, holding him still so he could begin to thrust up inside that cute boy butt. In another minute or so, he let out a low groan and blew his sperm up inside Ricky’s busy ass cunt, and there was Ricky’s fifth load of the day.

 

He took another breather then, leaving the hot tub and looking around. He saw Dylan lying on a lounger and getting plowed by a muscular Asian guy. He headed over that way, straddling Dylan’s face and giving his friend a cock to suck on while he got fucked. Dylan worked hard for his reward at both ends, and soon had the top blasting off into his hole while Ricky shot a load down his throat. The Asian guy wandered off after that, but Dylan and Ricky switched up, and Dylan began fucking Ricky. Before long, there was a Brazilian man – Ricky thought he was one of the models from the Hawaiian Nine films – standing there watching them, and Ricky threw caution to the winds. “Get that cock into me! I want both of you in me at once!”

 

The Brazilian man got behind Dylan, slid his cock forward under Dylan’s balls, and slowly forced his way into Ricky’s hole, which stretched farther than ever before. Ricky was hissing, moaning, gasping for air at the massive invasion. It was the first time he’d ever done DP, and he was finding it a bit of a struggle, even for such an experienced ass. But he hung in there, and the two men worked him over harder. It didn’t take long, though. Dylan was almost ready anyway, and the other guy had gotten himself wound up by watching them. Dylan was the first to cum inside Ricky, and the feel of his hot slime pouring all over their tools soon brought the Brazilian guy off as well. And just like that, Ricky had collected two more loads inside his ass.

 

When they slid out, he had a tough time getting his hole to clamp shut again. He lay down on a lounger, with cum oozing out of his ass. In no time, there was a willing volunteer to eat his ass, slurping up all the cream that came sliding slowly out and down his taint. By the time he had finished his clean-up task, Ricky had fallen asleep from his exertions. The ass eater considerately spread a towel across his body and left him to sleep.

 

He woke up an hour later, feeling very much the worse for wear in his ass. Any more action would definitely have to wait for another day. The sun was dipping lower towards the mountains, and it was getting chilly. Ricky sat up and pulled  the towel around him, and just then Daniel and Laszlo came sauntering by. Their tormentors had finally finished working them over and had left the key so an onlooker could release the shackles.

 

“How many loads today, Ricky?” Laszlo asked.

 

“Four here,” and he gestured to his mouth, “and seven in my ass.”

 

“Sounds like a good day’s work.”

 

“I’m not finished yet,” Ricky said hopefully, even though he knew he was.

 

“Sorry, but both of us are.”

 

“Yeah, I actually stopped fucking around to watch some of that action. Seeing those guys working you two over – man, that was so fucking hot. I fired off a load just from watching them going at you two.”

 

They chuckled and walked on – and that’s when Ricky saw that Darren and Silvio had finally put in an appearance. He grinned and winked as Silvio walked by. Then he got up to go and get some clothes on before returning for the dinner buffet, as the sun was setting and it was getting chilly.

 

 

 

[daddybear54]

Chapter 11:  Down the Rabbit Hole

 

 

Dylan was getting used to going to sleep in an empty bed and waking up in an empty bed. He knew what that meant, of course.

 

Not long after the stag in Palm Springs, Ricky had gotten into a relationship with a guy named Pete, who was a porn model working for several different studios. Pete was a few years older than any of the boys in Twink Heaven, with a stocky but well muscled build and an eight inch tool. As an experienced porn performer, he certainly knew more things to do with fingers, tongue, and cock than many guys.

 

Ricky had brought him home a couple of times, and even had him over for a Tuesday night dinner. Pete had been affable and congenial, and the other twinks all seemed to enjoy his company. But Dylan felt uneasy. There was a vibe about Pete that made him nervous, a sense that his pleasant, laid-back, nice-guy exterior was just a little too perfect to be real. When Ricky started spending more and more nights and weekends with Pete, Dylan got more uneasy. Part of his uneasiness came from the graphic descriptions he heard from Ricky of all the things that Pete and Ricky got up to together, and especially the number of other people involved in their activities.

 

There was more than a bit of the mother hen about Dylan, especially when it came to the well-being of his best friend. The odd thing was that Ricky, even at his most devil-may-care moments, had very similar feelings about Dylan. At any rate, Dylan had continued watching and listening carefully. And worrying.

 

And now, Ricky was out going crazy with Pete again. It wasn’t as if Dylan minded some crazy every now and again himself, but he usually kept it to the playroom in their condo where there were other people nearby if things began to get out of hand.

 

Ricky, though, wasn’t being cautious at all. He’d flung common sense to the four winds of heaven since his wild weekend in Palm Springs, not just going nuts in frequent three-ways and four-ways with his new boyfriend, but also getting random fucks from anyone and everyone at all hours. More and more people were experiencing his ass first-hand, and then talking about him and spreading – and hearing -- all the slutty details every day. Dylan grew ever more concerned, and occasionally went beyond that point into “fearful,” at Ricky’s antics. He was certainly no prude, but he worried that Ricky was going to cross paths with the wrong guys and wind up in the hospital – or worse.

 

One Saturday night, Pete took Ricky to a party at a friend’s place up in the hills. The friend was a heavy-set older man named Stewart. Ricky normally liked daddies but something about this one rubbed him the wrong way. However, after the greetings when Stewart handed him a drink, he hardly noticed any more as Stewart’s home was full of hot, muscular guys, all of them dressed in next to nothing or less, and all of them sporting sizable erections. Ricky hardly knew where to look first with so much prime beef all around him.

 

As it turned out, it didn’t matter. The party was an orgy as soon as Pete and Ricky got undressed, and the two of them were the centre of attention as they got down to business right on the floor of the large open room. Before long, Pete was hammering deep into Ricky’s ass while the dozen or so muscle tops stood around, stroking their cocks to keep them hard.

 

As soon as Pete exploded inside Ricky and pulled out, another cock replaced him – and another, and another, and another. The loads mounted up inside Ricky’s hole as his remaining inhibitions flew out the window. Ricky lost count of how many cocks he’d taken, how many loads had been pumped into him. He was flying high on sex – and on the unexplained contents of his drink.

 

Some kind soul had left a black felt marker on a nearby table, which was also where Ricky’s favourite seatless briefs had landed when Pete pulled them off. The black marks on the waistband mounted up as more and more men came to join the party. By this time, Ricky was so far gone in his drug-induced haze that he didn’t even notice the man roaming around and around with the camcorder.

 

Finally, after several hours, Pete called a halt. He picked the semi-conscious Ricky up, half-carried him down the hall to a bedroom with bath, helped him get the remaining sperm out of his ass, cleaned him off, and then put him to bed.

 

Ricky emerged from his drugged sleep about twelve hours later, slowly returning to consciousness to find himself alone, in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room. The pain in his ass was grinding at his nerves. He’d never been this sore before, not even when he’d been ripped. He was clutching hard at something in his hand, an instinctive reaction to the pain. Looking down, he slowly unclenched his fingers and realized that he was holding his own seatless briefs, but they’d been improved and redecorated with a neat row of black marks along the waistband. He counted them slowly, shook his head, and counted them again.

 

Thirty-four.

 

As the mists of sleep receded, his brain put two and two together, still with some difficulty, as he realized that the row of black marks explained the intense pain in his hole. He picked up his phone and started texting Dylan, then stopped, wondering what he ought to say. Just then there came a quiet knock and the door began to open. Ricky put his phone down, sliding it under the covers but still holding onto it, just as Stewart walked in.

 

“How are you doing, kid? You kinda had me worried when you slept so long.”

 

Ricky bristled at the dismissive “kid,” but he held that in.

 

“Where am I?”

 

“Still at my house.”

 

“Where’s Pete?”

 

“Long gone. He left for home after breakfast.”

 

“After breakf… what time is it anyway?”

 

“Getting on for three o’clock in the afternoon. Listen, kid, you and me are gonna have a talk.”

 

“About what? About the fact that you served me a drink which had been drugged?”

 

“It was drugged? Wow! So that’s why you passed out for so long. Haha! But no. What we need to talk about is the video. Because that was the point of getting you here. Just a rough cut, but you’ll get the idea. It’ll look better once my editors are completely done with it. These are just a few screenshots.”

 

Stewart showed Ricky the screen of his phone. The images were merciless, clear and unmistakable. Ricky, on his back, legs in the air, and a different top’s big dick buried inside him in each picture, then several pictures of his hole, red, puffy, and oozing streams of cum. Then came a brief video clip, with Ricky moaning, eyes rolling, as another huge, hard cock was rammed into him, displacing another wave of sperm from inside his ass cunt. That was followed by a clip of Pete, slurping all the cum out of his ass while showing it all to the camera, and then by a clip of Ricky, eyes closed and utterly unresponsive, getting DP from two of the biggest tops present.

 

“You were the real hit of the party, kid. You and your wide-open, slutty ass. Just like this video is going to be the hit of the year for my company.”

 

“Without my consent? That’s illegal. And anyway, I’m under age.”

 

“Nice try. Your social media is full of pictures of your 21st birthday party last year. And consent? Of course you consented. Kid, you’ve been building yourself a reputation for the last year and longer of being the ultimate butt slut of WeHo, and everyone in town knows it. Who’s gonna believe that you would ever say no to an opportunity like this? You won’t have a leg to stand on.

 

“Now, here’s what you’re gonna do. First of all, Pete is out of the picture. You’re gonna live here with me and be my boy toy from now on. Next, you’re gonna appear in a whole string of my movies, getting fucked by every top I can find who will take a go at your slutty hole. And you’re gonna make good and damn sure you act like you’re enjoying every minute of it.

