Jump to content


Welcome to Gay Authors

Confused? Check out one of our guides to using Gay Authors. I am here to ... Read  Write  Socialize  eBooks

If you need assistance, click  Contact Us  on the bottom of all the pages. You can remove this help box by  Signing In  or  Creating An Account  for free today!

← 7. Chapter 7
9. Chapter 9 →

8. Chapter 8 From A Summer Love

Mark Arbour%s's Photo   Mark Arbour, 05 Jan 2011

September 11, 1991

       
        I stood on the deck, waiting for JP to get here.  Pete was moving around, doing his job, and I looked over and caught his eye and winked at him, getting a shy grin for my efforts.  He was really such a cute guy, and a lot of fun.  Damn, was he fun.  I glanced over and saw the Mercedes SL driving up, the same as mine only red, and there he was, his blond hair whipping in the wind.  I waved and smiled and he waved back.  It seemed like he moved in slow motion getting out of the car and boarding the yacht, but then he was there in my arms, our lips met, and we were together again.

        “It's good to see you,” he said, grinning.  “I missed you a lot.” 

        “I missed you too,” I said, and kissed him again.

        “Come on, let's go find Stefan.  I have to grovel,” he said uncomfortably. 

        “I will not make you humiliate yourself too much,” said Stef as he came up the stairs.  He walked up to JP and they eyed each other, and then Stef gave him a big hug.  I left them alone for a minute and went below.  The looks those two gave each other were intense, full of love and passion.  I'm not sure how Greg was able to handle it.  I think if I were him I'd be a little jealous.  Maybe I was. 

        “They reuniting?” Greg asked.

        “Yeah.  JP is groveling,” I said, making sure to sound cheerful like I could actually fool him.

        “They have an intense friendship.  I think Stefan might have been better off if he'd been with JP instead of me, but I'm too selfish to let him go.” 

        “What a bunch of crap that is, and you know it,” I told him, rolling my eyes.  “Stef adores you.  I just worry that sometimes you do not appreciate him.”

        “What do you mean I don't appreciate him?” Greg asked, pissed off.

        “You work all the time.  You look tired, worn out.  Think about it,” I said simply.  There was no need to press the issue.  I'd made my point.  Time to change the subject.  “I'm fucking one of your crew members.”

        “Pete?” 

        “Yeah.  He's a little stud.”  He was turning into an insatiable animal in bed. 

        “Yes he is.  Just don't fuck up the morale on my boat.” 

        I smiled and gave him my flirtatious look.  “I promise you that his morale has been boosted.”  We laughed, and that seemed to bring JP and Stefan down to see us, arm in arm.  They did make a cute couple. 

        I pulled JP off to my cabin and we made love with abandon, trying to sate our desires and succeeding.  “Well that was worth the drive,” he said afterward.

        “I certainly hope so,” I told him, pretending to be offended.  “How is your semester going?”

        “It looks good.  I'm only teaching one class this semester, but I've got a good group of students.  Then again, I always have a good group of students.” 

        I smiled.  “I have not met anyone except Dr. Adams yet.”

        “Stef told me you met Max,” he said. 

        “I did.  He's a nice guy.  I like him.”  I wondered what he knew, and where he was going with this.  “You're not going to be the mad, jealous type if I go out with other guys are you?” 

        He laughed.  “No, I'll be mad if you don't.  I like what we have Marcel, and as long as it lasts, I'm going to enjoy it.  But someday you'll meet a guy that is the one for you.  I've had several of them in my life.  It's wonderful, it's exhilarating, it's like summer was for us.  When you meet that guy, no one will be happier for you than I will.” 

        “I love you,” I told him.  Then I showed him. 

September 14, 1991

        “I hope you do not mind that we're getting back and taking you straight to the airport,” Stef said as we stood on the deck, heading into the dock.  I looked over at Greg, so calm and relaxed.  What a shame he didn't do this more often.

        “Not at all Stef.  I have to get back anyway.”  I looked over to where Pete was standing, waiting to help us disembark.  I walked up to him and smiled down at him.  “Thanks for a great cruise Pete.”

