Samstag, 11. Oktober 2014

My Affair with Picasso

Okay, so he wasn't Pablo Picasso...

That's just who he reminded me of when I saw him the first time on the diving
board at the pool at Trick and Tricia's house. There he was: Bald except for
a white fringe above his ears and around the back of his head. Tanned,
deeply tanned, from head to foot. Tall, but stocky and muscular. Barrel chest
covered with curly white hair. Lean, corded thighs, also covered with fine
white hair, emerging from short, white boxer-style trunks. A full package at
his crotch that held more than my imagination could cram into a single
fantasy.

"Greg?" Trick's voice. "Greg, are you gonna swim or what?"

"Oh, yeah!" I said, looking at Trick, who peered up at me over the edge of
the pool. The blond Adonis was the most recent object of my perpetually
unrequited lust, "I just wanna take it gradually. Pool water always seems cold
to me at first."

I sat down on the rim of the pool and swung my feet down into the water. It
was cool. Then I looked up to watch the Picasso man take a beautiful swan
dive into the other end of the pool. "Who's that?" I asked, watching him swim
with long, graceful strokes over to the ladder next to the diving board.

Trick looked over his shoulder. "Him? That's my Uncle Paul. Mom's
brother."

Paul, I thought. That's Pablo in English.

"Greg, what country are you in, guy?" Trick slapped me on the thigh to break
my trance, then pushed off into his patented backstroke, his long, slim body
cutting through just the top layer of water... and his tight little Speedo suit
just breaking the surface enough to show off the large mound at his crotch.
There is a family resemblance, I thought.

I suppose I should explain that Trick and Tricia are twins, real names Patrick
and Patricia (which they hate), who both belong in the dictionary next to the
definition of "ideal beauty, male and female." They were a class ahead of me
in school, but I lived across the street and my mom worked as a manager at
one of their dad's supermarkets, so I'd known them just about all my life.
Plus, thanks to my mom, I was the kind of kid that parents like to have hang
around their own kids. I guess they think that politeness and good grades
might be catching.

I never really paid much attention to either Trick or Tricia until they were
juniors in high school. That was when the gangliness that started with puberty
wore off, and they both kinda filled out in all the right places. I mean, I
liked looking at Tricia, too--she could have been the model for the Swedish
bikini team--but my hormones really stirred when I saw Trick running around
their property in just shorts or a bathing suit.

Trick was white-blond and St. Tropez-tanned like his sister, but he had
something she didn't have, the physical equipment that really rang my chimes,
stoked my furnace, revved my engine, all those dumb metaphors. He turned
me on, and he was the first guy close to my own age that did. Before, I just
had fantasies about baseball players, and actors like Yul Brynner and Cary
Grant, and my gym coach, who looked a little like Aldo Ray, the actor in
"My Three Angels," who was kind of a turn-on, too.

Oh, yeah. I guess I also have to admit that I got a real buzz out of a photo
story on Pablo Picasso that I'd seen in "Life" magazine. Anyway, I started to
just show up wherever I might run into Trick and Tricia, hoping to get closer
to them (him).

My other friends assumed I was just hot after Tricia. I think she did, too. The
fact that she kept telling her friends "Oh, I think it's so cute the way he
follows me around" should have given me a clue about how good my
chances would have been if I actually had been lusting after her.

Trick assumed I was after Tricia, too. And the idea didn't bother him at all.
He figured I was an okay guy who wasn't trying to get into her pants from
day one, so I must be a safe prospect. He didn't know how safe his sister
would have been with me... or how much in danger he would have been, if I
had had a single ounce of bravado and self-confidence.

Okay, I was a virgin! Pure as the driven snow, whatever. Physically, that is.
Mentally, I was a profligate debauche (I'd found a copy of Casanova's
memoirs in my dad's den). And I was determined to find a way to catch
Trick alone, unaware, and unclothed. Getting myself invited over to swim
was part of my plan. At least, there were fewer clothes to get Trick out of,
and one of these days, he'd invite me into his bedroom while he changed out
of his trunks.

I was still kinda staring at Trick's Uncle Paul as he got out of the pool,
grabbed a towel, and started walking around the pool toward me. I had to
force myself to look away and not watch the way the lump in his boxer
trunks kept swaying heavily back and forth as he walked.

"How ya doin'?" That deep, warm voice was speaking to me. "You're Pat's
friend, Greg, aren't ya? I'm his Uncle Paul," he said, shoving his big brown
hand down toward me.

I took it and let him shake my hand vigorously. "Glad to meet you, sir," I
said. I added, "But he doesn't like to be called Pat, you know?"

