Alone Again

It was fun while it lasted: masturbation memories!!

Naked I sat and let my hand rest familiarly at my inner thigh. The memories drifted. No pattern of recall, just random, sharp slashes that made me shudder and slowly pulsed life into my organ. I had been a fool. Nothing new. I was always a fool when it came to matters of the heart. Or even matters of the penis. Or, more exactly, matters of the rectum. I ached. My scrotum ached.

I sucked in another deep gasp of tobacco smoke. Within me it tasted bitter. Like the past which would, no doubt, be my future. Soft, the twang of county love reached my ears. Damn radio. The memories wouldn't be so painful if there wasn't that soothing sound. It was as low as I could allow it to be and still reach into my soul.

It had been perfect. That was the first indication I should have taken as a warning. Nothing is life is ever perfect. Perfect is for love songs, novels. Perfect just doesn't happen. Not to guys like me. But one must always hope. One must try.

Wind shoved against the side of the house and windows rattled. The air conditioner roared in protest as it fought with the heat that blanketed, unmoved by the whipping wind. Sweat oozed from under my arms, dripping in streams down my flanks. A small trickle worked its way across my breast bone and down to join my moist clinging pubic hairs. My hand strayed to enclose and gently fondle myself. It was the most I could expect.

No more searching. No more heart aches. No more tears. Just masturbation. Pleasant and controlled stroking. Body shivers. Legs shifting to spread. Leaning back letting my head rest against the wall. Eyes searching the ceiling and then closing to let mind pictures play their part.

o o o

When I first met Lenny I thought him one of the most obnoxious characters I had ever had the misfortune to come in contact with. He was crude. He was rude. He was totally self centered. He was sloppy in his manners and even sloppier in his dress. Even his looks were off putting. He needed a hair cut. His fingernails were ragged and filthy. He definitely was carrying at least 40 extra pounds and not doing it well. But, there was that smile.

Why Harold had him in tow was a total mystery. Why Harold pawned him off on me seemed implicit. He used me to take Lenny off his hands. Harold, I knew, was smitten with Gary. He sure wasn't going to move in on Gary with that disability hanging around gumming up the works. He introduced us and before I could react and retreat Harold had melted into the crowd.

Lenny plopped on the sofa, farted and, still holding my hand, dragged me down beside him. I gave him my best 'drop dead' look, slapped away the fumes from my nose, and attempted to escape. That's when he smiled the first time. No apology for the heavy odor surrounding us, just a smile. I shook my head in disbelief and tried to pry my hand loose.

"What the fuck have you been eating? That was a real ripe one."

My pointed comment was ignored. Instead this disheveled blob belched and then pointed out at the room with an all encompassing gesture.

"Wow. Lots of fag meat prancing around. Didn't know Hairy Harold knew anyone who was connected enough to put together this big a bunch of cock suckers." He paused as I looked at him in shock. "Then again, bet there's a few ass lickers and ass holes eager to be stuffed out there too. How 'bout you, Jon? You a sucker, a fucker, a hole, or a' all round handy dandy homo?"

"None of your foul mouthed, dirty minded ass hole business," I shot back.

"Could be." He flashed that smile again, seeming to know it was all that was keeping me from bolting. "You're pretty well preserved, you know. I dig older guys. Just eat 'em up in fact. You hitched, got a boyfriend, steady fuck bud?"

"Friend, and I use that term very, very loosely, I could care less about your interests and, for damn sure, don't care to discuss my affairs with you."

He laid one of those filthy hams on my knee and gave it a pat. "You don't know me. Don't be so fucking hostile. I like you." He'd snagged a beer from someone passing. He chugged it down and emphasized his statement with another resounding belch.

"You can't be for real."

"Nope. Not. Like I said . . . " another flashing gleam of his teeth sparkled from between his lips as they turned up in a big grin " . . . you don't know me. I'm a character. A very interesting character. Someone you should get to know. I'm fucking good in bed to, Pops. Better than anything you've ever had, I bet. Although . . . you have been around, right?"

He had my interest. "What've you heard?" With no answer, my temper flared. "Aww. Forget it. You just aren't my type. Sorry, but I find it hard to believe you're anyone's type."

"Tell you a secret, Jon. A real secret secret. I'm a fake. Not usually such a slob. Just into a role. I act."

The disbelief must have been evident on my face.

His voice changed in mid stream. It became soft, firm and quite pleasant. "Honest. This isn't me. I came here with Harold right from the show. Fact is . . . " That smile came out again and his hand clasp firmly on my leg. " . . . came here to meet you. We have a friend in common. Beside Harold that is. Remember Marty Brenner? Little punk you dumped around a year ago after six months of him leaching off you."

I shuddered. That was not a pleasant memory. One of my more infamous disasters.

"Ah. Rings a bell. Well, Marty's my roommate now. Strictly non-sexual. Talks about you all the time. Sometimes too much. You just can't be that wonderful and that gullible. That was my take. Then I decided I'd find out for myself."

