They didn't call Pittsburgh “PIT” for nothing. "Armpit" is more like it. The Pittsburgh airport always seemed to be partially under construction. But the place was unusually empty this morning; almost everyone had traveled yesterday, on the day BEFORE Thanksgiving, one of the busiest travel days of the year. And it was fairly early, 9:30 am. Things would probably grind almost to a halt during the dinner hour but I didn't mind missing the turkey dinner at Deb's place. She was a fine cook, and Vic made the best pies… but it usually took a week to burn-off the extra calories she forced into "her boys". She didn't simply stuff the turkey; she stuffed the whole family. And today, appearance meant everything. I'd been toning and bulking, tanning and buffing, for 4 weeks now, just for the next 4 days… the White Party in Miami. It was legendary. It was hot. It was outrageous. It was the ultimate gay experience, the closest thing to gay-Heaven here on earth.

"Flight 1729 to Miami is ready for boarding,  First Class passengers may board first."

I had been watching him for awhile… the tall, broad-shouldered guy, perhaps a year or two older than I, or perhaps it was the glasses that made him look more studious and time-worn. Or, perhaps it was the worn tweed sport-coat, comfortably antique, worn over chinos, that gave him a more mature look. I checked to see if there were leather patches on the elbows, but there were none. His body was youthful, however… good posture, strong legs, good teeth. Here I was, cruising someone in the airport before I even left town! This would be quite a weekend.

He didn't move, so he was obviously sitting in the aft compartment, as was I. But when they called my rows, he didn't rise. The asshole was probably in First Class and was just waiting until the last minute to board. I got in line, showed my boarding pass, and walked quickly down the gangway. My seat was by the window in one of those rows with the escape hatch… not that I was worried about a crash, but it gave me just enough extra leg-room. The remaining two seats were vacant. As I got comfortable, Mr. Tweed-jacket approached, looked me straight in the eye, checked his ticket, and sank into the row behind me with two other passengers. I could feel my seat sink backwards a bit as he pulled on the seat-back of the aisle seat, settling himself into the confined space.

After the usual delays for people who think carry-on luggage should resemble a camel-caravan, we began to move away from the gate. I heard the stewardess behind me.

"Sir, would you like to…"

"Sure," he said, rising and swinging his hulk into the empty aisle seat in my row. "You don't mind, do ya?" he said with an almost mid-western accent.

"No, you're welcome to it," I countered. "I can never fit my width OR my length into those regular seats." I smiled, thinking to myself how I would respond to someone discussing his length and width with ME. He sucked in his belly as he fastened the seatbelt. A fine waist.

"You headed to Miami for business?" he asked as he adjusted his carry-on luggage.

"Yes, of sorts," I said, lying about my plans. "And you?"

"Well, it's sorta 'work', at least I can deduct it as a business expense because it's related to my work. I'm headed to Miami to do some research and for a few days of vacation. Sorta combining business with pleasure." He smiled provocatively, as if he had a secret. "I'm Ben, by the way, Ben Bruckner."

"And I'm Brian Kinney," I replied.

He smiled that big, warm smile again. "I've actually heard of you," he said with a nod.

"Really? Are you in advertising?" He didn't look familiar, and I thought I knew all the hot ad-execs in Pittsburgh.

"No," he laughed. "I'm an Assistant Professor at Carnegie-Mellon."

"I've heard of it," I said sarcastically. The school "milked" the importance of those two famous names until all of Pittsburgh said "Enough!" All of the possible places we could have met were skittering through my mind, …the health club, the Penn State Alumni Association, a Penguins' game, when I used the company's box seats to impress a client… none of these rekindled a memory.

"How about you?" Obviously, he didn't know me through my work.

"I work for an advertising agency downtown. You wouldn't have heard of it," I answered.

He laughed and offered his hand. "Well, hello, Brian Kinney. I've been wanting to meet you." We shook a nice, strong handshake that lingered that extra second that made my cock leap. Some guys could dowse for subterranean water with a stick. But my cock took the place of a dowsing-rod and it twitched when my gay-dar detected some buried hint of queerness in a masculine body.

"Research, you said? In what field?" I was still trying to figure out how he knew ABOUT me without ever meeting me.

"Well," he said, lowering his voice slightly, "I'm in the Gay Studies Program."

"I've never studied it, but I've been practicing for years," I said with a smile. "I didn't know you could major in it in college, or I woulda graduated with Honors."

He laughed again. "It's a branch of sociology, which was my undergraduate degree; but I got in "on the wave," so to speak. Something I was already interested in suddenly turned into a specialty with funding and jobs, sorta like Women's Studies…and I've been pretty successful in the last few years while working on my Master's degree in Creative Writing. And I'm only a dissertation away from a Ph.D."

"To me, Ph.D. stands for "Pump His Dick," I said, making the internationally-known sign-language motion for "jacking off."

He nearly fell out of his seat. "There's a lot of THAT involved in getting a Ph.D.," he chuckled, repeating the motion. "I'll have to remember that one. My students will love it! I sometimes tell guys I meet that my name is Ben Dover, just to watch the expression on their faces. From what I've heard, we should give you an honorary degree. My students say your exploits are legendary."

I smiled and lifted an eyebrow. "So I guess we both have the same 'business' in Miami," I said.

"The White Party?"

"The White Party. And all the other fund-raisers and rip-offs that have grown-up around it," I replied. "This is my first time."

"Mine too," he said. "But I've studied and researched it like deciphering the Dead Sea Scrolls. I am SO ready for this!"

"I don't suppose you're staying at the Delano, are you?" That was where I had made my reservations after an equally thorough search of accommodations and parties.

"No," he replied. "Not on an Assistant Professor's salary. I'm at a small bed-and-breakfast… a gay place, not far off the beach. The Jefferson. The pictures on the web looked OK." He seemed suddenly embarrassed about not being at one of the principal hotels.

We talked during the entire flight to Miami, never taking our eyes off each other. I knew I would fuck him the moment I shook his hand. We discussed the individual parties, one major all-night bash every evening from Wednesday through Saturday increasing in intensity until the final party, the original-and-real White Party, to be held at the Vizcaya Museum & Gardens. Ben had tickets for only the final party; he had planned to hit the bars and the free stuff for 3 days. I had purchased the entire package for $500… every event and no-waiting entry. The hotel would cost an additional thousand and adding a rental car, drugs, booze, lube, and fuck-toys would add another thousand, perhaps. It was my vacation and I had planned to enjoy myself.

"How about a ride?" I asked at the luggage carousel. "I've rented a Lexus."

He smiled again. "How could I refuse such generosity?"

I traveled lighter than he did… perhaps because this trip was not a fashion parade for me like it was for some of the 4,000 visitors. But he didn't strike me as the "glamour-type" either.

After an annoying delay at the rental desk, we piled our luggage into the Lexus and headed for the Beach. We crossed the Causeway and turned south on A1a. I drove under the hotel's canopy and stopped.

"This can't be my place. Well, no, it couldn't be. You didn't ask how to get there. I was checking-out the scenery and totally forgot to tell you the address. It's…"

"This is my hotel," I said. "I thought my invitation was implied, but, if you'd rather go to your place, we could do that."

"You mean… together?"

"That's the general idea. Take it or leave it." I looked him square in the eye and promised him the night of his life with just a look.

He smiled more slowly this time, like a pleasant buzz from a cocktail or the heat of a warm shower cascading over firm pecs or the awareness that his cock was creeping down his pant-leg... the fantasy unfolded before him. "You got it," he nodded.

I checked in while he waited by the potted palms. There was no need to explain to the desk-clerk that Ben was "just visiting." He probably knew what that meant. The bell-boy stepped forward to gather my luggage, and he was attractive, so I let him carry it… about 22, Hispanic, probably Cuban, fine features, and a good body in that tight-fitting 1940s uniform. Ben nodded his approval and stepped behind us, carrying only his small overnight bag, as we walked across the veranda to the poolside bungalow I had reserved. The bellboy looked from one to the other and smiled knowingly. "My name is Luis," he volunteered, "and I can get you anything you want."

After he opened the door, Luis checked the room and returned to the door awaiting his tip. I paid him, but he didn't leave immediately, Instead, he continued to chatter about the hotel, its accommodations, the restaurant, the pool, the beach. I was wondering how to get rid of him because I wanted to strip Ben's clothes off and get down to a quick fuck.

"Can I get you anything?" He said with some finality. "Drugs? Boys?" It was White Party Week. The locals knew the score.

Ben spun around in surprise and I smiled at his openness. "Well," I said, "I didn't pack much in the event that my luggage was inspected, so I'm a little short for a 4-day stay. Whatchya got?" He listed his wares like a Baskin-Robbins list of flavors. I made a few selections, asked the price (cheap by Pittsburgh standards), and negotiated the deal.

"I'll be back later," he said as he spun through the door, "with a few surprises". Ben and I looked at each other not knowing what to expect.

"Get over here," I said as the footsteps receded down the hall.

"What have you got in-mind?" he said with a smile as he approached, slipping his glasses onto the desk. He had already removed his jacket.  It was too hot for tweed anyway, and I began to unbutton his shirt. He reached for my buckle. We tossed clothing right and left, undressing ourselves because it was quicker. We both rose from bent-over positions to stand face to face, looking at the other in approval and arousal, anticipating this moment… and now it was here. He had a well-developed physique, with chiseled abs and pecs like sirloin roasts. We stepped forward simultaneously, almost colliding, and interlocked arms around torsos and legs between legs as we kissed aggressively in the center of the room. He twisted one of my arms and locked it behind my back with a tight grip and I responded by hooking my other elbow behind his neck. The physicality was intense; the jockeying for control had begun. It was clear from the beginning that he was a Top who was accustomed to getting his own way. And I was the same. We would either compete, or trade, or one would capitulate.

"You're strong. I like that," he growled. "And aggressive."

"I know what I want and I go for it. That's all."

"You just beat me to the invitation by a few minutes. I was working up to it since the moment I heard your name. If you hadn't invited me here, I would have invited you to my place. We were meant to fuck," he said, tightening the arm-lock and pushing me backwards. I took two steps back and he was right on top of me. He pushed again. My back hit the wall. He pinned me there with my cock trapped between us; his forearm crossed my chest from shoulder to shoulder and pressed against my throat. A slight movement and he could choke me. I reached for his hair with my free hand, but he ducked and I could only grip his shoulder. His foot suddenly kicked my feet apart; he stepped between my legs and he thrust his groin against mine, sliding our cocks together against hard abs. He bent down and licked a wide swath starting on my chest, and proceeding up the side of my neck, across my lips to my earlobe. "You taste like sex," he growled… "like fear and testosterone. I'm gonna fuck you into the weekend."

I lifted one foot and locked it behind his calf. At the same time, I pushed myself off the wall, diving forward, knocking my chest against his. My foot prevented him from taking a step backward to balance himself, and he staggered away, releasing me in the process. It was my turn to be the aggressor. I followed him, trying to wrap my arms around his chest, but he spun, wrapped an arm under my armpit and up behind my head, and used his strength to force me against the wall again, this time face-first. His groin slammed into my ass and he began to slide his hard cock up and down my ass-crack in a pseudo-fuck. "Now I'm gonna nail you to the wall," he whispered hoarsely in my ear. I swung back with one elbow and caught him in the ribs; he stepped back and gave me just enough room to duck and turn. "You've gotta be faster," I said, taunting him.

Reaching for a headlock again, I spun him around with my arm behind his head and pushed him against the bed. We both lost our balance and fell side-by-side on the coverlet. We wrestled a moment before stopping to kiss again. I tongued the lower margins of his upper teeth, then felt him respond; our tongues dueled for entry, parrying and thrusting in a game of tongue-hockey. Everything was a competition. We broke the kiss simultaneously and rolled over and back, seeking the top position. We were both smiling now, loving the contact, the competition, and the test-of-strength. Too evenly matched for anyone to truly get the upper hand, we struggled for the sheer pleasure of the struggle… hard muscles, hot skin, labored breathing, and occasional gasps of surprise or short-term victory.

"You think you can take me?" he said in a harsh whisper. He reached for my dick as a lever to flip me over. I planted my knee in his groin showing him I could crush his balls with one thrust. He laughed. "You're good."

"I usually get my way," I said. "You must already know that."

"That's what makes you all the more interesting," he countered. We both rose at the same time, locked together in another test of strength, then teetered and fell back onto the bed. As we bounced, we rolled off the edge onto the floor in a pile of arms and legs. My elbow knocked the wind out of him as I landed on his chest. My mouth hit his chin. But rather than take advantage of him, I just started laughing, and we laughed together as we tried to wrestle on the floor. Finally, the laughter won. We lay still in each other's arms as I tasted blood from my lip for the first time.

"I know what you need," he said as he disengaged. "I'll be right back." He stepped to his bag, unzipped it, and retrieved a few things. By the time he returned I had returned to the bed in a crouch ready to defend myself. But instead of pouncing, he threw a few lengths of rope on the bed. "I need to tie you down. You'd like that, I'll bet."

"It's happened before," I admitted. "I've done almost everything at least once. Gotta test your limits and expand your boundaries." I gripped the ropes in my fist. "But I bet these would look mighty good around YOUR wrists, even though you usually do the tying."

He smiled and gave me that "I dare you to try" look as he climbed back onto the bed ready for combat. Kneeling, we locked our hands with fingers interwoven; eventually our arms lifted over our heads as we strained to force the other downward onto the bed. In a move I'd learned on the streets, I twisted to the side, then head-butted him in the middle of his chest. It surprised him and I was able to wrestle him onto his back. I pushed him back onto the pillows and straddled his waist with one of the ropes stretched between my outstretched hands. He paused as I looked down at him.

I'd been with guys like him before; so concerned about their partner's pleasure, they take control and guide, even from the bottom sometimes; unsatisfied with their partner's creativity, usually their minds always working, trying to make it a mind-blowing experience for their partners; working so hard at it that they respond to every move with something more intense and arousing, distracting their partners from participation by the sheer pleasure of it. And, in the end, they get the control they want and take responsibility for the fuck-pleasure. But they're really missing something. They get so involved in the partner's pleasure, they never let themselves totally enjoy it… and they never feel the ultimate freedom from responsibility. The irony - a feeling of freedom resulting from the restriction of bondage. Ben was just like this; never letting me pleasure him without trying to out-do me. I decided to teach him a lesson.

I grabbed his right wrist with my right hand, held the rope tightly there, and spun two twists around his wrist with my left hand, then a quick loop to lock it in-place. I pushed it toward the headboard. He resisted at first; his pec hardened as he strained against the pressure. "Oh, I don't think so," he said. I persisted and tightened my knees around his lats to lock him in-place. He pressed against my chest with his other hand as if to push me aside, but I lunged forward and caught the rope on one of the vertical slats. I tied it quickly into place. His tugging on the restraint made his softly-haired pit deepen in the most delightful way. He pressed his palm against my chest again as I leaned back to grab the second piece of rope… the perfect move to make his left wrist more vulnerable to the same type of grab-and-wrap motion. He struggled harder this time. I lunged forward, sliding my ass onto his chest and pinning his upper arms to the mattress with my knees. By putting all my weight on my knees, I could hold him in-place long enough to tie the second rope. I settled back onto his chest, feeling him breathing deeply under my ass. "Now you have no choice," I said as my cock rested along the centerline of his pecs. "You just lie back and let me play." He mumbled something about "getting me later."

"I'll leave your legs free unless you continue to struggle." I said. "Fucking you wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you were spread-eagled." He nodded his assent and straightened his legs in acquiescence. I lifted my weight off his torso to look at him spread before me…a splendid torso, to be sure… tense abs, framed by the arch of his rib-cage, rising and falling with his diaphragm… broad pec-slabs separated by a narrow valley… shoulders and triceps straining against the bonds… lats spread like wings.
I bent down to take his nipple in my teeth and I watched him grimace as I ground it between my incisors. His cock, already hard and lying on his belly, lifted it's head and rose to the vertical. I gripped it in my tight fist.

"Now who tastes like fear and testosterone?" I asked innocently.

He smiled broadly again. "Not fear. Anticipation! Your fucks are legendary, I hear. And I've got a ring-side seat." He slumped into submission. "But first, there's something I need to tell you."

I had heard that line before.

"I'm HIV-positive. I probably should have mentioned it even earlier, but there's never a good time. I've known for over a year. If that makes a difference, I'll totally understand."

"Better the Devil-you-know than the Devil-you-don't-know," I said. "But it doesn't change much. I use protection all the time, as if every guy were positive and with Hepatitis C and every other STD in the books. Even with less risk for Tops, I have fucked enough guys to get a shit-load of disease, so I am always careful. I don't have a fucking Death-wish.” He watched me as I slipped a condom on as I spoke.

I lifted his knees and spread them. Before I knelt between them, I gripped the coverlet and stripped it rapidly from under his body; he lifted to permit its passage and it fell in a heap at the foot of the queen-sized bed. Then, assuming my position, I gripped his ankles and rested them on my shoulders; I stroked myself to full tumescence. He watched me through spread knees, head lifted in defiance, pecs hard, again, in-tension with the unyielding fetters. No romance, no candlelight, no music… just two men fucking to completion and satiation. He gripped the ropes to remind himself he was bound. He knew I would not be gentle. That was not our way. My cock was hard now…thick veins protruding through the thin latex like a second skin. I could feel my pulse in its throbbing. It was time. Reaching for the lube, I squirted some into my palm and spread it onto my shaft, twisting and squeezing. Another squirt onto my fingers, this time curved fingers, palm up, sliding under his balls to hook into his hole and spread the shiny fluid into his darkness. He tensed on my fingers, tossed his head from side to side as if warding-off pain, then opened to my advances. His abs tensed as I delved deeper, as if he could try to expel me. I pulled out and leaned forward, bracing my hands on the headboard. "Any last requests?"

"Just fuck me. Show me what you can do, show me you're man-enough." He arched his back showing me the hills and valleys of his abs. He closed his eyes as if to focus his attention on his hole.