        “Thank you.  I had an amazing time.”  I leaned down and kissed him.  He fought me at first, and then gave in to his hormones.  “You'll get me in trouble.” 

        “I doubt that.  There's an envelope in my cabin for you.  It's got my address and phone numbers, both car and home.  Call me sometime.”  It had some cash in it too.  I kissed him again.

        “I will,” he said, smiling up at me.  The boat glided into the dock and we hopped in the car and whizzed off to the airport.  Yacht to private jet in half an hour...the life of the rich and famous.  I grinned.  I knew I had the world by the balls, and I appreciated it. 

        Max and his parents were waiting on the taxiway next to the plane.  There was a tearful goodbye as they saw their only son off again, and one from Stef as he said goodbye to me.  Greg was more stoic, but I knew he felt it just as much.

        “I'll try to take your advice,” he said as he hugged me. 

        “Good.  And if you need me to come cheer you up, just call, OK?”  He nodded, and I fled up the stairs to avoid crying in front of them.  Max followed me up, the tears running down his face.

        “I hate saying goodbye,” he said. 

        “Me too.  But look at the bright side.  You get to put up with me all the way home.”  He smiled and shook his head.  What was it about this guy that made him so cute?  I think it was his shy gestures, the way he smiled and blushed at the same time, the way he looked down while he grinned. 

        “I like talking to you,” he said as the plane took off.

        “I like kissing you,” I said, and leaned over and locked lips with him.  He kissed me back, but rolled his eyes when I pulled away.

        “I feel like a piece of meat.  You just want me for my body,” he teased, but I decided there may be some truth in the joke.  Maybe Max was one of those guys who had to like you with his brain and heart before he liked you with his body.

        “Well, I definitely want your body, and you do have a nice piece of meat,” I teased back.  “Did you have a fun time with your parents?”

        He sighed.  “I don't know.  It was good to see them, but I got lecture after lecture about Lark.  They seem to think it is so easy to shut the door on someone you care about.” 

        “Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand.

        “What?” 

        “Let's go back and lie down,” I said. 

        “No way.  I go back there, you're going to fuck me,” Max said, teasing. 

        I moved in front of him and kissed him.  “I could fuck you up here just as easily.  I just want to lie down with you, put your head on my chest, and let you know that someone out there likes you, is your friend.” 

        He said nothing, just pushed me away, got up, and headed back to the bed.  I followed and lay down and he snuggled up to me while I stroked his beautiful blond hair.  “What does he do that you like the most?” I asked. 

        I felt him tense, and then relax.  “I don't know.  I think it's that I'm one of only two guys he's been with, and that makes me feel really special.  That he loves me so much, he's willing to overlook the fact that I have a dick.”  He paused and just lay there.  “What about Lou?  What does Lou do that you like?” 

        “When he works, Lou is a model.  He's that gorgeous.  He's almost as handsome as you,” I said.  Max looked up and rolled his eyes. 

        “Still trying to fuck me huh?”  he teased.

        “Always.  I'm like Stef.  Sex is something fun to do, a way to make me, and other people happy.” 

        “So you walk up to guys you like, shake their hands, and say 'Hi, I'm Marcel, nice to meet you, want to fuck?'”  He was opening up, playing with me now.

        “Of course.  And they always say yes.  Who would not? Well, except you.”  I was using my mock arrogant tone with him.

        “Maybe that's why you like me, because I'm not a slut?”  He raised his eyebrows this time.  He was being really flirtatious, a side I hadn't seen before.  I liked it.

        “No, because I do not think being a slut is a bad thing, as long as you are safe.  If you were a slut, I would have given you an amazing orgasm, and we'd now be lying here talking, enjoying the afterglow,” I said confidently.  His hand moved up to my chest and began to gently stroke my nipple. 

        “So you obsess over Lou because he is cute?” he asked.

        “No, it is because we came over here as a team, and I guess I see him as my partner, to a degree.  Not like a marriage, but like a business partnership.  Only it’s not.  It's hard to explain.” 

        “You mean it's not just hot sex?” he teased again.

        “Lou is a good lover.”  I swallowed hard, wondering how much of myself I should reveal.  “Is Lark?” 

