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    Mark Arbour
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Land Whore - 20. Chapter 20

June 29, 1973

I woke up with a smile, Roger underneath me with my body splayed across his. He was so comfortable to lie on, like a big pillow. Except for his hard dick, which was sticking straight up. I poked it with my knee, bugging him, waking him up. His eyes opened and he stared at me, pretending to be irritated, but his smile told me that he wasn't.

“This thing is up again,” I said, stroking his cock, the organ that had given me so much pleasure.

“It's your fault. You're the sexy as hell guy lying on top of me.” I grabbed the lube and got ready to slather it all over him. I loved coupling with him.

“Wait,” he said, and looked at me nervously. “I want you to do me.”

Wow. That was a big deal. He'd told me that the only guy who had ever fucked him was Bobby, and he was mean and uncaring, it was an act of dominance, not of love. “Are you sure? I mean, I'm really happy with the way things are.”

“I want to feel you inside me,” he said, and the lusty tone of his voice told me that he was ready, or at least he thought he was.

I took my time with him, using my tongue, then my fingers, to get him ready. He lay there, moaning and twisting, and I decided it was time. He was on his back so I could watch him. I moved my dick up to his hole and slowly started to move into him. He flinched a bit, but loosened up, and then I popped past his ring and slid right in. Bobby must have fucked him a lot.

He looked at me with terror and fear, used to those emotions when he got fucked, but I went slowly and tenderly, taking time to stop and kiss him and to appreciate his body. Still, he didn't seem to be getting into it. Then I figured it out. When he'd been fucked before, it had been hard and strong, a pounding.

“And now baby, I'm gonna really fuck you. I'm gonna pound your ass and show you how much I love you.” I started slamming into him, using the same animalistic style he did, and he went nuts. “Your tight hole is making me feel so good,” I said. He didn't like it when I talked dirty when he was fucking me, but that seemed to change when I was fucking him. I was as aggressive as I could be without leaving love and kindness behind. I built him up, then slowed down, then rolled him over and came at him from the back. Finally, slamming into him while his dick rubbed against the bed was too much for him and he exploded. When he did, his ass contracted and expanded rapidly, like it was throbbing, a sensation I'd never experienced before, and that just set me free. I was still coming long after he stopped, but there was no way I wasn't going the whole distance. I collapsed on top of him afterwards, enjoying the feeling of his massive body beneath.

I stroked his back and his hair. I was ecstatic. He said nothing. “You were amazing,” I said.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

I rolled him over. “Are you OK?”

“It felt really good, but I don't know if I was ready for that yet.”

“It's OK. We did it, it was fun. Maybe someday we will do it again. As for me, I like sex with you no matter how we do it.” I was trying to cheer him up but it wasn't working.

“We should probably get going. Don't want to miss our flight,” he said and got up abruptly. I followed him, sad about this new fly in my ointment.

Roger didn't talk much on the way home, and he said even less on the drive to Escorial. “I'm thinking about heading down to the winery,” he said as we drove through the gates. “I want to see how things are since I've been away. I figured I'd just spend the night down there and get an early start in the morning.”

“You can do that if you want, but you are just running away from me.”

“I'm not running away from you,” he said.

“Yes you are. You have not talked to me or touched me since this morning. I have fallen completely in love with you; do not let this come between us.” I was pleading. It was pathetic.

“I just need some time alone to mull this over, OK? I love you too. Is wanting some personal time such a bad thing?”

“Well, that at least is an honest response.” I kissed him gently and headed into the house while he headed straight out.

JP was waiting for me. “Where's Roger?”

“I fucked him this morning and it freaked him out.”

“Why did you do that?”

“He asked me to,” I said simply.

“You going to Claremont?” he asked.

“Why would I go there?”

“For the fourth of July celebration. Tonto is going and she has apparently assumed that you will be there too.”

“I do not want to go but I will think about it.” The fourth of July was the biggest event in the town, and it was like a homecoming. For me, as a Schluter, it was almost a mandatory event.

I retreated to my room and shut the door, determined to block out the world and the ridiculous and moody people that occupied it. After about an hour there was a soft knock at my door. I opened it to find Brad looking at me. I needed to tell him about Josh.

“Hi Brad,” I said, welcoming him in.

“Hi. I heard you were back and I wanted to see you,” he said, and hugged me.

“Any particular reason?”

“No,” he said, “just to say hi.”

“I have some sad news for you.”

He looked at me, fully attentive. “Josh died a few days ago.” He just stared at me.