 

“In between films, I’m gonna make a pile by pimping out your sorry cunt whenever I feel like it, and you’ll take all of that too – and like it, if you know what’s good for you.”

 

Ricky tried – and failed – to keep in the boiling wave of anger.

 

“Fuck that. I’m not doing any of it, if I have to walk out of here and straight to the police station in my underwear.”

 

“I think you will. Who’s gonna believe you if you try to come over all innocent and pure? Face it, kid, you wanted to act like the king slut of all time, you won the title, and now you might as well enjoy it as much as you can. You don’t have a choice any more. Like I said before, you don’t have a leg to stand on.”

 

Stewart left the room, closing the door.

 

Ricky clenched his fists in rage. For the first time ever, he was truly seeing himself through someone else’s eyes, and it wasn’t a comfortable sensation. Like Rinaldo, staring into the magical diamond shield, Ricky was appalled at the truth about himself which had been revealed to him in Stewart’s words – especially the truth of not having a leg to stand on. What Stewart had said was 110% on the money – nobody, but nobody, would believe he hadn’t consented to the orgy.

 

He twisted in bed, filled with impotent fury, then stopped, feeling something else biting into his hand under the covers. Something hard, square… his phone. Just then, it emitted a beeping sound, the sound of a low battery. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, and gave a low whistle. Maybe he did have a leg to stand on after all. He scrambled to the chair where his clothes were lying and dug the charger cord out of his pocket. He connected the phone to an outlet, briefly checked the newest file, and then started texting a message – but not to Dylan.

 

Thirty minutes later, Ricky opened the door, walked down the hall, and found Stewart sitting in the kitchen, talking loudly on his phone. When he put the phone down, he turned to Ricky and looked him up and down.

 

“Hey, you don’t have to get all dressed up for me, kid, now that I’m your daddy. You look great in that strap you had on last night.”

 

“I’m leaving. And if you’re smart, you won’t try to stop me.”

 

Stewart laughed uproariously. “Holy shit, my new boy toy thinks he’s a fucking stand-up comedian!” Then he snarled. “Idiot! You ain’t goin nowhere unless I say so.”

 

“No, I think I am – and when I explain, I think you’ll agree. But I’ll save that until my ride gets here – that’ll be in about 5 minutes, maybe a bit less.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Right here to your house at 15291 Grandwynne Drive, Stewart.” For the first time, Stewart looked a bit uncertain. “And don’t get any smart ideas. You’re right in line for some nice little criminal charges that will send you up the river for quite a few years, starting with drugging, kidnapping, and extortion. The person who’s coming to get me knows exactly who you are, where you live, and what you’re like, and has heard the voice recording from my phone of your interesting little plans for my future – and saved a copy of it. I already forwarded it to him.”

 

Stewart looked startled for a moment, then recovered and roared with laughter. “You’re bluffing, kid, there’s no fucking way you’re that smart.” The doorbell rang. “Shit….” Looking a bit scared now, Stewart headed to the front door with Ricky right behind him. He opened it.

 

“Well, Stewart, still up to your old dirty tricks, are you? You’d have done the same thing to me fifteen years ago if I hadn’t turned down your offer of a drink.”

 

“Fuck!” He turned to Ricky. “Is this your friend?”

 

“Yes, Ricky and I are friends. Are you okay, Ricky?”

 

“For now, Daniel. As I told you on the phone, I’ve had better days.” Ricky turned to Stewart. “Do you still think I’m bluffing?” He hit the play button on the phone and the three of them listened to the recording.

 

“In between films, I’m gonna make a pile by pimping out your sorry cunt whenever I feel like it….”

 

Stewart paled. Daniel spoke, quietly, intensely. “Let me explain this to you very clearly, Stewart. You have a reputation around WeHo too, and it’s not very savory. This voice recording would certainly give the police and the D.A.’s office more than enough information right here and now to get you a nice extended holiday as a guest of the state.

 

“How do you avoid that? Number one, you destroy that video, all copies of it, including all stills, screen shots, audio tracks, the works. If it ever surfaces, anywhere, in any form, you’re going to be hearing about it in court during your trial.

 

“Next, you forget that all of this ever happened – forget it totally. Any bragging, any stories going around about this staged gang rape, and we go straight to the police with this audio recording. While we’re at it, you’d better get hold of all the guys who took part in this rape, including Pete, and make sure all of them shut their traps too.

 

“And finally, if you have any kind of real smarts at all, this would be a very good time for you to exit the porn business for good, and to exit Los Angeles for good too while you’re at it.

 

“You know me, Stewart, and you know that I know everyone in and around this industry even though I’m not working in porn any more. That means that I have eyes and ears everywhere – and if this story gets out, I will hear about it, and you will be in deep in the shit, right up to your sorry, flabby neck. Let’s go, Ricky.”

 

They had a silent ride back to Twink Heaven. There was no point in airing the dirty linen within earshot of the plainly gay and frankly curious Uber driver. After they arrived, though, and were standing on the sidewalk outside the building, Ricky asked Daniel for one more favour. “I don’t think this one will be dangerous at all, I just want a backup for moral support.”

 

“Of course.”

 

They walked two blocks down the street, and into another building. Ricky buzzed Pete’s number and the lobby door unlocked. When they got upstairs, Pete was waiting in the hall. Ricky stepped out of the elevator.

 

“Ricky! Are you okay? Sorry I had to….”

 

His voice trailed off as Daniel stepped out of the elevator right behind Ricky. Pete was no fool. He knew that face perfectly well, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to pick an argument with the Hawaiian Nine’s sizable muscles.

 

Ricky walked right up to Pete as he cringed in the open doorway of his apartment. He stared Pete coldly in the face until Pete cracked and began to talk.

 

“Ricky, I’m sorry, I never knew it was going to get filmed….”

 

“Don’t lie to me. You knew. The whole thing. Planned gang rape, drugging, filming without consent, sucking all that cum out of my ass after I was unconscious. You knew. You pathetic, lying, scumbag lump of shit.”

 

Ricky turned and walked away. Daniel added his two cents worth.

 

“He’s right, you know. Better be careful what you say. That’s serious felony stuff we’re talking about, and you’re into this mess a long way already.”

 

He followed Ricky out of the building and walked him home. Ricky turned to thank him, and to invite him up for a drink. Daniel declined, but urged Ricky to contact him when he was feeling better, and they’d get together for dinner somewhere with Steve, Jim, and Laszlo. Ricky hugged him and thanked him again.

 

He walked into the condo, and found Dylan sitting in the living room, nursing a sangria. “Ricky! Where the hell did you and Pete get to this time? Weekend away somewhere?”

 

Ricky smiled ruefully. “If I told you, you’d never believe it.”

 

Dylan laughed. “Try me. Want a drink?” He gestured to the pitcher by his elbow.

 

Ricky chuckled, his normal good humour returning. “Thanks, but no. This time I’m going to make my own.”

 

Over the next hour, Ricky told Dylan what had happened. Dylan was appalled to hear that Ricky had indeed gotten himself into a mess by mixing with the wrong people. He was relieved to learn that Ricky had accidentally wiggled out of it by pressing the voice record button on his phone without meaning to, and that he’d broken off with Pete, but of course there was no guarantee that Stewart wouldn’t try to release the video anyway – and the dangerous implications of the near miss still scared Dylan. After Ricky went to bed, Dylan took a moment to text a friend, setting a time to talk the next day, before going to bed himself.

 

About five days later, when his ass was feeling back to normal, Ricky texted Daniel. In an hour or so, he got a reply. All set for tonight. Meet at Shell Games at seven. Smart casual.

 

At seven sharp he arrived at the restaurant and found the other four waiting for him on the sidewalk outside. Once seated inside, Daniel assumed the role of the courtly host, consulting with his guests about the wines to be ordered and asking the waiter for suggestions from the menu for their dinners.  They had a splendid meal, and the conversation flowed easily all around the table. There was no mention at all of Ricky’s most recent misadventure, and to all appearances the other three might not even have known about it. At the end of the meal, as they lingered over coffee and liqueurs, Jim casually asked, “Shooting Stars tonight, anyone?”

 

Ricky demurred, still feeling a little anti-social and scared after what had happened. Steve and Laszlo accepted eagerly, but Daniel raised a few eyebrows when he said, “I’m not in the mood. I’ll just walk home with Ricky – if that’s where you were headed, Ricky?”

 

The other three peeled off when they reached the bar, and Ricky walked on with Daniel along the street. “Daniel, can I ask you a question? Did you mean it when you said that Stewart tried the same trick on you?”

 

Daniel stopped him. “Look at me, Ricky.” Ricky looked up, and Daniel caught his gaze, eye to eye. “Ricky, I wouldn’t try to trap even a piece of scum like him with a lie. Yes, it’s true. I got lucky. My mom didn’t approve of alcohol, and I was only a few months out from running away from home in Hawaii, so I hadn’t acquired a taste for it yet. I asked for Perrier instead.”

 

“Was it past the expiry date?”

 

Daniel roared with laughter. “Oh, so you’ve heard that story too, have you?”

 

“Everyone who ever meets Jim and Steve gets that one told to them eventually.”

 

“Very true.” Daniel laughed again, then turned serious. “Ricky, you will need to guard yourself for the next while. If you carry on the way you were doing, in full view of everyone, it’ll just make it easier for Stewart to release that film and wiggle off the hook for any consequences.”

 

“I guess.”

 

“I’ve known him for a long time now. I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”

 

“Thanks for the good advice, Daniel. I guess I need a bit more of that in my life.” Just as he said that, they had reached the door of the building. “Got any more good advice for me? Or just come up for a nightcap? Call it a way for me to say thanks again.”