He guffawed, "Yeah, I know, but damned if I'm going to be caught calling
Prince Charming 'Trick.' Somebody might get the *right* idea about me.
And don't call me sir." He chuckled quietly when he saw the puzzled look on
my face, and started to walk behind me. Just when what he said had finally
registered on my numbed brain, I felt a wet foot in the center of my back,
and I went flying into the pool. I heard a big laugh just before my head went
underwater.

* * *

Paul, as he told me to call him, was staying at Trick and Tricia's for a couple
of weeks. He had a fleet of trucks that hauled produce and other groceries to
supermarkets in three states, including his brother-in-law's stores here in
southern Indiana. He told me he still drove himself, but he was finally able,
at age 58, to take off now and then when he wanted to, to visit family or
friends. And Trick and Tricia and their folks were his only family, he said.
He'd always worked hard and never taken time to settle down.

Because Trick and Tricia were so popular with other friends, for obvious
reasons--after all, they improved the scenery wherever they were--they were
gone a lot. I wasn't quite in their class, so I was stuck at home by myself a
good part of the summer. But whenever Paul saw me hanging out around my
house, he'd call over and ask me if I wanted to swim in the pool and keep
him company. His sister, Trick and Tricia's mom, was also gone a lot,
because she was chair lady or hostess or honorary spokesperson for just
about every good cause in our town.

So I'd be there alone with him, and we did a lot of talking. The better I got
to know him, the more I liked him. (And the more I saw of him, the more I
lusted after him.) He never said anything else like that little comment he made
when I met him, but whenever I'd turn to look at him, I'd catch him shifting
his glance away from me. He never blushed or anything--how could I tell
with that tan?--but it looked like the bulge in his swim trunks was a little
bulgier whenever that happenedd. I know I had to run through the
declensions of irregular Latin verbs more often than usual when I was around
him.

I guess I ought to describe myself. I had just turned 16, and I was
perpetually horny. I went through puberty before my 12th birthday, and I
learned to jack off soon after, thanks to an equally horny cousin. We never
did anything besides jack off in the same room at the same time, but while he
was looking at Playboy, I was looking at him. Trouble is, all I'd been able to
do since puberty was look.

That's my mental state. Now I'll describe me, the person, the Greg that
everyone in town knows and loves (just not nearly enough!). I wasn't as tall
or as blond as Trick. I was just kind of average, I thought. I was a little
stocky, but not fat, and I had pretty good muscle definition, thanks to hours
of working out with weights in our basement trying to keep my mind off sex.
(It didn't work!) So I guess I wasn't really hard on the eyes. I just didn't
ooze sex appeal the way Trick did.

A couple of days before Paul was going to go back on the road, we were
sitting around the pool in the early evening. Trick and Tricia had been
swimming with us earlier, but they had rushed off to another dance at the
country club. Their folks were going to the same dance. So it was Paul and I,
just taking it easy. Paul even popped a beer for me after everyone had left.
It was Friday. Mom was working late at the market and Dad was putting the
weekend edition of the local paper (he was editor and chief ad salesman,
too) to bed, so I knew I could get home without anyone checking my breath
on the way in.

I was sipping my beer slowly, because I'd never really had a whole one to
myself and I didn't know how it would affect me. Paul was talking about
some of his adventures as a trucker (the G-rated stuff, while I was dying to
hear if the all the talk about truckers was true). I was listening, but more
to hear his warm, soothing voice than to what he was saying. So I was
surprised when he reached over and slapped me on the knee, and said, "I've
got an idea, Greg! Why don't you come with me on this run Monday? I've
gotta take a load up to northern Ohio, then pick up another one up there on
Tuesday to haul back down to Cincinnati. We'd only be gone for a couple of
days, and I could bring you back here Tuesday night or Wednesday.
Whaddaya say?"

"I don't know, Paul," I said. "My mom..."

"Oh, your mom will say it's okay. I've known her for years, ever since she
started working at Phil's first store as a cashier. She knows I'm a reliable
guy... or at least she thinks I am," he said, grinning and flicking my beer can
with his middle finger. "Besides, you need to stop mooning over Trick... and
Tricia..." The pause between names was painfully obvious. "...and get out
and do something for yourself instead of waiting for them to honor you with
their presence."

I was flustered. He knew more about my inner thoughts than I wanted
anyone to know, but I guess I had given myself away. Then I thought, if he
knew about how I felt about Trick, what did he think about the way I looked
at him?

"I... I think that sounds like fun, Paul. Yeah, I'd like that!" I said, trying
not to give away the confused mix of hesitation and anticipation I was
experiencing right then. "I'll ask Mom in the morning, but I'm going to tell
her to call you if she has any objections, okay?"

