SPLASH ON THE SCREEN
Jack
Scribe
Part 27, HOLIDAYS AND MORE FRIENDS
MIKE
Sleeping
arrangements were complicated this 1998 Christmas holiday, even with the new
guest cottage. Mom was assigned to our master, Brent and Doug occupied Justin’s
room, and Justin and Bryan shared the smaller spare bedroom. Dave and I camped
out on the sleeper in the den, leaving the new guest cottage for Uncle Trey and
Aunt Betty.
With
Christmas falling on a Friday, most of the corporate holiday partying finished
at the restaurant the previous weekend. While I handled the arrangements for
the final three parties at ‘El Padre’ that Sunday, Dave and Justin drove to the
airport to pick up Mom on an early afternoon arrival from Chicago.
Dave told me that Justin wasn’t prepared for
the bundle of energetic emotions that was wrapped around Mom as she deplaned.
Upon spotting Dave and her new ‘grandson’ standing away from the gate, she
literally trotted across the concourse terrazzo floor, darting through and
dodging the other passengers. Mom arrived and slid into Dave’s arms. “Oh,
boys,” was all she could say.
After a
momentary hug she became aware of additional arms around her. Justin quietly
said, “Hi, Grams,” and Mom’s maternal instincts kicked in.
“Justin,
welcome to our family…you beautiful young man,” Mom apparently uttered as she
pulled back to inspect him in the flesh.
Dave related
that a flood of tears emoted from the duo as they stood in the middle of the
airport concourse. Calmer moments prevailed later as Justin got to know his new
grandmother on the way to the baggage area. By the time everyone returned home
he had given ‘Grams’ a capsule rundown on his earlier life in Duluth and his
school days at Shattuck-St. Mary’s. It was easy on Mom’s part to open her heart
and life to Jus as a newly minted family member. Justin went with the flow and
relished the acceptance.
The Swensons,
coming in from Minneapolis, rented a car and found their way to the house an
hour later. Uncle Trey and Aunt Betty were going to take some side trips while
they vacationed in the Southland and wanted the flexibility of getaway wheels.
Although more reserved than my Mom, they nevertheless were just as eager to
meet Justin. Our son basked in the experience of being the momentary center of
attention by his new relatives on both sides of the family. Noticing that his
grandnephew was approaching Dave’s height and a swimmer’s lanky build, Uncle
Trev announced that Justin was, indeed, a ‘chip off the old Swenson block’.
Justin’s grin radiated the room with love as he walked up to his uncle and gave
Trev a strong hug.
The L.A. guys
braved the 405 and arrived around 5:00 p.m., in time for a batch of Dave’s
blender-magic margaritas, guacamole and chicken quesadillas. Dave chided Justin
and Bryan when he caught them pouring a glass of the tequila-fortified cocktail
for themselves in the kitchen. It was Diet Cokes for the young brood for the
rest of the evening although Doug and Brent joined Dave in secret amusement at
their sons’ mischievousness. Mom and the Swensons enjoyed getting to know our
best friends and were pretty loose after the second drink. They regaled the
group by telling harmless childhood stories about Dave and me, I was told
later.
Reservations
for the entire group were made for 7:30 p.m. at El Padre. While the private
parties were running at capacity, the dining room was very slow…fairly typical
for restaurants during the holiday season. Between parties at restaurants,
clubs and private homes, dining out ground to a halt during Christmas. My 50%
discount was welcomed revenue and the family table helped the restaurant look
busy. And it didn’t hurt that our restaurant patrons
recognized ‘Brad’.
During
dinner, Justin was wedged between Bryan and Mom. She couldn’t get over that she
had a grandson, albeit a strapping, 6’ 1” teen. Uncle Trey and Aunt Betty
shared Dave, while Brent and Doug sat at opposite sides of the table. Mom
approved of the Swensons as ‘in-laws’ and was charmed by Bryan. I joined the
group for dessert, squeezing in next to Mom. At one point she quietly said to
me that she sensed something more than a friendship between Jus and Bry. I
smiled, winked and nodded. The conversation flowed until the restaurant closed
and we returned to Casa Swenson-Cole.