 

To his surprise, Daniel accepted. When they got upstairs, the apartment was quiet. Daniel nosed around. “So this is the famous Twink Heaven. I’d expected something a little – I don’t know, maybe a bit more random décor.”

 

“Well, it’s not really ours. We rented it long-term from the owner, furnished.”

 

“In that case, you’re doing a pretty awesome job of keeping it nice and tidy.”

 

“That’s Ryan, our housekeeping enforcer and resident tough guy. What would you like?”

 

“A Perrier, with ice please.”

 

“And not past the due date.”

 

They both laughed again. Ricky went and got two bottles of Perrier from his section of the refrigerator, popped the caps, added some ice to a couple of glasses, and came back to the living room. They toasted each other silently and sipped for a moment. Then Daniel put his glass down.

 

“I guess I gave you the impression that I had some more advice for you. But what I really wanted was this.” Daniel slid closer to Ricky, put his arm around Ricky’s shoulders, drew him close, and began to kiss him with tongue. Instead of responding instantly as he might have done a week earlier, Ricky drew back.

 

“Wait a minute. Is this your idea of me guarding myself, being more careful? Wouldn’t Laszlo be upset?”

 

“I doubt it,” Daniel replied. “He’ll almost certainly wind up with Steve and Jim, and not for the first time. I’m sure he expects this to happen.”

 

Ricky still looked a bit doubtful, but then he’d been wanting to get at Daniel for so long. The man was absolutely the Numero Uno hunk of all the men he’d ever seen since he’d landed in Los Angeles: the hottest body, the sexiest tan, the thickest cock. Now Ricky was discovering that all of Daniel’s kissing scenes in his many videos hadn’t been faked. Daniel was a tremendous and skillful kisser, and Ricky couldn’t help responding. He let himself go with the flow – then rose to his feet, and led Daniel to his room, since Dylan was away for a couple of days.

 

They undressed each other, and Ricky fell back on the bed, then reached up, drawing Daniel down to him. For one more moment he thought of all those incredible video scenes from Hawaiian Nine Films. But then he realized that this older, huskier daddy Daniel was far sexier and even more magnetic than his younger screen persona had ever been. He rolled onto his back and lifted his legs in clear invitation.

 

Daniel reached for the lube, greased up his thick nine-inch tool, and planted the tip against Ricky’s hole, which certainly looked much better. But he was keeping his eyes open, studying Ricky for any reaction as he pressed inwards, keeping up the gentle pressure until the hole yielded and let his big, thick head pop inside. Ricky moaned aloud, but not in pain, so Daniel kept on the pressure. As soon as he had sunk all the way inside, he began flexing his muscles to make his cock jump inside Ricky. But he also kept watching.

 

An experienced porn film man himself, he recognized the signs of the same exact behaviours some of his partners had exhibited when filming – the moment when the guy detached emotionally from what was happening and behaved as if on script, dutifully moaning and muttering and crying “Fuck” when he was in truth completely separated from any involvement in what he was doing. Ricky was looking exactly like that now, his words and actions coming as rote, his bodily responses learned and repeated. This was what Daniel had feared to see. But he knew he had to keep up his end of the script, so he kept plowing into Ricky, praising the tightness of his hole when in truth it felt loose even to Daniel’s massive tool.

 

When Daniel started muttering that he was going to cum soon, Ricky dutifully speeded up the rise and fall of his hips and squeezed his ass muscles harder on Daniel’s cock. This part Daniel was enjoying, as he had always let himself go and thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of breeding an ass. This was likely the reason why even the tetchiest critics always found his cumshot scenes so compelling. Even when he was breeding, his massive cock out of sight, hidden deep inside his partner’s fuck tunnel, the physical intensity and power of his own reactions went far beyond any kind of learned behaviour.

 

And so it was now. Ricky’s ass was definitely talented, and he was doing a first-rate job of pulling Daniel’s load up and out. And Daniel was enjoying it, every moment, every second of the rise to the peak and subsequent explosion. And then it happened. With a muted bellow, Daniel slammed down hard into Ricky’s ass, following up with a series of short, sharp extra thrusts to force his cum up and out and into Ricky’s body. At last his energy ebbed away, and he lifted up, then slowly slid out of Ricky’s ass. As he went, though, he was still watching Ricky intently and could see that he hadn’t yet emerged from that detached state. This convinced Daniel that he was on the right track, that his guess was accurate.

 

He laid down again, pulling Ricky close to him and resuming kissing. Ricky came back, then, enjoying something that he got to experience all too rarely – the feeling of actual human closeness and intimacy, over and above the mere physical connection of sex.

 

After a few minutes, Daniel drew back and spoke to him.

 

“How was that, Ricky?”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well, you’ve been chasing after me with great determination for over a year, ever since I moved in here. Did I live up to your expectations?”

 

He said that with a chuckle, but he noted the flash of distress in Ricky’s face. He’d heard from others that Ricky hated to hurt anyone’s feelings and guessed that this was the cause of his current state of discomfort. But then, Ricky surprised and pleased him by not taking the easy way out.

 

“Well, honestly….”

 

“Please.”

 

“No, it didn’t. But it wasn’t your fault, you were great, it was more… I don’t know, I guess I just expect too damn much.”

 

Daniel snuggled him a bit closer and stroked his head gently. “Is that it, then, Ricky? Tell me, have your experiences always failed to live up to your expectations?”

 

“Oh, no. It always used to be so fantastic. So exciting and involving and – you know, when a guy made me cum, fucked the cum out of me, I would feel that nothing could ever get any better.”

 

Daniel frowned a bit. Again, his guess had been confirmed.

 

“Ricky, when was the last time you really felt that way? Like really, seriously, felt that way?”

 

“I can’t even remember. It’s been so long. Years, I guess.” He screwed up his face in thought, then turned and looked right at Daniel. “I’m going to tell you something now, it’s pretty bad but it’s the truth. When things skidded out of control at Stewart’s place last week, I went along, let it happen because I thought that then maybe I’d get that rush, that incredible feeling back again – all those gorgeous muscle studs fucking me and filling me up, creaming my ass. But I didn’t. All I got was a drug-induced hangover and a very sore hole.”

 

Daniel took a deep breath and figured out carefully exactly how to say the next thing. “Ricky, if sex isn’t doing anything for you any more, do you think a doctor might be able to help?”

 

“I don’t know… this doesn’t seem like a medical problem, not like getting a bad case of limp dick or anything.”

 

“Ricky, it’s all health and it’s all medical. Physical, mental, emotional, they all work as a team to make life better, or else they fight against each other and make life hell. But it’s all a doctor’s business. Just from what you’ve said tonight, it sounds like getting to a doctor might turn out to be the biggest favour you’ve ever done yourself.”

 

“I guess you’re right, I’d sort of already thought that myself. But there’s the cost….”

 

“We can cover that angle. I can call in a favour from the doctor who handled all our medical issues at Hawaiian Nine. Your situation will certainly be right up his alley. Let me know when I can make you an appointment with him.”

 

Suddenly, Ricky made up his mind. “Right now. This thing – it’s ripping me apart. I’ve got to get on top of this dead feeling before it breaks me down all the way.” He grabbed his phone and checked his calendar. “This week and the next two weeks, I’m doing all early arrivals at the store’s office so I’m through work each weekday at 3:00 PM. If you go ahead and set an appointment and then let me know when… Daniel, I’m so grateful to you for suggesting it.”

 

Daniel gave Ricky another heartfelt hug and kiss. The truth was, he had actually come to like this younger man with his unique style of approaching life, by turns brash, reflective, reckless, thoughtful, sarcastic, and considerate. It was the complexity of his personality that made him so unusual, and appealing. And Daniel really wanted to help him get a grip on his life issues, because be knew already that there was so much more to Ricky than just a cute butt with a hot, wet hole.

 

At last, he got up and dressed, while Ricky pulled on his briefs and watched. Just as Daniel finished buttoning down his shirt, Ricky sighed. “Damn, I had no idea that just watching a man get dressed could be so incredibly sexy.”

 

Daniel chuckled. “Don’t push your luck, Ricky. I’ve got to save something to bring home for Laszlo or my name is mud!”

 

Ricky laughed at that. “If he gets mad, tell him it’s all my fault and I’m sorry.”

 

They hugged and kissed goodbye, and Daniel swung out the door – just as Terry came along the hall. He goggled at the sight of the famous ex-porn-star but exchanged civil hellos with him.  Once he was inside, he immediately had to ask. “Ricky, how the fuck did you ever get him into bed with you?”

 

Ricky laughed. “I acted lost and helpless. Tried and true method.”

 

Terry snorted in derision. But even as Ricky laughed at him, he was realizing that it was simple truth. Contrary to what almost anyone else except his closest friends would expect or know, there was a caring heart hidden inside all that muscle and business-first attitude of the former Hawaiian Nine.

 

 

 

[daddybear54]

Chapter 12:  Falling Off the Cliff

 

 

Less than two weeks later, Ricky got to see Daniel’s doctor friend. This doctor quickly recognized the feelings Ricky described as a common symptom of addiction – the feeling that if he could just get “more” in some way, everything would feel great again. He recommended the idea of therapy to dig down into the background emotions involved in these feelings, and gave Ricky a referral to a therapist, Dr. Magnus.

 

With a little financial help from Daniel and Laszlo, and from Steve and Jim, and the help of a GoFundMe page, he was able to spend a few useful sessions with Dr. Magnus, who proved to be a very insightful man, and capable of evoking similar depths of insight in Ricky. Since Dr, Magnus was also gay, there was no awkwardness about discussing these sexual issues. It took only those few hours for a likely chain of causes to emerge. Starting at the point of Ricky’s sense of rejection by his mother and his feelings of being unanchored and adrift when he arrived in WeHo, and proceeding to his rapid entry into Alan’s life, and his desire to secure his place there by meeting his daddy’s endless appetite for sloppy seconds, it wasn’t hard for Ricky to connect the dots and see exactly how his pattern of habitual behaviour had emerged and evolved.