        “No, he isn't.  I usually end up blowing him, not that I don't like it, but it kind of leaves me high and dry.  If I'm nice to him, give him what he wants, then he fucks me, and I love it.”  He paused, nervous that he'd exposed too much of himself.

        “I'm a top; I like to fuck other guys.  I do not let many guys fuck me, it's a trust thing.  I have to feel really close to someone to go down that road.  It's not that I do not like it, I do, it's just that I cannot open myself up and relax unless I really care about that person.  Lou is one of the few guys allowed to fuck me.  And he's good at it.  It creates this intimacy in my mind, like I'm special, where for him, I'm just another hole.”  OK, maybe I opened up too much. 

        He sighed.  “See Marcel, that's how I feel.  I love to get fucked, but I have to know the guy, really feel something for him, or I can't do it.  It just doesn't feel right.” 

        It was like the tumblers fell into place.  “I understand now.  I'm sorry I hit on you so hard.” 

        “It's OK,” he said.  “I kind of liked it.  It made me feel pretty attractive.” 

        “You are attractive.  I had to stop myself from gaping at you like an idiot when you first walked into the room at your apartment, when I first saw you.”  I remembered how I'd had to pick my mouth up off the floor.

        “I know.  I saw you.  It was really cute, and it really pissed Lark off.” 

        “Good,” I said, chuckling.  “It's not just the way you look, it's the way you are, your gestures.  Most guys that look like you are arrogant and conceited.  Not you.  You're shy, in a really cute way.” 

        “I'm not always shy,” he said, and moved his hand down my chest, across my abdomen, and massaged my swollen cock through my shorts.  “Seems like I owe you a favor.”  His hands unbuttoned my pants while he looked up at me, locking his eyes into mine like he'd done the first day.  I felt the zipper go down and then his hand on my dick as he pulled it out and stroked it, making me moan loudly. 

        Then his eyes left mine and he moved down my body to my dick.  I looked down to watch him lick my head like a lollipop.  “Nice,” he said, his eyes on mine again, as he lowered his mouth down onto me.  The feel of his lips as they worked up and down my shaft, of his tongue as it flicked around my head, and the back of his throat as he forced my cock down, was so erotic all I could do was toss my head back and enjoy the ride.  I felt myself getting close but I didn't want this to end, so I stopped him.

        “Let me finish,” he pleaded. 

        “In a minute,” I said, and took his pants off, staring at this nice cock that I'd only gotten to touch before.  I pulled him around into a 69 position and he latched right onto my dick again.  I knew he was sensitive, and that he blew quickly, so instead of his dick, I moved his legs forward a bit and dove into his ass. 

        He had a good amount of blond hair on his ass, darker than the hair on his head, and a sexy little pucker that seemed to wink at me.  I shot my tongue out and licked it, feeling his moan resonate into my dick.  Then I traced the edges with my tongue, really working him.  His moans were intense now, really intense, and I felt myself reach the point of no return. 

        “I'm gonna cum Max,” I cried, pulling out of his ass long enough to say that, but he didn't pull off.  Instead, he sucked harder, deeper, so I returned the favor, diving into his ass with my tongue.  I felt the orgasm rise, felt myself lose control as my body began to contort with pleasure, and then I exploded, erupting into his mouth and down his throat, the whole time clinging to his asshole with my mouth.  He sucked me intensely, getting every last drop, until I could take no more and I had to push him off of me.  He landed on his back, his cock throbbing and leaking, so I returned the favor, absorbing him in.  He moaned loudly, almost a cry, and began blasting his load into my mouth.  It was a big load, huge, so either he wasn't getting much, or he was a volume shooter. 

        We lay there in the bed, my face next to his cock, his next to mine.  I gently stroked his limp member, observing it, admiring it, and making him giggle.  “That was nice,” he told me.

        “Nice?  Just nice? See, I would have said fucking awesome,” I told him, getting his cute, shy little grin in return.

        “Yeah, that works too,” he said.  I thought about moving up and lying next to him, but I liked this, liked being next to his groin.  I reached out and gently stroked his balls, barely touching them, allowing my fingertips to just graze across them.  He sighed contentedly and spread his legs wide, letting me do my work.  It wasn't erotic; it was sensual, and relaxing.  “You're fun to be with,” he said.