A vision of fantasy awaited us as we
arrived home around 11:00 p.m. Dave and I had
purposely set all the Christmas lights on a timer so that no one was aware of
the impact at night until we all returned together. As our cars rounded the
corner, the passengers were taken back by the beauty of the front trees
glistening with thousands of small, white lights. The open drapes revealed the
giant Christmas tree, decked out in multi-colored glory. The only missing
effect was the sidewalk that would be lit by the flickering light of farolitos
tomorrow night. The family and best friends privately welcomed the holidays as
we entered our home.
After a
kickback, hang-around-the house Monday, everyone was encouraged to disappear on
Tuesday so we could get organized for our evening Christmas party. Mom and the
guys decided to be ‘mall rats’ for the day, while the Swensons’ drove over to
the coast and checked out La Jolla. The florist was due around noon to arrange
the rest of the Christmas decorations. To respect our Jewish guests invited to
the party, the decorator also brought a beautiful silver menorah and candles.
Months
earlier Dave and I had decided that it was time to officially have a
housewarming in the form of a holiday cocktail party. It was also the first
time, as a couple, that we would entertain a broad spectrum of acquaintances
and friends. Although somewhere in the subconscious there was pride in showing
off our remarkable home, we wanted to present ourselves as the cohesive, stable
family we were. Because of the special occasion, I hired a photographer for the
evening so that we could send candid pictures to the guests as gifts in
January.
Dave had handled the invitations and followed
up on the RSVP’s. With Tom Feldman and Mark Connelly staying in San Diego for
Christmas and Hanukkah, the senior Connellys decided to escape the wet Seattle
winter and reserved a suite at the Del Coronado to see their son and his
‘friend’ for the holidays. That set the pace for Tom’s parents. Mr. And Mrs.
T.J. Feldman also arranged for a suite at the ‘Del’. More convergence of
‘in-laws’ – all were coming to our party with their sons. I smiled when I
considered how busy the hotel’s business center and concierge department would
be with the two moguls in residence.
Justin’s two
best school friends – Alan Estes and Kevin McCarthy – and their folks accepted
the invitation, along with four other teammates and parents. The low RSVP from
the Bishop’s School classmates was because most of the school crowd traveled to
second homes in Palm Springs, Hawaii or Aspen for the holidays with their
families. Dave called all the parents and made sure that there were no
surprises at the party. He told them that he and I were Justin’s guardians and
also a committed couple. None registered surprise and looked forward to meeting
us.
Dave spent
the most time on the phone with Justin’s best friends’ dads. Mr. Estes, Alan’s
father, a senior executive with a large, north county computer software firm,
told Dave that his company had been a pioneer in domestic partner benefits.
Kevin McCarthy’s dad was a partner in a progressive, downtown law firm with
solid ties to the Clinton White House. We suspected that the parents were more
in-tune with their sons’ friendship than they let on and I was pleased that
they enthusiastically looked forward meeting to us…Justin’s ‘parents’.
Brent asked
if he could invite an actress friend, Karen Divine, and her ‘special’ friend.
Obviously, the next ‘Julia Roberts’ would be welcomed at any party. But we
would never refuse any request from our buddy. He explained that she and Tamara
Borden, her female lover and a medical student at UCLA, were visiting family in
San Diego and they would love an opportunity to escape for a fun party. ‘Okay,’
I thought. ‘Let the good times roll.’ Brent agreed that he and Doug would be
their official escorts for public consumption.
Before we
knew it, the small, intimate gathering had mushroomed to a heady 75 guests,
with a list that would be the envy of any host. I contacted a valet service to
handle the auto traffic and added two bartenders to the catering crew. The
costs were mushrooming but Dave assured me that we could afford the party.
Politically,
the party was a good investment for our rainbow family. In addition to some
classmates of Dave’s, I was amazed that he succeeded in getting several
favorite professors to attend. I had invited the Connor family, senior and
junior, as well as some Navy friends who were still stationed at North Island.
Two of my favorite retired admirals and their wives were delighted to be
included.