 

However, when Dr. Magnus indicated that the process of trying to undo the pattern might be more prolonged and require many more sessions, Ricky was forced to terminate the therapy – not without regret, because it had been very helpful. It was simply too costly for him to go on, but he felt he could trust his clearer insight into his issues to help him modify his own patterns of behaviour going forward.

 

And to all appearances, it worked. This was where the strength and determination which others saw in Ricky really paid off for him. Before long, the other guys in the area were commenting about how Ricky was a changed man. The former Numero Uno Slut had calmed right down, no longer racing after every new face in town to get yet another cock in his hole. It was a kind of nine days wonder, but all the discussion about Ricky gradually evaporated as other young guys stepped forward to claim the title as the newest and hottest butt sluts and topics of conversation in WeHo.

 

The shift in focus away from struggling with these feelings in his own life also freed up more of Ricky’s time to focus on the bigger problems and issues around him. Top of the list among those was plainly the situation with Terry.

 

The trouble had started less than two weeks after Ricky’s ordeal when Terry came home and announced that he’d just gotten a gig taking part in a porn film with Stewart’s company. Ricky was forced to ask a dangerous question.

 

“Does Stewart know we’re friends, Terry?”

 

“I don’t think so. Why?”

 

“That’s a very long story. Just trust me on this, Terry. Do both of us a favour and don’t tell him you know me, okay?”

 

Before long, Terry was spending evenings and weekends over at Stewart’s place. Stewart would always send a car to bring him up to his house in the hills. Ricky shook his head sadly as he saw his friend drifting more and more into the orbit of one of the most disreputable and manipulative members of the gay porn community. On the surface, Terry bragged about what a great time he was having, how much fun it was having a millionaire porn magnate for a boyfriend. He also didn’t hesitate to share the details about the porn scenes he was filming (increasingly kinky and messy), the parties he was attending, and the assorted drugs he was trying out.

 

All of this activity may have been exciting for Terry, but it was also making him increasingly hard to handle. He had morose days with fits of threatening self-harm, or he flew into sudden rages for no apparent reason. Things had begun disappearing from the other guys’ rooms and they were afraid that Terry was getting itchy fingers. There were unexplained shortfalls in his kitchen budget, too, but Terry exploded in anger when asked about it.

 

Despite the problems of dealing with Terry, there was a pleasant highlight for Ricky and Dylan around this time. The guys from Twink Heaven hosted a big party in the public function room of the building in honour of Dylan’s 25th birthday, but the focus shifted dramatically when Archer and Duarte arrived, not-too-discreetly flashing around the gold rings on their hands. The birthday party suddenly turned into a raucous wedding celebration, and nobody complained, least of all Dylan, even when he highlighted his toast and speech of congratulations by solemnly taking out his wallet and handing a fifty-dollar bill to Ricky.

 

Less than six months after Ricky’s life-altering conversation with Daniel, the six twinks were faced with the need to leave Twink Heaven. In truth, it had become more of a twink hell in recent months, but the name somehow had stuck. However, their sublet was expiring, and the owner had made it known that he was coming back at the end of the next month. They would all have to leave.

 

Ricky and Dylan immediately decided that it was time to launch out and find a place of their own. They’d have to scrimp and save, but they could manage it on their two incomes. Before long, they’d found a small but adequate apartment some distance off the main strip, with a small second bedroom for those nights when one of them brought someone home with him. Duarte had already moved in with Archer full time, of course. Leo and Ryan had also found a place, largely thanks to the income from their successful online fitness business, and Terry was left to fend for himself.

 

At least, that’s how it looked to Terry. In reality the other five were making a determined effort to get clear away from Terry before he dragged all of them down with him. It was difficult for each of the guys. The years together in Twink Heaven had conditioned them all to think of themselves, and indeed to become, a family. They were far from being the first family that ever had to cut loose from a family member who was making all the wrong choices for all the wrong reasons. But it was still painful. And the results were predictable: when it was time to leave, Terry moved in with Stewart.

 

But then, abruptly, Terry’s life turned into a miserable mess. He turned up one Friday night at Shooting Stars, finding Ricky and Dylan there, and spilled out his sad story. His swanky life had come to a sudden abrupt end when Stewart’s demands got too sickening for him to stomach. He had at least refused Stewart’s attempt to get him involved in making more violent porn slasher films, but then Stewart had dumped him. Almost literally so: they’d gone out to a club, and Stewart had gotten the driver to stop outside the condo building where Twink Heaven had been. Then he had physically shoved Terry out the door and told the driver to “just drive away and leave the trash on the curb where it belongs.”

 

Terry was plainly hoping for some help from his friends, but Ricky and Dylan knew that they couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to put him up – their new apartment was compact enough to feel like a dog kennel after the luxury of space in Twink Heaven. Ricky gently explained that to Terry, hating himself every step of the way for having to do it. With no other cards left to play, Terry had to move into the same hostel from which he had once helped Ricky to escape and go back to work in the same café where he and Ricky had first met.

 

In less than a week, though, things began to look up. Terry, working an afternoon shift at the café’s bar, found himself being chatted up by a man he’d never met before. Paul was a tall, lean man in excellent shape with prematurely grey hair. After taking early retirement from the navy, he’d settled in WeHo. He couldn’t have said what it was that drew him to Terry, but plainly there was some sort of subconscious electricity as Terry was also and instantly attracted to him. Within a few weeks, they were living together in Paul’s condo.

 

When Ricky met Paul, he found this man to be just the sort of kind, steady older man Terry needed to help him settle down from the many disruptions of his life. But he was saddened to find that Paul seemed to be completely oblivious to Terry’s biggest problem.

 

During his time with Stewart, Terry had become addicted to various recreational drugs, and loved to play mix and match with them – and then spice up the entire cocktail with hefty doses of alcohol as well. There was not much point trying to explain all of this to Paul who was plainly well and truly in love with his new boy, and unaware of the significance of Terry’s wild mood swings and bouts of unending energy followed by the nearly catatonic collapse which always came afterwards. Even when Terry would spend an entire Saturday sleeping on and on in what was effectively a state of blackout, Paul didn’t seem to register that it might be a problem.

 

Being the man he was, Ricky fretted endlessly about this situation involving his very first friend on the west coast, but he couldn’t see any course of action clear in front of him. He’d even tried talking to some of his older friends. Daniel had been the first one he’d headed for because of sharing a history with Stewart. All Daniel could do, though, was to shake his head sadly as he confirmed that, like Ricky, he hadn’t fallen for Stewart’s free and easy party drug lifestyle which Terry had gotten sucked into.

 

Ricky wished Paul nothing but the best, but he feared that Paul’s relationship with Terry was going to crash into a disastrous ending. And while he wanted so desperately to help Terry out of the hole he’d fallen into, Ricky knew only too well that you could only help people to change if they wanted to change. Terry seemed to lack the will to go down a different  road from the one he was now walking.

 

One night, Ricky got a phone call which shoved Terry’s problems forcibly to the very back of his mind and left them there for a long time.

 

“Hello.”

 

“Mr. Richard Manningtree?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This is the Mercy Hospital Emergency Department in West Hollywood.”

 

“What’s happened?”

 

“A Mr. Dylan Carroll has just been brought in by ambulance. He had your name and number in his wallet as a contact person. Are you a relative?”

 

“What happened to him?”

 

“Are you a relative, Mr. Manningtree?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you his partner?”

 

Ricky by now was nearly frantic.

 

“What has happened to Dylan!!??”

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give out any information except to next of kin.”

 

Ricky cut the call in frustration, and rapidly booked an Uber. Twenty minutes later he arrived at the hospital.

 

“Can somebody please, please, tell me what has happened?”

 

“I’m sorry, sir,…”

 

“I know, you’re not allowed. But please listen to me very carefully for the next 45 seconds.” Ricky was struggling to keep his panic and its partner, anger, on a leash. “Dylan is my best friend. I know nothing of where he comes from, or where his family is located. All I know is what he’s told me, which is this: when his family found out he was gay, they threw him out of the house and told him never to come back. And when I say they ‘threw him out,’ I mean that his father threatened to blow his head off with a shotgun if he ever showed his perverted, asswipe face in their home again, and his mother said she would then take a kitchen knife and cut his cock and balls off. Now: perhaps you can understand why he has broken all connection with his birth family for good.”

 

“Sir, yes, I can understand that very well, but right now he’s unconscious….”

 

“Thank you for letting at least one detail slip.”

 

“…so we need to trace his legal relatives in some other way.”

 

At this point, Ricky’s imminent explosion was forestalled by the timely arrival of a police officer. “Excuse me, I’m Sergeant Stanmore, and I need to speak to Dr. Gorrie. About the sexual assault case he reported to us.”

 

Ricky felt his heart drop right down into his shoes. The receptionist paged Dr. Gorrie, and after the PA cut off, Ricky gamely returned to the attack.

 

“He’s my roommate, my best friend. Isn’t there anything else you can tell me? Anything? Like should I wait for him to help him get home or what?”

 

Just as the receptionist was about to launch into the seventeenth reiteration of “Sir, I’m sorry…”, the officer turned to Ricky. “Are you asking about the sexual assault victim?”

 

“If that’s Dylan Carroll you’re talking about, yes, I am.”

 

“Come with me, please. We need to talk.”