        “You're fun to be with too,” I told him.  “You think when we get back to Chicago we can hang out sometime?” 

        “You asking me out?” he teased.  I moved my hand up to his dick and rolled it around in my hand, enjoying its limpness, and the way it got plumper with my attention.

        “Yeah, I am.  Tomorrow night, dinner, my place.” 

        He stroked my dick now, too.  “You going to cook?” he asked.

        “Nope.  I'm ordering pizza.  You like Giordano's?  Or you want Pizzeria Uno?”  He laughed at that, but I stopped him with my mouth on his dick.  He hardened in response to my ministrations, and soon he was returning the favor.  We lay there, side by side, with one leg propped up, sucking each other. 

        “That feels so good,” I told him as I pulled off his cock.

        “Mmm hmm,” he agreed, unwilling to let go of mine.  I nursed his dick, one hand on his balls to play with them because they were cool, and to monitor when they rose up so I could try and cum with him.  I took my hand off periodically and ran my fingers up and down his crack, teasing his hole.  His reaction told me how much he liked it.  This boy was a total bottom.  Touching his ass, playing with his ass, set him free. 

        I realized that almost too late, but let his scent, his groans, his thrusts flood my brain and stimulate my own orgasm so I shot with him, or pretty damn close anyway.  The feel of his cock swelling in my mouth, of his hips grinding forward, his own mouth moaning and sucking me at the same time, was a major rush. 

        This time I turned around and moved up next to him, leaning down and kissing him.  He leaned forward and licked the corner of my mouth, licking away some of his own cum I hadn't cleaned off.  “You know Max, when you let yourself go, let yourself enjoy sex, you are an amazing lover.” 

        “I bet you say that to all the guys,” he said, smiling.

        “Actually, I do not.  I try not to lie to a guy about sex.  If he's a crappy lover, I will pick out something else nice about him, like his chest, or his dick, or maybe his ass.  The badge of 'amazing lover' is pretty sacred, only for the best.”  I nibbled on his ear as I softly purred the last sentence into his ear. 

        “You scare me.  If this flight were six hours long you'd end up fucking me,” he said, laughing.

        “That should not scare you, that should excite you,” I teased back.  “So physics?  Why physics?”

        “I love math, and I love science, and physics is where they meet in their purest form.  I've also done some work on electrical engineering, so it makes the work I do, my research, more applicable.  One of the big challenges is to try and reduce resistance, to speed the flow of electrons.  That's what I work on.”  I nuzzled behind his ear now, kissing him.  “Don't tell me physics turns you on too?” 

        I laughed at that.  “You turn me on Max.”  We felt the plane start its descent into Chicago, so that pretty much ruined our moment.  We got dressed and went back and sat in our seats while we landed. 

        We hopped into the Mercedes and I put the top down, enjoying the warm Chicago evening.  “You have any plans tonight?” I asked him.

        “Why?” he asked cautiously.

        “I was thinking I could take you back to my place and show you where I live.”

        “And get me to spend the night?”  he said, challenging my motives.

        “Yeah.  I want you to spend the night.  I like being with you, being next to you.  I like the way you look, the way you feel, the way you smell.  Well, most of the time anyway,” I teased.  “Is that a bad thing?”

        “No.  You just move really fast.”  He sat there silently.  “Why don't you just take me home?”  I felt my heart sink a bit.  “That way I can get my car and follow you there.”  I looked at him, saw his little grin.  He was playing me.  I smacked him on the arm.  “Ow!  You're not into S&M are you?” 

        It was my turn to laugh.  “Baby, I can be into anything you want.”  He laughed with me then, but rolled his eyes.  We got to his apartment and I dropped him at his car.  He drove an old Honda, another surprise.  I guess Lark pretty much cleaned him out. 

        He followed me to my apartment, driving the speed limit up the Drive so I had to slow down.  How like him, to adhere to the rules, to fastidiously not even break traffic laws.  I wondered how he managed to do that in LA. 

        I pulled into my parking place and motioned him into the one next to mine.  “Is this OK?” he asked.  “I won't get towed will I?” 