We were both happily surprised when Justin’s headmaster from The
Bishop’s School accepted his invitation. Additionally, the swimming coaches and
favorite science teacher would be there with their spouses or dates.
After
reviewing the final guest list, Dave and I were both a little nervous that we
had gotten too carried away with our first party. Scarier was a telephone call
from T.J. Feldman’s office Tuesday afternoon. His primary admin assistant
apologized profusely for the request for a late additional RSVP. Mr. Feldman
was en route to San Diego and didn’t know that his close friends from San
Francisco, Mr. and Mrs. Blum, had accepted his earlier invitation to attend our
cocktail party. She said that the Blum’s had decided to travel to San Diego for
a small fund-raising luncheon event at the last minute. ‘What the hell,’ I
thought. ‘How do you say no to TJ?’
I
acknowledged the RSVP and assured TJ’s assistant that we would welcome the
Blums. She thanked me and mentioned, in passing, that the Senator looked
forward to meeting Dave Swenson. ‘Oh, fuck,’ I thought. ‘I just accepted the
RSVP for Mr. and Mrs. Richard Blum: ‘Mrs.’ was also known as Senator Diane
Feinstein.
*****
“Okay, Dave.
Are you ready for our debut?” I asked with a sly grin. It was just before 6:00
p.m. and I had finished conducting a final briefing with the catering
supervisor before the first guests arrived.
“I’ve never
felt so uncomfortable, babe,” Dave asked with his brow furrowed. “What happened
to the simple ‘ho, ho, let’s have a cup of egg nog’ thing we originally
planned?”
“Smile, babe.
We’ve got everything covered. Chalk it up to parent-teacher-community
relations.”
“Might as
well add ‘military-industrial complex to the list,” Dave said with a chuckle,
quoting President Eisenhower’s words of warning almost 40 years ago.
“That, too.”
‘Feinstein, Connelly, Estes, TJ and the admirals certainly added weight to
Dave’s comment,’ I considered. “But we’re too low on the totem pole to worry
about that…yet.” We had spoken about ambitions and dreams often when we were
cuddling and nuzzling. My man was harboring some lofty ideas about a political
future down the road, in San Diego and beyond.
“Then, I’m
just going to enjoy the evening,” Dave replied. We walked over to the living
room portable bar located next to the ceiling-height Christmas tree and
accepted glasses of white wine from a polite, good-looking bartender. I
silently thought the room looked very sharp as we stood admiring the holiday
décor mixing with the Paul Klee above the fireplace
and the Modigliani on the opposite wall.
“Hey, no
early drinking,” Brent yelled from the hallway, “Unless we can join you.” We turned to see our buddies walk towards
us. Tonight was a handshake public moment. We warmly greeted each other and
walked back to the bar.
“The party
officially begins in two minutes, Sir. The ‘drinking lamp’ is lit,” I said,
paraphrasing an old military term.
“Make it a
Stoli and cranberry,” Brent said, grinning at the bartender. “And a white wine
for the old guy.” He turned and winked at Doug.
“Old, my
ass,” Doug replied.
“Well,” Brent
said with a pregnant pause, “I’ll take your word for it.” The bartender
couldn’t contain himself and started laughing. “This guy and I have been great
friends since our Navy days,” Brent continued, speaking to the bartender. “I
like to rub it in that he’ll be approaching 29 soon.” Hearing the doorbell ring, I was alerted to our first guests.
“Guys, excuse
me.” I smiled and walked to the front door hallway to greet the arrivals. I
noticed the servers placing finger food on the table in the Kandinsky-dominated
dining room, as I passed by. The red-lacquered walls really set off the green
wreaths and large, gold bows.
“While you’re
at the door, I’m going out to the patio and check out the food arrangements,”
Dave said loudly. We had decided to serve most of the food outside to encourage
the guests to flow through the house. Heat pods and Tiki torches created
physical and visual warmth.
“Mike, Merry
Christmas,” said my old Navy friend and boss’s son, Tom Connor. He and his wife
walked through the opened door and we greeted each other.