 

Ricky had just given the officer some particulars about Dylan’s life and had begun answering some basic questions about himself and where he came in, when Dr. Gorrie arrived. Sergeant Stanmore turned to greet him, and then said to Ricky, “Hang on right here, I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can.” Ricky thought that Stanmore showed a damned sight more compassion than the mechanical wind-up toys of the “Sir, I’m sorry” brigade.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Stanmore returned and said to Ricky, “He’s going to be here for several days at least. Would you like a lift home?”

 

“But can you….”

 

Ricky stopped dead as Stanmore held up an authoritative hand. “Home first – then I’ll tell you what I know.” The last words were mouthed semi-silently.

 

It was a silent ride in the cruiser, but at least Stanmore let Ricky sit up front, which calmed his nerves by about two percent. Once they were in the apartment, he sat down across from Ricky and gave him a brief explanation.

 

“Your friend has been sexually assaulted – viciously assaulted – by three men. He’d just recovered consciousness and I was able to ask him a few questions. The three of them all raped him and then – well, he said they ‘fisted’ him. Forcefully. I don’t know for certain what that means.”

 

“I do,” Ricky said, in a voice devoid of emotion.

 

“Well, I can guess. Dr. Gorrie told me his anus was ripped up and bleeding heavily. He’ll have to go through surgery. They’re preparing him for the OR now.”

 

“Oh, my God.” Ricky dropped his head into his hands in shock.

 

Dr. Gorrie also told me there’s grave danger of further infection, due to the nature of the injuries. He’s going to keep me informed. Of course, we need to locate and charge the three men who attacked Dylan. He was able to give me one name. He said he recognized one of the assailants and identified him as ‘Dario.’ Does that name mean anything to you?”

 

“It certainly does,” Ricky said bitterly. “It’s not the first time Dario has assaulted Dylan.”

 

“Can you give me any other details?”

 

“About Dario’s identity, no. But I can tell you exactly who will know.” With that, he opened his phone and read out the full name and phone number of Steven, the host of the daddy parties. “He’ll know.”

 

“And you can’t give me any details of Dylan’s family?”

 

“I don’t know anything there – and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. His own mother and father have threatened to castrate him and murder him for being gay. I think that’s a good enough reason to keep them out of the picture entirely.”

 

Stanmore looked shaken by that. “I don’t blame you at all. Thank you for your help.”

 

“Thanks for telling me all of that, Sergeant. I was at wits’ end, trying to get around the hospital rules and find out anything.”

 

“I can imagine. And I probably shouldn’t have let you know so much, but I could see how distressed you were. I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

 

They shook hands on that, and Stanmore left. Ricky sat down and wept.

 

The story was all over the media the next day, but the victim was unidentified “pending notification of next of kin.” Having Dylan unnamed felt to Ricky like the final step of dehumanizing and demeaning him which the rapists had begun.

 

Some guardian angel must have secretly pushed a few buttons in the hospital’s computer system. In three days, Ricky got a phone call notifying him that Dylan had been moved from the ICU to a ward bed and could now have visitors. At the start of visitors’ hours, Ricky was right there, ready to go in and hear – well, it was sure to be a horror story.

 

He walked into the quad room. Mercifully, all the other three beds were empty for the moment.

 

Dylan’s face lit up right away, the smile contrasting oddly with all the tear tracks down his cheeks.

 

“Ricky! Thank God!”

 

“How are you doing, Dyl?”

 

“Worse than you can imagine, probably.”

 

“Please tell me. All the hospital staff can say to me is “Sir, I’m sorry…” because we aren’t family relatives.”

 

“I’ll show you.”

 

Dylan pulled off the sheets and hauled up one side of his hospital gown. Ricky stared, uncomprehending.

 

“Shit, Dylan, what is that thing?”

 

“That’s right. Shit is exactly what it is.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“Ricky, it’s a colostomy. My hole was so badly trashed that the surgeon had to sew it shut for good. Now, I go through the rest of my life with my guts draining into this bag and have to change it several times a day.”

 

Ricky had to struggle with a wave of nausea. “Fuck, man….”

 

“Well, now, that’s just what nobody will ever be able to do to me again.”

 

“Dylan, how the hell can you joke about it?”

 

“Because the jokes are the only thing keeping me from killing myself. I could never have imagined how completely violated I felt, what a useless piece of trash those thugs made me feel like. Did you know? They’d jumped me on the street, dragged me into a storage building, locked the door, and stuffed a dirty jock into my mouth before tearing my clothes off. They raped me first, all three of them, and then they all fisted me. When they were fisting me, they were slamming their hands in and out, fast and hard. One of the guys had a big ring on his hand with a lot of hard-cut edges. I could feel it ripping my hole into shreds until the pain got so bad I passed out. Someone found me lying in an alleyway, unconscious and bleeding hard, and called an ambulance.”

 

Ricky ran to the bathroom and vomited his guts out.

 

For the next week, Ricky spent every minute of visitor’s hours at the hospital, sitting with Dylan. It was hard to find other things to talk about, with the knowledge of what had been done to his friend hanging over him, but he did his best. Dylan really needed any distraction he could get, and Ricky dredged up all kinds of great little bits of community trivia and gossip to share with him.

 

The only good news, if you could call it that, was hearing from Stanmore that all three of the rapists had been arrested and charged and were being held since none of them could make bail. Ricky smiled grimly at the thought that none of those three vicious creeps would ever get any responsible member of the gay community to act as surety for them. He was normally a kind and caring man, but that crew could rot in jail forever and it wouldn’t upset him one bit.

 

After his second visit to the hospital, he sent a text to Duarte, Terry, Leo, and Ryan, telling them that he needed to see all of them and please meet him at Shooting Stars at 6:30 – he knew that this was after Terry’s shift at the café ended and before Ryan went on duty in the bar.

 

When they were all assembled around a table, Ricky told them in brief what had happened. Terry stared, wide-eyed in shock, but to Ricky’s dismay, Leo and Ryan immediately hooted with laughter and started cracking inane jokes about the colostomy. Terry snapped at them. “I ought to give both of you idiots a good slap upside the head. It’s not funny! In case you aren’t aware, this colostomy is a lifetime sentence. Dylan has to wear that bag and get reminded of this horror show every time he has to change it, multiple times a day for every single day from now until the day he dies.” Ryan and Leo immediately shut up. Ryan started to apologize but Ricky got up and walked from them away without a word, leaving his drink on the table, untasted. Terry snarled at Leo and Ryan, “I hope you guys are really proud of yourselves now.”

 

As he headed for the exit, Steve and Jim leaped up from another table and intercepted him. “Ricky, what’s wrong?”

 

“I can’t talk about it right now. Can I tell you another time?”

 

“Just one question. Was Dylan the one who….” Steve couldn’t finish the sentence.

 

“Yes.” Ricky kept walking. Steve stared at his receding back, appalled.

 

In another week, Dylan was well enough to be brought home. Ricky had already been looking around for some assistance to pay the hospital bill, which would be well beyond their means. But when they came to check out, he found that another guardian angel had paid the entire shot that morning. This time, Ricky could hazard a guess. He was sure that Alan, in his understated but thoughtful manner, had kept watching out for both of them, even after the way Ricky had left.

 

Getting  Dylan home was the easy part. Then there came the visit from the home care nurse, an ultra-efficient type, snapping out marching orders for the care and maintenance of the stoma like a military officer. After that, though, Ricky was left alone to cope with the invisible but much more severe damage. His vital, funny, endlessly energetic best friend was a broken man.

 

After another week, both of them went back to work. Dylan was now employed in the corporate office of the holding company which owned Shooting Stars and Shell Games (and a half-dozen other hospitality businesses in and around WeHo). Returning to the office forced him to take on the unenviable job of explaining to his boss the little problem which would force him to leave his work station for a while from time to time. But he’d underestimated his boss, who promptly locked the door of the office, then pulled his shirt up to show Dylan his own bag, the result of a youthful colon cancer attack. From then on, his boss, Jamie Li, became a key support point for Dylan in his struggle to master his new health regime.

 

Dylan was able to function well enough at work, keeping abreast of the needs of the moment with much of his old flair. He achieved that at the cost of losing it each night at home. He sat and stared for long hours at the walls, plainly struggling so that he wouldn’t break down completely. Ricky wanted to help but couldn’t – not in the way that was his usual instinctive response. The very first day back from the hospital, he’d found Dylan crying, sat down with him, and tried to hug him. Dylan had twisted violently away from him, shrieking, “NO!!! Don’t touch me! Leave me alone!!!” Ricky had recoiled in shock. Dylan’s trauma plainly ran deep.

 

As the days drifted into weeks, Ricky cast about for some means of finding the money to access professional help. He spoke to Dr. Magnus on the phone and got an instant assurance that space would be cleared in the doctor’s schedule to help Dylan in his struggle. Dr. Magnus, though, had to warn him that this was going to be a prolonged process, given the terrifying and life-altering consequences of the attack. Once again, the cost was far out of their reach. Ricky had sworn he wasn’t going to lean on Alan any more, but finally and reluctantly realized he was going to have to go there. He texted Alan, Can we meet for a  drink after work this week?

 

The immediate reply: Tonight, Shooting Stars, 6pm.

 

At 5:45, Ricky was already in the bar, waiting, with a drink in front of him. Alan arrived right on the dot, as Ricky had known he would, got a glass of wine from the bar, and sat down opposite Ricky with a classic compassionate Alan expression on his face. And he went straight to the point.

 

“Ricky, is this about Dylan?”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“Ricky, everyone’s been yammering away about the attack nonstop ever since it happened. But how did I know it was Dylan? Steve Rotherham told me. He knew that I would want to know, that I would care.”