My eyes were wide as I stared at him in amazement.

"Been reading everything you've written. You're good, Jon. Been talking to everyone I could find that knows, or knew, you. Liked what I found. So, here I am."

Lenny and I left the party. He dragged me back to the Wallingford, to his dressing room. There he let me watch as he transformed. First he shed the tire. Just stepped out of his pants and undid this stuffed girdle then stripped off the rest of his outer costume. It was just that. A damn costume. All of it was fake. The look. The attitude. Everything. Except the ragged nails. They cleaned up but Lenny didn't wear fake nails and had let them go, just for the effect.

"Keeps me in the role, or thinking, all the time. Stupid actor thing, I know."

I nodded. The change that was occurring before my eyes was both impressive and startling. Lenny was talking. Not self centered prattle, just making me feel at ease as he morphed from that guy I couldn't stand except when he smiled into a striking, handsome young man. He gave me a summary of the play's plot and his role. Cleaning his hands and scrubbing away what I had assumed was fairy boy makeup from his face he told the story of how he met Marty. When he was finished he stood up and, holding his arms out to the side, slowly turned in front of the mirror.

"Better?"

Dressed only in an undershirt and boxer briefs he was more than better, he was impressive. Still I was tongue tied and only nodded again. That smile blossomed on his face followed by a devilish sparkle in his eyes that I soon learned to love.

"You want?"

A long low whistle streamed out from between my lips as I shook my head.

"No?"

"Hell yes, you know me. At least you said you do." My voice was husky but strong, finally. "But . . . "

"I know. You don't fuck on a first date. You believe friends make better lovers. You've been burned before. Want to go out on a few dates and see if we click. Like tonight, tomorrow and then next day and the next and the next . . . " His voice sputtered to a silent hum.

I had him in my arms with our lips crushed together. Obviously we had an attraction. His lips were sweet. His body melted into mine. I ran my hands down and inside those boxer briefs. He moaned. Stepping back it was impossible not to see the erection stretching the cotton.

We looked at each other.

"What was that? Man you sure treat friends well." That devil gleam sparkled in his eyes. "Looks like you need to make an adjustment, Pops." He reached out and brushed the back of his hand across the front of my pants, lightly rubbing, tingling my own stiffness.

We dated. Just like Lenny had asked. Every day we were together. Lunch after he awoke or late dinner after the show. Some days we did both. We talked. We walked the streets, sat in the park and fed the pigeons and squirrels. Sometimes we just window shopped, pretending. Even when I met him at the apartment and Marty was there things were perfect.

Marty was still Marty but he had mellowed some. He apologized once when Lenny was busy in the bathroom. Told me he knew he'd been a shit. Offered his best wishes for the two of us. Said I deserved better and that Lenny was better. I'd expected tension with Marty. I'd been afraid I would still feel that old attraction. No tension. No attraction. Marty was someone I'd once been close to that now was willing to be a friend.

When Lenny's grandfather died he took me home with him for the funeral and to meet the family. I was apprehensive. Hell, I was a year older than his dad. Again, everything was perfect. Total acceptance. He'd been out since college and told me he had been open about the fact that older men appealed to him. Mr. Moore joked about how now Lenny had two dads in his life.

Lenny was shy about flouting his acting career. Turned out he actually was the star of that play and had been in leading roles for a few years. He pulled in good money. Had his own investments. Slowly it became clear that when it came to finances he was even better off than I was. The apartment building he and Marty lived in had been owned by his grandfather. It, along with other properties, were left to Lenny.

Everyone, both family and friends, just assumed Lenny and I were sleeping together. In all but the final physical sense we were. Sure we came close a number of times. When his mom put us in the same room the weekend of the funeral it almost happened. We ended up holding each other, exploring our naked bodies silently and doing a little mutual masturbation. But we didn't feel it was the time or the place to go any farther. Somehow, we agreed, we'd know when.

We'd planned to meet after the final performance and go to the cast party. He'd gotten rave reviews. The play had be panned. It lasted only two months on the strength of his performance and the fact that for once there wasn't a new show just waiting in the wings to take over the theater. Seems it wasn't a banner year for the theater.

When I walked in there was a cute little thing busy working on his hands. He looked up and gave me that brilliant smile. "Going to be posh tonight, Jon. Look." He held up his left hand and waggled the trim, burnished nails at me. "Give us a kiss, Pops. I'm bushed. Need a boost." He leaned his head back and with his free hand captured me. As our lips met his parted and within seconds we were breathlessly face fucking. His manicurist let out a low growl.

"Get your own man, Bobby. This one's mine."

"Well that's fucking obvious. Hold your damn hand still and cut out the damn wiggles." Bobby's tone was harsh. I opened my eyes and got a sly wink as he clamped Lenny's hand firmly onto the small table between them. I quickly decided there were two of us in love with Lenny.