“You may be
first to arrive but don’t you two dare be the first to leave,” I said after
giving her an air-kiss. “The bar’s in the living room and the eats are out
back. The catering guys really did a bang-up job.”
“We plan on
partying tonight, buddy. See ya later.”
As the
Connor’s walked by, I smiled at the subtle presence of our security doorman.
Dressed in a blazer, tie and white shirt ensemble, the handsome, chiseled man
was an offensive lineman for San Diego State who earned extra bucks for events
such as this. Although very friendly, articulate and reserved, his 6’ 6” solid,
trim, 230-pound frame would cause anyone second thoughts about creating a
problem.
The party
flowed without a hitch and Connor Catering hit a home run. The dynamics of the
guest diversity were not lost on any of the invitees. Justin’s friends were a
little overwhelmed at meeting Brent and Karen. Or, as one young wag said, “Wow,
movie stars that aren’t computer-generated.” Brent promised to send each of
Justin’s friends an autographed T-shirt that promoted his new film.
We briefed
Jus to say that ‘Brad’ and Doug were old friends of ours from the Navy days and
Doug was Bryan’s guardian. While his buddies went ‘gaga’ over Karen, Justin
became mesmerized talking to her beautiful, mocha-skinned medical student
friend. ‘The first steps to a solid mentoring relationship,’ I concluded.
Tom Feldman
and Mark Connelly arrived with the senior Connellys. Mark winked at me while I
greeted his parents, signaling that everything was solid with the four of them.
In fact, Mrs. Connelly suggested that we all get together for a lunch or dinner
at the ‘Del’ before they returned to Seattle.
Political and
business networking overlapped with Mr. Connelly and Mr. Estes. At this point,
the Connelly-owned ConSoft software company had reached a net worth well over
two billion dollars. A drop in the bucket when you compared ConSoft’s value
with their famous Seattle neighbor, but still impressive. The two
computer-savvy men struck an immediate friendship and, while talking shop,
decided that maybe ConSoft and the Estes’ firm could find some common ground
for a joint venture. ‘Estes would be promoted beyond his senior vice president
position if the deal came about with ConSoft,’ I thought.
Kevin’s
father was keenly aware of the unplanned political impact of the party when TJ
Feldman entered the room with his statuesque, Donna Karan-clad wife. Mr.
McCarthy and TJ were both members of the state Democrat committee. To have the
behind-the-scenes L.A. powerhouse at a social gathering, hosted at his son’s
friend’s house, was one thing. However, when Mr. and Mrs. Blum swept into the
living room a little after 7:30 p.m., I thought that I’d have to run out to buy
a fresh supply of Depends for Mr. McCarthy. Spotting the McCarthys, she winked
at them and ‘worked the room’ as she made her way over. “Mac, you devil,” she
said as she grasped the hands of the McCarthys. “What a pleasant surprise to
see you and Gloria at Dave’s house.”
“Trust me,
Diane, the surprise is ours,” Mr. McCarthy replied. I would have loved to have
been a ‘fly on the wall’ and heard the McCarthy’s bedroom conversation after
the party.
DAVE
I was out by
the pool talking to a few of my UCSD classmates when I saw Mike coming out of
the house, leading Mom Cole, the Blums and the Feldmans over to my direction.
As my group intently observed the entrance of our Senator, I excused myself and
walked over to the patio to greet our newly arrived guests. I smiled at Uncle
Trev and nodded him to join me. I noted that Aunt Betty was enjoying a
humorous, animated conversation with Justin’s headmaster.
“Senator, Mr. Blum, I know that Mike has
already welcomed you to our home. I’m really delighted that you would take time
from your busy schedule to visit us.”
“Dave, when
TJ contacted me concerning the horrible, hateful treatment you encountered
while you were in the Navy, I was determined to meet you someday and apologize
for how our government abused your trust. Hopefully that now-retired captain is
in the minority.” I focused on her warm eyes and direct eye contact. Both of
her hands held mine while she spoke.
“I really appreciate
your help, along with Senators Boxer and Wellstone. I plan on studying law at
the University of San Diego after UCSD. The idea of becoming some sort of
grass-roots advocate to work on civil rights issues has crossed my mind,” I
said with a confident smile.