He stood up, reached over, and gave me an affectionate knuckle-rub on the
top of my head. "Sure thing, kid. No problem. You just get your stuff ready
Sunday night, because I'll be out front ready to go at 5:00 a.m. On the dot,"
he added. "I'm going to take another dip. You gonna join me?"

"Hey, wait!" I said. "What stuff do I need?"

"Oh, just a coupla pairs of jeans and T-shirts, coupla changes of socks and
underwear if you wear 'em." He paused for effect then added, "And your
swimsuit. We'll probably spend Monday night in a motel with a pool. And
don't worry about money. It's my treat."

Then he dived into the pool and swam to the other end as if he were
competing for a medal. My lascivious mind was working overtime.

* * *

He was right. Mom did think it would be all right for me to go, if I promised
to behave and do what Paul told me. I just hoped he'd tell me to do what I
was always wishing to do. My cum sock had taken an overload of cum loads
over the weekend.

I was still a little bleary-eyed Monday morning when I climbed up into the
cab of Paul's truck on the passenger's side, clutching a thermos of coffee
Mom had made for me. I looked at Paul, who was smiling at me. He was
wearing faded Levi's and a clean white T-shirt, and I realized it was the first
time I'd ever seen him when he wasn't bare-chested and bare-legged. He still
looked good to me. In fact, I thought he really filled out those clothes well.
He looked like a blue-collar Picasso, but he still looked like Picasso.

"C'mon, kiddo. You can catch up on your sleep once we get on the road."
As soon as the door closed behind me, he put the truck in gear and started
to roll down the street. By the time he got to the four-lane highway out of
town, I was sound asleep. I didn't wake up until the same time I usually
started my summer days, about 9:30.

When I opened my eyes, Paul was smiling at me. "Hi," he said, "Get your
nap out?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry," I said, looking around.

"Hey, no problem," he said. "You're not on the clock today, you're just along
for the ride."

"Oh, I guess this means you don't want me to drive?" I kidded him. "Where
are we, anyway?"

"We're about an hour or so away from Toledo, where I drop this load," he
said. "Once we get unloaded, we can head over to Cleveland to a good
motel I know near the warehouse where I load up tomorrow morning."

I looked over at him. "You mean we'll be done for the day in just a couple
hours?" I asked.

"That's right, Greg. It wouldn't have been much fun for you if we spent the
whole time on the road," he said, giving my left knee a squeeze. "I wanted
you to get away from home and have a little time to do some sightseeing if
you want to, or just hang around the motel, order pizza and watch TV, and
soak up the sun by the pool. Or we could catch a good meal somewhere and
maybe a movie tonight, if you want."

"Hey, TV and pizza at would be fine with me," I said, a little too quickly. "I
mean, I don't want to drag you all over if you've got to get up early to pick
up another load."

He laughed. "It's whatever *you* want to do. Don't worry about me. I
always catch up on my sleep after I get back home from a run like this," he
said, squeezing my knee again. "Besides, I'm enjoying your company... even
if you do sleep a lot."

"Hey," I said, "I need my sleep. I'm a growing boy."

"I've noticed," he said, chuckling quietly. I looked down and saw that I had
experienced my usual morning uprising, and my dick was threatening to burst
the zipper out of my jeans. I must've turned bright red.

He was still chuckling. "We'll stop at the rest area up the road and you can
take your morning piss."

Is there a shade of red that's redder than bright red? I was so embarrassed
to have him notice my piss hard-on, but I was also kind of excited, too. In
my family, no one would ever say anything like that. It was neat, in a kinda
naughty, fun way.

* * *

It was just noon when we pulled out of the warehouse lot in Toledo. If we'd
been any later getting there, we would have still been waiting, because the
warehouse guys just totally disappeared when the noon whistle sounded. We
stopped for a quick lunch of burgers and Cokes before we pulled back out
on the road.

We were on a four-lane highway that ran parallel to the Ohio Turnpike,
about halfway to Cleveland, and Paul was pointing out things he thought I'd
be interested. He got pretty excited showing me a barn that was shaped like
an octagon and painted bright red. (Redder than I'd ever blushed, that's for
sure.) And we passed a couple of guys on bicycles. He made a funny remark
that those banana-shaped bicycle seats were getting a good workout, and he
was jealous.

"The motel is about 40 more miles down the road, just south of Lorain," he
said a few minutes later. "There's a good seafood restaurant across the
highway further down..." he paused to look over at me, "and there's a great
pizzeria next door. The pool has a high board as well as a low board. I can
practice some of my twists and tucks."