 

“Alan, Dylan’s a complete mess. Seems to be coping okay at work, but at home he’s a disaster area. He can’t stand to be touched or hugged or anything because of the trauma. I’m worried he might become suicidal.”

 

“”Would you blame him?”

 

“Of course not. But I’m a little bit selfish here. I don’t want to go to my best friend’s funeral.”

 

“None of us want that.”

 

“So, here’s the thing. I’ve found a therapist who has space available and can take the case. I’ve talked to Dylan and he’s more than willing to give it a shot. But the fees….” He shook his head, sadly. “It’s far beyond us.”

 

“Done, Ricky. Don’t worry about it. Just give me the name and number of the therapist. I’ll call the office and have them bill me.” Ricky burst into tears, and Alan immediately got up, came around the table, and hugged him. “Ricky, don’t act so surprised.”

 

“It’s just… after the way I left… but you paid for the hospital… and you’re still willing to help?”

 

“Ricky, it’s only money. And by the way, I didn’t pay for the hospital but I know who did – and before you ask, I promised not to tell. Dylan has so much to offer the world, it’d be another crime to let all that potential go to waste. Anything that can help him to deal with this crisis is an investment in the future, and that’s my specialty.”

 

“Thank you, Alan. Thank you.”

 

“And besides, anything that can help Dylan is sure to help you as well, and that’s another great investment in the future. Trust me.” His voice took on a fake-fortune-teller tone as he closed his eyes and raised an admonitory hand into the air. “I see in the all-knowing crystal ball that you will do great things for many people throughout your life.” After that crack, Ricky finally laughed and, with that, so did Alan. “Ah, that’s much better, the real Ricky is back with us!”

 

He gave Ricky another warm hug, and then returned to his seat across the table. For another half an hour, they chatted about this and that, and then Alan tossed back the last of his drink, got up,  and said, “Time to go. Just pass me that information as soon as you can – and done.” And then, as Ricky jumped up and hugged him again, “Careful, my boy. Everyone will think you’re back to living with me.” And he sauntered out the door, giving Ricky a jaunty wave and a wink as he left.

 

Ricky sat down again, waved to Ryan and ordered another drink, and then sat in thought. After a few minutes, Steve and Jim came over. “Can we join?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“You’re looking a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

 

Ricky gave them an executive summary of his conversation with Alan, saying several times that he still couldn’t believe it.

 

Steve just chuckled. “That’s Alan. Show him something to do where he can help somebody, especially a member of the gay community, and he’s all over it. You didn’t know that, even after living with him?”

 

Ricky shook his head. “No, I didn’t. He said something along that line once or twice, but I couldn’t make the connection because I didn’t know any actual examples. I really didn’t know that much about him as a person, just what showed up between us.”

 

“Well, then,” Jim threw in, “You’ve learned a life lesson today as well as finding out something important about Alan Bryors. Never judge people only by what they show you.”

 

Ricky nodded thoughtfully.

 

“And, Ricky,” Steve added, “give Dylan some extra hugs from us.”

 

“I wish I could.”

 

“What?”

 

“Steve, Dylan is so traumatized right now that he can’t let anyone at all touch him.”

 

Ricky wasn’t surprised to see tears start flowing in Steve’s eyes, but even the unflappable Jim was getting teary, and that did surprise him.

 

“Well,” Jim said gently, “we can give you the extra hugs because you plainly need them almost as much as he does.”

 

The first half dozen therapy sessions went very well, and Dylan was looking much more like his old self after each of them. Evenings at home were still rocky, but he got an enormous boost right at this time when his boss, Jamie, got a promotion. Dylan applied for Jamie’s management job and got it. That vote of confidence from the company had an immediate and positive impact.

 

Ricky received messages of support from so many friends and colleagues. So did Dylan. They shared them all with each other. The word had gradually spread about Dylan having been the victim of the savage attack, and the WeHo gay community closed ranks, uniting as a family around him and giving all the support they could to aid in his healing.

 

One day Ricky got a call from the receptionist for Dr. Magnus, informing them that another donor, also anonymous, had sponsored a few therapy sessions for Ricky, to help him cope with the emotional fallout from Dylan’s ordeal. That donor plainly knew how dependent on each other Ricky and Dylan had become, and how much of a true couple they were, even though they stoutly insisted that they were still “just friends.”

 

More time. More therapy. More slow emergence of the old, funny, light-hearted Dylan from the shattering trauma of the months past. One night, after dinner, Dylan surprised Ricky by coming and sitting on the sofa right beside him instead of huddling at the far end.

 

“What’s up, Dyl?”

 

“I wanted to hold you. I feel ready now.”

 

Ricky put down his phone and turned slightly towards his friend. Dylan put an arm tentatively across Ricky’s shoulders and slowly drew him closer. Ricky turned more towards him. Dylan put up his other arm, and just like that, they were hugging. Not too closely, but still, it was a hug. Ricky thought hard about all the hugs he had wanted to give, and all the hugs others had wanted to give for months, hoping the energy would pass through to Dylan.

 

Suddenly, though, Dylan snapped clear of Ricky’s arms and retreated. “I… I’m sorry, Ricky… I just… I can’t… not yet.”

 

Ricky could feel his heart breaking inside him. “Dylan, whatever you do and whatever you think, please don’t blame yourself. None of this is your fault. It’s all down to Dario and his two maniac friends.”

 

Dylan smiled sadly. “I knew you would say that if I backed off. That’s so you. But, Ricky, I do blame myself. There’s no logic to it, it’s not reasonable, but I always felt that our friendship, our special relationship, was stronger than any mess life could throw at it – and now I’ve found that, at my end, it’s not. So I blame myself. It’s sweet of you to encourage me this way, but that blame is my feeling right now and I need to let myself feel it in order to get through this. At least, that’s what Dr. Magnus always reminds me – to feel whatever I need to feel.”

 

Ricky thought that over and then said, gently, “Just consider yourself hugged at a safe distance, by me, by the other Twinks from Twink Heaven, by all our friends. We’re all pulling for you.”

 

Dylan smiled again, a little more naturally this time, and they turned back to their usual solitary evening pursuits, Ricky choosing a larger-than-usual book to read so he could hide his tears.

 

It was a long and dreary winter. Rainy, cold, foggy, rarely any sun. Ricky stuck to his guns, to his determination to remain near at hand if Dylan needed or wanted him in any way, but it was a hard resolution to keep when the urge to get out of town and go someplace warm was so overpowering.

 

Spring came slowly, but it did come. The sun was shining again, the plants blooming and growing, and best of all, the temperatures were rising. Both Dylan and Ricky felt their spirits rising right along with the sunlight and the warmth. Life was actually beginning to feel worth living for Dylan again.

 

But then, one night, Ricky got a call from Sergeant Stanmore. It surprised him, but he picked up.

 

“Mr. Manningtree?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“This is Sergeant Stanmore. I need to come and see you. Are you home right now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Alone?”

 

“Dylan is here with me.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

 

Twenty minutes later, Stanmore was perched stiffly on the most uncomfortable chair in the apartment.

 

“What is it now, Sergeant? Is this something more about Dylan’s case?”

 

“No. The pretrial phase in that case is still underway at the D.A.’s office, and we have no further hand in it.”

 

“Then what? You’re plainly reluctant to come to the point. Please just let us know right away.”

 

Stanmore looked carefully at them both. Then he drew a deep breath.

 

“A man  was brought into the hospital ER this morning at about five o’clock. He had a paper in his wallet with both your names and numbers on it, among several others. His name was Terry Westover.”

 

“Sergeant, you said ‘had’ and ‘was’.” Dylan’s voice was detached, flat, toneless.

 

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this. He was pronounced dead on arrival.”

 

Ricky’s face slowly crumbled. His eyes brimmed up, overflowed. Tears poured down his face as he screamed, an outraged cry of gut-wrenching intensity: “NOOOOO!!!”

 

Stanmore stared helplessly at the two of them. But it was Dylan who acted. He slid over on the couch, gritted his teeth with a mixture of fear and determination, hesitated for another long moment, and then slowly put his arms around Ricky. Ricky collapsed into his embrace, sobbing his heart out on Dylan’s shoulder. Dylan ran his hand up Ricky’s back, stroking him gently, but with a detached expression on his face – appearing, as Stanmore thought later to himself, almost like one of those medieval paintings of the Madonna he’d seen in Sunday school, all maternal compassion mingled with detachment from mere worldly concerns.

 

“What happened, Sergeant?” Dylan asked, still in the same detached manner.

 

“He was found in West Hollywood Park. He had died of a drug overdose.”

 

“And you came to us.”

 

“The boys in the station were talking about it, said that they couldn’t locate any next of kin, only his friends. They showed me the list. I recognized your names, and said, ‘I’ll take this one. I’m going to go and tell these guys now.”

 

“Thank you for letting us know. I’d show you out, but….” Dylan gestured with his free hand at his heartbroken friend, who was still crying uncontrollably and clinging to him for dear life.

 

“Not to worry. And I’m sorry to have had to bring you more bad news.” He left. Ricky continued sobbing as Dylan held him close. With his free hand, Dylan began texting to Duarte. He and Archer were off on a NetFree Tours spring hike in the mountains, and out of contact, but Dylan wanted Duarte and Archer to know as soon as they got back to civilization. Then, still holding Ricky lovingly close, he began a message to Alan.

 

Four pairs of eyes stared solemnly at the small oaken casket which held the ashes of the leader of their group, dead at the ripe old age of 26. None of them were weeping now. They had all cried themselves out over the last three nights, crying themselves to sleep, some of them repeatedly waking up from dreams or nightmares to cry again.

