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Revised version copyright 2006 by the author.
PART FIVE: ROB AT MARSH’S HOUSE
Marsh had gone back to his house and to his little boy, promising to call when he had figured out a way we could be alone together. I stood at my front door for long minutes after he left. The best-looking, most desirable, least attainable man I had ever met not only was attainable, but seemed to return my feelings. Life was indeed good.
Or was it too good to be true? I remembered how those stories my friends had told me about married men had ended–badly, for the most part. I thought about Marsh’s wife, and his son, whom I had befriended. I was about to get mixed up in their lives, whether they knew it or not, in a way that had plenty of potential to hurt them. It wasn’t too late to pull back, to leave this family intact, to shut Pandora’s box before too much mischief was made.
I walked to the living room, sat on the couch, and stared off into space for a long while. Finally, I picked up my cell phone lying on the endtable, in which I had carefully saved Marsh’s number. I started to call him to say I had changed my mind. I finished dialing—and cut the connection before the call could connect.
At that moment, it rang. I jumped, startled, then looked at the caller ID display. It was Marsh. It seemed my body had already made up its mind. Without the slightest hesitation, my thumb pressed the “Talk” button, my arm brought the phone up to my ear, and my voice said, “Hello?”
“Hey guy,” Marsh’s deep, friendly baritone sounded in my ear. The effect was instantaneous. My breathing turned rapid and shallow, my heart thudded in my chest. A thrill coursed through my entire body and settled between my legs, hardening my cock in record time.
“Miss me?” he asked, his tone teasing, flirtatious.
“Yes, I do, terribly.”
Unaware that I was telling the simple truth, he laughed softly. “Good. Listen, Rob, I’m awfully sorry, but it looks like it’s a no go for tonight, anyway. I can’t find anybody to take Jonah, or even to come over here and watch him on such short notice.”
A lump rose in my throat. “Okay,” I said. This was his way of letting me down gently, of telling me that he had changed his mind. I started to compose sane, sensible sentences in my mind, telling him that I understood and that it was all for the best, anyway.
“But–I got the mom at Jonah’s preschool to take him for a few hours tomorrow. You know, the one who’s going to be looking after him this week. Told her I had an emergency meeting at work. You could tell she thought I was crazy to be going in on a Sunday, but she bought it. So I’m free from eleven to two, if you want to come by. We’ll have the house to ourselves, okay?”
This was my last chance to call it off. I opened my mouth not knowing what I was going to say.
Marsh sighed with what I realized was relief. “Thank God. I was so afraid you were going to change your mind. I wish it was tomorrow right now.”
“I do too, Marsh.”
“Sweet man. Gotta run and give the little guy some dinner. Sleep tight tonight, okay? I’ll be dreaming of you–just hope it won’t be a wet dream so I have to change the sheets.”
I laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy for you, stud. Bye now.”
Slowly I put the phone down and began pacing through the house, vibrating with excitement, wanting to run, shout, jump in the air, tear my clothes off, do something insane. How was I going to get through the long dreary hours until tomorrow morning?
I tossed and turned in my bed that night, unable to fall asleep, even after masturbating fiercely to images of Marsh naked in his armchair, his running shorts down around his ankles, groaning as he filled my mouth with his salty seed. Still, I finally must have slept a little, because the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes and seeing the dim gray light of dawn filtering into the bedroom.
I glanced at my bedside clock: seven-thirty–still more than three hours left before I could be with Marsh. Rubbing the soap over my body in the shower brought anticipation rising in me again, along with my cock. I thought about jacking off again but resisted the urge. After coffee and a quick breakfast, not knowing what else to do, I put on my running shoes and set off for a quick jog around my neighborhood, ending up at the cinder track at the high school nearby. The morning air was still and humid, and no one else was around. Despite everything I began to enjoy myself. By the time I felt exercised out and began to walk home, it was well after nine o’clock and beginning to get hot.
I got home sweaty and tired, and took another shower. When that was done I sat in the living room and tried to do some work on my laptop. My lack of sleep the previous night was beginning to catch up with me and I found my eyes falling shut. After a while I gave in to the urge, shut off the computer and stretched out on my couch. I woke with a start some time later, seized with fear that I had overslept. Hurrying into the kitchen, I saw casino şirketleri to my relief that it was still ten minutes before eleven.