I watched him, waiting for his reaction. First there was a single tear, and then another, and then a flood. I held him and stroked his hair, trying to soothe him. “I loved him,” he said.

“I loved him too.”

“No, I really loved him.” He said this and tried to run away but I wouldn't let him.

“Was Josh like your boyfriend?”

He looked up at me, cognizant of everything that question and his possible answer would imply. “Yes.”

“I'm so sorry,” I said. This did not seem to be the time to go into molestation. He just cried in my arms for a long time, a very long time.

We were interrupted when JP came in to tell us dinner was ready. Brad sat there and quietly ate, his eyes still red from crying. I understood heartache, and so did everyone else at the table. But I'm the only one who knew about his suffering. That made me feel very privileged. I caught his eye and winked at him, and that earned me a small smile.

“Stefan, you're going to Claremont with us aren't you?” Tonto demanded.

“I'm thinking about it,” I said.

“Thinking about it? What is that supposed to mean? You have to go. How can I possibly move out of town and not at least show up with my family for the 4th? Maybe I should just stay in Claremont.”

“Fine Tonto, I will go.” Great. Dinner was pretty dull after that. I headed back to my room after dinner, but I felt bored. And lonely. I could go bother Sam and JP but that's not what I wanted. I headed out to my car, determined to go somewhere and have some fun.

There was a gay bath house in San Jose. I'd heard about it because all the locals had been bitching about it. I'd never been to a place like that before, I guess because I'd never needed to. The prospect of a meat market for anonymous sex seemed to fit my mood perfectly.

The place looked pretty sleazy from the outside. I got to the door and almost backed out, but there was a really hot guy that walked in first and he gave me the eye so I couldn't resist. I paid my money and got a locker. I took off my clothes and saw the hot guy do the same, watching me intently. I gave him my “fuck me” look and bent over to pick up my shirt, only to feel him rubbing up against my ass.

“I'm gonna go wander around, check things out. Come find me,” he said, and vanished. I left the locker room, not sure what to expect. There was a maze like area, but that was a little weird for me. There was a steam room, and a hot tub, but that was probably a little too gross for me. There was even a small gym for the muscle heads. Nice place. I headed back to the maze, now comfortable enough to brave it, and wandered the corridors, getting checked out. I saw a room ahead and off to the right filled with a bunch of guys.

I went into the room and there was a sling hanging from the ceiling. There was a man in the sling with a guy pounding his ass. Behind him stood two other men waiting for their turn, and there was another guy in the front, jamming his cock down the throat of the guy getting slammed in the sling. One of the men, a smelly guy that was at least 50 pounds overweight, ran his hand over my ass. “You wanna ride in the sling precious?” He looked like a 50 year old former biker.

“Later,” I said and smiled. The first guy finished and the old biker moved up and slammed into the guy in the sling. God the guy reeked. Couldn't he have at least showered first?

I felt another hand on my ass and turned to find my hot friend. “Let's go off into that corner over there and do it,” he said into my ear. I walked forward, past the sling and the guy getting pounded by the fat disgusting guy. He made noises like a pig as he fucked that guy. I felt sorry for the man in the sling until I looked down and saw that it was Roger. My eyes met his, his mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something, but instead he shot his load all over himself.

I ignored him and went off to a side room and let my new friend fuck me, showing him all of my tricks. After we blew he followed me back to the locker room to change. “Damn you were good,” he said. “You come here often?”

“No, I have a boyfriend,” I said

“Does he know you're here?”

“Yeah, he was the guy in the sling.”

“That guy is hot as hell, but one total slut. He's here all the time.”

“He is?”

“Um, I probably should not have said anything. I mean, I'm not here that much myself, so how would I know.”

“It is no big deal,” I lied. “We have an open relationship.”

“Oh. Good. I've fucked him a few times, but he likes those nasty grungy old guys.”

“Yeah, he likes that kinky shit sometimes.” And then we both left.

Roger was waiting for me by my car. “You want to talk?” he said.

“You need your personal space,” I reminded him as I eyed him coldly and pushed past him. Then I got in my car and drove off.

I deserved to get a ticket on the way home, but I didn't. I didn't understand Roger. Why did he get so upset when I fucked him, but he'd go and let gross, disgusting strangers fuck him? And he told me he hadn't been with other guys, and played it off like he was this virginal guy, and he's practically a regular at the fag fuck palace. What made this any different from what I did when I was in LA, or anywhere for that matter? I was mad and confused. I got home and no one was up. I was glad. I didn't want to tell JP, because he wasn't too sure about Roger anyway.