"Sorry."

"Almost done. Then you can go . . . party."

Lenny still had me bent with one arm around my neck. He looked at Bobby and then at me. "You want to party? After, I mean?" Was he talking to me or Bobby, or both of us?

We'd joked about something like this a number of times. I didn't discount the possibilities. But we'd still not actually been intimate. I wasn't eager for that first time to include anyone except the two of us. By now, with all the talking, we knew all about each other's other lovers and most of the affairs and memorable one night stands. There had been no secrets once we started opening up to each other. I knew, at least from what Lenny said, what he preferred sexually, what he would and wouldn't do or hadn't done. He knew the same about me.

"Just us, old man. God, you are so obvious sometimes." Lenny had that devilish gleam in his eyes and an evil smirking grin on his face.

"Do you mind?" This was clearly directed at Bobby. Well now, had I missed something in the past six weeks? Lenny had never mentioned Bobby as a sexual partner but there sure seemed to be a palpable sexual tension sparking between them.

Bobby looked up at me and spoke his lines perfectly. "Stop it, Lenny, you're giving Jon the wrong idea. Look, Jon, it's all just talk. I've got a partner. We . . . " he pointed the cuticle scissors at himself and Lenny " . . . play this game all the time. That's all it is."

Lenny turned loose and let me stand. His hand found mine and squeezed. Then, as Bobby finished his refinement of the final fingers, Lenny moved his hand to cup me. He gently massaged as I stood watching. "Hmmm. Interesting development," Lenny muttered as I grew in response.

"You're shameless."

"You're horny."

"Who's fault is that, lover?"

In a perfect imitation of that black kid on TV he screeched, "Did I do that?"

Bobby and I both burst out laughing. The tension was broken. I busied myself laying out Lenny's going to the party clothes.

"Well, there you are. Presentable." Bobby closed up his kit and the table. As he left he give me another wink. "Take good care of the star, Jon." He closed the door softly behind him.

"Hey, you know I was just kidding. About Bobby. Not about tonight. Definitely not about tonight. No play tomorrow. No casting calls. No commitments. Just one. Us." He stood. We merged.

We found ourselves once more breathlessly clinging. Hands roaming with familiarity. Only a faint moan echoed out of Lenny's throat as our lips met. One leg crept between mine as he commenced to hump against me.

"I'm not waiting any longer, Pops. If it's too soon, too bad. I need you. I need you bad." It was a raspy whisper in my ear delivered between bursts of hot panting breath.

"Down, Rover. Down. We still have a cast party to attend. The star must appear."

"Fuck!"

"You can't skip out. Like you said, we have all night and all day and . . . "

"I know. You damn practical old fart. Oh, Shit! Damn!" He backed off and looked down. A giant wet spot now covered the front of his costume pants. "Look what you made me do." He was blushing. "I just creamed my pants over you, Pops."

"Ah, youth."

He took a swing at me as we both started cackling. Shaking with laughter Lenny stripped. Standing stark naked in front of me he asked if I wanted to join him in the shower.

"Not if we're going to make it to the cast party, pretty boy. Now get out of my sight before I loose my resolve and rape you right here and now."

He shot me that satanic grin and stepped into the shower. Settled down and with his normal efficiency Lenny came out of the shower, dried, shaved and dressed.

The party was a blur. I know everyone was fawning over Lenny, the star that had kept them working longer than expected. Several new friends questioned me about his future plans assuming I was now his mentor as well as his lover. I watched as he floated around the room lighting each corner with his brilliance. He was gregarious, sly, mischievous meeting the needs of each group as he joined them. But, always, he circulated back to check on how I was doing. Did I need another drink? Had I met so and so? Did I want to? And then it was over.

"Let's walk."

I agreed. The night was balmy. The stars were bright. The rest of the world was asleep or busy at their own party in some far off bistro. The streets we followed were deserted. The sound of traffic, soft purring engines, screeching tires, squalling horns and piercing alarms all were far away.

"Where the hell are we going. My place is back there and . . . "

His finger pressed across my lips in a plea for silence. He took my hand and we walked down the middle of the street. We stopped frequently in the twilight between bright intersections. He wrapped me in his arms and lightly kissed my face, lips, eyes, chin.

"I love you, Jon. Do you know that? I love you and I lust for you. I meant it. I need you. I need you because I love you. Maybe I love you because I need you. You've changed my life in so many ways." His eyes were glowing. The stars above reflected in them, sparkling. But there was no devilish gleam. Just an open void into which I sank as he spoke.

Shaken by the depth of his ardor all I could do was clasp his hand tighter. I told him how I felt about him, how he had stolen my heart, how I wanted us to be together as much or more than he did. I had fallen totally under his spell as the weeks had passed. I was lost.

"We're here." He untangled himself and pointed at a giant brownstone edifice in the middle of the block where we had just nearly committed an act of public sex. "Home."