I took him in one, unsympathetic thrust, gripping the fronts of his thighs and rotating my pelvis as I jammed my shoulders into his bent knees and jack-knifed into him. He was tight and he tried to resist, at first, just the way I like it. But nothing could stop the Kinney-cock when it's in the chute and primed with spunk. He let out a moan as I sank to my pubes. I left it there for a second while getting my bearings. His asshole felt like a thousand others, but his tense muscles, with pecs trembling in arousal, made him special; I was fucking a man's-man, no pussy-boy. I rolled back onto my haunches, pulling my cock out so the tip was barely caressed by his out-pouching sphincter and then drove it home again with a moan of pleasure. His ass was perfect. The backs of his thighs slapped against my abs as I set-up the rhythm; his knees rocked over my shoulders; his heels hit my erector spinae like double drumsticks. I leaned forward to grip the headboard, to pull myself deeper into him, and I repositioned my knees to lift his ass into a position against them.

"Do it….do it" he said in-rhythm with my thrusts. His fingers clenched; his head twisted faster from side to side; his hair matted upon his forehead. Did I have new stamina from being at sea level? I pounded into him unrelentingly. My cock totally left his hole, swayed a moment, they found its way back into the dark tunnel, rearranging the folds of his rectum and pummeling the floor of his peritoneal cavity. It made its own space; it shoved-aside his internal organs; it skewered him on a column of flesh.

"More!" he cried. "Give me MORE!"

My cock found new length and thickness. In, and in, and in again. I leaned forward, rolling his knees toward his chest as I changed my angle of penetration and positioned his ass to match it. As our bodies fit together like Yin and Yang, I buried my face in his throat and took his Adam's Apple in my open mouth, sucking it deep and closing my teeth on his throat. He gasped, afraid that I would rip him. I bit him hard, but didn't break the skin, then released his throat. He turned his head to the side as if to protect his windpipe. I moved my lips to his ear and whispered hoarsely, "You wanted to fuck a legend. Well, here's what you get instead." I rolled him higher, fucking down into him now. My legs, which had straightened, now spread wide to arch over his upturned ass. I lifted him off the bed with my up-curving cock hooking into his prostate until only his shoulders supported him. My pounding cock, which made his spine undulate like a suspended chain, took over then, guiding itself and pulling my body along behind.

His fists opened as he tried to claw me, but he was held back by the firm rope. My fingers traversed down his abs, gripped his nipples, and pinched as if to try to lift him. He moaned, unable to distinguish pain from pleasure. Then gripping his bouncing shaft, I prepared to bring him to a climax, that ultimate feeling of tightness and union. I jacked him with a pounding fist, using his oozing pre-cum as the only lube. He couldn't last long.

But my climax came too early. His tight ass milked me too well; his taut body begged to be filled. Just before I shot, I dropped to my knees again and lowered his body to the mattress; if I came, standing, I probably would have fallen. He could see it in my face; our eyes were locked. The glazed look of focusing one's attention deep inside… to feel the pressure and the surge. He knew I was shooting, because I left my shaft buried full-depth as it throbbed against his interior. I stroked him in unison with my pulsation and I could tell he was near his climax. I clamped my free hand around the base of my cock to keep it hard the few extra minutes it might take to fuck him to an explosion. Faster and harder! His mouth opened in a silent scream as his first jizz-shot arched up to hit the headboard; then gusher after gusher of hot, ropey cum covered his face like Japanese brush-characters. And I came again, from the sheer joy of watching him experience the ultimate release.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! OH, MY GOD!" he gasped as he regained the ability to breathe and speak. "That was so… I… I'm… you're fucking incredible!"

I relaxed then, letting my body settle onto his, stretching him out and then reaching up to untie his wrists. Even when they were free, his arms seemed immobilized, too heavy to lift. He lay there. I could almost feel the steam rising from our bodies. I licked the sweat from the margin of his pec, from centerline to the rim of his pit, avoiding any cum-spray; his chest rose and fell in the gasps of recovery. His taste was earthy… musky… manly. I gave a "Mmmmmmm" of approval as I brushed my chin, now rough with stubble, across the ridge of his clavicle. "You bring out the best in me," I said, finally. "It takes a good Top to become a perfect bottom. And vice-versa, I suppose. Even with your wrists tied, you know what feels good to me, and you make it happen."

He lifted his arms and crossed them across my back… the moisture of his pits against my upper arms, trapping them against my side. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on my face only inches from his. "With my arms in bondage, I could focus on what was happening deep inside me… the friction… the pressure. My whole awareness was focused there at the moment of your climax. And when you didn't soften, it drove me crazy thinking you could fuck me like that all night. I just let-go then… and let it fly. I'm sorry I made such a mess on your bed. I'll clean it up." He released his arms as if to rise. I held him down with my weight.

"Not so fast," I said. "We have all night."

"But I thought you had a ticket to that event tonight. What's it called?"

"White Starz… just another disco party… gyrating boys flipping their meat, looking for tricks. I do that scene all the time back home. This is what I came to Miami for," I said, drawing a line down his chest on the way to his pubes. "And since I had to come all the way to Miami to fuck with you, I don't plan to miss one minute of this night."

He smiled and wrapped me in his arms again. The sun was setting. The reflections from the pool were red dapples on the ceiling and the east windows glowed with the billowing cloud-bank over the ocean. We lay there, gathering our strength for what was to come.

There was a soft knock at the door. It was probably the bellhop, Luis, but I took precautions by grabbing a towel and tucking it around my waist. I was right. But he wasn't alone. "Room Service," he said in a loud voice as he pushed the door open and stepped past me. The other one, younger, but wearing the same uniform, waited to be invited inside. I stepped back and let him enter, then closed the door.

"This is Armando," said Luis. "He's my boyfriend. And I have the stuff you ordered. I brought some extra."

Armando was young and tall for a Cuban, probably a mulatto, with a coffee-and-cream complexion and black, wavy hair. He had incredibly fine facial features… a real stunner. His tight uniform showed a wonderful bulge in the right pant-leg. He touched it nervously as if to make it go away, but it surged even larger. Armando was carrying two bottles of champagne; Luis had two more. "I didn't order champagne," I said, thinking of the mini-bar we hadn't even opened.

"No, these are free, from the celebrity suite in the penthouse. They have unlimited liquor, and when they don't drink it all, the housekeeping staff looks the other way and lets us take some. I saved these. We'll share." He set down the bottles and began unbuttoning his jacket revealing nothing underneath. "No need for towel. We're all boys here," he said as he dropped his pants. "Desn, dese!" he said to Armando, who apparently spoke little English. "The new kid… gotta show him around," he added as he watched the boy begin to strip. The pop of a champagne cork brought a response from the bedroom. "Who's there, Bri?" I could hear him sit up in bed.

"We've got company," I replied. "It's Desi and Lucy."

"Luis," said Luis. "Loo-EES…not Loo-SEE. And his name is Armando." Ben heard the response and we laughed together without explaining.

Luis handed two glasses of champagne to Armando and nodded toward the bedroom. He walked slowly with the quality-of-motion like a dancer. Luis saw my eyes following him. "Very nice," I said. "You're very lucky."

"I call him my boyfriend, but I don't own him. I don't even know where he lives. Somewhere up on the North Beach. He runs to work every morning along the beach, bathes in the surf, and changes into his uniform at work. He runs home at night… same way. We sometimes fuck during our break in a vacant room. The maids don't mind if we don't soil the sheets and we make the bed when we're done. No one ever knows." I raised an eyebrow. "He says he's 19," Luis added. "You like him?" He handed me two filled glasses and retrieved a Ziplock bag from the small duffel bag.

"He'd be gorgeous, even without the huge dick," I said with a wink. "It's El Gordo."

Luis nodded as we entered the bedroom. Armando had stretched out on his belly next to Ben, who was stroking his back from shoulders to ass with a gentle touch, following the soft curves of his body. Luis was quite fine himself… a build like a boxer… short and wiry, and a thin moustache that made him look a few years older than his 22 years.

"I brought you the good stuff, for personal use, not the shit like you buy on the beach." He smiled as if he was telling me something about "the trade" that I didn't already know. Every dealer saved the best for himself. "I brought you twice as much as you ordered," he said. "To keep everyone happy." He unzipped the plastic bag and dropped two of one kind of pill into my palm and then a third different one. "Mama's little helper," he quipped. He doled out the allocations to the rest and we toasted with champagne to send the pills on their way. Then he climbed into bed on the other side of Ben. "You here," he said, pointing next to him. As I climbed in, he leaned close and tasted my bare cock. "MMMMMMmmm, you smell of sex, but your cock is clean."

"Don't try to figure it out. Just suck it," I said.

He took it into his mouth, still semi-soft, and he sucked until it thickened and lengthened into his throat. Meanwhile, Armando rolled over and began to suck Ben, not to be out-done. He bobbed up and down rapidly leaving a juicy sheen of saliva in his pubes. "Do you do this for all your guests?" I quipped.

He looked up abruptly and smiled, letting my cock slip out of his lips. His dark eyes flashed. "Only for the Princes," he said. "The Princes-of-Passion with hot, thick cocks and cum like cocoa butter. We Cubanos know what to do with fine cocks!" He went back to sucking voraciously and I couldn't disagree.

"Cum versus cocoa butter? Fewer calories, and higher in protein," I thought to myself.
Ben was sitting up now, stroking Armando's body and guiding his movements. "Get me hard," he said. "That boy-ass of yours is calling me." Armando sped up and increased the suction. "God, you're good," Ben gasped between shudders. "Slow down or you'll get me off this way." Armando slid off slowly, licked a few twirls with his tongue around the tip, and smiled in victory. Ben pulled him close and rolled him onto his side, with his backside within range. "Pass me a rubber," he said, reaching in my direction.

I opened the Durex for him, removed it from its foil-pack, and handed it to him.

"Onward and inward," I said. While Ben stretched it onto his bright red shaft, I slipped off the bed and walked around to the other side for a better view of the ensuing fuck. The boy's cock lay swollen but still semi-soft on the white sheet…a full ten inches, un-cut, with the moist, rosy head only partially showing. It was the thickest and longest I had ever seen… and on a boy with such slim hips and slender, dancer's legs it looked almost obscene… unless you happen to like that sort of thing. I was fascinated by my close-up view. As Ben pressed into him, the boy's cock crawled slowly toward the edge of the bed and I met it with my lips. "Salty from his morning swim," I thought.

Ben began fucking him forcefully, rocking his body on one hip, and driving his cock-tip deeper into my lips with each thrust. Armando's fingers snaked through my hair as he gripped my head in place, afraid I might pull off. "Chepeme!" he murmured… and I knew what he meant.

As Ben pressed into him deeper, he rolled his own ass upward, opening up to Luis's tongue. He moaned from the stimulation and rolled his body to increase the stimulation on both his cock and his ass-crack. "Hot!" said Luis. "This guy has an ass that won't quit… and he tastes like you," he said looking up at me. "Now I KNOW you fucked him."

"Caught, red-shafted," I joked.

"Then I want him too," said Luis.

"Use a condom. You should. I did."

Luis reached for the pile on the nightstand. "You are ready for White Party Week," he grinned, selecting one. "You should be so lucky to fill all these." He slipped it on quickly and dove for Ben's hole. Ben was so busy, he barely noticed. Luis was fucking him double-time compared to Ben's long, slow strokes, but I didn't mind. The boy's cock slid lusciously along my tongue, leaving a snail-trail of precum. No one wanted it to end, so everyone kept the perfect pace with a sufficient degree of stimulation to keep everyone at-the-peak.

Luis broke the spell. "Let me have him… and you fuck ME," he suggested. As the two traded places, Armando reached back lazily and stripped the condom off Luis's shaft; he wanted it the usual way. The penetrations began… first Luis into Armando… and then Ben into Luis.

"Come on" said Ben. "You're next." I released the monster-cock from my lips… a full 2-1/2 inches in diameter and Lord-knows how long… and arose from the floor to take my place behind Ben. Armando rolled to his knees in a crouch; Luis crouched over him; Ben knelt. With a new condom applied, I guided my shaft into him. He let me enter so easily this time, perhaps because he was preoccupied with the rhythmic motions of his own fucking. It took a few seconds to get the rhythm right. My thrust pushed Ben into Luis, who, in turn, pressed forward into Armando. And with each press forward, an ass slid partially off an invading cock, which retreated to prepare for another plunge. The moans were louder then, as strong arms squeezed each slim waist for better leverage. The mattress rolled beneath us and contributed to the rhythmic quality. We fucked like a four-cylinder engine with pistons thrusting.

Luis came first; I could hear the boy underneath him moaning as Luis slammed into him the final time and filled him with the fluid denied to the rest of us. Ben came next, almost simultaneously with Armando who shot without stimulation other than his cock dragging against the sheet. Ben's ass clamping down on my thrusts forced me to a climax, and we all froze in-situ like a throbbing mass of gelatin. The weight of three bodies resting on his back finally fatigued Armando's arms. He collapsed onto the bed as each man, in turn, felt the impact of more weight driving cocks into asses. Armando got the full effect. We all groaned simultaneously, which made us laugh with a motion that jiggled cocks in asses in a most delightful way. We lay in a heaping pile of cock-and-ass for many minutes, unable or unwilling to withdraw.

Finally, we disconnected and lay in the darkness, teasing and stimulating each other in a vain attempt to re-start a four-way. We played like otters swimming in a pool of sheets and smooth male skin, bobbing, licking, kissing, and biting… not knowing whom we were stroking, except for the moment I grabbed the enormous cock and felt his lips lock on mine.

"El dios!" Luis muttered. "We're late. We'd better get back or the boss will have our asses."

"That's not always a bad thing," Ben joked as he reached for the lamp.

The two dressed hurriedly, grabbing their uniforms from the pile in the living room and trading a few times to find the correct sizes. "Enjoy your stay," Luis added as they opened the door. "We have!"

Ben and I settle back into the bed. It was eight o'clock and we had had no dinner. "We had room-service, but no food! Do you want something to eat?" I asked.

"I sure do," he said as he gripped my cock and pulled me toward him. "I suppose I could say 'I've had my fill,' but the night is young."

"And so was Armando," I said, remembering the size, length, thickness, and taste.

The White Party - Part 2 - Friday

Who forgot to shut the fucking curtains? The sunrise was cutting across the open ocean like a knife sticking right into my squinting eyes. Six a.m. I'd only had about three hours of sleep, although I couldn't remember exactly. Waking up and getting my bearings in strange surroundings had always been a problem for me. 

The bright light was suddenly interrupted by a shadow... but as soon as I opened my eyes, the sunlight returned to blind me. FUCK!

"Sorry, I woke you," he said softly as he positioned his body to put me in his shadow. "I was just trying to find the rest of my clothes. We undressed kinda fast last night, and everything got spread around.  I found my underwear on the lamp," he added. 

It was that guy from last night, the professor from Pittsburgh. How could he be so wide-awake? He had been getting-even with me for the bondage scene as recently as 2 am. Early-risers should be shot!

We had fucked again after the Cubans left, a slow, more languorous fuck with the full-moon light streaming in through the windows over the bed, making his skin shine like silver. There was no struggle for dominance this time; he actually encouraged me to fuck him. "Give it to me slowly this time... and make it last all night," he had whispered. The champagne buzz made it feel as if we were floating; we held each other for support and kissed long kisses without pausing for breath. We had cum simultaneously that time. I caught his cum on the back of my hand... a gush, not an explosion...and I had fed it to him along with the warm contents of my condom. We had slept the sleep of satiation. 

By the time I shielded my eyes and sat up, he had disappeared into the bathroom.

I rolled over, trying to keep my eyes shielded, but couldn't sleep with my arm in the air, so I decided to close the Venetian blinds and the curtains. I wondered if passers-by on the beach got a good look at the bedroom gymnastics we had attempted last night. I could imagine the Olympic judges holding up a row of "9.9"s. I padded across the room and yanked the rope to close the blinds and they fell off their brackets clattering to the floor with a metallic crash. 

"What the fuck?" He came out of the bathroom almost fully-dressed, with shaving cream on his face. "Oh, you decided to get up? Good morning," he said matter-of-factly.

I arched an eyebrow and tried to smooth my bed-head. "No...but it may be a good morning in about 5 hours, just maybe," I moaned. "This is my vacation."

"I was planning to leave you a note," he said as he wiped his face with a towel. "I need to get the rest of my bags out of the car." He was dangling the car-keys in his hand. "I'll leave these at the desk and I'll take a cab to the Jefferson. You'll know where to find me if you want to get together later... and thanks for a great evening. What a way to start the weekend."

"Yeah, maybe we'll run into each other. There're only about 4,000 other guys to fuck at this party, so we'll probably be bumping shoulders in the back-rooms." 

"You're right. This place is a banquet, and I intend to get my fill," he said with a smile. 

I was tempted to make some sort of joke about "filling him" last night, but it was too early for humor. 

"As a matter of fact, I'm gonna go find a Continental Breakfast... right now," he added. "Maybe with a French accent." He slung his jacket over his shoulder and spun out the door. "Adios."

"Finally,  someone who knows how to fuck and LEAVE," I thought while sinking back onto the pillows. But as I drifted back to sleep, I remembered the eroticism of last night... the bed still smelled of sex, and lots of it.  And he was a nice guy. I'd say we competed to-a-draw and both of us won. As evenly matched as one could find.

The second time I awoke, it was 10am and the maid was knocking at the door. I told her to come back in half an hour. I had plans.

After a quick breakfast, I put on my black Speedo and black lycra muscle shirt and headed to the car with my beach bag and towel. Haulover Beach was famous on the East Coast. It was the largest municipally-sponsored nude beach in the continental U.S. and only a ten mile drive north. During White Party Week, it would be packed.

I parked across the street and walked through the cool underpass to the beach. Actually only half of the beach was designated "clothing optional", and the dividing line was the lifeguard's station. Too bad he'd chosen the wrong option, because he was a hunky 6-foot-4-inch demigod who would have looked even better without the faded red boxers. I spread my black beach towel on the sand in a fairly open spot just a slight head-turn out of the lifeguard's straight-ahead gaze, slipped out of my suit, then the shirt, as I felt dozens of pairs of eyes watching me. Newcomers were always given the once-over, I guessed. 

The nude portion of the beach was as heavily populated as the clothed section. I had expected an overwhelming majority to be male, since this was White Party Week, but the beach-goers were divided roughly 50-50, male-female. Approximately a third of the men were a pleasure to view in-the-buff; the remainder were of little interest to me, other than to marvel at their willingness to "show-it."