“My San Diego
office could use a good man like you for some part-time work. Would you be
interested?”
“Interested?”
I asked with a big grin. “I’d love it.” ‘Jeez,’ I thought, ‘What a great
opportunity.’
“Call the
office after the first of the year. I’ll be sure they know to expect you,” she
replied warmly.
“Thanks, very
much, Ma’am,” I said, taking both of her hands in mine. “Oh, allow me to
introduce my Uncle, Trey Swenson from Minneapolis.” He walked up to the group
and immediately shook the Senator’s hand.
“Dave, the
Minnesota Swensons are not exactly unknown in our circles. Trey, good to see
you somewhere other than a smoky caucus room,” the Senator said, warmly.
After
greeting the Senator and meeting Mr. Blum, Uncle Trey hugged TJ like an old
friend. I knew they moved in the same political circles in party fund-raising
but was a little taken back to learn they had known each other for ten years.
While they all talked, I asked Senator Feinstein if she would come over and
meet some of my classmates. She joked about never missing the opportunity to
‘press the flesh’ with potential voters as we re-joined my friends.
*****
“Guys, this
was some evening,” I said. Mike, Brent, Doug and I were sitting in a quiet,
slightly disheveled living room. It was a little after midnight and the
catering crew had done a great job cleaning up the mess throughout the house
and patio area before leaving. Everyone else had gone to bed and we decided to
finish the last of the Grand Marnier.
“I have a
feeling that Justin will become a legend by the time his teammates embellish
the stories about your party at school,” Brent added with a laugh.
The young
swimmers enjoyed the party and meeting all of the L.A. guests. Bryan became a
new instant friend and the guys ended the evening with competitive ‘shop talk’,
comparing swim times and techniques. I had given Justin permission to invite
any of his friends to use the lap pool during the holidays and on weekends.
‘Our place is going to become a popular, jock hangout,’ I thought.
“Don’t forget
about the pictures that were taken. I’m sure that they will be a prized
souvenir for all the boys,” Mike said.
“And a prize
for a few magazines,” Brent said flippantly. At TJ’s request and with Brent’s
permission, Mike promised that the photographer would e-mail several
photographs of Brent, Karen and Senator Feinstein to TJ’s office. They would
find their way into the next issue ‘People’ and ‘Entertainment Weekly’
magazines.
‘Ahhh,’ I
thought, smiling, ‘the wondrous webs of deceit and fantasy that Hollywood
cranks out.’ I was assured that any release would not mention the location or
the hosts’ names.
“Can you
believe that it’s been only two and a half years ago since we were out on the
patio toasting Dave’s birthday and I was helping with Brent’s play lines?” Doug
asked.
“Yeah,” I
said. “July 4th, 1996, to be exact.’
“Two and a
half years have produced several changes: some planned and others that came out
of left field,” Mike added. “Who’d have thought that we’d be dads to two
amazing boys?” We all smiled and nodded.
“I’m not sure
‘boys’ is the right description for our growing, soon-to-be-adult, sons,” Brent
remarked wistfully. “But I know that we’re all proud of those guys.”
“Absolutely. And we might be in-laws someday,”
I said with a laugh. “And you guys are just starting on a dynamic film career.”
“Well, don’t
be so sure about that, buddy,” Brent said, pausing as we digested his comment.
“Doug is going to be the show biz guy in our family. I really do plan on retiring
from acting once I get my legal degree and pass the bar.”
“Brent, with
all due respect, won’t it be hard to turn down the big bucks that Sam and CAM
will throw your way?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “Fuck, the way you’re
going, you’ll be pulling down Tom Cruise money soon.”
“We’re going
to have enough. The condo mortgage has been paid in full and we really don’t
need exotic trappings that some in Hollywood do. Plus, we want a fairly normal
environment for Bryan.”
“And that our
son doesn’t get swept up in this whole Hollywood thing is very important,’ Doug
added.
“Of bigger
concern is this fucking public lie I have to live to make movies. Doug’s going
to receive acclaim as a great director soon. By that point, no one will bat an
eye that a hot movie director’s partner is a former actor and lawyer.”