        I put my arm around him, a friendly gesture.  “I get two spaces; you're in one of them.”  We headed to the elevators, then up to the 20th floor.  It was dark now, and the city lights twinkled at us beyond the windows. 

        “This place is awesome!” he exclaimed, showing rare animation.  He walked out onto the terrace with me and gazed off at the city.  I remembered with a twinge how I'd fucked JP up here, but having Max with me made that less painful. 

        “I'm going to order dinner.  Pepperoni?”  He looked at me and grinned, then nodded. 

        While we waited for the pizza I showed him around my condo.  “I love the kitchen, and this room.  It's so open,” he observed.

        “It's totally rad, no?” I said, picking up on his surfer language.  “This used to be all walled in, but Stef had it opened up, and put in this island instead.” 

        “How much do I owe you for the pizza?” he asked.

        “Nothing.  It's on me.  You came to my house for dinner,” I told him.  No way was I taking his money.

        “No way.  That's not fair.” 

        I smiled.  “Yes it is.  Besides, this way you will feel indebted to me and you will have to invite me over to your place to return the favor.” 

        “I guess I will,” he said. 

        We ate pizza on the terrace, enjoying the beautiful view, the beautiful weather, and the terrific company.  We'd started slamming beers with our pizza, and had gone through four or five each, when I pulled out a joint.  “You smoke?”

        “Sometimes,” he said, taking it from me and lighting it.  After that we just hung out, laughing and joking about stupid shit. 

        “I'm feeling kind of grungy.  I need a shower,” I told him.  I held out my hand.  “Join me.” 

        I saw the conflict in his face as he rebelled against what he must consider another step on the road to getting fucked, but he nodded and followed me.  We pulled off our clothes while I ran the water to get it nice and warm, and then pulled him in.  Our eyes met, then our lips.  I pulled away, soaped up his chest and then kissed him again, letting our wet soapy torsos slide against each other.  I ran my soapy hand down his back to his ass, kneading his hard cheeks.  He spread his legs a little to give me access to his crack.  I began running my fingers up and down his ass, making sure to graze my fingers sensually against his hole. 

        “Fuck me,” he said softly into my ear.

        “Are you sure Max?  I do not want you to do something you do not want to do,” I said, showing enormous restraint for a drunk and stoned guy.

        “Fuck me,” he said again, more of an order.  He turned around, away from me, and I lubed up my dick with the soap, and lubed up his ass as well.  I probed him with my fingers, first one, then two, making sure he was loosened up.  He was really enjoying it.  He was totally into me now, putty in my hands.  I moved up behind him and pushed him forward, his hands against the shower walls, and moved my dick up to his ass.

        “You want me inside you?” I teased him, pushing against his pucker. 

        “Yeah.  Come on Marcel, fuck me!”  I pushed into him, my dick penetrating his ring, entering into his tight, soft cavern.  It felt heavenly.  I began to move in and out of him, running my hands up and down his back.

        “God, Max, you feel so good, your ass is magical,” I said, loud enough to be heard over the rushing water.  He moaned loudly, thrusting back into me.  I pulled him up, pulled him back so his back was against my chest, still thrusting in and out of him.  “You drive me wild, you are so sexy,” I told him.

        “Feels so good!” he cried, and reached a hand behind his head and mine and pulled my face closer to him.  I kissed and sucked on his neck, all the time plunging in and out of him.  I increased the tempo, running my hands up and down his exposed torso, tweaking his nipples, stroking his abdomen and his trail, and finally finding his cock, engorged and twitching.  I stroked him a few times and he screamed out loudly, pushing back into me even harder.  “Gonna cum,” he cried again, and then he blew, his dick pulsing, his ass pulsing, his whole body pulsing.  The feeling of his orgasm brought on my own, and I began blowing shortly after he did, a massive explosion, equal to the most extreme that I'd ever had. 

        He collapsed on the floor of the shower, the water still raining down on him, his beautiful ass exposed, with my semen flowing out of it.  I knelt down with him, and turned his face to mine and kissed him, then pulled us both up and dried us off.  I was kind of nervous because he was silent, but he had a blissful look on his face as I moved us into the bedroom. 