I walked to the water's edge, choosing my path to get better looks at a few men who caught my attention. Several looked-up or smiled or made a greeting. Many eyes watched me pass. The water felt cool at first as I waded to mid-thigh depth. And then I took-the-plunge and swam parallel to the beach for a few hundred yards, then reversed my direction and exited at the far end of the nude section. I wanted to get a good look at the possibilities, but, from a first perusal, the lifeguard seemed the best prospect. I detoured to walk by his station on the way back to my towel. As I looked up at him, leaning on the railing, there was a lovely view up his pant leg; the bright sunlight shining through the red polyester fabric gave his soft cock a rosy, aroused glow. 

"Buy you a beer?" I said as he pretended, for the first time, to notice me standing there.

"No beer on the beach," he said. Nice, authoritative deep voice.  I liked that. "And I can't drink on-duty."

"I was thinking about later," I said, taking a few steps up the ramp to get a better view and to give him a better view.

"Ummmm... you've gotta stay on this side of the platform," he warned. "No nudity on that side. And why would you want to buy me a beer, anyway?" This guy was apparently straight, but that wasn't necessarily an impediment...just a challenge.

"No ulterior motive," I answered. "Just being friendly. It's a hot day. I'm thirsty. I'm a tourist... thought maybe you'd know a good place."

"Well, ya never know," he said, shaking his head. "This is Queer Week...as if this place isn't queer enough...and I just thought you might be...one of THEM." 

"Asshole," I thought. "Oh, I AM," I said. "But if you're not,  that's OK, too. Some guys swing both ways, some experiment, you never know...and I just figured you were the best-looking guy on the beach and I only go for the best."

He smiled before catching himself. Compliments for his appearance were probably welcome from the ladies. 

"I was only offering a beer and promising nothing more. You can think about it," I added as I turned toward my towel. "It's the best offer you'll get all day." I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I walked away...and when I reached my towel he was still watching me, perhaps in disbelief, perhaps in indecision.

I stretched out on the towel on my back and began to spread the oily lotion over my torso, arms, and legs. But, by the time I was finished, Brian, Jr. was waving hello to the crowd, so I rolled over onto my belly and spread out to soak up the sunshine. My cock dug into the sand looking for the cool dampness. There was nothing like the heat of the almost noon-day sun to warm you and relax you almost instantaneously. I probably dozed.

But suddenly I was aware of the sound of footsteps crunching the sand near me. At first, I thought it might be the homophobic lifeguard. "If that fucker kicks sand on my towel," I thought, "I'll be pissed." But instead, the footsteps stopped. Someone was standing next to me.

I turned my head and opened my eyes a slit to discover someone crouching just a few feet away, knees wide-spread, and cock dangling just inches from my upturned face.

"Hi," he said.

I sat up, partially, to see who was making an approach. I shaded my eyes to see him. "Hi yourself."

"My brother, over there, dared me to come over and talk to you." He motioned toward a blonde young-man reclining on a towel in the distance. 

"So, you won the bet," I said. This one was blonde, too, a curly mop of hair, probably about 20, as tan (all over) as a blonde can get and a younger version of Christopher Atkins in "Blue Lagoon." "Wanta sit down and make him jealous?" 

He settled onto the warm sand. "I was watching you," he said. "Well, so was everyone else. You put lotion on your front, but then turned over. Don't you want some on your back so you won't burn?"

"Sure, I'd appreciate that," I said, grinding my hardening cock into the sand at the thought of this boy spreading the lotion all over me. "There are some spots that are... hard to reach." I had spent hours in the tanning salon for the last three weeks, preparing for this trip, but he was right... the noon sun in Miami could broil you quickly. I handed him the lotion. He looked back toward his brother and smiled, probably some kind of competitive "hey, look at me" expression.

The sun had warmed the oil inside the brown bottle, so when he squirted some on my back, it almost felt like a cum-shot. My cock gave a twinge. And then his hands, strong and soft, began spreading the oil over my back and shoulders, then down onto my arms and back onto my shoulders again. "You have a great body," he murmured. 

"And you're gonna get your ass fucked if you keep doing it THAT way," I replied.

"Tell me something I don't already know," he said brazenly.

"What about your brother? Do I get two for the price of one?"

He laughed. "Oh, we're not soliciting, if that's what you think. We come here all the time, but during White Party Week, most of the guys are gay, so we get more courage about approaching someone." His hands were moving over my ass, softly following the curves as he let the heel of his hand slide into my crack to open it up. I turned to see if the lifeguard was watching this. And then he used both hands on the backs of my thighs, one side at a time, massaging the oil into my skin as if he were rubbing lanolin into leather... a deep muscle massage, as his fingers slipped deeply between my thighs.

The other brother, probably older but looking like a twin, arose and picked up his towel. I knew he couldn't stay away for long. 

"Mind if I join you?" he said provocatively. "I'm Dean."

"And I'm David," the other added as his hands moved up to the small of my back again and began applying pressure that was crushing my hard cock in the most delightful way. "Where are you from?"

"Pittsburgh," I said. "Yes, I'm a hard-fucking tourist from Pennsylvania who's come down here to show the natives what gay men are like, and to partake of some of the... local attractions."

They chuckled. Dean spread his towel adjacent to mine and settled down elbow-to-elbow with me. David stopped the massage and lay on the warm sand on my other side. As we talked about mundane things, Dean's hand began to slide, palm up, sideways along the towel, just grazing my hip bone and slipped under my abs where they lifted to leave space for my cock as it ground a well into the towel and sand. I lifted my groin slightly. His fingers dug and encircled the flesh-column. "I knew it was a nice one," he murmured. "I could tell from a distance. Care to give us a better look... in the parking lot?" 

"I can show you right here. A stiff one can't be that unusual on a nude beach." I started to roll over.

"No," he said quietly. "I don't just want to look. I want to suck it and ride it. We both do."

I had thought about giving the lifeguard the "Kinney Approach" after he'd had a chance to view the merchandise, but these two were ripe-for-the-picking and too eager to pass-up. Getting picked-up was not something I usually did, but this was Miami, during White Party Week, and anything could happen. "Let's go," I said.

As we put on our suits to leave the beach, I gave the lifeguard a wave. He'd never know what he had missed. The "twins," in burgundy and blue low-rise Speedos, led the way to a black Ford Expedition parked in the far corner of the parking lot. The rear seats were down and an exercise mat filled the rear compartment. These boys were prepared. 

"You want to fuck in THAT?" I said.

"We both live in the University of Miami dorm, but it's closed for the holiday and Mom is at home in Coral Gables. We've got her SUV, actually, so we usually just 'play' here in the parking lot." Obviously, this was a regular recreation for the pair.

"I have a hotel about ten miles away. We can go there," I said. "It's much more comfortable and a lot more private. Unless you're in a hurry, of course."

"Fuck, no!" "Where is it?" "Lead the way!" They were both talking at the same time.

"Follow me," I said.

As we walked past the pool on the way to the bungalow, they asked if they could take a swim. "To get the sand off my legs," explained Dean. 

"Sure," I answered. "Just don't take too long. The champagne's already cold."

They splashed around for only a few minutes, and then appeared at the door of the bungalow, dripping and eager like a pair of wet Golden Retrievers. I handed each of them a glass of champagne.  Wet suits were quickly off and tossed into the bathroom sink. While one toweled the water off his back, the other sank to his knees and began to suck my hardening cock. Soon, they knelt side by side, with lips sliding along both sides of the length of my shaft... two mouths... double pleasure. 

"Over here," I said, indicating the bed. They followed me on their knees while trying to maintain contact. I lay on the bed and they hovered over me, one sucking my shaft and the other tonguing my ball-sac. A soft cheek against my inner thigh... warm saliva on smooth-shaved skin... taut lips catching the mushroom tip... and two pairs of hands stroking my body to full arousal. 

I fucked the first one while the other watched, stroking himself slowly as if it were his cock sliding into his brother. And then vice-versa, rolling Number Two onto his belly over the chest of his brother. They caressed each other as if they did it regularly. They rolled into 69-position while I continued to fuck the one on-top. The sound of their moaning from cock-stuffed mouths aroused me even further. 

We played like this for over an hour. I controlled my urge to cum; they brought each other to the peak, but not over-the-edge. Fucking first one, then the other; then letting them explore me with soft tongues and warm lips; twisting in the crisp white sheets; smelling the chlorine in their hair and tasting it on their skin; positioning them; showing them new positions and techniques; sucking their steel-hard, youthful cocks as they moaned their approval; letting them test their strength against mine; tasting their maleness; arousing the fever in them.

As the afternoon waned, I positioned Dean on his hands and knees, then draped David over his back, groin-to-ass, with his arms wrapped under his brother's chest and his chin against Dean's shoulder. Spreading both brothers' knees, I opened two ass-cracks for penetration... soft, moist sphincters, lubed and prepared by earlier fucks, waited in anticipation for the final assault.

Partially kneeling, I entered David first, the one on top, sliding into him full length as he clutched his brother and moaned into his ear. After a stroke or two, I pulled out, leaving his hole gaping like a goldfish gulping air, I knelt a little lower, and I thrust into a surprised Dean. He arched his back, shifting his brother's weight, and then rocked backwards onto my penetrating shaft.

"Fuck me," he murmured. "Fuck us both!"

While I fucked Dean, his cock swayed forward and back, striking his brother's forearm. David released one arm from his brother's chest and reached below his brother to jack his cock in-rhythm with my thrusts. 

While I fucked David, he continued to milk his brother, while he rubbed his own cock along his brother's spine. A few minutes inside one... a few minutes in the other... and back again.  I fucked them as they spoke to each other and to me, words of lust, arousal, and pleasure. We rocked forward and back in perfect rhythm, never missing a beat. I watched my cock find its way into alternating holes. I watched their bodies stiffen as they approached their climax. And, in the end, I felt their muscles tighten on my throbbing shaft as I plunged into both of them as they shot their loads... double-convulsions... multiple orgasms... noisy sounds of release. 

My final thrust was so violent, it knocked Dean forward, sprawling onto the bed with the two of us atop him. My cock was buried in David as I felt the waves of muscle contractions expelling my cum against his tightness. 

We lay in a heap of cum- and sweat-soaked limbs and torsos. I nuzzled two blond heads with sweat-dampened cheeks. Their labored breathing lifted me with each gasp.

I was the first to regain the power of speech. "Ready to go again?" They both moaned and we all laughed. This time, all three of us took a dip in the pool before the boys headed for home.

"We thought we'd be lucky to get a taste of you," said Dean. "We hit the jackpot, I guess!"

I slept for a few hours, comfortable after the warm sunshine, the physical exertion, and the splendid climax. I need to replenish my strength for that night, the White Dreams Party at the Seaquarium, second-only to the White Party itself in splendor and in sexual exhilaration. After a late supper, I caught the water taxis to Key Biscayne. The loud party could be heard echoing across the water over the engine noises of the boat. The place was like ten Babylons rolled into one. It was amazing that it didn't disturb the fish and other sea-life in the aquarium. And the party was only an hour old; many of the party-goers hadn't arrived yet. The place would be filled by midnight, and the party lasted until 6 am. I took my place on one of the balconies overlooking the main dance floor; the light-show was spectacular; the vast interior space throbbed with pulsating lights, swam in a sea of swirling spotlights, and sizzled with the startling strobe-light display, the closest thing to being inside a fireworks display.

I looked straight down from my perch and got my first glimpse of him. Perhaps it was the angle that made his pecs so impressive... his ass so rounded. He was dancing below me with a group of guys in similar clothing: fatigue pants and a gray t-shirt I couldn't read from this angle. But his ass was bare, and so were his feet. He appeared to be wearing just the tee-shirt, so I decided to investigate. I worked my way through the crowd to the stairs and descended to the main dance floor level. His group had moved, but I found them without too much effort. He was the shortest of the six, approximately 6 feet tall, short blond hair with a little spike in front, a perfect smile and sparkling blue eyes, actually not my usual type, a little too "pretty"... but his ass looked even better from this angle. Their matching gray shirts said "USMC," so they were either Marines, or pretending to be. One of the taller guys seemed to be very protective of him, keeping his arm around his shoulder as they stood laughing as a group. I stepped closer to get a better look. He wasn't naked from the waist-down; he was wearing a white athletic "jock" strap that accentuated the globes of his ass and pointed at the glory-hole. The music blasted again and the group broke into pairs to dance. Jock-strap-boy was carrying a beer that he sucked while he danced. He was feeling no pain and enjoying himself. I cruised past, making a mental note to keep him in-mind...very hot... very ready... very fuckable.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I was wearing the black lycra tank top, my usual hunting attire, and the hand felt warm and strong on my deltoid. I spun to face him.  Ben, the guy from Pittsburgh. "I thought you didn't have a ticket for this party," I shouted over the music.

"Some guy I fucked yesterday told me I shouldn't miss it," he countered in a loud voice. "The White Party is more genteel, more polite. This party is a fucking orgy", he said, "so I shelled-out the extra cash. For research," he said with a wink. "By the way, I wanted to tell you, speaking of a ‘fucking-orgy',  that was a wild time last night. I left this morning still unable to tell you how spectacular it really was, and not wanting to ruin it by trying to duplicate it. But any time you're ready."

I cut him off before he had a chance to say something that would be a turn-off. "Found anyone today?" I asked.

"A few of the guys at the Jefferson were frisky this afternoon. I had two guys competing to give me a blow-job, so I let them share. But I've been trying to save my energy for tonight. How about you?"

"I went to the nude beach, hit on a homophobic prick-lifeguard, but found a little action. But I really want to find someone here. Him... for example." I pointed at the jock-boy through the crowd.

"Oooooh! NICE!" he said with a nod, "and the guy with him isn't bad either. He looks like G.I. Joe on steroids." 

"That gives me an idea," I said, pulling Ben off the dance floor. "You take Joe-boy. I don't care what you do with him... just get him away from jock-boy... and I'll step in."

"I'll show you the technique I developed to perfection at Yale, the genteel approach." He lifted his plastic cup filled with beer and gave it a twist.

He moved slowly through the crowd of dancers to the Quantico crowd, gauging his angle of approach. As he passed them, his elbow poked one in the ribs, which caused him to spin-around, knocking Ben's beer cup which spilled all over G.I. Joe's shirt. After a flurry of brushing off damp foam and apologies, Ben began conversing with the guy while I moved in to "cut the lamb from the flock."

"Semper Fi," I said in his ear. He turned.

"Ooo-RAAH!" he said in reply. "Oh, YES" he said as he looked me up-and-down slowly.

"In Latin, I believe that means "Always hot and tight," doesn't it?" I said with a grin.

His forehead furrowed at the perceived insult to the Corps, but then he smiled, remembering where he was. "Something like that," he said. "We have a tradition to uphold." He gave the pouch of his jock-strap a heft with his cupped hand. And he smiled that big grin again... all teeth-and-blue-eyes.

"I need another beer. Care to join me?" I said as I wrapped my forearm around the small of his back and guided him away from the group who were paying more attention to Ben.

"I'm empty," he said, inverting his bottle. "Sure." He led the way through the crowd to the bar. There was a long line.

I stepped beside him and put my hand on the small of his back again, then let it slip down to follow the curvature of one strap as it curved over his hip, as smooth as his chest and back.

"Are you a Marine?" he asked over his shoulder.

"No way," I replied. "I can't take orders for-shit, and the only ass-kissing I do is brief foreplay. Other than the hot uniform, it had no attraction for me." As I spoke, I traced the curvature of his ass-globe and let my fingers slide seductively into his ass-crack. They came out wet and slick; the guy had come to the party pre-lubed. I lifted the two fingers to show him I'd noticed. And I added the raised eyebrow of recognition.

"Before I was a Marine, I was a Boy Scout. ‘Be Prepared' was our motto." He swung his ass as an invitation. I stepped behind him and ground my groin against him. He pressed back against my hardness, then reached behind him to feel the hardness in my jeans. "Mmmmmm... feels like you're ready for something too."

"How much do you want that beer?" I whispered in his ear.

His fingers deftly manipulated the buttons of my fly and his hand snaked into my left pant-leg to surround my stiff shaft. "I'll take one of these instead," he murmured. "Where?" he said, turning toward me.

"Up there," I said as I pointed up to the balcony where I had been standing. "There's a secluded corner near the starfish pool. Go there and I'll meet you in five minutes." He smiled, nodded, and headed for the stairway. I went to find Ben. He was still with the Marines.

"Bingo," I whispered in his ear. "Keep ‘em busy. I'm gonna score the blonde fucker. I'll see you later." He acknowledged with a nod and continued talking with the group. "I owe you," I whispered as I left.

He was leaning against the wall, one foot flat on the floor, with the other knee bent and his foot planted toe-against-the-floor. The slenderness of his waist was striking; the stiff rod in his pouch was peeking out above the tight, elastic waist-band. With his head cast down, he was looking up at me with those "fuck-me" blue eyes. "What took you so long?"

I reached for his wrist, pulled him away from the wall, and then did an under-arm turn, spinning him face-first against the wall. Stepping forward, I trapped him there with my body, one knee spreading his thighs from behind. Only then did I notice that another couple were fucking to our right and a tall guy in a football jersey was getting a blow-job from a twink on his knees on our left. "I'm gonna give it to you right here," I hissed into his ear. "But I'm gonna finish it where your buddies can see it." He stiffened and tried to push away from the wall, but I held him there. "Doug will kill me," he said, cheek against the wall. "He's very jealous." 

"Then he should keep better track of his property," I said. "Hot boys wander off at parties like this all the time. And it's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Yes."

I unbuttoned the top button of my fly and the jeans sprung open and sagged onto my hips. My cock was gripped tightly by the faded denim, so I had to extract it with my fist. I slipped the rubber on one-handed, using the other to slip up under his tee-shirt to feel those hard abs. The straps of his jock would not be in-the-way, so I left his cock confined. I gave my cock a few quick jerks to flare the tip and then slipped it up and down his crack as he whimpered. 

"Give it to me hard. I can take it."

I spread his feet with mine, opening him wider. He pressed his palms against the wall to brace himself. I pulled my jeans to mid-thigh. With my chest against his back, I pulled my pelvis back far enough to straighten my shaft and plant it in him. I jiggled it a bit to coat it with his lube, then put my hands on his hips.