"What the fuck?"

"Our home, dummy. Happy ever after, you randy old man."

He'd done it without me catching on. It was perfect. Everything from his apartment and from mine was already in place along with so much else. At the top of the stairs we entered through a beveled glass, brass and walnut door set back in the entry. Elegance. A broad hall with a spiral stair to the second floor. A den, mine. A living room, for entertaining. A giant kitchen, big enough for two to use and not get in each other's way. A music room, his. Another room with a giant entertainment center, my CDs, his CDs, my videos, his DVD's, floor pillows, my sketches on one wall, his autographed picture collection on another. It was home. Our home.

"There's a rehearsal studio in the basement, laundry, craft and work room." He was bubbling with enthusiasm and thrilled at my reactions as he took me on the tour.

"Now. Would you like to go upstairs?"

To the left and right both sides were open with railings overlooking the hall below. The entire ceiling over the entry hall was a paneled skylight. Closets and a master bath with walk in shower and its own hot tub were the only enclosed spaces on the left, the bedroom side. Closets, a guest room, its own bath and a steam room were on the right. The rest of that space was also open and outfitted as the most elaborate home gym I had ever seen. The bed rested on a pedestal in the middle of its space. It was square and clearly larger than king size. A sitting area and a mini version of the entertainment center on the first floor completed the bedroom's furnishings.

I stood in awe drinking it in. Lenny draped his arm across my shoulders and hugged me.

"You like?"

"You . . . you shouldn't have. It's so fucking perfect. Just like we pretended when . . . we weren't pretending . . . I mean you weren't were you. When we window shopped? You were shopping for real, checking with me without letting me know. That's it, isn't it? You shit!"

Lenny turned me in his arms. That devil light was in his eyes. "Worked, didn't it? You're here. We're here. And . . . " His eyes drifted from my face to the bed. "You are going to stay aren't you?"

"Until death do us part . . . or you kick me out, pretty boy."

His hands moved to pluck at the buttons on my shirt. Slowly, deliberately, savoring each move we undressed each other. There was one awkward moment when my raging hard on hampered the easy slipping off my hips of my briefs. He gave a studious humm and knelt before me evaluating the problem. He leaned in, stuck out his tongue and lightly traced the outline of my organ.

"They are not going to melt off. But you keep that up and I'm going to shoot off," I muttered and then gasped as he closed his mouth. Hot air and wet nylon encased me.

"Oh, shit. Here." I grasped the waist and jerked those brief down, bent and stepped out of them. He hadn't moved. His mouth closed flesh on flesh as I stood back up. This time it was the old man who hummed. Then I began to shiver.

Lenny started shuffling back, still on his knees, tugging me with him as he approached the bed. When his back touched he left me surging and wet, stood and together we tumbled into a wild wanton wrestling match. Hands stroking and grasping. Mouths, tongues searching, eager.

This time we weren't quite, like in his bedroom at his folks home. The house filled with grunts and groans and moaning 'yea's, 'there', 'more' and other unintelligible words. I knew what he wanted. He knew what I wanted. We knew what we wanted.

"Lie still, if you can, Pops. I'm going to feast on you, drive you mad with desire," he hissed in my ear as he licked and nibbled it. He did just that. All the needs he had been holding in check exploded as he made love to every part of me, every orifice. Every place where I stifled a scream or uttered a moan of pleasure he cataloged and returned to again and again. Moving over me. Turning me over. Turning me back. A sacrifice on the altar of love. My loins were trembling and wet. My rear, under my knees, my arm pits, my neck, places I didn't even know could reacted, tingled, blazed.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time. Lenny knew. Looking up from between my wide spread limbs he gave that evil, deliciously thrilling grin. "Had enough, old man?"

"Never, pretty boy. When do I get my chance?"

"Soon . . . " The rest of his reply was muffled as he lowered his head and let his tongue tease again against and then into my most private opening. I was squirming, pressing against his face as he ate his way into my soul. Licking up he nuzzled and then opened wide and captured one surging gonad and then the other between his lips. Using his tongue he plopped them in and out. A thrill of depraved delight sent shudders through me. His hand lightly stroked me smearing the early juices. He used them to lubricate his action, teasing on the most sensitive tip with his thumb.

His mouth replaced his hand. I felt warmth, moist and silky slowly engulf me. I pulsed and grew even harder, firmer, longer, swelling as he traced his tongue over and around where his thumb had been teasing. He slid down, I shoved up. I was buried, throbbing, expanding, filling him, knowing he would choke, not caring, lost in the feeling. He worked his throat and swallowed. I yowled and humped against his chin, smashing his nose on me. He withdrew teasing with that tongue along the full length of burning flesh.

"Going to do it, lover. Get you off. Suck it all right out of your gut. Make you cream bigger and longer than you have ever creamed before. You ready?"

"Quit bragging, youngster. Actions speak louder than words."