Marsh’s Blazer was not in the driveway–he must have left to drive Jonah over to his baby-sitter’s house. I sat on the front steps of his house for a while before I began to feel conspicuous. I made my way around to his back yard and sat in a folding chair on the wooden deck, in a patch of shade. It was very warm by now and I began to feel drowsy again. I didn’t want to fall asleep in case he came back, but despite myself my eyelids grew heavy, and my head began to nod…
A hand was shaking me gently. “Rob?” someone said.
I struggled out of the fog of slumber to see Marsh’s face filling my vision. I grunted in mild surprise, then yawned. “Sorry,” I managed. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“Boy, you were out,” Marsh said, smiling. “I was just about to try a splash from the garden hose. I came back late–was worried that you had given up and gone home, but you weren’t home. So then I come out back and here you are, sleeping like a baby. Kind of cute. Reminded me of Jonah.”
His hand was still on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “Want to come in, neighbor?” he asked softly.
He got up and I followed him into the house. As soon as we were in the kitchen he turned and faced me. I could smell his clean scent, mostly soap with faint hints of cologne and sweat. I looked into his eyes and was enveloped in the warmth of his smile.
“Welcome,” he said. He raised his hand and began to run it slowly over my T-shirt. I did the same to him, still staring into his eyes, then let my hand caress his cheek. He turned and kissed my palm, and for a instant an image of Stan making the same affectionate gesture flashed into my mind. I banished that memory and raised my other hand, drawing his face to me as my mouth opened. Our lips met, our arms encircled each other, and our passion poured out in a long, hard and sweet, sweet kiss.
We finally broke apart and Marsh laid his head on my shoulder as I continued to hold him, not quite able to believe yet that this was really happening. At last he raised his head and looked at me.
“Do you feel the way I do right now?” Staring into his eyes, wild and dark, I nodded.
Without another word Marsh took my hand and started to lead me through the house. I saw the width of his shoulders filling out the thin cotton shirt, the strength of his back and legs, the firmness of his butt in his jeans. At that moment I would have followed him to the ends of the earth.
He took me to the guest bedroom in which I had changed the day before and closed the door behind us. He kissed me again with an irresistible frankness. I fumbled with the front of his jeans but he stopped me. “Let me undress you first,” he said. He took my t-shirt at the waist with both hands and slowly pulled it out from my shorts. As he raised it, exposing my stomach, he bent and began to kiss the bare flesh that emerged, sending shivers through me. He reached my nipples and took one in his mouth, flicking his tongue slowly, delicately over it until I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, my mouth opening in a soft moan of pleasure.
Marsh momentarily ceased his labors to pull my t-shirt up over my head. Then, I felt his mouth on my body again, softly kissing my throat, neck, chest and nipples.
He gently pushed me backward onto the bed. I stared at the ceiling as I felt my shoes and shorts being drawn off, and my erection freed from its confines. I felt moisture on my belly and knew that my dick must be leaking precum. I hoped he would touch it with his hand, or perhaps his mouth, but instead he broke contact. I looked up to see him standing, looking down at me, smiling.
“You’ve got a fine body on you,” he said. He bent forward, extended one of his sinewy, finely shaped hands and began to stroke my chest again. I shivered in pleasure, then abruptly giggled as he passed over a certain spot on my rib cage. Marsh stopped, looking quizzical.
“Sorry,” I explained. “Ticklish.”
A wicked glint appeared in his eye. “Really? Right–here?” he asked as his hand grabbed the sensitive spot. My body jackknifed as a scream of laughter burst from me. This incited him to greater efforts, until we were rolling and wrestling on the bed, my high-pitched hysteria mingling with Marsh’s growls of mock menace, as he continued to pounce on my vulnerable spots. At last we stopped, breathless with laughter.
“You’re more fun to play with than Jonah,” Marsh said.
“What next?” I demanded in mock annoyance. “Going to pick me up and toss me in the air?”
“Well, no, I don’t think I can do that.”
“So are we done? Am I supposed to go home now?” I teased.
Marsh smiled and squeezed my temporarily softened dick. “No way,” he said, as he stood and began to strip. In a short time he stood naked, looking down at me again. His cock jutted proudly out in front of him. I gulped at the sight, and reached up with my arms.
“Play with me again, casino firmaları Dad.”