"Semper Fi," I said once again as I pistoned into him with one lunge. The first few inches slipped in unimpeded, but I heard him gasp as he tightened onto me like a vice.

"God, I love it," he moaned. "Fuck me!" He relaxed again, and I shoved in a few more inches. "Aaahhhh! That's enough."

"That's what YOU think," I whispered. "There's still more."

"God, you're bigger than I thought. I'll try." He relaxed again, briefly, and I pressed into him again almost full depth. I felt his entire body shudder as my cock straightened one of the curves in his rectum. I started to pull out and felt him grip me. 

"More," he gasped. "More."

I started the in-and-out fucking motion then;  in hard, with an upward thrust at the end to lift him onto his toes; then a slow withdrawal as he settled back down onto his feet. My chest slid up and down against his shoulders... my thighs pressed against the backs of his... my balls slapped the edges of his crack on the in-thrust... my breath roared in his ear. I could hear his pelvis slap the wall with each onslaught. He grunted each time I entered him.

Gripping each of his wrists, I stretched his arms up and out, spread-eagled against the wall, as my pelvis continued to pivot up into him. His head lolled back in total abandon, rocking against my shoulder. 

A group had gathered behind us to watch. Someone even had the guts to slap my ass in-time with my fucking, as if to urge me on. 

"I'm gonna shoot," he moaned.

"Oh, no you're not. Not until I say so," I said. "Let's show your buddies what a good time you're having."

I pulled out of him so quickly, he gasped at the feeling of emptiness. Guiding him with a hand on each shoulder, I pulled him away from the wall, then shoved him through the crowd toward the couch near the railing. As we arrived, I gripped the fabric of his shirt and lifted it, stripping it off of him in one pull. Even before his arms lowered, I gripped him around the chest and pressed him downward onto his knees on the couch. His elbows rested on the back as he pressed back against me. I stripped off my already-damp tank top and tossed it onto the couch cushion.

"Fuck me more," he said. "Fuck me, fuck, me, fuck me!"

I wrapped my right arm around his neck as I whispered in his ear, "Hot and tight, just like I like it... take it... take it." He twisted his head; his mouth sought mine as we attempted to join lips in an impossible position. 

One of the spotlights hit us at that moment; it moved on, but quickly returned. Someone had seen us and positioned a manually-operated light to illuminate us with a cold white circle. Heads turned, eyes fixed, mouths opened.  I heard a gasp from below and then the rhythmic chant of "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" as I drove into him harder with each stroke. I wanted there to be no mistaking who was receiving my attention, so I slipped both arms beneath his pits, then lifted my forearms and clasped them behind his neck, immobilizing his arms up-and-out in a position of utter submission. I arched his back against me as I drove up into him with my final thrusts. The murmurs had become a roar  and the roar had been joined by rhythmic clapping in-time with the music. They were all with me, at that moment, fucking the jock-boy vicariously. The climax, that was coming, was for them all. More than a few were stroking themselves in-rhythm.

I lifted him... stretching him... finding more ass to fuck with each lunge... skewering him on a flesh-pole. 

The explosion started deep within me... that sudden feeling of tightness and then release as the fluid gushes along its twisted path to the surface... muscles contracting to speed it... muscles contracting elsewhere to stop all motion so that all attention can be focused on that split-second of ultimate release. 

The crowd knew it. The clapping stopped. Motion stopped. Time stopped.

I exploded into him as his shout echoed over the continuing music. The crowd roared their approval. Hands patted me from behind. Upturned faces from below wished that they were next.

The next few minutes were a blur. G.I. Joe arrived to retrieve his boy, and Ben was there to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me to prevent a fight. The crowd of well-wishers swelled. "Best fuck I've ever seen here," said one veteran. "Awesome!" said another. 

"I'm outta here," I said to Ben. "I got what I came for... too early, maybe."

He laughed. "After that, you'd have 'em standing in-line," he joked. "Now you're not only a legend in Pittsburgh, you're an international celebrity!"

"I said 'I owe you' and I meant it," I continued. "Let me buy you dinner on Sunday night... the restaurant in my hotel, The Blue Door. Nine o'clock?"

"Sure," he said, "but you..."

"It's a deal." I interrupted, making sure that I did NOT say 'It's a date.'

I strode away through the crowd, still getting back-slaps and congratulations.  I took the water taxi back to the headquarters hotel.

=====

The air was still warm even though it was after 11. I decided to walk back to the Delano along the dark beach. On warm nights in Pittsburgh, the rivers didn't smell quite as nice as the ocean spray. I slipped off my tanktop and tucked it into the top of my jeans at-the-hip. And I slipped out of my shoes and socks to let the surf swirl around my ankles. The lights from the row of hotels barely managed to reach the water's edge. In the darkness, I stroked the warmth of my own chest with my fingers, remembering the boy's lips on my shoulder. In my solitude, I had not noticed the figure hurtling toward me through the darkness. He passed me only six feet away and I caught a glimpse of his profile.

"Armando? Armando!" I had remembered his name.

The figure halted in the darkness and reversed direction. 

"Si," he said. "Aaah... Brian! from last night. It is hard to see in the darkness. My mind was on other things."

In the dim light I could see that he was wearing only running shorts of undetermined color, slit up the side to the waistband, because they flapped in the breeze. "You are alone?" he continued.

"Yes, headed back to the hotel. I went to one of the parties." I paused as he stepped toward me, just inches away. I swore I could feel the heat of his body irradiating my chest.

His hand touched my shoulder and slowly glided down my upper arm. "So beautiful," he said.

"I didn't know you could speak English," I said. "You didn't say much last night."

His teeth, exposed by a wide smile, were visible against the darkness of his shadowed skin. "No need to say much," he said. "Luis, he does most of the talking."

"I seem to remember keeping your mouth busy doing other things," I murmured. He was closer now, his cheek against mine as his hands explored my body. I tossed my shoes and socks onto dry sand and returned the favor.

"Like this," he said. His hand guided my cheek, turning my lips to meet his. We kissed as his other hand slid along my hip and over my denim-covered cock. I slipped my hand into the waistband of his shorts and found what I remembered.

"Come, let me show you what we do in Cuba," he murmured. "Leave your pants here... next to mine." He shoved his thumbs into the waistband of his running shorts and slipped them off his non-existent hips. He bent to retrieve them at his ankles and tossed them a few feet above the water-line. 

"Here? On the beach?" I said. "Won't the police...?"

"They're strict here," he said. "They drive their Jeep along the hard sand, but if we go into the water, they won't see us easily. They usually look in the dry sand... for people on blankets... or in the bushes...or under the lifeguard stations" He spoke from experience, apparently.

"We could go back to the hotel," I said, realizing he had just come from there, and that Luis might still be there.

"Please," He said. "Here." He opened the top button of my jeans, then quickly undid the rest. He pushed them open and my tank top slipped into the water with a soft splash. I retrieved it, soaking-wet, and tossed it after my shoes, knowing it would be a sandy mess when I retrieved it. I stepped out of my jeans as another wave swept in to soak more than just the bottom cuffs of my pants. I tossed them farther up the sloping sand.

As I straightened-up, he was there to caress me again... guiding me into the surf... a hand in the small of my back propelling me into deepening water that might swallow me up. As the waves caressed the tops of my thighs, we stopped. 

"Right here, if someone comes, the water is deep enough for us to sink down almost out-of-sight." He crouched down to show me and took my hard cock into his lips. As the waves lifted and caressed my balls, his mouth moved over my shaft, licking and kissing. I fingered his wavy hair, remembering its dark sheen. His silhouette against the glittering reflection of the skyline in the water before me was almost surreal and unrecognizable... arms, shoulders, and head, bobbing in the undulating water. "You have cum tonight... I can taste it... so nice." His lips returned to my cock, surrounding it, sliding down its length. He lifted his eyes to look up at me... a look of submissive adoration that always aroused me. He continued his excellent mouth- and tongue-work for several minutes while I fought to maintain my balance.

"My turn," I said, finally, pulling him upward by the hair. "I've been thinking about this since last night." When he stood, water clung to his body like a shirt of jewels. I dropped slowly to my knees in the water feeling it engulf me as his lips had engulfed my cock. With both hands on the backs of his thighs, I pulled myself close to him and took the tip of his dick into my lips, slowly at first, but as I felt his urgency, I tried to take it more quickly. I had remembered its size. Fuck! I had memorized its size. I had thought of nothing but its size since last night. I had to have it. He pulled back, not wanting to choke me. I crawled one step forward on my knees into deeper water that lapped my chin. I found his shaft again and sucked it rapidly, tasting the saltiness of the sea-water. My hands gripped his ass now, pulling him into me. Perhaps I could never take it all, but I simply had to TRY. My jaw ached from being spread so wide, my tongue couldn't decide where to go to make more room. I gulped and swallowed on it, milking it with my throat muscles as I felt his pubes brush my nose. God, I had wanted this. And now I wanted more.

I sucked him as best I could, but knowing that anyone would have trouble with "El Gordo." He stroked my head in encouragement and cupped the back of my head in his palms as he rocked slowly back and forth, slow-fucking my throat.

He stopped. I paused, not knowing what to do. He pushed me off his cock and lifted me to a standing position again. 

"I want you," he said, and he knew that I wanted it too. 

"I'm not sure I can take all of you," I answered. 

"That's OK... few can," he replied, "but I want to be inside you, even a little."

"With a condom," I said. "Only with protection." 

He shrugged. "I have nothing," he said disappointedly.

"Hold on," I said. "I have some, definitely not your size." I was striding through the deep water to the beach... "but they stretch like crazy." I had reached my pants and I was fumbling for the pocket. "I saw one, once, stretched over two fists"...biting the package to open it... striding back into the water again... "but not this brand. Let's see what happens." Spitting out the foil and discarding the wrapper, I gripped his cock like it was my own and felt for the tip in the darkness. Perhaps the salt-water helped. The condom stretched... and stretched some more... over part of his shaft, enough for protection, as long as it didn't split. I stopped thrashing around in the water and stood facing him silently.

"You're sure?" he said, stepping forward. "No lube here."

"I'll try."

He took me in his arms and slowly turned me. I could feel the tip of his shaft pressed against the middle of my back. Fully hard, it could almost reach his sternum. Being in the water added some buoyancy.  He gripped me under the armpits and lifted me enough that his cock slipped between my thighs. My feet gripped his ankles to steady myself. I settled down onto him, feeling his rigidity part my thighs and enter my perineum. I reached back to guide it, pulling it rearward to lodge in my external sphincter. He paused as he felt it enter. I arched my back against him, wanting it inside me...wanting him to drive it in deep... wanting to be filled... and stretched... and hurt by its monstrous size. I wanted to be fucked more than anything at that moment; the feeling of fullness, the feeling of being used, the combination of pain and pleasure that penetration brings.

"Do it," I rasped.

He released his grip under my armpits and I sank slowly, driven by gravity, to surround his upward thrusting phallus. His arms re-gripped me tightly around the waist and forced me downward harder. I struggled, kicking my legs, but the water prevented rapid motion. Water isn't much of a lubricant; the sting of the salt burned like a red-hot poker sinking into quivering flesh. I inhaled to shout, involuntarily, and one of his hands slapped over my mouth, stifling my cry. "Ningen ruido. Sea callado!" he hissed. I felt myself being transformed into a sheath for his monster, sliding inexorably downward, muscles and tissue stretched to their limits, and beyond. The feeling of losing control... what I longed for.

"You want it?" he whispered in my ear. "Take all you can. Tamelo. Tome mas!"

Suddenly the panic took over... the feeling of being beyond the edge... of floating in the abyss... of stepping off the cliff. My body became rigid as his cock continued to slide into me millimeter by millimeter. "Fuck me," I moaned. "It's been so long."

My own cock lifted from the water and slapped my belly like the tumescence of a young schoolboy ready to fuck anything that moved. The steel-hard erection of my youth... like iron encased in satin. The night sky exploded with stars... then the stars merged into incredible whiteness burning the backs of my retinas. The scarfing-response... the closeness to dying... the edge of unconsciousness. I jerked my head from side to side to force myself back to reality. The reality of being stuffed with cock deeper, wider, more rigid than ever before. My body belonged to him. I was an extension of his body... of his pelvis... an adornment for his symbol of prowess.

He fucked me like a limp boy, using me for his own pleasure and sending me beyond consciousness to super-consciousness. I gave myself up to the pleasure. His hands rubbed my torso from neck to thighs as my full weight rested on his shaft. It throbbed inside me as he pumped his knees, bouncing me on his penetrating column; my ass gripped the stretched latex and tight skin beneath. His mushroom head raked back and forth along a few inches of my deep interior pumping seawater into me like the plunger of a pump. He stepped again into deeper water to add to my buoyancy so that he could lengthen his stroke. I moaned again, suddenly realized there was more cock to take. The water lapped my chest like cold tongues. Then he gripped my throat with the palm of his strong right hand and forced my head up and back against his. I swallowed instinctively against the pressure and gasped for a last breath. His forearm across my shoulder pressed my back against his warm chest. I felt his intrusions becoming more violent... more needy... more demanding. "Fuck me," I repeated. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!."

He came then, noisily and violently.  His primitive cry in my ear followed by unintelligible Spanish. "Jadalo! Llenarlo con semen caliente ``''El dios!  "Amo esto!" He squeezed my waist hard as if to keep the cum inside his body, but I could feel it gushing into the inadequate well at the condom's tip. We shuddered simultaneously as I reached back to stroke his hair and face. The sea boiled around us as a large wave almost covered us, lifting us momentarily, and then dropping us on the sandy bottom again as his cock slipped in another impossible inch. I shot then, with no further stimulation, adding my seed to the foam that swirled past us going out to sea.

He stood with legs firmly planted, afraid to move. My legs were limp and my toes swirled against loose sand. "Yo lo amo," he whispered in my ear, "Amo su como,.caliente el dulce. Deme más!" He kissed the back of my neck and along the ridge of my shoulder as he held me. Then he lifted me once more. I felt the cool ocean water rush into my anus as his cock departed. Only the chill and the emptiness were left. We walked slowly into the shallower water, wishing it could have continued. The air was still warm.

"Let me dry you," he said. Neither of us had a towel, so he made a vain attempt to dry my back with his shorts. Then I turned and we stood facing each other, still dripping.

"Take me with you," he said. 

"To my hotel?" I asked, wondering why we hadn't gone there earlier.

"No," he said. "I mean... away from here...from Miami."

"You want to leave Luis? And your job? And the beach?"

"Those are OK," he said, stepping closer to me. "It is the other shit, when I go home... the things they make me do."

If I asked for more information, I would be leading him on. "I can't," I said. "I can give you some money."

"Money for sex... always the same," he said, shaking his head. "Quiero mas." He released me and turned to leave. In silhouette, I saw him put on his running shorts. "Es siempre el mismo," he said, choking on his words as he sprinted in the direction he had been going. 

I watched until I couldn't see him any more, his elongated shadow in the glimmering surf, then nothing. I bent down to retrieve my clothing and when I stood again, I was as alone as I had been initially on this empty beach. The burning sensation in my ass and my damp nudity reminded me of what had just happened. I walked again toward the Delano, stopping once to put on my jeans. 

It is lonesome at the top of the food chain. Polar bears eat alone. "King of the Hill"  "Demigod" what was it Ben called me? "A Legend." Or the less flattering descriptions, "Heartless Bastard", "Uncaring Asshole", "Selfish Loner." Maintaining the image and the legend was a demanding job sometimes. And it was good to get away from Pittsburgh, where I could lower the heavy facade and be a nameless stranger in the crowd... to know that the looks of admiration were based on the present, not on some past story of prowess. But the facade kept away the professions of love, the expectations, the demands, the needs. You can't have it both ways; you can't keep people at arm's-length and still hug them for support. In the end, you, yourself, are all you can depend upon... the rest just nourish the hunger.

The lights of the Delano loomed in the distance. To sleep alone tonight suddenly seemed like a good idea. I would sleep.

White Party – Part 3 – Saturday

My first sensation was the warmth on my soft cock, and the moisture, and the suction. Lying on my back, I slowly opened my eyes to find a shoulder blocking most of my view and a head hanging over my pelvis. Dark hair, dark tan, muscular body, I began remembering last night. 

As I had walked past the pool on my way to my bungalow, I realized that the pool had been designated "Clothing Optional" after 11 p.m. There were several guys swimming in the glass-clear water, lit dimly by more subdued lighting than was usual. I stopped to look over the prospects, then decided to take a dip because I was still covered with salt and sand. I was wearing just the damp jeans, so it took only a few seconds to strip. I dove into the cool water from the edge. Even before I rose to the surface, I realized that someone was nearby.

"Hi," he said as I surfaced, opened my eyes, and brushed the water off my forehead. He was about 25, with longish black hair and an incredible over-all dark tan… a little hairier than I usually prefer, but athletic and tall, lean, and muscular. A perfect specimen. The water droplets trapped on his long, dark lashes looked like diamonds. He smiled with perfect teeth as he shook a cloud of fine spray from his hair.

"Hi," I said. "Did I almost dive on top of you? I didn't see you."

"No," he answered. "I saw you dive in, and I took a running leap myself. I've seen you from my balcony up there." He motioned to indicate one of the rooms facing the pool. "But you haven't been around the pool much. I've been watching for you, hoping to meet you."

"I went to the Seaquarium Party tonight," I explained. "Very hot." I was remembering the blond Marine I'd fucked so brazenly… so different from this dark beauty. 

"I'm from Tampa," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Jake." Shaking hands while naked seemed strangely formal. 

"I'm Brian from Pittsburgh," I replied. "And what do you do, Jake?"

"I'm a bottom, mostly," he began. Then, realizing I meant his profession, he seemed charmingly embarrassed. "Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?" He laughed. "I'm a beach volleyball player on a semi-professional team."

"I didn't know you could do it for a living," I said. "But you must be pretty good." I was imagining him jumping and spiking… and then I was imagining him sucking and fucking.

He laughed again. "Well, it's better than being a beach-bum, which is what I was before I started playing volleyball. My partner and I… a professional partnership only, I might add…we go from tournament to tournament, living off the generosity of friends and sponsors. It's hardly a "living", but it sure beats working at McDonalds."