He did it. Was as good as his word. Maybe better. Worked his pleasures on me. Held me tight within that clutching maw and milked me until I was drained and limp. When it hit reaction caught and sputtered, gurgling in my throat. I wanted to scream with glee but could hardly utter a peep. My body was wound tight, every muscle frozen and rigid. I vibrated like a hard struck tuning fork as my life poured out. It disappeared down Lenny's throat, gushing, foaming as he swallowed over and over and over and over. I was empty and still he swallowed. I grew limp and still he swallowed. He wanted it all. He got it all. No spills. No sputters.

Crawling up to snuggle in my arms Lenny was beaming. Sweat glistened on his body. Where we touched it was wet but warm. His body was fevered with the passion of his actions. His own state of excitement could be felt pressing against me. It was hot. Rubbing. I reached and touched it. Wet. Slick. Ready. I wanted. I needed. He knew.

We rested just long enough to know it wasn't over. It was just starting. Lenny wrinkled his nose and nuzzled under my chin and then started working that tongue again. He knew where he was going and so did I. He knew why he was going there and so did I. Following a quick but fierce lip lock he moved down my body. Within minutes he had me trembling and shuddering again. Crouched between my legs he placed a friendly kiss on his former toy as it lay limp. He lifted. I rolled. He dived. Wishboned I felt him once more eagerly licking, sucking, chewing lightly on his target. He kept it up. Opening me. Using his tongue. His hand. Fingers. Probing.

"Yes! Yes!" I cried.

"Under the pillow, lover."

I reached. Passed them to him. Watched as he ripped open a packet with his teeth. Teasing he stroked, as if to check that all was ready. His eyes sparkled as he held my gaze and with one hand finished the preparations. The other hand still moved its fingers in me. Was it two, three or . . . I didn't know or care. Cool, soothing. The fingers slid deeper. Withdrew. I was empty.

Lenny lifted up over me. His hard hot sheathed rod rode between my cheeks. It touched. I grunted and shoved. He surged in response. It missed and slid away. Returned. He intently watched my face. It touched. I shuddered. He shoved. Penetration. Quick. Deep. We shoved. I gasped. He grimaced and a low grumbling bubbled from his throat. Deeper. He clasp me and pulled. I pushed. We joined. Total. Together. Agony. Pain bolted from my gut draining the blood from my face. I wanted to scream for him to stop. Instead I begged for more.

He was splitting me in two, a knife slicing through me. But as he backed away he left a void. A need for more. An emptiness that only that one loving act can fill. We merged again. It was a fire in my belly, but a body warming fire. I reached and clasp him drawing him closer, deeper. He shifted, I rolled. It dug in, filling, pressing and sending new ripples from far inside me. Ripples of pleasure. Ever expanding waves of warmth that soothed the pains, erased them, replaced them. He pumped again. Again. Slow. Driving, drilling, sending me into bliss.

I looked. He was there, watching me. Judging. Wanting to please as much as he wanted his own pleasure. Hands burning where they clutched me, held me open. Eyes filled with a heady mixture of concern and lust. I winked at him. "Damn, you're good," I gasped and then let out a double octave 'oooh' as he buried himself again.

It was pure torture of the most pleasant kind to feel him in me, stroking and rubbing against every nerve. Pulsing, probing, expanding larger with every thrust. Swelling to fill me, leaving me with only one desire. More. I wanted even more. Pounding. Harder. Deeper. I urged him. Pleaded.

Together we fucked. Oh yes. We were making love. But, we were fucking, too. Both getting our pleasures, willing to do what we could to make things perfect for the other. Until that point. That point only two guys can share. That point when you both know that you no longer care, you can't care, your own needs have taken control. That point when what was, and can return to be love turns into animal lust. A need to get off. A need to have a log shoved up your ass. Needs that can be satisfied only one way. That moment when the act itself is everything. That moment when you're nothing but a dick and an ass hole busy fucking, fucking, fucking.

It can be a cruel discovery. Unless you recognize yourself in the glazed eyed, grunting, humping monster that is either rutting inside you or getting off as you rut. If you admit your nature when that fire breaks loose, you can survive. Use it to cement the relationship or to ensure you can part without a need for names or promises. Because we had been honest. Because we were friends. Because we had become lovers. When it was over we kidded about it. Not during. Never during.

Lenny zoned out before I did. That fact, along with the fact that I hadn't been lying, he was good, had me flying just seconds after he lost control. We were humping, yelling at each other, talking dirty, screwing fast and furiously as we both felt that peak coming. When he went wild my body just opened, swallowing everything he could give, and started climaxing. I do that. Rarely. But I felt it, knew it was coming. Then it was happening. Over and over, like dry heaves, my body rocked with climaxes. He collapsed, shuddering and exploding inside me and still it continued. As long as he stayed in, even flaccid, and his body hunched I reacted. It was perfect.