He joined me on the bed. I don’t remember the next hour or so in too much detail–time passed in an ecstatic blur, as our bodies tumbled on the bed, clutching each other as if never to let go. I remember pressing my fingers into his back, marveling at the steely hardness of each muscle.
As if reading my mind, Marsh whispered to me, “It feels so good to hold a man.”
He was so tender that first time–his big hands running down my back, his fingers exploring the cleft between my cheeks, and most of all, his lips and tongue, caressing places I didn’t know could feel such sensations. His gentle, coaxing way of making love was so different from Stan’s blunt sensuality. I couldn’t get enough of it. I looked into the deep pools of his eyes over and over again, each time entreating him to give me another gift with his mouth. He obliged every time, until I thought I would explode with the delight of it all.
Sweet sadist that he was, though, Marsh didn’t let me explode until much, much later. Lying on my back with my legs spread, calves resting on his shoulders, impaled on his stabbing cock, I was jacking myself off furiously, only to have him grab my hands and hold them firmly down, shaking his head, smiling with a wicked glint in his eye as I pleaded with him to let me cum. His thrusts slowed, then stopped as he let the excitement which had almost carried us over the brink dissipate.
“Please,” I begged. I squirmed and writhed, my sphincter muscles clenching around his hard pole of flesh. The waves of sensation created were not enough to get me to where I desperately wanted to go.
“In a minute,” he said softly. “In a minute,” then grabbed my aching cock and gave it one hard, twisting stroke. I gasped and reached for it myself, only to have him pin both my hands to the bed again. My struggles were useless against the strength of his grip. He chuckled as I bucked and thrashed, pressing forward so I couldn’t dislodge him.
“Mmm, feels good.”
Suddenly he thrust hard into me, so that his pubic bone slammed against my butt. I cried out at the impact, shocked into ceasing my struggles. He stirred into action again, gradually increasing his pace until he was driving into me like a machine. He continued to hold my hands down, not letting me touch myself, until I was frantic with need, then finally released me as he reached maximum speed. My hand went to my cock and with a few strokes I sent myself over the edge, crying out incoherently as hot white jets flew out of my cock and sprayed over my chest and stomach. I realized we were shouting in unison, and knew he was dumping his own load into my ass.
Gradually our cries subsided to harsh gasps for air, his hips began to slow their thrusts, and we collapsed into each other’s arms on the bed. I held him close, listening to his breathing, aware of his chest still rising and falling rapidly, smelling sweat and cologne mingled with the aroma of my cum.
Marsh raised his head and smiled into my eyes. “Phew. I feel like I just ran a half-marathon.”
“You probably did, the way you were going at it,” I replied.
He shook his head ruefully. “I was mean to hold you back like that, but I didn’t want it to end. Damn, it feels good fucking you. So hot and tight.”
“Ever fucked a guy before?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Yeah, but it happened so fast I barely knew what was going on.”
“I’d love to hear about it.”
He looked at me. “Really? Tell you what, let’s get cleaned up, and then I’ll tell you the story of Marshall.”
We took a hot shower in the guest bathroom, leisurely soaping each other. My lust for him had been momentarily satisfied, but it still gave me a thrill to run my hands over Marsh’s sculpted chest and stomach muscles, to watch the soapy water flow down his groin and over the dangling rope of his cock, impressive even when soft. Occasionally Marsh would catch my eye and grin companionably. He gently turned me around and began to wash my back, and I felt pure contentment well up in me. At that moment I almost forgot that we were together through sheer luck, and that there was no guarantee of it ever happening again.
We rinsed, got out and dried each other off, then went back into the bedroom and stretched out on our sides on the bed. Marsh leaned forward and kissed me, then sighed.
“I could stay right here the whole week,” he said.
I felt compelled to remind Marsh of reality.
“So Audrey’s away all week?”
“Yeah. She called last night. She’s flying back on Saturday. The doctors think her father’s going to pull through this time, but she wants to stay around until he’s totally out of danger.”
He shifted his body forward and took me in his arms. “Let’s not think about her right now.”
He was right. I changed the subject. “So you were going to tell me about you and other guys.”
“Oh, yeah.” A coy look appeared on his face. “Why so interested?”
I shrugged. “I’m always güvenilir casino interested in how people have gotten to where they are. Let’s face it, no one would peg you for anything other than a red-blooded, straight, family-type guy. I sure thought that’s what you were, even though I was hoping otherwise.”