I remembered the first time I saw him dive--was it just a couple of weeks
ago? I said, "And I can practice staying away from the water so I don't get
drowned by the spllash." I ducked to try to avoid the finger jab in my side I
somehow knew was coming. He still got me good. It hurt, because he wasn't
gentle, but it still felt kinda good to be able to mess around like that with
another guy... no, with a man! A real grown-up man, who didn't treat me like
a child!

After he poked me, he put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed it a little, and
just let it rest there as we drove on down the road. That felt good, too. I
reached over and slapped his thigh the way he did mine, and he just looked
over at me for a couple of seconds, with a curious expression on his face,
before looking back down the highway.

It was almost 40 miles exactly by the truck's odometer when he pulled off the
road into a big graveled lot, next to a big, old building that had modern
motel-type wings off to each side. "It used to me an old inn," he said. "The
original part's been here for a hundred, hundred-fifty years or so. I know the
guy that bought it and added the new motel rooms."

The guy that owned it was behind the registration desk as I followed Paul
into the office. They greeted each other like old friends. Paul introduced me
as his nephew's friend, and said I'd hitched a ride just to see a little of
the world before school started again.

I got a good chance to look at Dave--that was his name--as I shook hands
with him. He might have been about Paul's age, but he was a different type
altogether. Dave was really tall, maybe six-feet-five or six, and really thin,
but he had a firm handshake. He had a crewcut with some gray in it, and he
looked like a basketball player. He was still pretty hot-looking, too. I'd
also had fantasies about basketball players. Dave's mature face and build went
into my memory bank for future reruns of those fantasies.

We got the key, got our stuff out of the truck, and headed for the room,
which was on the back side of the east wing of rooms, facing the pool. It was
a great pool, and it did have a high board, higher than the one at the
community pool back home.

Inside the room, which had two double beds, Paul said, "The number of the
pizza place is on that list by the phone." He pulled his wallet out of his
pocket and laid a couple of $10 bills on the dresser. "Why don't you call and
order us some dinner while I take a shower and change into my trunks? Whatever
you want is okay with me. I'll eat anything."

He started to pull off his T-shirt, and I thought, "So will I, man. So will I."
I sat on the side of one bed next to the phone stand and dialed the pizzeria
while he took off his shoes, and then started to pull off his jeans. He was
facing away from me, but he wasn't wearing any underwear. His ass, which
looked really muscular, like the rest of him, was covered with fine white hair,
too, and when he bent over to step out of his pants, I got a glimpse of a big
sack of low-hanging balls swinging back and forth. Then he walked on into
the bathroom as I heard someone on the phone saying, "Hello? Hello?"

I rearranged my hard-on, and ordered an extra-large thick crust with double
meat and double cheese and a couple of Cokes for each of us. I would have
ordered beer, but I didn't figure I could get away with it, even over the
phone. The guy said it would be about a half-hour, and they'd deliver it right
to the room.

About 15 minutes later, Paul stepped out of the bathroom wearing his regular
white swim trunks. He looked even sexier than usual, now that I knew at
least part of what they covered up. I told him the pizza would be delivered in
about 15 more minutes, and he said, "Why don't you go ahead and shower
and get suit on? We can eat when the pizza gets here, and then we can catch
some pool time. It's got underwater and deck lights, so it doesn't make any
difference if it gets dark before we finish eating."

I did what he suggested, but I didn't turn away from him when I took off my
jeans. I wasn't wearing underwear either, and my dick was still a little puffy.
He was pretty subtle about it, but I know he looked me over pretty good as
I walked past him toward the bathroom.

* * *

I 'forgot' to take my swim trunks into the bathroom with me, so I wrapped
my towel around my waist and went back out into the room. The pizza box
and the Cokes were on the little table by the front window, and he was just
sitting down to open the box.

"Forgot my swimsuit," I said, dropping the towel on the bed and leaning over
to get my trunks out of my gym bag, which I was using as an overnight bag. I
heard him kinda cluck his tongue while I was bent over, my ass cheeks
pointed right at him. I never would have done anything like that with my dad
or any of my friends. Heck, I'm probably the most modest guy in gym class!
I just felt free to be natural' with Paul.

When I got my trunks on, I sat in the chair across from Paul and picked up
my Coke. Before I could take a sip, he said, "Wait," and picked up his Coke
too. He held his cup up to mine and said, "Here's to good friends."

"Yeah!" I said. "Good friends!"

We polished off the pizza in no time. While I crunched up the box and put it
in the trash can, Paul said, "I'm going to find a lounge chair out by the pool
and let that settle for a while before I get in the pool. Wanna join me?"