We dozed then tossed the bedding on the floor, soaked in the whirlpool, remade the bed and fell asleep with Lenny spooned into my back. Now that wasn't planned. It just happened. Sure made it easy most mornings to find ourselves going at it again after our bodies replenished themselves and reacted to the stimulation of dick riding snug between butt cheeks. Ended up we almost always slept that way.

I was dreaming and then I knew I wasn't. Lenny's flesh was hot and heavy on mine growing stronger with each beat of his heart. One arm was locked around my chest, lightly hugging. One leg resting between mine below the knees. Smiling I turned into him and rolled him onto his back. He resisted initially and then, with my gentle urging hands guiding him, relented. Halfway awake he mumbled something unintelligible as I kicked the sheet down to the foot of the bed.

He was beautiful. I lay letting two fingers trace over the familiar face. His body twitched and his half mast erection continued its journey, lifting and growing as I caressed his chest, rubbing, teasing circles around and over his also hardening nipples. Leaning I softly kissed first one and then the other. My tongue darted out and brushed wetly on them. His chest lifted presenting them for my attentions to continue. A low breathy moan escaped from his lips.

When I lowered my head and clasp my mouth on he shuddered. His hands moved to cup my face and hold me tight as I suckled and let my teeth clamp gingerly, tugging.

"Ohhh. What a way to wake up," I heard him gasp.

Moving between those swollen nubs I replied. "My turn, sleepyhead." Continuing to feast I let a hand drift down, ending its travels holding him tight. That blood hot column pulsed in my grip and grew even harder. He gasped and thrust his pelvis up. My attention wavered. I squeezed. He moaned and jerked. I squeezed and clamped my teeth. He moaned louder, wiggling, thrusting his chest and arching his back. Still attacking with my mouth I let my grip soften and began to stroke with the same rhythm. Nibble, down, nibble, up, nibble, down.

"Damn. Ohhh, damn. DAMN! Good fucking morning, Pops. Ahhh!"

Keeping my hand busy I lifted up to study his face. "You like? Think you can take it? Rather stop for breakfast?"

"Screw breakfast."

"I was planning on some sausage . . . " I gave him a hard squeeze. "Maybe some cream. No coffee." I chuckled.

"So who's stopping you? You know . . . "

Stretching I brought my face down on his, covering his lips with mine. He continued to mumble into my mouth for a second. As I rolled to rest pressing him down into the bed he shifted from attempting to talk to urgent grunts. Our tongues darted and dueled as I let my body ride on his. Arms holding me tightly he squirmed beneath me. When I let my lips glide onto his chin and then down to kiss the hollow between his neck and breast bone, he let out a long sigh. His arms grew limp and then his hands were on my shoulders, pressing, guiding.

"Please. Now." A whispering low and pulsing 'ahh' grew louder and longer as I slid. My tongue traced a wet path across his sternum to his belly button. I nestled in the soft hairs on his stomach feeling him thrusting against my throat. My chest pushed his legs apart letting my Adams apple ride, tugging him back and forth. "Ple-e-e-e-ase."

Shifting to let his fullness jut up before my eyes I stuck out my tongue and teased his scrotum. I licked up wetting the base, watching the trembling reaction as he continued begging. He used a hand to press himself against my face. The other's fingers pressed, insisting, lifting under my chin. I let him guide me up until those miniature moist lips met mine. I savored the salty tang of the man juices that had started flowing, capturing each drop as it appeared. Holding himself steady he pushed up, a hand atop my head pushed down. My lips parted. My tongue greeted the intrusion.

The knob seemed to fill my mouth. I bathed it with saliva and swirled my tongue. He bucked. I fought the pressure of his hand and kept just that sweet fruit locked between my lips. Slowly I sucked on it drawing out even more of his tart liquid, savoring it, flicking back and forth with my tongue on the corona ridge.

"Ohhh, SHIT! More!"

"Hm-m-g-h, ya-u-g wa-a m-o-w-w?"

"Y-e-e-e-e-e-sss! Y-e-e-e-sss!"

I opened wide letting him thrust and glide, bounding off the roof of my mouth to force his way deeper. His hand was tangled in my hair tugging and shoving as I bobbed. I pushed forward and down, shifting position. He drove in farther plopping through and into my throat. I swallowed as it entered helping drive it deeper. A tremor shook his body and a high pitched whine trembled in the air. His hips moved in spasms jerking that swollen tip out of my throat and pounding it back in, each time seeming to thrust deeper.

It was perfect. It was too much. Gagging I backed away.

"Sorry. Sorry. Your own fault. Damn, you're good."

Wanting it, needing it I didn't turn loose. Sucking and licking, I twisted my head from side to side and then plunged down taking the full length in again. This time it wasn't too much. Somehow I was sucking, swallowing, breathing and wildly jacking him with my mouth without gagging. Lenny was trembling, shoving and thrusting to meet my lunges, grunting gleefully each time he felt himself plop into my throat. This time when I eased away to tease playfully with just his throbbing mushroom cap clap between my lips he groaned in pleasure.