We were both bobbing chest-deep in the shimmering water. "You sure don't get that all-over tan playing volleyball," I said. "Unless you play in nude tournaments."

He smiled. "It's my one luxury," he said. "I own my own tanning bed. It's in the trailer we use to go from town to town. It's part of the image, I guess."

He was charming… gorgeous… and available. "Care for a nightcap?" I said. "My bungalow is…"

"Right over there. I know." He looked down, almost shyly and then he looked me squarely in-the-face. "On one condition," he added.

"And that is?"

"That you fuck the shit out of me before you send me home."

"I couldn't have expressed my intentions more clearly," I said, reaching for the back of his neck to guide him to the ladder. "Right this way." I stopped to pick up my clothes at the pool's edge, so he met me at the door to my bungalow. The maid had left a dim light on and had turned-down the bed. He went straight into the bedroom and onto the bed leaving a trail of water across the carpet. "How does Jim Beam sound?" I called into the bedroom. 

"Perfect. Make it a double."

He lay on the bed with one arm behind his head and with his other hand stroking his cock which rose stiffly from his pubic bush. I stepped to his side of the bed to hand him the drink. Instead, he leaned over to take my cock into his mouth. The drinks were ignored as we accelerated into a fuck-marathon that lasted into the wee hours.

And here he was on my cock once more, sucking me to hardness from the full-limpness of deep sleep.

 "MMMMMmmmm, I love to feel your cock get hard in my mouth," he murmured as he released it momentarily. "It gives me such a feeling of power to arouse you like that."

"Your mouth is surpassed only by your ass," I said. "After the third round of drinks, you had me fucking out-of-my-mind."

"You were like a fuck-machine," he joked, "or like the Olympic Fucking Team all rolled into one person. So many different positions. I didn't know it was possible to cum so many times. You musta been saving it for a long time there in Pittsburgh."

If he only knew. "Get over here," I said. "I want that ass one more time before breakfast." I pulled him toward me and slapped his ass hard. He moaned, as if it were a hardship, then quickly moved into position. "Lie on your left side," I said. "I'll show you a new one." I lay behind him. "Pull your right knee to your chest." I slipped the condom on quickly and planted my cock-tip in his crack. "Now lift your knee toward the ceiling. Open up," I continued. I straddled his straight left leg as it lay along the mattress. As he raised his right, his hole opened beautifully; I wedged the tip into him. I gripped his right ankle and began to straighten his leg, eventually moving into position so the inside of his thigh was against my abs and his calf rested vertically along my chest and shoulder. By pushing against him with my chest, I could open him even wider and slide into him as deep as in any other position. He moaned as he felt me fill him. 

"Oh, your cock feels so good," he moaned. "I want it in me forever."

I gave him a jab, letting him know this was only the beginning. Rocking back and forth, I could slide out of him all the way and his body guided my cock back into his hole on the in-stroke, slowly at first, and then faster. I fucked his ass, still stretched from last night. 

He moaned his approval. I gripped his left nipple with my right hand and twisted. He moaned again, tightening on my cock on-cue. I could abuse both his nipples in this position, alternating from one to the other. Each new attack brought a louder moan.

When his nipples were red and hard, my hand moved to his cock, swaying wildly with each thrust. "When you cum, I'm gonna stop fucking your ass," I threatened.

"I'll try to make it last all day," he whimpered.

I jacked him firmly. I was ready to cum and then to go eat breakfast. Rapid hand action… plenty of friction… a thumb brushing over his piss-slit… all the things it would take to break his resolve and make him shoot;  a battle of wills.

My hand was a blur, pounding against his ballsac, then pressing his shaft up along his belly as if to fuck his navel. His eyes opened wide. his mouth sagged. He was losing it.

"Fuck!" he yelled. "I can't hold it!" His jizz shot up his chest to his shoulder. The rope of pearly liquid sagged onto his obliques as the second shot followed the first almost as far. My own cock shot its load into the tip of the condom buried, throbbing, and quivering, in the depths of his ass. I turned him onto his back by letting his leg slide off my shoulder; I left my cock buried inside him as he pivoted on the impaling rigidity. I bent down to plant a row of kisses from his sternum to his lips. He moaned as our lips finally met. "That is what I wanted from the moment I saw you in the distance," he murmured as his lips fluttered against mine. "Just watching you walk gave me an erection."

I kissed him hard until he opened his mouth wider and submitted to my tongue exploration. He shuddered in pleasurable arousal as his hands traversed my back and shoulders. "If I had seen you earlier, I wouldn't have waited so long," I answered as I broke the kiss. "And last night wasn't enough. I'd had a long, hard day…with the emphasis on 'hard'!" 

He laughed. "I think everybody came to Miami to fuck their brains out. I know I did."

"I've pretty much fucked most of fuckable-Pittsburgh, but this place is incredible. Every gorgeous guy within a thousand miles must be here." I gave him a jab with my semi-hard cock just to show him I was ready for more and I felt him tighten in-response. He was ready to go again. We began the process more rapidly this time… already aroused… already lubed… already protected. We fucked again until we lay trembling in each other's arms.

He was from Tampa, I remembered, as I lay there alone after he left. He had forgotten to pick up his swimsuit or towel as he headed for my bungalow, so he had to borrow a towel to wrap around himself; the pool was already filled with the die-hard lap swimmers. But, what was his name? I was taking a mental inventory of all the guys I'd fucked in the last two days and there were still two more days to go.

The major event of Saturday was the Muscle Beach Party from noon to sunset just two blocks down the beach from my hotel. I left the Delano through the rear and walked along the boardwalk toward Lummas Beach, better known to the locals as "Muscle Beach" in the heart of the gay community. I wore the black, baggy shorts over my Speedo and carried my tank top over my shoulder. The boardwalk was crowded with guys, all sorts and types, but everyone was cruising everyone, like Saturday night on Liberty Avenue. As one group of rowdy guys passed me, I stepped aside to avoid a collision and I suddenly got a hard blow to my shoulder that spun me around and almost knocked me down. In a clatter of skates on wood, the guy who collided with me slid onto the rough wood with bare legs. A few guys helped him up. He skated slowly and painfully back to me.

"Are you OK?" He asked. "I was doing a stupid trick and didn't see you. Caught you with my elbow. Sorry if I hurt you." He was gripping my shoulder for support, but pretending to examine me for injuries.

"I'm OK," I said quickly, "but you look a little worse for wear. That's a nasty scrape."

"That's just part of in-line skating," he said, shaking his head. "I fall all the time, mostly because I'm trying dumb shit… mostly tricks that should be done on ice." He straightened up, finally, and looked me straight in-the-face. Strongly chiseled features; about 30, probably; smooth and muscular; very tan, gleaming like polished marble; and dark, curly hair plastered to his forehead with plentiful sweat. I looked down at his long, muscular legs streaked with blood.

 "Hey! You're pretty gorgeous. Ya know that?" He grinned like he thought his remark would embarrass me. 

"You're not bad yourself if we cleaned you up a bit," I said with a chuckle. 

He winced as he tried to move.

"Here, let me help you," I said, taking his arm and putting it over my shoulder.

"Do you wanta dance… or fuck?" he said with a laugh as he put some of his weight on me.

"One thing leads to another," I teased. I wrapped my free arm around his waist and felt his obliques harden as my fingers touched them. "Sometimes accidents turn into happy events, and some accidents may not totally be accidents at all." We reached a bench and he lowered his lanky body onto its seat.

"I noticed you earlier," he said. "I hadn't planned to hurt you, just bump you a little, but I caught a wheel in a crack just as I got close, and the rest is… painful," he said with a cute smile as he brushed some splinters off the side of his calf. He looked deep into my face again. "Has anyone ever told you that you have gorgeous, sad eyes?" he continued as he watched my expression change. "Behind that hard exterior, there's a thoughtful, loveable guy just busting to get out."

"That's not what my friends say, and they should know," I countered.

"Your friends are the last to know," he said philosophically. We sat silently for a few seconds. I couldn't think of any response.

"But that's not why you're here, is it? …for a personality evaluation? I'm just an intuitive guy, and I'll bet I can guess what you WOULD like."

I laughed, because one didn't need to be too intuitive to figure out what most of the guys on the boardwalk wanted… and it was only noon. The day was young.

"Here's the plan," he said, talking rapidly as if he had someplace to go. "I want you, you want me, that's a given. We don't need to discuss that further. And the only thing left to discuss is the time and place. Right?" I smiled at his frankness; he sounded like I did back in Pittsburgh. He didn't wait for me to answer, but kept talking. "You're staying near here, I'll bet. Well, tonight at midnight, walk south from here along the beach." His arm swept off in the direction I had been walking. "A few more blocks away from the park and sorta along the middle of the beach. Watch out for the police. There's a big clump of mangrove down there. I'll meet you there and we'll show each other a good time. I don't care what you do, what you like, what your fetish is, I just want a piece of this," he said, putting his arm around my shoulder again and shaking his head in disbelief that things were working out so well.

"It's a deal," I said as he pushed himself to a shaky stand on his skates. "Twelve o'clock, south of here. I'll bring”…He was gone down the boardwalk, hell-bent, weaving among the strollers. He had caught me off-guard with the "loveable guy" remark and then the split-second switch to a pick-up line. The guy was either an air-head or a clairvoyant. I liked him immediately. The smell of his sweat clung to my body like a heavy perfume. I tasted my shoulder absent-mindedly where his armpit had rested. He would be with me all afternoon in my anticipation of the night.

The "Beauty Pageant '' part of the party had already begun when I arrived. A dozen embarrassed "twinks” were on the stage in the first round of competition. All were less than twenty and a few looked as if they had lied about their ages. Most of them looked embarrassed to be posing in nothing but their tighty-whities with a thousand pairs of male eyes viewing the merchandise. But a few of them were beginning to enjoy the attention, it appeared, from the tents and bulges in their baskets. The crowd applauded wildly for each one as he turned and pulled down his briefs to show his ass. It was impossible to pick a winner. "Bubble Butt Bingo," said the emcee. "Now show us your dicks," he said, "but just through the fabric. We don't want to get raided by the Vice Squad." 

"Oh, yes we do!" shouted a few audience members. 

The participants fondled themselves enough to show an obvious winner and he was given a chest-sash and a crown.

"Next, the Beauty-Boys," said the emcee. These were the male-model-type, lean-to-muscular, with gorgeous faces, perfect bodies, and egos to match. I watched for a few minutes, then left to get a rum-punch, the specialty of one of the sponsors of the event.

When I returned, the Jocks were taking the stage. Each carried the symbol of his sport and wore the skimpiest part of the uniform. And there was my fuck-boy from last night, the guy with the all-over tan wearing a canary yellow thong and caressing a volley ball as if it were a scrotum. He didn't win, but he looked damned good. The winner was a basketball player, probably a guard, wearing only an oversized basketball jersey; the guys in the front row got a good look at what was underneath.

"Leathermen! Onstage!" the emcee shouted, and sixteen of the most luscious leather-clad guys strolled onto the stage to glare at the audience. They wore everything from leather jockstraps to simple leather harnesses to elaborate leather pants and unzipped motorcycle jackets over bare chests. The winner had stripped off his assless leather chaps to show he was wearing a leather cod-piece underneath. When he bent over to unzip the chaps, the emcee practically fainted. 

Next were the Slaves and Masters, usually younger boys who were paraded, nearly naked, across the stage by guys in leather, although some Masters were nearly naked too. The winning couple got a huge round of applause when the Master stopped mid-stage, unclipped the leash from the boy's studded leather collar, and re-clipped it to the chain connecting his nipple rings. I had worked my way to the edge of the stage so I got a good look at this group and I even spoke to some of the contestants as they left the stage.

Next came "Bears" and "Men Over Fifty." Two groups that did nothing for me, so I went to get another drink. The combination of heat, sun, and alcohol was turning the mob into a rutting, sweating herd. Sliding through the crowd was like a busy night in the health club's steam room… skin-on-skin… heat… and wet.

By the time the last two groups were to be judged, I had returned to my place by the stage. "Musclemen (Under 220 Pounds)" and "Musclemen (Over 220 Pounds.)" The quality varied, but some of these guys had gorgeous physiques which had taken years of training, sculpting, and discipline, not to mention hours of oiling, shaving, and possibly enhancement surgery. I picked about six of the 30 participants that I mentally fucked right there on the stage. And I spoke with two of them afterward…but nothing clicked.

As I left the beach party, I saw Ben sitting on a stone wall talking to two guys our age. His face brightened as I approached. 

"Hey, Ben. How's tricks?" I said, eyeing the two good-looking men. 

"Fine, wanta join us? We were just heading to Gordon's room (tilting his head to indicate the brunette) for a drink and some recreation. You'd be welcome to join us." The other two guys looked me up and down and shook their heads affirmatively. "I've told them about you, actually," he continued.

"No, but thanks. I'm saving my 'energy' for tonight… the Maze Party, 'White Heat.' I think I'll just head back to my hotel, take a rest or get a massage, and replenish the jizz-supply. You look like you can handle the situation by yourself," I said with a wink. He smiled, indicating that he intended to give it his best shot… or two.

"I've heard that the Spa at the Delano, on the roof, is a great place to meet guys. But I figured I wouldn't encroach on your territory," he said with a grin. "Enjoy! I'll see you tomorrow night."

As I left, they headed off in the opposite direction, Ben with his arms over two shoulders.  I hadn't paid much attention to the exercise facilities at the hotel, but it sounded like a good place to work out some kinks and pump up a few muscles for tonight. So, I decided to visit the Spa. As I walked around the pool and headed upstairs, I met Luis who was carrying a tray of liquor bottles and glasses.

"I don't usually do bar-service," he said almost apologetically. "But these guys are special… like you." He grinned that wide-open seductive grin that I remembered.

"I'm headed upstairs to the Spa," I replied.

"Oh, very good," he said. "Get a massage. Ask for Sanchez. Tell him I sent you." His lips tightened into a knowing smile. "He's a good guy," he added. "Give him a BIG tip." I nodded as I headed for the elevator.

The receptionist looked at me over her glasses. "Whatchya want, Luv?"

"A massage," I said. "With Sanchez. Is he available?"

"He's got someone right now," she said, examining the book. "But he should be done in about 20 minutes. Why don't ya have a seat… or try some of the equipment?" The place was nearly deserted and she looked like she wanted to watch me stretch a few muscles.

"Sure," I said. "Hold it for me."

"Oh, I would hold it for you, Babe. I mean…," she said with a sensual smirk. "What's your room number?"

"104," I said. "Bungalow 104."

"Name?"

"Kinney. Brian Kinney."

"Just checking," she said. "There's a charge if you're not a guest."

I stripped off my tank top, knowing she was watching me, and began the Nautilus circuit; Quad machine, Overhead raise, Calf cruncher, Biceps bulger, Ab punisher… my nicknames for the various exercise machines. My muscles screamed from a several-day lack of exercise and burned with the punishing white-heat of pleasure. My skin flushed and gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat.

"Brian, Sanchez is ready for you now," called the receptionist. She pointed to the door behind her. "Down the hall… he'll find you." I gave her the Kinney-smile and walked through the door.

It was a long hallway with a few doors on each side. As I walked slowly, one of the doors opened. I approached and looked in; a young guy wearing only white shorts was adjusting a chocolate-brown sheet on the elaborate chrome massage table in the center of the room. "Come in," he said. "I'm Sanchez. And you're new here." He was about 5-feet-nine inches tall,  of slight, boyish build, lean but not muscular, with only a hint of his Hispanic ancestry in his face… soft eyes, almost feminine.

"Luis told me to ask for you," I explained. His eyes brightened in recognition.

"I'll have to thank him," said Sanchez.

"I should have showered," I said, "but I wasn't sure when you'd be ready for me."

"That's okay," he said. "You can shower afterward… if you can still stand up," he added with a smile.

"I'm not sure what I'm getting into," I said. "Luis just said to ask for a massage."

"Well, we'll leave out the facial and the manicure," he said, "if that's OK, and just get down to business. I think I know what a guy like you needs after two days of South Beach."

I wondered how he knew that… about the two days. I could have been here the entire week.

"Just strip and lie on the table on your back," he said almost like a doctor preparing for an examination. He turned to prepare some supplies and equipment. I dropped my shorts and the Speedo I was wearing underneath and climbed up to sit on the table. The metal frame was cool against my heated skin.

"While I get ready, drink this," he said, handing me a frothy glass that seemed to materialize from nowhere. It was a fruity, creamy, rum-based drink with some unusual flavors.

"What is it?" I asked suspiciously.

"Rum with some restorative herbs," he said reassuringly. "Nothing dangerous. Just island voodoo medicine. It makes you a powerful ‘como un stallion’," he added with a big smile.

I sipped it again suspiciously but, what-the-Hell! I'd done more dangerous shit before. "For tonight," I thought. I drained the glass.

"For tonight," he added. He removed the empty glass. "On your back," he repeated.

"Well, I've got a little problem," I said with a slight smile. "Something has cum-up."

"I won't even notice," he said. "I'm a professional." 

I stretched out on the table, appreciating the softness of its cushion, a pleasant mattress surrounded by a heavy chrome frame resting on an adjustable pedestal with several controls to lock it into various positions; a neck-rest and pillow behind my head. My cock swayed semi-erect above my lower abs. His hands traced softly over my body, feeling my firmness, assessing my muscularity, evaluating my skin-tone and hair-quality. He pinched one of my nipples gently and watched my cock bounce almost imperceptibly.

"Hmmm, just as I thought," he said as he went back to his exploration. "If I do anything that you don't like… that doesn't feel good… just wait a few seconds to decide… then let me know and I'll stop," he said in a soft, comforting voice. "My treatment is meant to relax you, to replenish you, to prepare you for another night like you spent with Luis and Armando. They told me about you, and I feel privileged to have you on my table." He smiled again and reached for my cock, pumping it tightly a few times. I'm certain my eyes widened in surprise and arousal. 

"Just one more thing," he said, reaching below the table. He swung a fur-lined plastic cuff on a short chain attached to a track on the table's edge. "Just to keep your hands out of the way," he murmured.