We each picked up our second Coke and wandered out to the pool. No one
else was swimming. The sun had just gone down, but the sky was still light.
We found a couple of padded lounge chairs side by side, and settled into
them for a while. A little later, we swam a little, then just talked. I started
to get sleepy again and was almost nodding off when I felt that someone else
was there. It was Dave, who was carrying a small tray with three bottles of
beer.

"How ya doin', Paul, and, uh, Greg, wasn't it?" he said. "I thought you two
looked like you could use a little nightcap. You are old enough to drink,
aren't you, Greg?"

Paul spoke up, "Sure, he is, Dave. Besides, he's not driving tonight."

Dave just laughed and said, "I've never known a time when you weren't in
the driver's seat, Paul." We all laughed at that, but I had the feeling I
hadn't gotten all of the joke.

We sat and talked for a while, and then Paul got up and went over to the
ladder up to the high board. Dave and I watched him execute a
two-and-a-half twist, perfectly, and we gave him a round of applause. Dave
looked at me and said, very quietly so Paul wouldn't hear, "He's a fantastic
guy, isn't he? I just wished he lived closer so we could get together more
often."

"Yeah," I said. "I really enjoy being with him, too."

Then we heard a bell. Dave got up and said, "Another customer. I'll have to
check 'em in. My night clerk doesn't start for another hour or so. Maybe I'll
see you later." He waved at Paul, walked back toward the older part of the
building, and into the back door of the office.

Paul got out of the pool and walked over. "Wanna catch a little TV before
we go to bed?" he said. "We need to shower again to rinse off the chlorine
anyway."

I followed him back into our room. This time he didn't face away when he
took off his trunks. I got a good look at the cause of the bulge in his pants.
Hanging in front of that big sack of balls was a thick, veiny uncut dick,
protruding out from a bush of curly gray hair and lopping over about six
inches, still soft. He knew I was looking and I knew he knew I was looking.
He just stood there for a minute and let me look. I saw that big dick start to
stir, getting even longer and thicker and beginning to stick out a little.

"C'mon," he said. "Get your trunks off, and let's get our shower. We can go
together and save water and time." I don't even remember taking off my
swimsuit or walking into the bathroom.

The next thing I knew, I was standing under the shower, Paul was soaping
my back, and my dick was pointing almost straight up. I was embarrassed
and I was exhilarated, but I sure as hell didn't want to be anywhere else right
then. He looked over my shoulder, and then he reached around and grabbed
my dick, pulling the skin up over the head and then stripping it back again.
"Now, that's a healthy response to a good back-washing." He gave my
six-and-a-half-incher a couple more strokes, then let go and slapped my
butt. "Now you do mine."

I turned around and looked down at his crotch. His cock was just shy of
horizontal, the head still covered with foreskin, but it had to be more than
eight inches long and twice as big around as mine. I reached down and
gripped it firmly, starting to push the skin back so I could see the head. It
was hot to the touch, and Paul kinda moaned when I grabbed it. He put both
his hands on my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. "I meant wash my
back," he said, "but this is nice, too."

We didn't save time or water while we were in the shower together. Paul just
let me explore his body and rub against him, while he hugged me and ran his
big hands up and down my back, usually ending by cupping my buns.
Neither one of us got off, but that wasn't the intention right then. He was
letting me get comfortable, and I was just taking one step after another,
getting inside my fantasy and finding out it could be real.

* * *

"Dave's got a couple of special channels on the TV here," Paul said. "Why
don't we snuggle up in bed and see if we can find something really dirty to
watch." Neither one of us bothered to put anything on, and his hand was still
cupping my ass. He gave me a little shove toward the bed. I slid over and
stretched out on the other side, waiting for him to lie down. When he did, I
moved back against him, and he put his arm around my shoulders and pulled
me even closer.

He picked up the remote from the bedside table and clicked on the TV. We
both were still sporting hard-ons, mine hugging my belly and pointed toward
my head, while his was standing straight up (and I do mean *standing*--the
foreskin was retracted all the way, and I almost couldn't tell he wasn't
circumcised). He flipped the channels and foundd a film called "Three for the
Honey." It had a cast of three men and one woman. After the credits, it
quickly became clear it wasn't gonna take place in the kitchen. I never saw
so many people get undressed so fast.

While I was watching, I noticed that I had to look around Paul's cock to see
the TV screen. I reached over, grabbed it, and tried to pull it down to a
horizontal position. "This thing keeps getting in my way," I said, grinning at
him. "Can't you put it away while the movie's on?"