“Shit, that
is quite a game plan,” Mike said.
“But I’m not
completely naive. I’ll probably join one of the big entertainment law firms and
‘whore out’ my name,” Brent said, smiling. “And don’t be surprised if Tom
Feldman and I team up with our own firm someday.”
“And I
thought I had some lofty dreams,” I answered with a smile, conjuring up the
image of Brent’s ‘Batman’ and Tom’s ‘Robin’ in their barrister Batmobile,
rocketing down Sunset Boulevard to settle some actor’s contractual dispute with
a producer.
“Buddy, if
you ever would consider living in L.A., I’d love to include you in the future,”
Brent said, looking into my eyes with an intensity that told me he was serious.
“Let me get
out of law school first,” I replied. “Plus, Mike’s restaurant career is here in
San Diego.”
“For right
now. But I wouldn’t mind keeping our options open, babe,” Mike said.
“Sounds like
we’ve got plan B to consider down the road.” We had both thought that the
faster pace of life two hours north was something to consider after I received
my law degree.
“By the way,”
Doug added, “In two weeks Bryan will officially have a new name.” Both Brent
and Doug were beaming. “Bryan asked for a family meeting and suggested it.”
“And?” Mike
and I asked at the same time.
“We are going
to announce it at breakfast tomorrow, so act surprised. We all agreed that he
would be known as Bryan Williams Di Marco. The ‘Williams’ will be his middle
name. Everything legally takes place after the first of the year.”
“Wow, that is
something,” I said as I hoisted my snifter. “Here’s to Bryan Williams Di Marco
and his great parents.” Everyone reach over and clinked the snifters before the
congratulatory sip.
“I wonder if
this is going to put ideas into Justin’s head?” Mike asked. “Not that I would
complain if Cole became his middle name.” He tenderly grabbed my hand and
squeezed lightly.
“Or,
Swenson?” I added with a smile. “But if he wants to keep Palmer, it’s fine with
me. Let’s see how it plays out.”
“Speaking of
Swenson, it looks like you’ve got good shit happening with Senator Feinstein,”
Brent said.
“Yes, I still
can’t believe she offered something that I’ve been dreaming of,” I answered.
“My priorities, after Mike and Justin, are to become the best lawyer I can be
and see if politics will be part of my life.” I squeezed Mike’s hand in return.
“Guys, it
will be interesting to get together in five years and compare notes on
tonight’s conversation,” Doug said. “Let’s all put down on paper our thoughts
and predictions, and let Dave have them for safekeeping.”
“And we’ll
open them Christmas 2003 in this room?” I asked.
“Yes,” was
the unanimous reply as we clinked the snifters again and drained the contents.
*****
While
Mike took his turn cleaning, brushing and peeing in our small restroom by the
kitchen, I crawled into the den sleeper couch. What had transpired tonight at
the party and discussed later with our best friends posed challenges and goals
that I had only vaguely considered. ‘Wow,’ I considered. ‘Five years is not
that far off.’
“Penny
for your thoughts?” Mike said when he padded back into the den. Re-starting his
swimming regimen in our pool had brought back the tone to his beautiful body.
His cock looked tempting beneath the white cotton of his CK’s.
“Hop
in, babe. I’ve got more than a penny for you,” I said as I scooted over.
“Yeah,
about eight inches the last time I measured.” He winked, pulled off his briefs,
pulled back the covers and lay down next to my nude body.
“I’m
not sure how you can measure with your mouth, but I’m not complaining,” I
replied with a laugh. We were on our sides, mirroring each other. Gently he
leaned in and we engaged in a kiss. Our cocks, pressed closely together, became
aroused to the slow, sultry, grinding action of our groins.
“Hon,
I’ve got another way of measuring,” Mike said, reaching down to squeeze the tip
of my wet, hard penis.
“Sounds
like you’re itching for a…?” I asked with a lustful grin.
“You
got it. Get that dipstick going ’cuz I
got an itch,” Mike replied as he rolled over on his back. ‘Wow,’ I judged. ‘I
count my blessings every day that this wonderful, sexy, beautiful man is part
of my life.’