"I don't think you need those," I said. "But I'll try them, and if I don't like them…"

He ignored me and put the cuffs on both wrists. "And now these," he added, bringing up a pair of ankle cuffs. They were on before I could decide whether I wanted them. I could move a little; both wrists and ankles had about six inches of 'play' and the cuffs weren't tight, but they had an effect on my cock which was at a steeper angle now.

He stepped away for a moment; the lights in the rest of the room dimmed and an overhead light brightened on my body. There was soft Hispanic music in the background. 

"Are you Cuban?" I said, trying to make conversation to distract myself from this erotic scene.

"No!" he said emphatically. "Dominican. Most people guess 'Puerto Rican’." He spit out the last words like poison. "We're different."

"Now, let's get ready," he said. With his hand apparently on one of the controls for the table, he gave a short push and my wrist-cuff chains slid toward my shoulders along a track in the table-edge until my wrists were drawn close to my head with my elbows splayed outward. "Nice," he said, stroking my pecs, "but too hairy for South Beach. We'll fix you up." I had actually shaved my chest a time or two during my college years  because John preferred a hairless, muscular boy, but I hadn't done it for several years. 

Sanchez stepped away from the table and returned with a container of shaving soap and a brush. "You'll like this," he said. "There's no feeling better than being shaved by someone." I smiled and nodded. I'd only experienced it once before and that experience flooded back into my memory for a few moments:

"Lie back," he said. "I want you smooth so I can draw you that way, totally smooth, it makes your cock look even bigger." He held a straight razor a few inches from my nipple. I remember gulping because I had never really seen a straight-razor up-close. "That's its beauty," he said, reading my mind. "It could slice you into pot-roast in a few seconds, but it's caress is like a thousand lips on your skin. It glides, cutting everything in its path." I was afraid. He had been drinking. I wanted to please him. I didn't want to show fear or distrust. He would be angry.

Sanchez spread the soft soap-foam over my right pit and then the left. With the straight razor poised, he turned to me. "Are you okay with this?" I nodded and closed my eyes as I had done before.

Two long swipes of the blade over the gently concave skin, scraping harder on the muscular boundaries. Then a few short, touch-up strokes to get the remainder. His fingers brushed softly over the bare skin to assess the smoothness. "Yes," he said. "Perfect."

He did the same to my other pit; same strokes; same testing; same response. 

I opened my eyes as the foam caressed my nipples. "There's not much here, just a hair or two, but now you will be perfect." He did the same with the few hairs over my sternum, then dry-shaved the almost-invisible fuzz off the remainders of my pecs.

"Your chest is so fine," he said. "Like a statue."

My belly tightened as he slopped the foam onto my navel and lower abs. "No 'treasure trail,'" he said. "Low-class, not refined, not the best. I am preparing you like a warrior…for battle."

"You aren't going to shave my pubes, are you? I don't want to look like an overgrown ten-year-old."

"Well, I would," he said, "to be perfect, but if you don't want me to, I won't. Can I thin and trim them a bit? You have such a big bush."

"Go ahead," I answered. "It grows like fucking weeds."

He shaved my lower abs, then shaped my pubes into a broad half-oval and shortened them with scissors and fingers, managing to stroke my cock occasionally as he worked. "Incredible. Usted tiene tan un pene agradable. Hermoso." (I figured out the part about "incredible, beautiful cock.") He lifted it to one side, as his other hand moved to another lever. The ankle cuffs moved slowly toward my ass, bending my knees and planting my feel flat on the mattress. He reached beneath the table and the lower section suddenly folded downward, giving him direct access to my ass and balls hanging over the edge. His fingers stroked down my inner thigh to my ass-crack. "Nice," he said. “But lots to do here."

He slathered my balls and crack with foam faster than I could respond. The menthol on tender skin gave a slight tingle, making me suddenly aware of the vulnerability of that portion of my body.

"Be careful down there," I joked nervously. "I'm told those are my best features."

"And I will frame them like fine art," he said with a smile, looking between my knees. "Open wide," he added as he pushed my knees farther apart.

The sensation of having one's balls and ass shaved defies description. The combined danger and pleasure, the soft manipulation, the warmth of fingers on skin recently chilled by air-exposure, and the indignity of having one's balls hanging pendulously over the edge of a table. 

"Smooth as a baby's butt," he said conclusively as he gave my balls a heft. "And now for the massage." He returned my ankles to their original position after raising the leg-section of the table. "I would even shave your legs… if you belonged to me," he murmured.

"I don't 'belong' to anyone," I stated. The warmth from the drink was spreading over my body like a pool of warm wax.

"Not yet," he said. He turned toward me again holding one of those electric, variable-speed massage units they use for deep muscle injuries of athletes. It resembled a reciprocating sander, with the sandpaper replaced by a black, soft, Naugahyde-covered pad to use on bare skin. One had been used on me once when I injured myself while running. "Just lie back and close your eyes. We'll start slow." The gentle whir of the machine started close to my ear, then moved to my shoulder as the pad descended onto my pec. Its soft trembling went deep into my chest, rubbing muscle against bone, jangling bones in their cartilage, opening capillary beds for expanded blood flow. He turned-up the speed as he slipped over my nipple. It felt like a thousand lips sucking me…with a direct link to my shaft. I heard him chuckle at my reaction, as he turned it even faster. He worked the vibrator over my chest and abs, as if he were sanding a large plank of wood, pausing in some spots which were particularly sensitive: my pits, my navel, the soft skin of my inner thighs. He even passed the pad over my lips once, leaving them numb and tingling. "Now for some fun," he murmured. He lifted the pad from my body; I opened my eyes just in-time to see it descending on the shaft of my cock… lengthwise… pressing it against my abs. He rocked it back and forth and from side to side, then lifted it so that it just rested on the tip. I began to moan, I remember… uncontrollably. The level of stimulation was so great, I was writhing in pleasure. He turned the machine to a higher speed. My body tensed, almost ready to shoot. "Not yet," he whispered. "Armando suggested this." He stepped away a moment and returned with something I couldn't see, but I could feel it soon enough. As the pad of the massager returned to my cock, a vibrating dildo slipped into my ass, jerking me back to full arousal… muscles spasming… head tossing from side to side spraying my shoulders with sweat... four huge convulsions as my abs contracted uncontrollably… and then a flood of cum which bathed my chest from neck to navel. And he didn't stop. He left the vibrators running at full-speed. "Muy agradable. Ahora, otra vez." He pressed harder, grinding my cock-tip against my smooth abs until the skin was almost raw. My muscles tensed, arching my back off the table as I shot a second time. He left the vibrator on my cock until the last drop of cum was wrung out of my gonads. "There," he said. "You will sleep now while the herbs do their work. Go to your room. Luis has prepared it for you. Sleep for a few hours. You will awaken a new man." He tossed a towel onto my chest, released the cuffs, and left the room. I fumbled to get into my clothes. My cock was still large, even though soft. It was hard to stuff it back into my Speedo. I needed to use both walls as support as I made my way down the hall to the Receptionist's desk. 

"Feeling better?" she asked. I took my wallet out of my shorts and tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the appointment book. "For Sanchez," I gasped. I barely remembered getting back to my room, or into bed.

Luis had apparently set the alarm so I'd wake for the next party. I dressed in my usual black and walked ten blocks to the Maze nightclub. The place was packed; the music was loud; the guys were hot; the atmosphere was electric; but somehow I couldn't get the beach off my mind. My cock maintained a semi-hardness that bulged the basket of my jeans and got lots of comments and feel-ups. My muscles felt pumped; my senses were heightened. What had Sanchez put in that drink? During a pause, I shared a joint with a guy, leaning against the wall as he kissed my neck and tried to sweet-talk me into letting him blow me. I ended-up smoking most of it. All of this simply seemed preliminary to what would occur later. I was restless and full of anticipation.

I left at around 11:30. The deafening music made the streets seem unusually quiet as I walked back east toward the beach. The ocean breeze was still warm. I decided to stop at my room to change into something more casual that my Babylon-costume. My boots weren't suited to the beach either. I removed my jeans (no underwear underneath, of course) and put on again my loose, black, exercise shorts, and added a pair of black sandals. Black seemed appropriate for a nighttime rendezvous. I headed for the beach, half-expecting to meet Armando again. My ass twitched at the thought. I couldn't take a pounding like that two nights in a row. It was only a few minutes before midnight as I reached Muscle Beach. I would probably be late reaching my destination. And I didn't know how far I had to go. "Several blocks," he had said.

The beach was crowded near the park; left-over, hung-over celebrants of the Muscle Beach Party, I guessed. The crowd thinned as I walked further down the beach. Couples were lying together in the darkness or walking slowly together, hand-in-hand. Only their silhouettes against the moonlit waves indicated that I was not alone. And a bank of clouds was settling in; it would be a dark night on the beach. Blazing hotel lights on my right in the distance. Black ocean to my left. My liaison before me in the darkness. I trudged faster through the dry sand. What was his name? I don't think he ever told me, and he certainly didn't know mine. How would I know he was the one? 

"Hey, Buddy! Wanta pet my Chihuahua?" The voice was unmistakable.

"Here, boy, here, boy" I called. "I've got a bone for you." 

He laughed and stepped out of the darkness… naked, if my dark-adapted eyes weren't deceiving me. 

"I knew you'd come," he said as he stepped closer with his arms extended. "I don't throw myself on the boardwalk for just anyone." We embraced as our lips met. He tasted of wine. "You've had a joint," he said. "And here I came prepared with my little stash to loosen you up." He laughed as if he knew I'd be loose from the beginning.

"Why-in-the-fuck didn't you invite me to your room?" I said. "You got something against comfort and privacy?"

"Out here, it's dangerous and I thought you were the dangerous type. You get off on danger. I don't know how I know. I just do." He guided me further along the beach and then up-hill to the rocky margin where it apparently met some open land. There was a large stand of mangrove trees with twisted trunks looking grotesque against the blue-black sky. "Come in and meet a few people," he said. As he spoke, two shadows emerged from the trees and stepped behind me. Firm hands slipped beneath my tanktop and stripped it off quickly. They were naked as well; I could see the sharp contours of dim light on lustrous skin and muscle; I could feel their warmth as their hands brushed over me. A hand slipped from my hip to the bulge of my cock under the thin shorts and simultaneously, someone gripped my wrist and guided my hand over a bare, fully-hard cock rising almost vertically against hard abs. With my free hand, I pulled my shorts down, exposing my cock to the exploring hand. Other hands pulled my short to my ankles and helped me step out of them. Arms wrapped around me from behind as my cock was licked and sucked. Wide tongue along the length, then passing to another tongue which swirled around the tip. A mouth surrounded the head and swallowed half of the shaft, while other lips vied to take their place. I was pulled backwards against a bare chest; arms stroked me from neck to pelvis; a mouth on the ridge of my shoulder; firm hands on my biceps, which slipped down my arms as the torso receded. My arms were pinned behind me by strong hands. Another hand snaked between my legs from behind and lifted to grip my balls in a tight squeeze. My muscles tightened then, stretching my torso and struggling against my captors. "Hold on, big fella…we won't hurt you," the strange voice whispered in my ear. The mouth on my cock was replaced by another then, as the original kissed its way up my center-line to my jugular notch; a wet tongue explored its concavity before tracing a snail-trail of saliva up my neck to my chin. And then hard, demanding lips covered my mouth as if eating a juicy peach. The intense stimulation made me respond in-kind… licking and kissing as if to eat my assailant. And suddenly, they were gone into the trees again… only one hand led me through an opening between two trunks. I brushed naked bodies as I passed; they lined the way to the interior where I could see a faint light…just the light of a small flashlight shining on a t-shirt stretched between two branches, but it gave sufficient light to see roughly a dozen men in various stages of undress and in various sexual positions. The hand that led me belonged to the Skater. I turned to him in the dim light and placed my hand on his chest, then slowly moved it up so that my fingers encased his throat. He closed his eyes and trapped my hand against his shoulder with his cheek, then twisted his head to suck my fingers… a preview of what he would do. He dropped to his knees then, gripped my cock at the base, and swallowed it completely in one thrust. I shuddered and let-out a moan. His hand on my cock was replaced by another hand that competed with the mouth to see which could serve me best; another explored the curve of my ass and dipped into my crack with two up-curving fingers. The nails scratched seductively over the soft lips of my anus. Another man stepped forward to suck my left pec, his hands on my hips rocked me forward and back as he pressed my hardening nipple against the backs of his teeth with his tongue. My cock leapt in the unknown mouth. "Suck him," someone said. "I want him, too," said another. I reached out to grip someone, anyone, beginning to reciprocate. Finding a face in the darkness, I pulled it close to kiss hot lips... a thin moustache against my upper lip... my fingers encountered long, curly hair which I gripped in my fist to better guide the mouth to mine.

"Suck me," someone said, and before I could reply, three pairs of hands pressed me to my knees… a pelvis thrust before me drove its cock between my lips. I sucked hungrily, showing them I could give just as well as take. The soft, velvety head against the roof of my mouth… the bulb occasionally filling my throat… my nose brushing dense pubic hair. He pulled out before shooting, saving it for later.  I just wanted to try every mouth, counting the moments of pleasure.

"Mmmmmm, man, come to me."

Before I could rise, I felt a tongue in my ass-crack, probing deeper. I reached back to spread myself in welcome. He pushed my hands away and replaced them with his own, widening the crack to a chasm as he pressed his entire face in deeply, penetrating me first with his nose and then with his tongue… lapping the perimeter, then burrowing deep like a small animal squeezing into its tight burrow. I reached for another body in the darkness.

Hot sex; hot anonymous sex; where my participation was simply for the sheer pleasure of it instead of being some kind of trophy for a Babylon boy who would brag about it for the rest of the evening. Hard, demanding sex; where men meet their needs and satisfy their dreams; where the air is electric with danger; where age and beauty and personality never enter into the pairings; where Lust is King; where Compulsion holds the whip; where men's cocks and mouths and assholes become the sum-total of their being.

"Give it to me. Fuck me harder!"

Standing again, I was fucking someone, bent-over to grip his ankles as he sucked another guy while someone slipped his cock along the cleft of my ass as if he wanted to enter. I reached back to press him into me. Taking all cummers.

"I want you next. Show me that ass."

I was kneeling, sharing a cock with another mouth as I lifted my ass up and down on a penetrating shaft, milking him with my ass-muscles, attempting to suck him inside-out, if possible. He gripped my shoulders from behind and slammed me down onto him, harder with each thrust.

"Fuck! oh, fuck! Oh fuck!"

I was standing then, feet wide apart as I held a boy's head between my palms and fucked his throat like a tight asshole, making him gag on it for my increased enjoyment. A hand gripped my wrist, lifting my arm above my head while his tongue licked my smooth pit and he inhaled deeply. I forced my arm down, trapping him under it, then forced his face down my side in a long row of wet kisses. He slipped behind me, tonguing the double dimples above the beginning of my ass-crack, then he dove where other tongues had been before. I pressed him into me; I wanted more. "Deeper," I moaned.

I was fucking someone who was fucking someone else… driving my cock into him with such power that his partner could feel the impact. My arms wrapped around his chest, squeezing the breath from him… hard muscles clamping him in the Death-grip.

I stopped to watch a young boy being fucked. He looked familiar from the Muscle Beach Party. "Let me have him," I said as I pressed against the fucker's chest with my palm, shoving him backward and replacing his cock with mine. The boy let-out a moan as I filled him. "Teach him how to take it like a man," someone said as they slapped my ass on the in-stroke. 

"Fuck his ass… he loves it."

"Shove it in him. I did!"

"Take it, fucker! Make him take it."

I paused mid-stroke and pulled out of him; his hole gaped open like a deep wound. I dropped to my knees and rimmed him inside and out, tasting his sweet, musky flavor, the taste of slightly burned food and earth. I kissed his wide-spread hole like a sweet boy's mouth. After savoring and arousing him to babbling incoherence, I plunged into his orifice to finish him. I shot my jizz-load deep into his quivering hole as he cried-out in ecstasy. Three more hard pumps and I shot again, this time pulling out just in time to spray my splooge along his spine. Other hands spread it over his back from shoulders to ass.

New arrivals needed to be stripped and shared. Some men, who had apparently had enough, gathered their clothing and left. There was a continual flow of guys into and out of the group as assholes were invaded and cum-loads were expelled.

"Get those clothes off of him. I want a piece of him."

My cock stayed stiff and gently curved, just right for plowing the next new boy. I felt invincible… on a higher plane of arousal… ready to take on all cummers. 

A hand encircled my dick and stroked it as if I were a new arrival. I let him play with it before I forced him to his knees and shoved it in. As he was gurgling on my cock, I pulled out and spun around; another ass was being spread for me to fuck. He was bent-over, sucking someone who leaned forward and pulled his ass-cheeks apart as an invitation. "Fuck him," the sucked-man said, "He's been talking about you all day." It was the skater waiting for my slam-fuck. I pressed my thumb into his ass and rotated my hand almost 360-degrees, reaming him open and dragging my thumb-pad over his pulsating prostate. He was ready. I gripped his hips with both hands and drove it in full-depth; he gagged on the cock he was sucking as he tried to inhale in order to scream. The sound of my pelvis slapping his ass could be heard over the grunts and moans of others who watched as I pummeled his ass… stroking their cocks… urging me onward. Sprays of cum showered his back as he reached to jack himself. His hand was forced away; a mouth took its place to suck him to completion. The guy he was sucking came first and pulled out in-time to spray his load all over Skater's face. Blinded by the cum in his eyes, he lunged forward to grip two tree trunks for support, and I lunged forward to replace my cock in his ass full-depth. Cum dripped onto my hip as the observers gathered closer, sensing a climax. I roared and shoved them away. "Get the fuck AWAY! he's MINE!" Leaning forward, I gripped his shoulders and used my arms as levers to invade him the last few times. "Give it to me," he cried. "Fuck me! fuck me! fuck me!" Someone shoved an open half-pint jar filled with amyl-soaked tissue over my mouth and nose. I inhaled deeply, welcoming the searing vapor and its promise of release.

Slow-motion… time came to a halt… sounds withdrew into the distance… and then I heard it, the rush of release… the ringing in the ears as one sinks into unconsciousness… the slow descent into that solitary pleasure one can experience only rarely… the arching-rise of a rocket, then the extended weightlessness of free-fall… the cataclysm of senses, exaggerated, co-mingled, confused… tastes, smells, sounds, and blinding light… the feeling of flying apart into atomic dust… cosmic annihilation… oblivion. 