He pulled me up by the shoulders and kinda dragged me up higher on his
chest, while he sort of angled his feet across the bed in the opposite
direction. "I'll put it away later," he said, giving my ass a sharp swat. "For
the time being, see if this isn't better."

It wasn't. The curly hair on his chest tickled my cheek, and I never bothered
to take my hand off his cock. At the same time my dick was pressed up
against his thigh. He kept rocking his leg back and forth just a little,
keeping me hard. I might have lost it right then, if Paul hadn't interrupted,
"This is a hot scene coming up."

I looked at the tube. The girl, a blond with really big boobs, was lying
face-up on top of one of the guys, and he was fucking her cunt from
underneath and behind. The second guy was kneeling beside her head,
feeding her a long, cut, almost wedge-shaped dick, and the third guy was
lying prone between her legs, licking at her clit, just above where the first
guy's long, uncut cock was sliding in and out. Then the first guy's dick
slipped out of the girl's cunt and the guy who was lapping away at her joy spot
just glommed right down on that big dick, and started bobbing his head up and
down. The second guy, who was kneading the girl's tits while she was
sucking him, pulled his dick out of her mouth and fed it into the mouth of the
guy under her. She just rolled off and crawled around so she could suck the
dick of the guy who was sucking the cock of the first guy who was sucking
the cock of the second guy. Whew!

"That's enough of that," Paul said, clicking the TV off. I realized I was
hunching his leg and squeezing the hell out of his dick and kinda gnawing on
his chest. "If you're that turned on by a movie, let's see how you do with the
real thing." And he pulled my face up to his and gave me a big, wet,
tongue-diving kiss. I came all over his crotch and belly.

After we both had to come up for air, he looked down at my cum. "You
made a mess," he grinned. "And I think you oughta clean it up." He pushed
my face down toward his navel, and said, "Start licking."

I remembered what my mom had said, and I did just what he told me to do.
I licked cum out of his belly button, out of the hair on his abdomen, and out
of his pubic hair. He just kept pushing me gradually further down his groin,
until my nose bumped into a *hard* vertical object. I couldn't get any lower
on his body unless I went up one side and down the other. Except I started
going down before I got to the other side. I'd dreamed about sucking a cock,
but I'd never done it before. One of my friends once told me that the first
time was the best--he meant getting one, not giving one, but oh, god, was he
right!

I didn't even realize that Paul had pulled my body around so he could get his
mouth on my dick, which had never gotten soft after the first time I shot. I
just knew I felt fantastic at both ends. I loved his cock! And I loved being
sucked... Then I realized what else he was doing to make me feel good, and
I loved his fucking my ass with his fingers. When he had loosened me up
enough to get his long middle finger all the way in, and he hit my prostate (I
never knew what it was until then), I shot again, and he gulped down every
drop.

"M-m-m, that was good," he said, pulling me off his dick and up his front to
give me another kiss, this one flavored with the familiar tang of my own cum.
"Now, I think it's time for me to put this thing away," he said, grabbing his
own dick and tapping me on the hip with it.

I knew what he wanted, and although I still didn't believe it was possible, I
quickly straddled his waist and backed up until I felt his hot, juicy cock push
into my ass crack.

"Raise up," he said. "I'm going to line it up, but then it's up to you. Just
sit down on it, and take it at your own speed. You've got my cock really wet,
and I loosened you up enough to start."

"I want it, Paul. I really do," I said, ducking my head down to give him
another kiss, "but will it really fit? You're so big!"

He hugged me again and said, "It'll fit, if you want it to. You'll be surprised
what'll fit in that tight little hole when you get hot enough."

I sat back, felt the head pop in, and then just dropped down heavily on it,
taking that huge rod all the way to his pubic hair and squeezing the hell out
my prostate. I let out a roar of surprise, pain, and ecstasy that shook the
walls.

"Oh, geez, Greg, they'll think I'm killing you," Paul sighed.

"No," I said, kissing him again, once my senses returned to near-normal. I
panted into his mouth, sucking his breath out as I started to move up and
down on his big rod--short strokes at first, then longer, deeper. "They'll
know you're fucking me. And I'll tell 'em it's great!"

That woke up the tiger in him. He rolled us over so he was on top. He folded
my legs up tight against my chest, and started fucking me like a machine. Oh,
god, I hoped I was this good when I was his age. Hell, I hoped he was still
this good when I was his age! And right then, I hoped we'd keep fucking
forever!

Suddenly he stopped thrusting and slammed his groin into my cheeks. He
was breathing like he was blowing up a weather balloon, and I could feel
every spasm of his throbbing cock as he emptied his nuts in my ass--it felt
like he was up to my lungs, he was in so deep. At that instant I exploded
again, and that's the last thing I recalleed until morning.