I stood in the Great Hall, staring at the statue of Andre, JP's first boyfriend and Ace's real father. He looked so brave and noble. He would be proud of his son. I shook off my malaise and headed to my room, stripped off my clothes, and went to sleep.

I was awakened a while later by movement in the bed, someone getting in. I was sure it was Roger, coming to explain everything to me and make it all OK. I turned to him and instead found myself face to face with Brad.

“Can I sleep in here with you tonight?” he asked. His eyes were still red.

“Sure. I could use my blood brother right now.” He snuggled up to me and we fell asleep together. It was really sweet and really special.

June 30, 1973

By the time I woke up Brad was already gone. It had been really nice having him there last night. What a special person he was. I got up and took a shower, got dressed, and headed out to breakfast. I didn't bother to notice that it was almost 11am. No one was around, so I was able to sneak out of the house. I had nowhere in particular to go, it was a Saturday, but I wanted to get out and away from here, away from Roger. I drove over the mountains to the coast and went to our house in Santa Cruz.

In Malibu, I was right on the beach. In Santa Cruz, the house was on a bluff overlooking the beach. I was briefly concerned that everyone had gone there, and I drove up cautiously, trying to make sure that they weren't. I got lucky. 1PM and a beautiful day, so I decided to take a walk on the beach. I walked north, and it seemed like I walked forever. I was about to turn back when I noticed some people lying out not too far ahead. Curious, I figured I'd go that far and then turn around. As I got closer, I realized they were nude. I'd stumbled across a nude beach.

Most of the people there were men. At first I felt a little strange, but I figured that I'd go for it, taking off my clothes and folding them into a bundle. I walked proudly along the beach, enjoying the eyes on my body and willing my dick to stay down. Plumping was OK, a full blown erection would not be. There was a grassy dune area behind the beach and I spotted some movement there. I headed over to it and found out that it wasn't grass, but an area that was populated by shrubs that were about 5 feet tall.

There were trails throughout these shrubs, or whatever they were, and there were naked guys wandering around these trails, looking to hook up. I strolled around, trying to shake off skanky guys that were following me, until I finally got tired and sat down to rest. To my right, through the shrub next to me, I saw a guy in a hidden clearing, a really hot guy. He looked like a surfer that had finished catching waves for the day and had just kicked back to dry off. Naked.

He had a slightly hairy ass, a fit body, and nice blond hair. Long blond hair and tanned skin, what a combo. He was on his stomach with his cute little ass, with cute little dimples, wiggling every time he moved. He looked over at me and smiled. I smiled back. He rolled over on his side, facing me, and his hard cock sprang out from his pubes, pointing at me. A nice cock, probably just shy of six inches. I got up and moved over to his spot and knelt over him. He lay on his back and I took his throbbing cock into my mouth and worked him enthusiastically for only a few minutes before he blew.

“Thanks man,” he said.

I smiled. “My pleasure.” It was such a thrill to share such an intimate experience with a man and to see how much he enjoyed and appreciated it. I got up and my leg muscles ached. I fell back down.

“You OK?” he asked, concerned.

“I will be fine. I just walked a long way before I found you,” I said.

“You were looking for me?”

“No, but I did find you.”

He laughed. “I'm parked on the other side of that ridge. You want a ride home?”

“That would be great.” What a windfall. I get to blow the hot guy and he gives me a ride too.

“Least I can do in exchange for that great blow job.” We dressed and walked over the ridge to his car. He had the quintessential surfer vehicle: an old VW bus with two surfboards in the back.

“I'm Stefan,” I said, extending my hand as he started the engine.

“Butch,” he said, slapping my hand instead of shaking it. “Want some bud?” He pulled out a pipe.

“Absolutely,” I said, and inhaled the marijuana, letting the pleasant smoke fill my lungs. I gave him directions while we drove and toked. He got to the gates of the house and stopped.

“Man, I can't go back there. It's private property.”

I hopped out and pulled out my key, unlocking the gate. “Sure you can.”

“Bitchin'” was all he said as he drove up to the house. “This is one rad pad.”

“Yeah it is. Wanna come in?”

He raised his eyebrow. “What for?”

“Use your imagination.” I got out of the van and walked toward the house without looking back. I knew he'd follow me, and he did.

I gave him a beer and led him to the shower to wash off the sand. I got in with him and watched him wash his body. He was about my height with the body of an athlete. Not a football player, but a surfer. That gave him a lithe, fit shape, more like a runner or a swimmer, but with more scrapes and cuts.