I came to my senses slowly. Men frozen into exaggerated postures began to move slowly, like a film shown one frame at a time, and the movements sped-up until motion was restored. Many of them were watching me. I was suddenly aware of hands supporting my body, supporting and stroking, milking my cock for the last drops. Tongues licked my skin, the cleft between my pecs, for the pheromone-laden sweat of erotic rapture. My muscles were slack, my breathing shallow, my skin suddenly cool in the ocean breeze. They lifted me and carried me to the center of the circle where they lay me on the warm sand. Each stroked himself; the slap of fist against flesh in twelve different rhythms; the rising tide of moans of pleasure; the chorus of group-orgasm; the cries of release; the warm spray onto my body; covering me from a dozen cocks… the chosen one.

Afterward, the guys separated into pairs and threesomes again as the action continued. More new-comers arrived. Either this was a regular spot for orgy-action, or Skater had invited the whole Muscle Beach Party! 

I got to my feet slowly. He pulled me up by the hand. "I thought you'd like this," he said, "the moment I saw you on the Boardwalk. Let's get outta here before the police show up. They usually start hassling people after 1:30 or 2:00, I'm told."

"I need my shorts, shirt, and sandals," I said. "Can't go back to my hotel like this."

He laughed. "You'd have a parade of guys behind you if you did." He handed me the flashlight, throwing the grove into total darkness. I found my clothing quickly, even though it was widely scattered. I was still damp with cum, so I didn't put on the shirt.

"Are you through for the night?" I asked the Skater. 

"Do you mean here? Yes. Do you mean… with you? No, not until you kick me out of bed."

"Consider yourself invited," I said as I draped my arm over his shoulder and turned northward.

We walked up the beach, which was almost deserted now, in the direction of my hotel.

"That was quite a scene," I said, breaking the silence.

"It's why we all come here, I think," he said in his philosophical mode again. "This is my third year. It's the outrageousness; the anonymity; and yes, the sex. Some people come to contribute to AIDS research; and that's good, too, but sometimes I feel constrained by relationships and responsibilities and I feel myself getting older and I want that feeling again, of being desirable, of being immersed in pleasure so deep I have to struggle to avoid drowning."

"I know," I said.

"I saw it in your eyes," he said. "The hunger for something new, the delight in being one-of-the-crowd. Guys like you become trophy-fucks and sometimes you just want to get down-and-dirty with the rest of us." There was a knowing smile in the tone of his voice; I didn't need to see it. "And now," he said, "we're here." I hadn't realized we were standing before the Delano. We paused looking up at the partially-lit hotel. He took my hand. "I don't want a trophy," he continued. "I just want to spend a night with you…perhaps not even to fuck again… but to lie beside you and listen to you breathe… to hold you in my arms as you reciprocate… to connect with you in a way two men seldom do. That's all I ask."

I was tired. I was drained. I was satisfied. "You really CAN read my mind," I said. "I want that too."

He was gone when I awoke. He didn’t like extended farewells, perhaps.

We had fucked again, in a bed this time, seeking the pleasure and solace in extended contact, unselfish sharing, and languorous embracing.

I remembered that his name was Michael. He told me his name in the quiet hours before dawn, and I told him I had a friend back home with that name who was nothing like him, but who always told me that Michael meant "who is like God." "Now I understand it," I said. "You know me as well as I know myself." His only response was to look deeply into my eyes, without a smile, as if he could read what was inscribed on my tombstone.

I slept until noon. Michael had put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door as he left, apparently, because the maid had not awakened me. I ate breakfast in the hotel… Sunday Brunch for the Queens in their white suits. And I made a dinner reservation for two in the magnificent Blue Door, the hotel’s most luxurious restaurant. I could afford it; I had barely eaten a complete meal in my entire stay in Miami. The White Party would have an elaborate buffet, but I wanted to spend some time with Ben to thank him for his help and to share a quiet meal. Fighting with elbowing-queers at the buffet table was not an attractive alternative. The hectic pace of South Beach was getting to me. I was looking forward to the solitude of the loft. 

I spent the afternoon by the pool… a little more sun to retain some tan that would be expected upon returning from Florida. It was a lazy day. Guys were worn out from a week of celebrating and were saving their remaining strength for the final fling.

I pulled my Speedo low to maximize the exposure; it drew a little extra attention, but I didn't mind. I was proud of how my body looked. Lying on my belly on the lounge chair, with just the top of my ass-crack showing, I was dozing, I believe, when fingers traced a trail down my back and slipped quickly under my suit. My startle-response triggered a laugh from my "assailant." "It was just too tempting," Ben said. "I’d been wanting to get into that ass-crack all weekend, and it was just lying there for me to explore." He settled down on the adjacent lounge chair.

"You surprised me," I said. "I musta been dreaming."

"Well, I hope that fulfilled your dream. It didn’t fulfill MINE." We both laughed.

"What brings you to the Delano?" I asked. "Our dinner isn’t until 9:00."

"Can we eat earlier?" he said. "I met a hot number on the boardwalk, and he said he’d see me again at the White Party…a cute blond guy from Atlanta with the sweetest southern accent you’ve ever heard… and apparently, an ass to match. The party starts at 6:30 and ends at 11:30, so if we eat at 9:00 and then go…"

"You may not get his ass ready for bed by midnight?" I conjectured.

"You got it!" he said. "I’m not quite as fast as you are."

"Sure, we can eat earlier," I said. "I’ll just change the reservation. But if it’s blond-boy-ass you want, how about the one in the pool?" He turned to look over his shoulder at the boy I’d spied while we were talking…probably 20, long blond hair, angel-face, wearing a semi-transparent white Speedo that clung to his hips and cock like a coat of paint… fair, smooth skin, broad shoulders, narrow waist, perfect, except for the blond hair. 

"An exceptional hors-d’oeuvre," he said. "Care for one before dinner? But he seems to be having too much fun by himself. He doesn’t look that available to me."

"I’ll bet I can get him in five minutes," I said. "And so could you." 

"I’ll take that bet. So… what’s the wager?"

"Dinner?" I said. "I’ve been planning to buy your dinner tonight… but, if I get him, dinner’s on you. And you have to sit out here by the pool until I’ve done him so I can tell you the details."

"And if you DON’T? I get your ass?" He was raising the ante by a whole order of magnitude. "You were planning to buy my dinner anyway. There’s gotta be some kind of penalty if you can’t "pull-it-off,” so to speak," he said, nodding at the white Speedo.

"I’m sure-enough of my abilities to take that bet," I said.

"But how will I know that you don’t just invite him into your place for a drink?" He was thinking of all the angles.

"OK. If I fondle his cock and ass in the pool  before taking him to the bungalow, will that satisfy you that ‘one thing leads to another?’"

"It’s a bet!" he said. "But I need a good view of this… no cheating."

"The five minutes start NOW," I said. I smiled as I arose from the lounge chair. I loved a challenge… and a bet. I would do almost anything on-a-dare. Blondie got a good view of me as I paused by the edge of the pool. He was swimming lazy laps after almost an hour of floating on a plastic, blow-up raft. I could see bright blue eyes peeking out from beneath water-damped blond hair. His ass-crack was clearly visible through his suit.

I walked to the diving board. I hadn’t done much diving since high school, but the brain and body remembered the movements like a computer program. I didn’t try anything too difficult, just a double forward, single-twist in a tuck position. It turned out OK, but not competition level. A few people applauded as I surfaced as I swam toward shallower water. I smiled at Blondie who had stopped swimming to watch. He stepped toward me. "Good one," he said. He smiled with perfect teeth.

"Hi, I’m Brian," I said. 

"I’m Gabriel… or Gabe," he said. He was close to me now. 

"Do you dive?" I asked.

"Not like that," he replied. "Not yet, but I’m learning."

"I could tell you were a diver," I said. "You have the perfect body for it… lean, graceful, not too tall."

He smiled. "That’s what Coach tells me," he said.

"College?" I said, checking his age.

"Yeah, I’m a freshman," he answered.

"And you’re here for the White Party?" I said, pressing for more information.

"Yep. I’m here with my coach." He hesitated a second before continuing. "He’s here for a conference in Miami and I’m supposed to be there too…that’s what he told my parents, but I didn’t go to the meeting today; it’s a lunch for just the coaches, before they go home. But he wanted me to see what the White Party was like, sorta my ‘coming-out’ party."

The time was ticking away. "How about showing me what ELSE that body can do," I said, stepping closer, stroking the back of his arm with my knuckles. "He shouldn’t leave his boy alone."

He smiled. "He’ll be back in about two hours, until then, I…"

I stepped forward, turning his body toward Ben who was sitting upright on the lounge chair now, watching intently. "We could give THIS some attention," I said as my fingers stroked over the bulge in his Speedo. "It looks like it needs it." I gripped his shoulder and turned him around… "Or this," I said, running my palm over the valley of his ass-crack. 

"Now?" he said, almost pleading. I gave Ben a victorious glance and put my arm around Gabe’s shoulder as I took his wrist in my other hand and pressed his hand against my stiffening cock.

"Right now," I said. "Before this dick rips my Speedo." He shivered as his hand touched it. "This way," I said, guiding him to the stairs. We purposefully walked past Ben’s lounge chair on the way to the bungalow. He gave me that combined look of admiration and disappointment. Not only would he not have this boy’s ass, he wouldn’t have mine either.

"Oh, let me get my stuff," Gabe said as we reached the bungalow. He ran back, almost childlike, to retrieve his towel and small duffel bag. And he was back at my door in a flash. We stepped out of Ben’s view; the last thing he saw was my wave.

The fuck was almost perfunctory; I had not been ‘on-the-hunt’ and he was not my ‘type’, and he was inexperienced. But he was tight and responsive. He knew why he had come with me. He was new to casual sex, so he trembled as I stroked him and entered him. "Go easy," he said. "You’re kinda big." But he moaned just like a whore-boy as I increased the intensity and speed of my fucking, and at the end, he stroked himself to a climax simultaneously with mine. I held him tightly as he convulsed in my arms.

"God! you are GOOD!" he said when he regained the power of speech. "I’ve never felt anything like that. I just felt like you were gonna turn me inside-out. And I’ve never cum so hard." He snuggled against my chest and stroked my shoulder with a soft hand. "I think I love you," he said.

"No, you love fucking. You love man-sex. You love ‘the act’. You love the cock, not it’s owner," I said.

"But it’s never been like that before," he argued. "I want it…you… over and over again."

"That doesn’t happen," I said.

"Really?" he said. There were tears in his eyes. "I thought…"

"It was just a fuck," I said, "for the pleasure of it… pure hedonism… nothing more."

"I’ll spend the rest of my life looking for someone who can fuck me that way," he said.

"If you’re lucky," I said with finality.

He snuggled against me and gripped my arm.

"So… you want to fuck again?" I asked.

"Sure!" he said, rolling into position again.

"Well, my buddy is out there by the pool… big guy… you probably noticed him. He’s really wanting some blond boy-ass, so I’ll bet he’d come in here and show you a good time. OK with you?"

"I was hoping you meant with you," he said. "But if that’s not possible… and if he wants to… I’d go again."

"Wait here," I ordered as I pressed him into the mattress with my palm as I got up from the bed. I slipped into my suit and found Ben at the pool.

"I loosened him up a little bit… if you don’t mind sloppy-seconds," I said. "He’s ready for you."

"Me?" he said. "You couldn’t satisfy his needs?"

"I could," I said, "but if I fucked him again, he’d be out buying an engagement ring." Ben laughed and headed for the bungalow. I lay in the sun, imagining what was happening in my bed. 

About an hour later, the two of them left the bungalow. The boy headed-off to meet his coach, and Ben returned to the lounge chair. 

"What a smart-alecky little shit!" he said. "He had the balls to tell me that you were a harder fuck than I was. So I tied him down and fucked him a second time. His ass should be plenty sore by now."

"What is it with these inexperienced twinkies?" I complained. "You give them a little attention and they think it’s the start of a meaningful relationship. Don’t they know that a fuck is about as intimate as a handshake?"

"I think this one was starved for attention… male attention," he replied.

"And this falling-in-love crap.  If someone falls in love with the way I fuck, I almost take it as an insult. They don’t even know what love is. Loving someone doesn’t happen in a flash, or even overnight. On the other hand, I suppose I should take it as a compliment if I fuck him stupid-enough to say something like that."

"Did he say it when he came?" said Ben. "Or afterwards? It makes a difference." He laughed.

"Afterwards, in the soft glow… the melt-down… the mooshy-phase these boys experience. Such romantics! Everyone’s looking for a life-partner."

"Aren’t you?" said Ben.

"No. Not now. Maybe never."

"Well, that sounds as if you’ve almost made-up your mind. Is it true? You’re not even looking? I mean, don’t you ever get the feeling that someone just might be the person you could spend the rest of your life with? I’m not meaning ME, so don’t get up-tight."

He apparently noticed a wrinkle in my brow or some change in my facial expression. "So, I suppose you want to adopt Blonde-Twinkie-Boy there and set-up housekeeping and put him through school and pick up his underwear?" I gave him the lowered-eyebrow stare that expressed my skepticism. 

"Not him, that’s certain, but I haven’t ruled-out the possibility…no, more than that, I’m actively looking for someone. There’s a guy back in Pittsburgh. I’ve just seen him a few times, but there seems to be something there…maybe not, but…"  He paused because he knew I wanted to say something.

"Relationships are ten-percent pleasure and ninety-percent bullshit." I said.

"Define bullshit," he countered.

"Rules of behavior, schedules, expectations, dealing with someone’s irrational fears, jealousy, and that’s when things are GOOD! And then come boredom, lack of spontaneity, deception, cheating, and rejection. How’s THAT for bullshit?"

"I can see why you’re a loner, if that’s how you feel. Were your past relationships like that?" 

"Yes." I wasn’t planning to tell him more than that. I did a push-up off the lounge chair and stepped to the edge of the pool. "It’s getting a little warm here. I think I’ll take a swim." He smiled, realizing he’d touched an exposed nerve-ending. 

And when I returned from ten hard-stroked laps, the conversation returned to normal White Party conversation… sex and lust. I told him about last night in the mangrove. And he told me, in-turn, about an evening spent on a yacht anchored off the Vizcaya Museum… drugs, booze, and boys. And he had heard about the mangrove orgy from several of the guys at his bed-and-breakfast. If he hadn’t gone for the more-classy boat-bash, we might have met in the dark for a re-match. Some things were just not meant to be.

We parted then with plans to meet again at 6:30 in my bungalow. I showered and shaved, then lay down for some rest before the final night at the White Party.

=====

When he arrived, I was still getting dressed. I had brought a few white things to wear, even though my usual wardrobe tended toward darker colors. Ben had dressed casually; white jeans, a white tennis sport-shirt, and white running shoes, so I did the same. White jeans, white dress-shirt, unbuttoned, over a white tank top, and white shoes. Understated, but appropriate. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows as we headed for dinner.

The Blue Door had the classic elegance of South Beach mixed with a bit of Island flavor… dark wood, large tropical plants, white tablecloths, and floor-to-ceiling white cotton draperies separating the tables. The fabric billowed in the breeze from the terrace making the room seem alive, but intimate. Candles danced and guttered on each table. The smell of the sea and wax and tropical spices wafted through our intimate cubicle.

I ordered a double Jim Beam, which raised the eyebrow of the waiter who was accustomed to serving more elaborate rum-concoctions to gay guests, perhaps. Ben sat back sipping a Planters Punch and looking relaxed and inviting. There was a genuineness about him that I found attractive; his smile was warm and open. His broad, bare shoulders glowed warmly in the candlelight.

"So, have you accomplished what you wanted?" I said after a long, burning sip. "With your research, I mean."

"For someone specializing in Gay Studies, Life is research, I suppose," he said. "I just needed to get away from academia for a while.  Being around a bevy of newly-out gay students is sometimes volatile. I attempt to be a mentor while still trying to stay out of entanglements. Professors fucking with students is a "no-no", even in Gay Studies.  So, the temptation is always there, but the guard is always up. My "research" involved mixing with the grown-ups for a change. I’m writing a book, so everything is potentially a part of my narrative."

"Even ME?" I said looking at him over the rim of my glass.

"Even you," he said. "Your attitudes are atypical, but certainly valid. Particularly valid for YOU, I imagine. I just wish I could get into that head of yours and figure out what really makes you tick."

"I stopped trying to figure that out long ago," I said. "My philosophy is straight-forward: If it feels good, do it; if you’ve come this far, go a little farther; if you haven’t tried something, do it until it loses its interest;  work hard, play hard; keep life simple, but elegant; speak your mind, but hurt no one intentionally; celebrate achievements; be self-sufficient and you’ll never be disappointed; rebel against authority, particularly people who tell you how to think; and finally, use sex, drugs, and alcohol to maintain balance." 

"You sound amazingly like an ancient Spartan warrior," he said. "Perhaps that’s why I’m imagining you as a nude statue." He smiled. "Sophocles would have loved you, literally." We both laughed and sipped our drinks to bring that discussion to a close.

Dinner arrived, and we ate hungrily like athletes preparing for the big game. "I have a plan for tonight… to celebrate our last night in Miami Beach," I said. 

"Now I’m thinking S-E-X," he said.

"You said you were planning to meet someone, the guy from Atlanta. That’s fine. And I’ll scout the crowd for a trick, too. And at the end of the party, we’ll meet and come back to my place to fuck ‘em in-tandem and trade partners. What do you say? A glorious end to a glorious week."

"It’s a deal," he said with a nod and two thumbs up. "I’ll skip dessert and eat some boy-ass, a la mode, later."

The Vizcaya Museum is the restored summer home and formal gardens of the industrialist James Deering. It was built in 1916 along the South Miami coastline in the Italian High Renaissance style. Its broad loggia and stairway lead directly to the water of Biscayne Bay. A substantial portion of the original 180-acre estate is maintained as formal gardens for daytime viewing and nighttime entertaining. 