        I lay down on my back and he lay on top of me.  “Are you OK?” I asked.

        “I'm just a little drained, stunned,” he said, smiling up at me.

        “Stunned in a good way?”  I asked.

        “Yeah, in a very good way, just like you said I would be.”  I kissed him again, and then we drifted off to sleep. 

        I woke up in the middle of the night to find myself alone, but not for long.  I heard the tinkling sound of urination, and then he was back.  He climbed into bed and lay on his side, his back facing me.  I spooned up behind him, wrapping my arms around him.  Just the feel of his body made me hard again, and I ended up poking his ass with my cock.

        “You're a horny little bastard aren't you?” he teased.  I ignored the word bastard, which normally cut me to the core. 

        “I am.  Help me out,” I said, slathering lube all over my dick and his ass.  I moved up behind him again and entered him gently.  He moaned and moved back against me, then moved with me, responding with a rhythm and agility that perfectly matched my thrusts.  In no time at all, too fast, probably, we were both exploding again.  I fell asleep again, my dick still inside him. 

September 15, 1991

        I woke up in the morning, prepared to be treated to another round of mind-blowing sex, only to find myself alone.  I smiled anyway.  Max had been awesome.  I really liked him, the kind of guy I could really get into, literally and figuratively.  He was smart, a little older than me, sexy as hell, and had that cute kind of shy that melted my heart.  I got up and headed to the kitchen, expecting to find him there, but he was not. 

        On the dining room table was a note. 

Dear Marcel,

          Thanks for a fun evening last night.  I have some things to do today, and I'll be busy this week getting ready for classes, so I'll have to pass on dinner tonight.

          Hopefully we'll run into each other on campus next semester.

Max

        I stood there staring at the note.  “Hopefully we'll run into each other?”  What the fuck was that?  We had a great evening, had mind blowing sex, and shared an intimacy that I'd rarely experienced with another guy, and here he was, blowing me off. 

        I could not believe it.  I guess I moved too fast, but shit, to just blow me off like that?  What was it about me that made guys reject me like this?  First Lou on a constant basis, then JP at O'Hare, and now Max.  I felt tears in my eyes, felt them run down my cheeks.  More sadness, more grief.  I headed back to bed to sleep, to drown my sorrows in the quietude of slumber. 

        I thought about calling him.  Asking him what the fuck was wrong with him.  I should do that.  Why should I, though?  He was the one who blew me off.  Why should I call him?  Because he was shy and I was not.  Because he had given himself to me, like a woman surrendering herself and her virginity to her first lover. 

        I got up and dialed his number.  “Hello,” I heard him say.

        “Hey Max, it's Marcel.” 

        “Oh, hi,” he said.  He certainly wasn't happy to hear from me.

        “I just wanted to thank you for a fun time last night,” I said cautiously.

        “It's no big deal Marcel.  I didn't plan for that to happen, but it was fun.” 

        “Well, I had a really good time.  You were a lot of fun Max.”  There was silence.  “I like you.” 

        He sighed.  “Look, this moved way faster than I wanted it to, and I'm not ready for a relationship right now.  I told you I didn't want you to fuck me.” 

        “So it's my fault?”  This was incredible.

        “Well let's see, you got me drunk, got me high, got me in the shower, knocked down all of my walls, and fucked me.  I'd say it's your fault.” 

        “You do not remember ordering me to fuck you?” I asked in an acidic tone.

        “I don't want to argue with you.  Let's just forget about it, OK?”  He was almost whining now.

        “I do not want to forget about it.  I want to see you again.” 

        “I can't do that.”

        “Why not?” I asked, challenging him.  “You waiting for Lark to come back and sweep you off your feet?  It's not going to happen.  We had a connection, you and I, a chance to build something great.  Do not throw that away.” 

        “Lark has nothing to do with this.  I have to go.  Take care Marcel.”  And then he hung up on me. 

        I just stood there, staring at the phone, shaking my head.  The one good thing about that conversation was that it changed my sadness to anger, and that was much easier to channel into other activities.   


Thank You for Reading!

Welcome Guest! Registration is FREE and easy. Please Register!

Copyright © 2010 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.

← 7. Chapter 7
9. Chapter 9 →