I didn't know if he was into guys, or if the encounter on the beach had just been a simple blow job for a horny guy. I moved up to him and ran my hand up his abdomen to his slightly hairy chest, feeling his heart beating strongly beneath my hand. I looked up into his eyes, dark green eyes, like emeralds. He moved his face toward mine and our lips met, and I knew that he was up for more fun.

We stood there making out while the water poured over our bodies, until I reached down and soaped his hard cock and turned around, guiding him into me. He moved in cautiously, then out, and then the sensations overwhelmed him and he went for it, focusing on maximizing his own pleasure not out of selfishness, but because he was a rookie. I knew that I was probably the first, or at least one of the first guys he'd fucked. But I was a pro, so I paced myself with him, working my ass to maximize my enjoyment, then I felt his hand reaching around to stroke me off.

It struck me as such a sweet gesture, coming from a novice. I leaned back into his thrusting body and let him jerk me to a fantastic orgasm. I finished before he began, which was surprising until I recalled I just blew him. He acted like he was going to stop but I reached around and grabbed his ass, urging him on. I increased my moaning, and the audio help did the trick and he shot his second load straight up my ass.

“That was gnarly,” he said. His surf lingo was so cute.

“You are quite a man, and a very good lover,” I said, lying, but determined to boost his ego. He just grinned. We were sitting on the deck gazing at the ocean when it got dark all of a sudden.

“Man, it's the eclipse. This is awesome.” We glanced at the sun and saw it covered by the moon. For over five minutes it was dark, almost as dark as night. “Wow man, this is like a symbol. Like you and me, we're bonded by the sun and the moon. Friends forever.”

“Friends forever Butch,” I said. He held out his hand and I slapped it, then moved in and gave him a passionate kiss, complete with tongue wrestling. I moved away from his mouth and saw him grin and blush shyly.

“Man, I gotta get home. You here all the time?”

“No. Not all that often.”

“Meet me here, 1pm, in a week,” he said. I just nodded. I had a date. What would Roger think? Fuck him. He could go hang out in his sling and let the scummiest guys in the whole Bay Area pound his ass.

I spent the rest of the day just enjoying the beach and the solitude. I'm a social beast, and I draw my strength and pleasure from other humans, but sometime I just need to have some down time. And to escape.

July 2, 1973

I sat at my desk going through all the stuff Jenny had laid out for me. She was so efficient, a breath of fresh air, a stable, reliable person in my chaotic life. “Thanks for getting things together for me,” I said sincerely.

“It's my job Stefan.”

“Well, you’re doing your job really well. I'm going to go to Claremont for the fourth of July, and then I'm thinking about spending a week in Malibu.”

She didn't ask why, but she knew there was no pressing business reason for me to go. “Your flight to Columbus leaves at 2PM. You need to meet with Luke and Cecile and go through these things that require immediate attention. I'll pack up the things for you to study so you have some reading material for the trip.”

“Thanks. If there's anything urgent after I get to LA, maybe you can bring it down to me?”

She smiled. “That might be interesting. By the way, Roger has called twice this morning for you.”

“Do me a favor and tell him that I already left and that I expect to be out of town for a week.” She raised her eyebrows. “Just do this for me, OK? I do not want to talk about it right now.” She nodded but still had that look of concern on her face.

Amazingly enough I got out of the office at 11, an hour before I'd planned, and headed to my car. I wasn't surprised to find Roger there, but I wasn't happy about it either.

“You avoiding me?” he asked, stating the obvious.

“I figured you'd be busy. I figured you had your ass full,” I said, substituting the word “ass” for “hands” with venom.

“So you're just going to dump me, refuse to talk to me? Is that what love means to you?”

“Fuck you. You get upset when I fuck you and then you go and open your hole to some of the most disgusting guys in town, and then you have the balls to talk to me about love?”

“You have sex with other guys. Why is it wrong for me to have sex with other guys?”

“You know damn well why it's different, but since you seem to have become more stupid than wood, I will clue you in.” I felt the anger fly through my body and consume me. I'd lost control. “When I fuck someone or let someone fuck me, I'm open about it. You skulk around in dark rooms in sleazy bath houses, and you lie to me about it. And when I have sex with you, it's better than sex I have with anyone else, and I put my heart and soul in it. For you to get off you cannot have me fuck you, you have to find some fat, dirty, middle-aged scum ball to do it.”

“That's not fair,” he said indignantly.