 

Next to the casket stood a framed photo. Terry, as they all remembered him – as they wanted to remember him. The bright, blue eyes, the shock of brown hair tumbling over the forehead, the flashing smile which had grown so rare in recent months, the fair skin, the tattoo of a soaring eagle which he’d so proudly displayed on his shoulder. Here he was shown in his element. The picture was taken on Santa Monica Beach and showed Terry leaping up to catch a frisbee, hair flying in the wind, a sunny smile splashed across his face, and that was significant. The beach was always the one place where Terry had felt at home – and at peace.

 

Around them, the soft murmur of voices rose and fell. The room was full of men, all members of the WeHo gay community who had known Terry or had known one or another of his friends in the close-knit little group who had lived together in “Twink Heaven.” Four men stood closer to the front, ready to step forward and offer support to the younger men if it seemed to be needed. Steve and Jim, Daniel and Laszlo, conversed in low tones from time to time.

 

At the back of the room, in a corner, Alan stood in his usual unobtrusive way. Many of the men present would be uncertain later of whether he had been there or not, a usual state of affairs. But he was there, watching closely over the two young guys who had made such a special place for themselves in his heart.

 

These four young men (and the fifth who was absent) were Terry’s true family, his chosen family. Like so many gay men, Terry had been thrown out of his original family’s home, rejected forever by his birth family. Two of the survivors knew where that family lived but had made no effort to contact them. Those people had no place here. This was a time for those who had truly known Terry, who had cared about him and loved him as the man he was.

 

A fifth, somewhat older, man came forward hesitantly to stand at the side of the group. With no word spoken, the four immediately divided and then re-formed into a group of five with Paul in the centre. The arms of the younger men on either side were wrapped around him, holding him close in their shared grief. His eyes were red with the combined effects of sleeplessness and weeping. In spite of the age difference, or maybe because of it, Paul had loved Terry deeply.

 

The youngest of the group, Ricky, stood at one end of the line and stared at the picture and the casket – but his mind was elsewhere. Was it really only six years since this whole chapter of his life had been set in motion? It seemed far longer – nearly half a lifetime, and in some ways it really was that. He had changed so much from the naïve kid he’d been to the uncomfortably experienced man he’d become.

 

On one thing Ricky was absolutely determined. He was not going to let Terry be remembered only as a druggie who overdosed in a park at 3:00 a.m. There was so much more to him than this sad ending – the rough kindness of the older guy who’d taken a wide-eyed kid fresh from the heartland and set him on his feet, the wacky sense of humour that always came out whenever they were having fun on the beach, the leadership that seized the opportunity to sublet that condo and created the family of Twink Heaven.

 

He put his determination into words during a late lunch afterwards with the other three guys and Paul, “I’m going to see Terry’s name engraved on a wall in a place of honour if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

 

“Thank you, Ricky,” Paul responded. “Knowing you, it won’t be the last thing you do – it’ll just be the start of something even bigger and better.”

 

By the time the meal had ended, the beginnings  of the plan for something bigger and better were already starting to form in Ricky’s mind.

 

[daddybear54]

Chapter 13:  Late But Not Too Late

 

 

Ricky was sitting in his favourite café some seven years after Terry’s funeral, chatting with Dylan and some other friends over a coffee, when the door opened, and a man walked in. A tall man, now a little stooped, and the remains of a handsome face, although now lined with the stress that arises from pain. He moved with the slow careful steps of one who knows that going faster will only make it worse. Alan Bryors. He ordered a drink, and then turned and saw Ricky. A gentle, reflective smile crossed his face, and he tossed Ricky a casual wave, then took his coffee and headed for the table by the window.

 

Ricky sat, stunned, his face turned to a mask that concealed a whirlpool of emotion under an icy calm surface. Dylan suddenly noticed that Ricky had dropped out of the conversation and turned to look at him – closely.

 

“Ricky! Are you all right? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

 

“I think I did.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Try not to be obvious about it but take a look at the table by the window.”

 

Dylan looked -- and then he gasped. “Alan!”

 

“Yes. And looking like death warmed over. I’m going to go and talk to him.”

 

“Ricky, do you think that’s a wise idea?”

 

“Maybe not, but I have to do it. I need to know what’s wrong with him.”

 

Dylan shrugged and watched, sadly, as Ricky got up and crossed the room. He feared that his best friend was about to get his heart broken yet again.

 

Ricky placed his hand on the chair back across from Alan. “May I join you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Alan, I’m going to come right to the point. What’s wrong with you?”

 

Alan smiled sadly. “You never did mince words when you were on a mission.” Ricky continued to hold his gaze, eye to eye. “It’s cancer. Stage Four. It’s spreading all through my body. I’ve just got a few months.”

 

“Any treatment?”

 

“I declined it. Palliative care only. I’ve spent enough time living off other people’s backs, even though I worked so hard to convince myself that I was doing it in an ethical way. Self-deception, of course. I’ve chosen to leave the treatment options for younger people, people whose lives, their families, the work they do, make them really important to the world. I have no reason to moan or complain. It’s been a great ride while it lasted.”

 

Ricky choked back a sob. He couldn’t believe that this wealthy, energetic man was prepared to let it all go without any regrets. But Alan was still speaking.

 

“But it is getting hard now. Harder for me to take care of myself, to manage my daily life. So difficult. I should perhaps get a private home nurse, but….” He paused and took a deep breath.  Alan could see the compassion, the caring, in Ricky’s face and decided to take the biggest gamble of his entire life. “Ricky, you came right to the point and I’m going to do the same. I’ve decided to live out my life at home. This is going to be brutal, it’s going to be hard to take. So hard that I’ve got no right to ask this, it’s selfish as hell – but I’m going to ask it anyway. Ricky, can you come and live with me again – so I’ve got someone with me who matters to me?”

 

Ricky sat back, stunned. Coming from anyone else, he’d have called the request sheer brazen effrontery – but that had never been Alan’s style. This was a man who had always been an absolute king in the realm of consideration and caring for others. Ricky could only guess what it had cost Alan to make this plea, to admit his own human need for closeness when he’d never had to do so before. But it was also the index of the depth of suffering, the fear of facing the end alone, which afflicted him. In the end, Ricky didn’t have to think at all. While he was thinking, his heart had already made his choice for him.

 

Ricky stretched his hand out across the table and took Alan’s hand in his. “Of course.” He used the rest of the day to explain the situation to Dylan, to arrange a leave of absence from work, and to pack what he would need -- and then he moved back into the penthouse that afternoon.

 

It was a long and strange four months that he spent back in the luxury condo where he’d begun to grow up, from a Boy to a Man. Strange, too, that all that time was less than ten years ago. Stranger still that he had returned as Alan’s equal. Each of them now felt a licence to say what was most real to him, without hiding behind roles, to lay it all out on the table without any hesitation.

 

The strangest thing of all for Ricky was the realization that this wasn’t just something he was doing to help the man who had helped him so often. Ricky wanted to do this, needed to do it, from the very depths of his heart and soul. Sharing Alan’s final journey became the culmination of everything he had learned, of all the stages of the life he had lived, and it mattered to him, more than he could ever have imagined, to bring it all back at last to Alan, the man who had helped him set so many of those wheels in motion in his youth.

 

Ricky was in charge of the kitchen now, and he took great care in preparing the limited meals which Alan could still eat. He slept with Alan at night, not for sex now, but for comfort and companionship. He would wake up each night to give Alan his pain medication, or to help in any other way as needed. Some nights he stayed awake with Alan, holding him close in a caring embrace, helping to strengthen him, to keep at bay the terror of the unknown yet to come.

 

He walked with Alan to the café for that daily fix of cappuccino, as long as Alan could still walk there and keep it down. Dylan came several times a week to visit, sometimes at the café, sometimes in the penthouse. And they talked. For hours and hours, Alan and Ricky talked the long days away, sharing very much more of themselves than either of them had ever shared with anyone before. They spoke of their times together, of hopes and fears and dreams, of Alan’s past, of Ricky’s future.

 

A look of peace gradually came over Alan’s face through those weeks as he realized how much his bright-eyed, eager young boy had grown up, matured, taken hold of the control levers of his own life, and made himself into a formidable force to be reckoned with. More than anything, he was moved and stirred to the depths of his being by Ricky’s unshakeable  determination to make the world a better place for other gay men. When Ricky told Alan about how he was laying the groundwork for a help and counselling centre, Alan made up his mind.

 

“Ricky, there’s someone important coming to see me on business tomorrow. Can you do me a favour and be out of the condo for the morning? I’ll be finished this business by noon.”

 

Ricky waited in the morning for the unknown visitor, who proved to be a white-haired gentleman of distinguished appearance, dressed in full business attire and carrying an expensive briefcase. He admitted the visitor and left the penthouse himself.

 

When he returned three hours later, Alan was sitting in the chair by the panoramic windows with a look of satisfaction, a look that said, Well, that’s all done now. Ricky settled in the chair beside him, and asked what it was all about.

 

“That was my lawyer, George Carstairs. I was finalizing some revisions to my will. You already have my power of attorney for personal care. Carstairs holds the power of attorney for business matters. But now, it’s the will that matters, that you need to know about. Your plans… it’s such a great idea, and there’s such a crying need for it, in this city especially. I’d already planned to leave the bulk of my estate to a charitable trust for LGBTQ causes. The money has already been partly transferred there, to enable the trust to be established under direction of a board. The balance will pass to the trust when my estate is completed.

 

“But I’ve now directed Carstairs to write a new section in which ten million dollars will go directly to your center as an endowment fund to help establish it and support its operations for years. He’ll be in touch with you to explain what steps you will need to take as the center is constituted and gets up and running. You’ll have a five-year period from the date of my death to get it all in place. The money will be held in trust, under the direction of the charity, until that time.