“Yes,
Sir.” I rose and repositioned myself on my knees between his legs. It was my
mission to tongue-love Mike’s nether region as a preamble. Leaning down, I
tenderly kissed his dick and let my tongue trail down to his balls. After
sucking each for a few moments, the tongue continued to the perineum.
“Oh,
fuck, man,” Mike groaned. I paused and gently chewed at the skin while moving
closer to the objective. Finally, the tongue arrived and I started tentative
swipes around his hole before starting a shallow stabbing action with my
dart-shaped tongue.
“Urghh,”
was all I could utter…a lustful grunt while breathing Mike’s maleness. As was
the practice since we moved to San Diego, very friendly enemas had been traded
earlier in the day.
“Dave…yeah,
shove that tongue up my butt, eat me, man. Get in there…ahhh…” I raised his
spread legs back so I could dig deeper.
“Mmmm,”
I hummed, knowing that Mike felt the vibration from my lips and tongue as I
increased the volume.
“Go
for it, bastard. I want your hard dick up there. Push my button. Ohhh…do it…” I
withdrew my tongue and kissed his nuts. Mike looked up at me and winked as I
rose to open the cap of the lube.
“Let’s
take care of this first,” I said while squirting a generous amount of lube on
my fingers and our dicks. He smoothed the cool lube around my hard cock as I
reached down and started vigorously massaging the saliva-moistened hole. I was
confident from experience that two fingers would immediately enter with no
resistance. They twirled and twisted inside his sensitive interior, stretching
Mike’s ring. At the same time, I sought out his love nut and brushed by it
playfully. He wiggled with the electric pleasure. By the time I added a third
digit, he was ready to be taken.
“Fuck
me, lover. Put that hot cock in me,” Mike said as he raised his legs up around
my shoulders. I scooted a pillow under my raised bum and leaned down for a
musk-tainted kiss. He reached down and positioned my dick head at his entrance.
“Something
to take care of that itch coming right up,” I said with a determined grin as I
slowly moved my rock-hard penis into him. Mike pushed out has I slipped in past
his relaxed sphincter.
“Oh,
man…uhhh…urghh,” moaned Mike. I moved the entire length in and parked for a few
moments. He started lightly rubbing his slick piss slit with his thumb. When I
started a long-dicking action, he slid his legs down and wrapped them around my
waist.
“You
hot, gorgeous cocksucker…man, I love you,” I said, stopping for a moment while
our eyes met contact.
“Dave,
hit my button…oh, fucker…jeez…slam that big…ieee…” He was mesmerized as I
started introducing short jabs, engaging his prostate, and then going back to
long action. Occasionally I’d pause when one of us was ready to go over the
top. We both wanted the lovemaking to last for a while.
“Ahhh,
you feel so tight and good. You like my dick, don’t you?” I saw beads of
perspiration falling from my forehead as I sped up the action. Mike started to
jack in synch with my movements.
“Man,
I’m almost there…oh, shit,” he yelled.
“Me,
too. Ready to blast. Let’s do it together,” I commanded.
“I’m
cumming…oh, fuuuck…” His ass muscle started tightened as the first volley shot
out of his slit and landed on his chest. While Dave shot the second batch, I
started trembling as warm wetness blasted out and filled his love canal.
“Err,
Christ…ah…Mike…oh shit,” was all I could utter as we released together. Slowly
pumping to a stop, I lowered myself on his cum-laden torso and lapped up some
jizz from his chest before sharing it with him. We lay there motionlessly for a
few moments. Our hearts were beating as the hearts of two racehorses would
after crossing the finish line.
After
completing the cleaning and tidying duties, I lay back down next to my lover
and pulled up the covers. We kissed before he rolled over on his side so that I
could spoon up against his back.
“Babe,
whatever happens in our lives, I know that in 2003 we’re going to be stronger
than ever. Love ya with all my heart.”
“No
doubt in my mind, whatsoever. Night, Hon.”
____________________________
TO BE
CONTINUED