“Not fair? How would you know what's fair or not? You're so twisted up inside it's amazing a coherent thought can even find its way out.”

I pushed him aside and got in my car. I started backing out but he stood there, banging on the window. I put the car in gear, and rolled down the window to let him say whatever was so urgent. “I love you Stef, I really do.”

“That's bullshit. Do not lie to me and do not patronize me. I'm not playing the game anymore. You got your winery, you got what you wanted. Go pick grapes and camp out in the sling.” I hit the gas and flew out of the parking lot, tears flowing from my eyes. I told myself that I'd just amputated a gangrenous limb, that I'd cauterized the rot, and that of course it hurt, but in the end, I'd be healthier. That's what I told myself.

I headed straight to the airport even though I'd planned to stop by the house first. I needed to drive, to be free, to run. I was going to leave this place for awhile, go to Claremont, and then sink into the debauchery of LA. I'd miss my date with Butch, which made me giggle, but he'd get over it. As for Roger, well he could just go fuck himself. Or find some strung out homeless guys to do it. He'd probably be into that.

I rented a car in Columbus which gave me the freedom to come and go as I pleased, and headed to Claremont. I was supposed to stay at Tonto's house, probably the last time before it became public property. Interestingly enough, she had written into the gifting agreement the rights for the family to celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the Fourth of July there, presumably preserving the continuity of tradition in the family.

I drove through the gates and parked in back like I always did. I walked into the kitchen, surprised to find that Tonto was not there. I heard voices, loud voices, so I followed the volume. They were in the study, where Tonto was cornered by Nick and Bitty.

“I can't believe you are giving away our heritage. You have no right to do this!” Nick yelled. She just glared at him. What made him think he could talk to Tonto like that and get away with it?

“I have every right young man. It is my house, and it is my decision. You will not raise your voice to me like that in my house.” I was relieved that Tonto was not putting up with their shit.

“Well, since this really isn't your house anymore, that won't be a problem,” Bitty chimed in. They moved toward her in a threatening manner. I doubted they would do anything physical to her, but they were trying to intimidate her. Good luck with that, I thought, grinning. She stood her ground defiantly.

I walked in and they all looked at me. “You two are assholes,” I said to them. They glared at me and said nothing. “Tonto is moving to California. After that, the only family that you have will be there. If you act like you are acting now, or you mistreat Brad like you have, you will not be welcome. You may want to think about that.”

They glared at me and Tonto grinned. I looked back at them calmly. “Tonto, I've thought about the estate planning question you asked me. I want the money left to me that is mine by right.”

“What does that mean?” asked Nick belligerently.

“It means, dumb shit, that your attitude has just cost you a shitload of money.” The two of them just stared at each other. “Are you not supposed to be at camp?”

“Camp is horrible. I refuse to go back there,” sniffed Bitty.

“Well I would not be so obstinate. I can think of much worse places to go. In fact, they say the Amish have a summer program where you learn to grind grain and spin wool.” She blanched.

“Enough of this,” said Tonto. “I will respect your wishes, of course, Stefan. As for you two, get out of my sight.” They left sullenly.

She looked at me wryly. “It doesn't seem as if camp has helped them.”

“They’ve not been there very long. Give them another month,” I said, smiling. “Where's Brad?”

“He's staying with Ace. I thought it best when these two came home. Their big goal seems to be to avoid going back to camp. Not happening.”

Copyright © 2011 Mark Arbour; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Tonto and Stef, what a great combination...

 

A little dissapointed in how Stef is reacting to the issue with Roger. For Roger to do what he did you know there is something more involved; Stef needs to take a moment and step back and wonder why???

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Stef was a bit harsh. I understand he's hurt, but Roger obviously has issues and Stef is too loving to not at least hear him out. It's really sad how shitty Billy's kids turned out.

More accolades for a great story.

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Roger has issues, but I think Stef does too, but then that hardly makes Stef unique in CAP. Stef has no idea who he likes or loves.

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Chapter 20

 -When Roger decides to bottom for Stefan, and they make love.

"Make It With You" by Bread

-When Stefan talks to Brad about how Josh died, and Brad admits that Josh molested him.

"Ooh Child" by Bruce Ruffin (1971 Cover of the Five Stairsteps hit)

-When Stefan visits the bathouse, and sees all the crazy sex going on.

"Get it On" (Bang A Gong" by T. Rex

-When Stefan confronts Roger, and then, over in Claremont, effectively screws over Nick and Bitty in terms of inheritance.

"No More Mr. Nice Guy" by Alice Cooper

 

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