* * *

I barely remember Paul shaking me a little to tell me it was 5:00 a.m. and that
he was going ahead to get the truck loaded. More than half asleep, I started
to get up, but he pushed me back down. He said that I could sleep in until he
came back to pick me up about 10:00 or so. He said he'd ask Dave to make
sure I got some coffee and some breakfast before we got on the road again.
I was asleep again before he got out the door.

I woke up about 8:45 because someone was knocking on the door. I
jumped up and went to the door before I realized I was still naked. I stood
behind the door and cracked it open to see Dave standing there with a tray
of coffee, donuts, and juice. "Room service," he said.

"Just a minute, Dave," I said. I've got to put something on."

He just pushed right in and closed the door behind him. "It's okay, honey,
you don't have to get dressed on my account. I saw it all last night when I
stopped by to have a nightcap with Paul. You were already dead to the
world." He looked me up and down as he put the tray on the table, and
whistled. "And you look even better when you're awake."

I didn't even have to glance downward to realize I was standing there with
another piss hard-on. Why bother being embarrassed? "This thing gets me
into so much trouble," I said.

He grinned impishly and put his hands on his hips, thrusting his pelvis to one
side. "My friends have always called me trouble, sweetheart."

I did blush then, and dashed into the bathroom to take a piss. I didn't realize
he was right behind me until his hand slid around on top of mine, helping me
try to get my hard dick angled down toward the toilet. "Need some help with
this?" He whispered in my ear. "I can show you something to do with this
nice hard thing that I bet Paul hasn't shown you."

Then I realized he had already dropped his pants and taken off his shirt, and
he was as naked as I was. I didn't really see he was naked right then, it was
more like I felt it. He was so tall I thought he was sticking a gun in the
middle of my back. He was, sorta, and he shot me right in the head with it
before we got out of the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet with Dave fucking my face, I found out I could
deep-throat a cock, even a long one, if it wasn't as big around as a beer can.
(I really had only one other to compare it with.) When he came, it was like
he'd been saving it for weeks. Most of it went straight down my throat before
I pulled off it a little. The rest I sucked out, savored while holding it on my
tongue, and the swallowed eagerly. He gently pulled his
eight-and-a-half-inch, perfectly straight, cut cock out of my mouth, and
leaned down to kiss me on the lips. Then he pulled me up into a standing
position and led me back into the bedroom, where he fell back on the bed,
and pulled his long legs up toward his chest.

"Your turn," he said. "Paul thought you might want me to show you how it felt
to fuck as well as get fucked. He usually works my tail over pretty good
when he stays here, and I'm really horny for a hot cock up my ass."

"I nev..." I muttered. I wasn't reluctant, I was just overwhelmed.

"I know you've never done it, baby," he said. "But when I get done with you,
you'll be an expert. Now climb on up here and fuck me!"

I learn fast, I guess. I was on my second fuck, this time doggy-style with
Dave on his knees on the floor, his upper body flat on the bed. I was so
much into it that I never heard the door open and shut. I couldn't have heard
much over Dave's constant moaning and sighing, anyway.

I realized Paul was back when I felt his big cock pushing at my backdoor. It
took two or three painful tries, but he finally popped in and I felt his thick
rod squeeze against my prostate. That was all it took to trigger my second big
explosion of the morning. I joined Dave in the chorus of moans, as Paul kept
plunging in and out of my hole. He wrapped his arms around my chest and
pulled me back against him, so my cock flopped out of Dave's ass.

He must have signaled Dave to turn over, somehow, because Dave spun
around onto his back and scooted up onto the bed a couple of feet. His long
hose of a cock was standing up and quivering back and forth right under my
nose, as Paul pressed me down toward it. I just opened my mouth and throat
and let myself be pushed all the way down, my nose pressed into Dave's
dark, hairy bush. Damn, I loved the smell of a sexed-up man!

I was getting big dick from both ends, and both of them slowed down to
make it last. Dave held my head down on his dick, slowly raised me up as he
sort of swiveled his cock around. Then he firmly and carefully pushed me
back down to the base. Paul was a little more energetic--he pulled out
almost to the head very slowly, and then slammed his thick shaft all the way
back in with one solid stab. Oncee he was in as far as it would go, he held it
in me for what seemed like minutes. A silly thought occurred to me:
"Yesterday, I didn't know what a prostate was. Today I *am* one!
Yes-s-s!!"