“So you had a crush on me. How sweet.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re used to that sort of thing,” I said, a bit huffily.
Marsh said, seriously, “Rob, I’ve never thought of myself as handsome. No, really,” he said as I started to protest. “I was a scrawny teenager with acne and a big nose. I started working out to try and get over feeling like a total geek. I’m still surprised when anyone thinks I’m cute.”
He turned on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “I was pretty much telling you the truth yesterday. I’ve only been with other men a couple of times, and each time it just kind of happened. The first time was with a guy at work, a couple of years after Audrey and I got married. He was married too. We were placed on the same assignment, sent to some city–Seattle, I think it was–to present the project. We had a double room at a downtown hotel there. Let me tell you, this guy–Brian–was a stud. Blond, built, the works. I wasn’t admitting that I felt anything for other men, even to myself. But he must have seen me looking at him and figured me out before I did.
“It was late one night. I was such a wimp–I was wearing pajamas to bed. Brian would just strip down to his jockeys every night and lounge around. I was going crazy trying not to stare at him. We’re sitting in the room together, drinking Scotch, talking business, and all of a sudden I notice he’s stroking himself through his underwear. He catches my eye and just grins. `God, I’m so horny,’ he says. `It’s just murder being away from the wife for so long. I can tell you feel the same way, guy.’
“`What do you mean?’ I say. `Looks like you’re pretty stiff yourself, pal,’ he says. I look down and sure enough, I have an enormous boner tenting out my pajama bottoms. `We ought to do something about this,’ Brian says, and comes toward me. I must have tried to push my chair back or something, `cause he just cracked up. `Whatcha `fraid of, Marsh?’ he asks. I remember saying something stupid like, `Isn’t it wrong?’ and then he bends down, reaches inside my fly and starts to stroke my dick. `Does this feel wrong?’ he asks.”
Marsh began to pull on his own cock, almost unconsciously, as he continued to tell the story. “Well, of course, it felt great. I still remember looking up at him, dressed in those white Jockeys with an enormous bulge in front. He had a great-looking hairy chest. I reached out and ran my hand over it, then got down to his briefs. He just smiled again and said, `Go for it, guy.’ So I did.
“We didn’t do much, actually. Just ended up on the bed naked, kissing and jacking each other off until we shot our loads all over ourselves and the bed. It was a great trip, though. When we got back we saw each other a couple more times, but with our families and work and all, it got too complicated. He left the company a long time ago. Haven’t seen him in years.”
“And the second time?”
Marsh grinned, but a little shamefacedly. “I’ve never told anyone these stories before. Feels weird. Anyway, the second time was a couple of years ago. Sometimes we have interns at the company–college students learning the ropes, hoping to break into the business after graduation. They kind of follow us around, do some of the work if they’re good, that kind of thing. I think it’s an actual class for them–at any rate, this particular one stayed around a good ten weeks or so, for fall quarter, I think he said.
“Well, by this time I was a little smarter about this stuff, and I could tell Joel was gay. He was a cute little guy with light brown hair and a little mustache, and he worked out–had muscles out to here. Wore a little too much cologne. Very friendly. Good worker.
“Toward the end of Joel’s stint with the company there was a rush of business and all of us were having to spend a lot of evenings working. One night a bunch of us were pulling in overtime. We ordered pizzas and beer–it was kind of fun, actually. Gradually everyone went home until Joel and I were the only ones left. We were just trying to finish up one last spreadsheet or something. I remember he and I were looking at the same computer terminal and he was leaning over me. I thought he was standing awfully close, but somehow it felt kind of–nice. He had one hand resting on my shoulder, I remember that, just real casual. All of a sudden I felt his fingers moving. I didn’t dare look him in the eye, but reached my hand behind me real slowly and got a hold of his thigh, and started feeling it. He didn’t pull away.
“Then he said, `That beer’s running through me. Got to take a leak.’ I heard him walk toward the door to the hallway and open it, but then I didn’t hear it shut or his footsteps going toward the men’s room. I looked up to see what was going on. He was still standing, holding the door open, looking toward me and his hand was on his crotch, cupping his basket. I just sat there, looking at him, hard as a rock. Then he shut the door. I waited a minute, got up and followed him.
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