Once more, twice, then for the final time I took him deep inside me. His breathing had become sharp, panting during the last few minutes. I knew. I could feel it building. The hand gently massaging his balls felt them as they constricted ready to finally explode. Slowly I let him glide between my lips as I sucked him in, inch by inch. His thrusting grew wilder. He vibrated in my throat, shafting in and out of that final constriction. His hands both clasp me and he lunged, penetrating, swelling, spewing, lost in a thundering climax. I could feel its warmth as it gushed into my throat. I swallowed, gulping over and over to keep it all in. Some trickled back into my mouth. It was pungent and tasted sweetly similar to pear nectar, but thicker.

It rolled on my tongue. As he fell limp, exhausted, I sucked the final drops and held them, savoring their taste. His hands were pulling me up. Our lips met. I shared with him the flavoring of his seed in one final exchange before we both dozed off. When I awoke the second time that morning it was to the aroma of fresh toast and coffee. Lenny was standing beside the bed holding a tray from which the odors drifted as wisps of steam lifted to the ceiling. He was wearing nothing but a giant smile and that devilish gleam in his eyes.

And so it began. A perfect life. A perfect lover. A perfect home.

We had three weeks alone. Then Lenny's agent called about a new play. Lenny was ambivalent about the role. Asked me to read the script, tell him my reaction. After whipping through it I went back and reread it. The lead was perfect for Lenny. But that wasn't the role he was being offered. It was a love story. A gay love story. Nothing really earth shattering in today's theater. Boy gets boy. Boy loses boy. Boy gets another boy. Boy returns. Boy loses new boy. Reunion between boy and boy. Boy loses boy again. The part they wanted Lenny for was the flamboyant friend, former lover and confidant of the lead character. Actually he would have more lines than the lead. But the character was presented as a flaming fagotty frop that it seemed positive the audience would love to hate. Without saying it in so many words it was clear this player's purpose was to make the rest of the cast appear less gay, more mainstream, acceptable and appealing.

The thing was I could tell that, if Lenny took that role, he would steal the show. Also, if the show was a success, he might just end up type cast forever as the good looking but over the to top homo for every future casting call from Broadway to Hollywood and Vine. He had never hidden his sexual preference. Almost everyone in the business knew Lenny was gay. But, he had, like Ellen's former other half, proven his acting ability in a wide variety of roles. Roles that had up to now included leading men, characters and a few sympathetic gay ones. But this role. I could see it being his 'Fonzy'. He'd asked. I spoke my piece. Never have learned to keep my damn mouth shut when I should.

Lenny ended up accepting. It was as if by confirming his concerns I had challenged him to prove me wrong. He tried. The play was a smash and, just like I predicted, Lenny stole the show. His strength of character glowed so brightly that, before the out of town preliminary run finished, the promotion and advertising planned were scraped and revised. Lenny now was the star, the wild flouncing, wrist popping, trash talking fabulous fag of the century. I didn't invent that. That description is right from the rave review that broke all precedence and ran boxed on the front page. I didn't know it then but that was the beginning of the end.

While rehearsals took his full concentration I stayed away from the theater. When they traveled to Washington for the first trial run I went along. We celebrated the first night. It was the first time I saw him on stage in the role. I knew he was a hit. I knew the play was a hit. He knew it too. How he had the strength, and with the intensity he put into the role the interest, to make love as passionately as he did that night amazed me. It was as if I was involved with both Lenny and his alter ego from the play. First one and then the other ravaged me. Then he turned into a wanton tease tempting me, driving me to distraction until I relented and with equal ardor had my way with him. We fucked. We sucked. We fucked. We devoured each other. And then it was time to leave for the theater.

How he was able to roll out of bed and snap into character after that night of debauchery was equally amazing. He did it. It continued like that all week. By the third night I was so exhausted I fell asleep during the play, startled myself away and snuck out. He found me curled up snoring on the couch in his dressing room. He though it was 'cute'. From then on I stayed in our room at the hotel and slept while he trod the boards during rehearsals and for the nightly performances. It seemed he survived on cat naps. He'd sneak in after leaving the theater and stopping for a few drinks with cast, promoters or backers, strip down outside the bedroom and pop in to snatch the covers away and pounce on me, randy and ready for more nonstop action. The next day he'd bounce out of bed, gobble 'breakfast' and race off to the theater. I'd finally get some rest.

When we returned home everything changed. At first I was glad that his libido seemed to wane. It wasn't that Lenny suddenly went celibate on me. But the times away from our home grew longer. Sometimes he had to leave early for promotional interviews. I didn't think to ask why none were ever done at the house. Other times there were after curtain parties and meetings that he told me about, but never suggested I attend.