Finally, none of us could wait any longer. Paul started pumping faster, and
Dave jacked his shaft rapidly with his hand each time my lips withdrew. I
was getting beat up on both ends, and the flood of feelings was too much for
me. I let loose again, cumming all over Dave's legs. The spasms inside me
triggered Paul's release, and I swear his cock swelled up to double its girth.
Dave wrapped his long arms around my head and pushed his snake up and
as far down my throat as it would go. I didn't taste it, but I felt several
warm, thick globs of cum fired straight into my gullet. We all just collapsed
on and across the bed and each other, panting like marathon runners.

Dave was the first to speak. Breathily, he said, "Damn! I'm sticky! I'm going
to have to take another shower this morning!" Paul and I laughed, and Paul
slapped me on the butt.

"You get in the bathroom first, young'n," he said. "I'll bet you need to take
one helluva dump. Then you can shower and get dressed. We've gotta get
rolling."

He was right. I must have felt a quart of cum slither out of my asshole before
the first tight little turd managed to make its way down and out of me. I sat
and strained for quite a while before it really dawned on me what people
meant when they talked about "packing fudge."

When I was dressed, I sat down to drink cold coffee and nibble on dry
donuts, while Paul and Dave went into the bathroom. From what I could
hear, Dave was getting his tail worked over one more time. Those guys were
amazing!

* * *

Once we'd said our good-byes to Dave and gotten back on the road headed
south towards Cincinnati, we drove for a long time without saying anything.
Every once in a while Paul would just reach over and pat my thigh and grin at
me.

I decided to talk. "You know, Paul," I said, "yesterday, sex with a man or
anybody was just theoretical. I was a virgin who had fantasies about sex with
other guys. Less than 24 hours later, I've fucked and sucked, and been
fucked and sucked, enough to feed a whole other lifetime of fantasies." I
leaned over and laid my head on his thigh. "Thanks, Paul!"

"No," he said, "thank you, Greg. The first time I saw you, I knew you wanted
to be with a man. I thought I was doing you a favor, like a teacher or big
brother, by getting you to admit it and giving you the opportunity to try it."
He caressed my hair. "I just didn't know how much I'd enjoy it, too. The little
sex puppy I thought you were turned out to be a hot, hungry, sexy young
man. Even if this is the only time we get together, I feel lucky to have had
this much with you. I'm really glad you didn't get mad when I pushed Dave at
you, too."

I just lay there silently for a while. I would have choked up if I'd tried to
answer him right then. After a while, I said, "Paul? You know what I thought
when I first saw you?"

"No, what?" he asked.

"I thought you looked like Pablo Picasso, and I thought you were the sexiest
man I had ever seen."

"Really?" he said. "Sexier than Trick?"

I answered, "Oh, that was just a crush. I never had a chance with him,
anyway. And he's still just a kid, too."

Paul chuckled. "Don't be so sure of that, Greg. Trick might surprise you." I
wondered what he meant by that. Then he said, "Picasso, huh? When we get
done unloading in Cincinnati, how about we stop at my place outside town to
see my etchings?"

That time I jabbed him in the side. He got even by pushing my face into his
mounded crotch.

We were a little late getting to the warehouse in Cincinnati.

* * *

This all happened in the 1970s, and it didn't end there.

Trick and I ended up at the same college upstate, and we shared an
apartment for his last two years. Paul was right. We were more than
roommates within a couple of weeks after moving in together. Trick had had
a little tutoring from Paul starting about a year before Paul brought me out.
Trick went to work for his dad after he graduated, and took over the
supermarkets a few years later when his dad died. After I graduated with a
business degree, I went to work running the office for Paul's trucking
company, but we still teamed up on overnight hauls about once a month for
several years. Our trips included periodic visits to Dave's motel, until Paul
had a stroke and had to stop driving.

Paul turned the ownership of the trucking business over to Trick and Tricia
(she turned out to be my best friend and confidante when I needed to talk
about my men), but Paul stipulated that I was to manage the company for as
long as I wanted.

Trick and I got a house in the country, and brought Paul to live with us until
he died at the age of 82. I cried harder then, than when my own parents had
died. Trick and I ordered a tombstone that suspiciously resembled a stylized
version of Paul's real-life "monument," and people around town whispered
about it for years.

I wrote his epitaph: "A true artist with every stroke."

That puzzled a lot of people, too, but Trick and I just smiled and hugged
each other when we stopped by the cemetery, on anniversaries of all our
special days, to put fresh flowers on Paul's grave.

Tricia married a good-looking young dentist, a really nice guy, and they had
twin sons 12 years ago. Last time the boys came over for a swim when it
was "just us guys," I noticed that they seemed to take after the men on their
mom's side. Trick and I are going to enjoy watching Paul and Patrick grow
into handsome--hopefully horny--young men.

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