 

“There’s one fixed condition. You are not to name the center after me or refer to me as anything other than an anonymous donor.”

 

Ricky thought for a moment. “Alan, people will guess. And they’ll talk.”

 

Alan actually laughed, in the midst of this serious business. “So what else is new? Ricky, have you ever heard this saying? ‘Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people.’ Yes, the ones who know us will talk – for a while. You can’t prevent that. But I don’t want any focus on me. I want it on the people you are going to be helping.”

 

Ricky thought, That’s Alan. It’s totally in character. All his life, he’s flown under the radar, helped people on the quiet, never drawn attention to anything that he’s done.

 

But Alan still had two more items to cover. “I’m also going to ask you another favour. I’d like you to take a seat on the board of the charity. If you’re willing to do that, Carstairs will make all the arrangements there as well.

 

“And finally, I’ve made another change to leave you a small personal gift, as a thanks for coming to live with me and take care of me now.”

 

Ricky sat, too emotionally stirred to speak for a moment. “Alan, that is so generous. Thank you so much.” He could feel his eyes growing wet, and saw that Alan, too, was tearing up. “Your kindness really is overwhelming.”

 

“Ricky, I don’t have to tell you what to do, because you’re already doing it – you’re taking all that kindness, making it your own, adding full measure of your own kindness and compassion to it, and spreading it into the world around you. That, more than anything else, is what makes me so proud of you, as proud as if you were my own son.”

 

“I guess I really am your son now, in so many ways more than I ever thought I could or would be.”

 

A gentle smile spread across Alan’s face. “That’s my good boy.” He said it with his old, characteristic jaunty wink.

 

“Thank you, Daddy.”

 

They both laughed at that, and Ricky went to prepare some lunch. He was still laughing, and he could hear Alan chuckling away in the armchair by the window too.

 

Carstairs returned three days later with the updated document for Alan to sign. Dylan came that day as well. Meticulous as always, Alan reviewed it all and read the new sections with extra care. He signed, and Dylan witnessed the signature. When Carstairs left, Alan sat back with an immense sigh of satisfaction.

 

The pain was more intense now. In a few more days, Alan was bedridden. Ricky cared for him in every way, helping him with the bedpan and sponge baths, giving him the pain medications, turning him in bed regularly when the pressure on one side became hard to bear.

 

Then came a night when Ricky awoke in the small hours, feeling a hand clutching at him. He sat up, switched on the low bedtable light, turned to look at Alan, heard the harsh breaths in his throat. At once he knew – this was it.

 

Alan reached for him again. Ricky lay down one last time beside Alan, letting the sudden strength in the wasted arm draw him close. Just like when we were young, Ricky thought. Alan was trying to speak, to form words between the little gasps for breath. Ricky moved his head right next to Alan’s face, listening intently.

 

“Ricky… I know now… you were the one, always… I… I love you… forever....”

 

Ricky’s eyes were streaming with tears as he realized at last the bitter truth about himself and knew in full what he had thrown away so casually, years earlier. “I love you, Alan.” He kissed Alan fully on the lips. The muscles contracted, tightening in a final grip around his shoulders, and then the arm fell away, lifeless.

 

 

 

 

Epilogue:  Legacy

 

 

Ten years to the day after Terry’s death, the Terry Westover Memorial Center officially opened its doors to clients. Richard Manningtree, the Executive Director and Founder, spoke about the Center’s guiding philosophy of providing maximum assistance and options to LGBTQ people who chose to make difficult and significant changes in the way they lived their lives.

 

He paid tribute to the late Terry Westover whose life had inspired the whole concept of the Center. He outlined the services the Center offered, from substance and sex addiction counselling and therapy to transition assistance and services for gay men exiting from porn and sex work. He also described the quite separate but equally vital work of providing end-of-life counselling and assistance, and access to grieving therapy, two more areas lacking in services geared to the special needs of the LGBTQ community.

 

He then introduced the executive members of the Center’s Board of Directors: Steven Rotherham, Chair; Daniel Nakamura, Treasurer; Dylan Carroll, Secretary; Dr. Siegfried Magnus, Medical Director.  Among the other members of the board were more of Ricky’s friends, including Ryan and Leo who had known him for years, and had known Terry as well, ever since the Twink Heaven days.

 

The official opening concluded with the unveiling of two dignified wall plaques:

 

 

In Honour of Terry Westover

Leader, Supporter, and Head of his Chosen Family.

 

 

That one had been paid for by Paul, who had not been able to attend. Ricky paid for the other.

 

 

In Grateful Memory of an Anonymous Donor.

 

 

After the ceremony concluded, the board and the executive director went together for lunch, not to transact business, but to reminisce about everything that had happened between them over the years since they had all come to WeHo, at different times and for different reasons. The lunch was Ricky’s personal thanks to all of these friends who had made such an impact on his life in their various ways.

 

After lunch, as they were saying goodbye, Dylan said wistfully,  “I wish Alan could have been here to see this day. You must really miss him, Ricky.”

 

“More than you’ll ever know.”

 

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes. But I never realized that until the last moment, when he told me that he loved me. His final words. That’s when I said it. ‘I love you, Alan.’ And I meant every word of it. I’d finally figured it out – late, but not too late.”

 

Dylan said no more, letting a long and heartfelt hug speak for him before he and his best friend headed home together.

 

Alan’s “small personal gift” to Ricky had been the penthouse. Ricky had been shocked at first, when Carstairs had told him. But then he put it together with Alan’s final words to him and deciphered the hidden message behind the gift. He could almost hear Alan’s voice explaining it to him: “This was our home. Not mine. Ours.”

 

But Ricky couldn’t live there. Not without Alan. The memories in  those rooms, and the realization of what he’d lost when he’d left, were more than he could bear. The eye-popping sum for which it sold made him a multi-millionaire in his own right, a status which he’d neither sought nor desired. But now he had it, and the penury of his early arrival in California was long gone, but not forgotten. This sudden access to wealth allowed him to help individuals and to donate to community causes that lay close to his heart – very much on the quiet, just as Alan had always done.

 

Behind his back, some jealous members of the gay community took to making sarcastic reference to him and his new-found wealth by calling him “King of the Twinks.” By this time, of course, he had long since ceased to think of himself as a “twink.” He would always show a slim build to the world but “twink,” as he saw it, was a label for a boy. He didn’t know about the unofficial title, and if he had known, he wouldn’t have cared. Small minds discuss people, as he was now only too well aware.

 

Also gone but not forgotten were his wild and promiscuous younger days. Now he had become a man who was only attracted to the idea of sex if he felt an emotional connection to his partner; random hookups were no longer of interest to him. He was uncommonly young to reach that point, but then (as he often reflected) he had pretty much crammed fifty years of living and learning into less than a decade. Nor was it surprising that he and Dylan had wound up sharing a permanent home, as Dylan’s trauma had driven him into the even sterner feeling of being completely asexual.

 

At the first meeting of the board of the Alan Bryors Foundation, Ricky had been shocked to look at the financials and see for the first time the sheer size of Alan’s fortune. Even with the penthouse passing to him, a few bequests to other institutions, and the ten million dollar donation to the Terry Westover Memorial Center, Alan had still left an estate not far short of eighty million dollars. That meeting elected Richard Manningtree as the Chair of the Foundation Board, and with that vote Ricky truly became a king in the world of benefactions.

 

Alan’s legacy of kindness and service continued to colour the outlooks on the world of both Ricky and Dylan, as they pursued their paths through life. Both men had become empathetic old souls, long before their years as measured on the calendar suggested advancing age.

 

It was on Ricky’s thirty-fifth birthday that Dylan brought up the key point. They’d gone out for dinner together, and had a great time, laughing and joking together as they had always done – in between quieter moments of recollection and reflection. After dinner, back in their new condo, closer to the ocean in Santa Monica, Dylan turned serious.

 

“You know, Ricky, if you look at us carefully, we’re carrying on just like an old married couple now. We’re sharing a home, sharing a life. We go places and do things together. We sleep in the same bed more often than not, and you’re one of the very few people I can bear to have touching me and holding me. We’re both over the whole casual sex thing for good, and what we have suits us both right down to the ground. Why don’t we just drop the other shoe?”

 

“What are you saying, Dylan?”

 

“Let’s get married. In reality, we’re ninety-five percent of the way there already. Each of us fulfils a central role in the other’s life. We might just as well acknowledge that truth to ourselves and to the world. There are married couples that have been together for years and never achieved the kind of closeness and common wavelength we share.”

 

Ricky thought about it and laughed, with a wry edge. “You know what, Dyl? You’re right again – as usual. But no big show or celebration.”

 

A week later, the announcements went out.

 

 

Mr. Richard Manningtree-Carroll

 and

Mr. Dylan Carroll-Manningtree

are pleased to announce that

 they’ve finally given up fighting to escape their destiny

and decided to confirm the obvious

by getting married last Friday,

October 21st, 2039,

at City Hall, Santa Monica, California.

 

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

[BBDomDaddyTop]

@daddybear54 what a fabulous, fabulous piece of writing. Erotically charged when it needed to be, descriptive and in depth character descriptions and building and an all round great storyline. 
 

on the one hand sad that it’s ended but equally so pleased it existed in the first place. 
 

truly fantastic. Well done. 

[daddybear54]

1 hour ago, BBDomDaddyTop said:

@daddybear54 what a fabulous, fabulous piece of writing. Erotically charged when it needed to be, descriptive and in depth character descriptions and building and an all round great storyline. 
 

on the one hand sad that it’s ended but equally so pleased it existed in the first place. 
 

truly fantastic. Well done. 

Thank you so much. I share your feeling of sadness, as I always do when I get to the end of a story. Your compliments made my day!