I started writing again to keep myself busy. He'd curl up beside me and read my latest effort and critique it. Sometimes he'd just look at me with the devil gleam after reading a piece, toss it on the floor and pounce. After all, most of my work is erotic gay fiction, a pretty neat turn on to read when in bed with a willing partner.

The sex was still intense. But gradually I began to feel something was wrong. Trying to analyze my feelings one afternoon it hit me. Everything between us now, everything since I'd gone with him to Washington, was just that. Sex. Intense. Passionate. Mechanical. We were pleasuring each other and ourselves fairly regularly. But. It was just a wild flurry of acts all no different that masturbating, using an available hand or hole to get off.

Sure we still snuggled, slept together spoon style, kissed and drove each other to a frenzy with foreplay. But. It seemed like a routine, a habit, a preliminary designed strictly to get, at some point, to a cum gushing climax. We had nothing else anymore. No walks in the rain. No jokes over the breakfast table. No deep discussions and arguments. In fact we had never had an argument. It had been too perfect.

It seemed Lenny had been thinking about us too. The third Friday after opening night it happened. I'd felt it coming. Lenny had been strangely quiet for the last two days and, if possible, even more intense in his love making.

Lying with my head on his shoulder he spoke to the ceiling not looking at me. "I've got good news and bad news, Pops." His hand lazily stroked my chest. Fingers tweaked. I groaned. Damn automatic reaction. "A major studio's taken an option on the play. They want me to star. It's a great offer."

"And?"

"It's a great offer."

"Heard you the first time, pretty boy. Come on. Drop the other shoe."

"Jon. We can't go on. I mean I can't. I can't let us queer . . . " he snickered " . . . the deal."

"Career decision." Inside I was already screaming.

"Sorta. Don't hate me. I've met already with . . . " he dropped the name of a Producer-Director that impressed the hell out of me. "He's got plans for me."

The light dawned. "What kind of plans, kid? Or do I need to ask?"

He rolled to face me. The tears in his eyes shattered my heart. I still don't know if they were real or if I played a part in Lenny's greatest one man show. I have to believe they were real. We hugged.

"I'm really sorry. I should have told you when it started."

My own eyes were misty as I kissed the tears off his cheeks. I didn't want to know more. He didn't owe me more. It had been 'until you kick me out' on my part and now I felt that kick, right in the gut.

"Shhh. Baby. You have to do what you have to do. I'll survive."

"There's more. Maybe it'll make things easier for you."

"No, don't, Lenny. Let me keep my memories. Please."

It was a plea he refused to honor. He wanted to kill whatever feelings I had, leave me free to move on without regrets. I knew and understood his motives. Already I knew in my heart it wasn't going to work.

"Remember Bobby."

Oh, shit. He's going to plow ahead. I don't want to hear this. It's not going to make any difference.

"We were a thing before I met you. Didn't ever tell you because . . . "

I felt him shudder in my arms and then he began to sob. They weren't loud body wracking sobs. They were soft mewing sobs that pierced me. I put a hand on his mouth and then covered it with mine attempting to stifle whatever unnecessary confession he wanted to make.

He pulled away. " . . . because we still get together now and then. He's got a lover. Has the same hang up on older guys."

"The three of you? I wasn't enough?" My stomach was churning. I knew I should be boiling with anger. Instead I was awash with a deep sorrow. Death. Already alone.

"I don't deserve you. Jon, can you understand? I still love you. In my queer way I'll always love you."

I held him tight, tighter, knowing that this was good bye. If it was, I was going to make it perfect. We kissed. For maybe the first and for sure the last time we made love. His lips were warm and clinging. Our bodies melted together moving, joining, wet kisses and tears mingling. I took him totally. He gave himself totally. We showered together, touching, caressing. In the hot tub we played and splashed and boiled and he took me, slowly, gently.

"Please, Jon. Let's move to the bed." We parted. With care we dried each other and padded silently through the moonlight to curl together one last time. He moved, knelt below me and kissed an ankle. His touch was velvet and fire. Down one leg, up the other, back to burrow his face in making me spread wide and gasp as those familiar lips kissed, tongue licking, pressing in. I lay and let the sensations wash over me. When he slid a hand down the inside of my thigh I began to shudder in anticipation.

Fingers probed. Tongue licked and thrust. Somehow he acquired the lubricant. I felt its cool slickness and rolled up, my hands grasping below my knees. He entered me, gliding, filling, leaning in. His eyes were glistening, filled with a look I will always remember. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was sorrow at loosing a good fuck. I'll never know. I haven't seen Lenny since that night. Except on the movie screen. And on television. He made it. Big time.

o o o

My breath became ragged. My hand moved faster. I pressed my head even harder against the wall. God it felt good. Stroking. Savage. Deep inside the tangle slowly unwound. Pleasure. Shattering waves. Cumming. Lenny, I'm cumming. AHHH! Splattering out. Lifting high to fall on the polished floor and puddle. Alone.