The 34-room house filled with 400 years-worth of antiques and art was open for viewing that evening, but the primary location for the party was the balmy outdoors, the inner courtyard, the outside terraces, and the torch-lit formal gardens. Twinkling white lights were everywhere. More than 2,000 guests, some in elaborate costumes, strolled the grounds, eating and drinking… and occasionally stepping into the shadows for more intimate recreation.

Everyone was in white, of course. Every imaginable white image that comes to mind… winged angels, brides and bridegrooms, sheep, birds-in-feathers, snowmen, ladies (male and female) wearing long white gowns and dripping with diamonds, or rhinestones, almost-naked boys painted totally white, men and women in white linen suits, white-leather-clad leathermen, white patent-leather Capri pants, lace shirts showing tanned chests… it was all there. Looking was required; touching was encouraged; public displays of affection were common. White tents covered white-clothed tables laden with food and ice sculptures. Waiters in white jackets - and occasionally little else - scurried about delivering trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Music of all types emanated from the various gardens. The air was thick with the smell of after-shave and orchids. 

Ben and I traveled together for a while… two novices in fairyland. But scouting for tricks was not a two-man job; most guys assumed you were a couple and kept their distance, excepting the forward-types and those who were already drunk. We split at the grand staircase and agreed to meet at 11:30, with tricks in-hand. 

I decided to stand at the top of the stairs to view the crowd coming upwards toward me. With my shirt open now (the tank top had been left in the car because of the warmth of the evening), I leaned with one elbow against the huge, stone railing. 

"Marvelous, Darling… show me those abs." He looked like a cross between Truman Capote and Mae West (but both were long-dead), a white suit, white Panama hat, and a thick white-gold watch chain. "I’m not sure I could have you just for myself, but I could certainly SHARE you," he gushed.

I smiled and declined the offer.

"Can I buy you a drink? No, the drinks are free. Can I buy YOU?" It was a 50-year-old man and his wife, or perhaps a very convincing cross-dresser. She hit him with her white feather fan, as they continued into the garden.

Over a thousand gorgeous men milling about like a Saturday night on Liberty Avenue. Well, actually,  it was nicer than Liberty Avenue… "fresh pickings," so to speak. 

I saw him after ten minutes of putting-up with the corny come-on lines. He was about 5-feet, 11-inches. Slim, but muscular, with the 8-pack abs that most guys crave; smooth, tan, oil-glistening skin, almost-black hair spiked in front, full lips and dark, arching brows,  wearing the same white jeans I was wearing with a powder blue tank top tucked in his belt. He looked at me as he approached, but looked away as he got closer. I stepped in front of him, blocking his way. He looked at me as if he knew me…or as if he wanted to get to know me.

"I’ll bet you’re looking for someone," I said.

"Excuse me," he said, stopping on the stairs as a few people paused behind him. "I am," he continued as he took another step forward, thinking I’d move. We were chest to chest on the top step.

"You found him," I said as I put my hand behind his neck. He gazed into my eyes as if he were going to ask a question.

"Yes," he said, "well, well, no. I mean… I’m looking for the guys I came with."

I stepped to the side and pulled him along with me, clearing the space at the top of the stairs so other climbers could continue. There was a narrow space between the pillar and the tall hedge. I took two more steps pulling him into the darkness of the adjacent garden. "Are you really?" I murmured in his ear as I inclined my head toward his cheek.

"I’m not in any hurry," he said, placing his palm on my bare chest. He paused and looked up into my eyes. "I can feel your heart beating," he continued softly� "like you’re excited about something." His nostrils were flaring; he was excited too.

"I know what I want when I see it…and I go after it," I whispered in his ear.

"And I had this really strong attraction to you when I saw you standing at the top of the stairs... like you were waiting just for me." His arms circled around my waist as he pulled himself closer. His pecs fit nicely under the overhang of mine. I repositioned my arm so that his neck rested in the curve of my elbow. My other hand slipped up his back, feeling him tremble slightly. "Can we… go somewhere?" he asked plaintively.

"There are lots of places we can go," I murmured. "Some now, some later. I can take you lots of places." I looked down into his eyes. He looked young, but afraid of nothing. My hand stroked from his back, over his hip, to his groin trapped against mine. His cock formed a hard mound in the left-upper-quadrant of his pelvis indicating that he had good size and heft, and that he probably was not wearing underwear. I traced its shape through the white denim; he was cut, with a pronounced mushroom-head. He sighed as I stroked him. I removed my fingers and took one step back, breaking his grip around my waist. His hands moved immediately around to my basket, clutching and surveying my ample erection.

"Do you want that? I said. "Go for it!" He slipped two fingers into my fly and began fumbling with the buttons. "On your knees," I ordered. He started to drop to the ground.

"My pants will get dirty," he said desperately. "Hold on." He kicked off his running shoes, undid his pants, and slipped them off. His cock swayed as he folded them and lay them in the grass a few feet away. On his knees, he stroked gently up the outside of my thighs; then he returned to the metal buttons with both hands. As it spilled out, he paused to examine my cock, turgid and upward-curving. "It’s a beauty!" he whispered as he licked his lips unconsciously. My jeans sagged onto my thighs. With one hand on my ball-sac and the other around the base of my shaft, he guided it between his lips. I guided his head with my hand.

"Slow," I said. "We have all night."

He cast his eyes upward, with the tip between his lips, begging to know if it was really true. I stroked my thumb across his forehead, damp with sweat, then closed his eyes with my thumb pad to let him know he was the chosen one. He took another inch of my cock to seal the bargain.

We were only a few feet away from the stream of party-goers ascending and descending the great garden staircase, but the foliage and the shadows provided by overarching palms and eucalyptus gave us our own little world of privacy. The murmur of voices and the sounds of footsteps simply heightened the danger-level; but we were risking no more than countless other couples secluded in the garden’s hideaways. Salsa music made this seem a long way from a Pittsburgh back-alley.

He sucked me like a hungry child eating an ice cream cone; long tongue-swaths along the base, compressing my protruding urethra; tongue-swirls around the head; darting tongue-licks at the ridge of the glans; surrounding lip-compression as he took the shaft deep into his throat; gentle tongue-swipes along the thin, veiny skin covering the crus; the pointy tongue-probes of my terminal slit. He caressed it in every way he could. 

"Hot mouth. Ooooh, more, Babe. Show me what you can do." I swayed and took a short step to the side; his ministrations were making me lose my balance and the tight jeans around my thighs didn‘t help.  His hands massaged my abs and pecs as if to convince himself there was more to my body that just a cock. He moaned softly on my shaft as he felt me tense the muscles to hardness in response to his touch. On the outstroke, he paused; "I love your body," he said. "I want to get to know every square inch." His mouth lunged for my ball-sac as he suctioned both testicles into his wide-open lips. I reached for his head to steady myself. He released them, wet with his saliva and suddenly cool in the dry night air.

 "I want you to fuck me," he said in a hoarse whisper followed by an inarticulate outpouring of pleasure.

"Later," I said, stroking his head. "There will be plenty of time for that," I continued. "This will be my farewell to South Beach, and I plan to make the most of it." He smiled and took my cock again. I would be the climax to his week, too.

Later, in another dark part of another garden, seeking hands reached out to us from the darkness of a jasmine hedge in full-bloom. "Join us," they said wordlessly. "We have eroticism to share, mouths to fill, muscles to subdue, skin to caress. Use us." We stepped into the darkness. Together we took the other couple like two wolves feeding together, spurred-on by the other’s urgings; aroused by the other’s primal utterances. We stripped them wordlessly and pressed them to their knees. We fucked their mouths in unison, turning occasionally to kiss each other as the arousal spread throughout our erogenous zones. Poppers were thrust into my hand and I took a long, lung-searing inhalation, then handed the bottle to my partner. He inhaled deeply, then, as I was about to exhale, he clamped his mouth over mine and sucked more air from my lungs. I felt the buzz… the numbness… the racing heartbeat… the inevitable climax. I reached for his shoulder and found him clinging to me. We shot simultaneously into gulping mouths. When we recovered, we were standing alone, supporting each other.

"Oh, my God," he groaned. "I was saving that for later."

"Don’t worry," I said. "There’s plenty more where that came from. I have my ways."

We walked through the gardens, talking about ourselves… the basics, that is… enough so that the memory of him wasn’t just a shadow in the darkness. His name was Paul, and he was a law student in D.C., but originally from New England. He was an athlete; a balanced top-and-bottom. We walked side-by-side, my arm over his shoulder so that I could occasionally pull him closer to smell his hair and to feel his warmth. He put his hands on my torso in a casual, friendly way as if he knew it pleased me. I enjoyed how people looked at us together. We visited the food tents and drank more champagne. We talked with another couple who passed-out joints like business cards. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and each other, and we enjoyed the anticipation of what was to come. In quiet moments, he gripped me as if to say "I’m ready."

As we approached the mansion, I felt him tense. "Wait here," he said, pressing me backward with one hand on my shoulder. "I need to talk to someone. Don’t make a scene. I’ll take care of this."

Facing us about twenty feet away was a muscular hunk in white Everlast boxer’s trunks and a white tank top that said "Sucker Punch." He glared at Paul as he approached. They spoke quietly for a moment and then the boxer hit Paul’s shoulder with an open palm. I stepped forward, but the blow had turned Paul toward me and he signaled for me to stay out of it. He turned again, trying to explain. Voices raised; the discussion was heated.  Finally, the big guy turned and stormed off. 

Paul returned to my side. "He’s just someone I met here in Miami," he said. "Nothing permanent, and he knows that. He’s just being an asshole. No one made any promises to anyone."

"And that’s how I want it to be," I said, ruffling his hair with my fingers. "No promises. No regrets. Just tonight. Just the pleasure."

He mussed my hair in reply. "You got it," he said with a sparkle in his eye.

When we arrived at the base of the great staircase at 11:30, Ben and his new "buddy" were there waiting. He introduced Les, from Atlanta… blond… sparkling eyes that looked perpetually surprised… a bit more muscular than I expected, knowing how well Ben liked the slim blond from earlier in the day. And Ben was right, he had the sweetest southern accent that made you want to grab his cock and yell "The South Shall Rise AGAIN!" I liked him immediately… a keen sense of humor with a good dose of raunchiness. He could charm the fur off a polar bear. It was stacking-up as a glorious evening. 

Les handed his camera to a passing young-man. "Y’all take our picture, please? I want the folks back home to see who I met here." We linked arms over shoulders. "Say ‘penis,’" said the photographer, making us break into big smiles.

We headed for the parking lot. I was feeling fine…beating drum rhythms on the fenders of cars as we passed. Too much steel-band music can do that to you.

"I’m the designated driver," Ben said. "Bongo-boy here probably couldn’t find his hotel… and that’s where we’re going." We all piled into the car and I bent down to blow Paul next to me. His fingers in my hair showed that he was enjoying himself, although he kept pulling me off when I got him too close. "Save it," he said.

Back at the hotel, we tumbled out of the car, pumped-up from the party and ready for the finale. We stumbled into the bungalow. We plundered the mini-bar, everyone taking his favorite, and I retrieved the drug supplies and spread them out on the table. "I’m not planning to take any of this home," I said, "so we need to finish it all…or I’ll leave it as part of my "tip" for room service." Eager hands reached for a variety of capsules, and we lit two joints. At that point, Ben pulled Les into the bedroom. I decided to enjoy Paul in the living room for a while. There was plenty of time for trading and sharing.

He'd already taken his shoes off and when I sat on the couch, he knelt before me and removed mine; then pulled the long, white socks off too. His hands massaged my feet one-at-a-time. His touch was gentle; he stroked them softly. I leaned forward to run my fingers through his hair. He twisted his head to kiss my wrist, then rocked forward to kiss the soft skin just below my navel as he opened my fly with eager fingers. With my cock exposed and growing by the second, he rushed to open his own jeans. He shoved them down and stripped them off his legs. Then he returned to my waistband, gripping both side and pulled them down. I lifted my ass to accommodate him. We were naked now. I sucked the smoke into my lungs, held it there, and offered the joint to Paul. He sucked it from my fingers and looked up at me with begging eyes before exhaling. 

"I don’t want this night to end," he said.

"Fuck," I said. "We haven’t even started yet."

Still crouching between my spread thighs, he leaned forward to catch my swaying glans in his lips. He looked up to watch the pleasure wash over my face. "Suck it," I said. "Show me what you can do, here in-private."

He began to bob up and down on my shaft letting the warm moistness of his lips skim along the protruding veins on the down-stroke, and then tightening and suctioning on the up-stroke. Over and over again. The sensation was divine. I could never tire of the oral stimulation. He looked up at me occasionally to check the level of my arousal… and I urged him on. While he sucked me, his hand slipped behind his back and descended to his ass-crack, where he began fingering his hole as if preparing it for the juicy cock in his mouth. Watching him finger himself was a real turn-on. I wanted to use it for my own pleasure. "Get it ready," I said. 

"It’s twitchin’, just for you," he replied. His other hand descended to his cock and he began working it in-rhythm with his sucking. He was pulling out all the "stops." His hormones were humming.

"I want to see that ass I’m gonna fuck," I said. "Up here… on your hands and knees… on the couch." He stopped sucking and scrambled up onto the cushions with his ass in my face. It was perfect. His gluts were firm, with that slight indentation on the sides. The soft skin in the expanse above his crack was marked with two delightful dimples. His cheeks were smooth and blemish-free. I pressed his crack open with the heel of my hand. He had a prominent "well" at his opening; all thrusts would be guided into his sphincter, even if they missed the mark. The pink skin of his valley darkened to a rosy-brown at the margins, and his tightness was evidenced by the twists and folds in the center of the target. I pressed a finger into him and he gave an audible moan. Twisting my hand almost 360-degrees, I reamed him open with a screwing action, delving deeper with each twist. His natural lubrication was working well. 

From the next room, I heard the moans of the other boy. He was apparently being penetrated too. And then the moans turned to louder whimpers as he started to move his ass on the invading object… a finger, a cock, or a dildo. Ben had brought his bag of "toys."

"That feels SO good," my boy moaned. "Give me two fingers. Open me up." I obliged with two straight fingers in a slow, but firm, thrust. He rocked forward, first, in surprise, but then settled back down onto my fingers, pressing his warm ass around them. "Finger-fuck my boy-ass," he murmured as he tried to twist far enough to see what I was doing.

The sounds from the bedroom indicated that Ben was already fucking his boy. The slap of thighs on ass… the guttural grunts as Ben surged forward…the higher-pitched whimpers as his ass was pummeled. "Save some for me," I shouted. "Share-and-share-alike."

"Come and get it while it’s hot!" Ben’s voice shot-back from the bedroom.

"Hold on. I need a condom," I said to Paul. I slipped my fingers out of him and started to get up.

"Just slip it in me once, this way," he said, reaching back to feel that there was no pre-cum yet. "I want us both to remember how it feels," he murmured. I knelt on the couch and gripped my shaft with both hands. He reached back to spread his ass. I pressed it into his atrium. As he released his grasp, his ass closed around my column; his hands reached back further to grip my hips in an attempt to pull me into him, but before he could get a grasp, I pressed into his un-lubed hole. He felt my cockhead spreading his sphincter and leaned back to meet my pressure. I watched it slide in, a millimeter at a time, as I gripped it tightly, making it swell inside him to smooth the folds and push-aside the muscular rings. 

"Oh, my God! You’re gonna tear me," he moaned. "I didn’t know you were so big."

"Maybe this’ll help," I said, pulling out until the tip was barely exposed and letting a string of spit descend to bathe my shaft. I thumbed it around the mushroom head, then leaned into him again. This time it slipped in more easily.

"Ooooooohhhhhh," he moaned. "Give it to me… all of it!"

I dug my knees into the sofa cushion and leaned over him adding my weight to the pressure. As it passed his tightness, it slipped in more easily now. I released my grip as the shaft continued it’s inward plunge. Residual saliva bubbled around his trembling ass-lips. He moaned again; the volume increased to a roar of ecstasy. My cock increased its girth as his muscles spasmed around the hardness. He gripped the couch cushion with white knuckles and twisted his head from side-to-side as if to say "I can take the pain. Give it to me."

I leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "If I stay in you like this any longer, we’ll be breaking one of my rules. I’ll be right back." I pulled out of him, watching his hole close slowly as the tip exited. He was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that glimmered in the dim light. I wanted to fuck him senseless at that moment.

Quickly, I stepped into the bedroom to retrieve a condom from the nightstand. Ben was already pumping into his boy with the focus that made him oblivious to my presence. As I departed, I traced a line down his back with my fingers; he opened his eyes and paused, smiling. Les was still humping on his shaft, unaware that the thrusting had stopped. Ben tossed his head toward the living room… a signal which I interpreted as "Bring your boy in here, and let’s make it a foursome."

"Give me a few more minutes," I murmured,  "to get him ready." Ben smiled. His boy was already ready… and half-way to Paradise.

When I returned to the living room, Paul had rolled onto his back on the couch and was lying with his legs raised in a wide "Y" with his hands on his knees. His ass hung enticingly, open and ready, over the front edge of the couch. He smiled invitingly... such a seductive smile with eyes cast up in supplication. "Fuck me," he whispered.

I slammed the condom onto my tumescence in a little over two seconds and knelt into position. "I want you to take me in one thrust," he said. "I can take it. I’m ready." 

I gripped his wide-spread ankles and pressed them backwards against the back of the sofa, bending him almost double and raising his ass to the level of my cock. Slipping the head into place, as before, I watched him close his eyes and drift off into that relaxation-fantasy he used to prepare for forceful penetration. "Yes," he murmured.

I pulled back a few inches, to gain momentum, and then thrust into him with one plunge. The stretching-sliding feeling I had felt in slow-motion earlier was now compressed into a few seconds. His body tensed as I entered him, then relaxed as I filled him. The hint of pain disappeared from his face as he reached between his spread legs with open arms and gripped me around the neck. 

"Here’s something I’ll bet you’ve never done," I whispered in his ear. His eyes opened in anticipation. I released his ankles and slipped my hands behind his shoulders. I stroked down his back, both hands down his lats until my fingers met at his waist. I pressed my fingers together, interlocking, then began to straighten up, lifting him off the couch… his spread thighs resting in my elbows and his ass skewered on my up-thrusting shaft. He supported his upper body with his arms. Once upright, I bounced him a few times to let him feel my cock buried in him all the way… as gravity forced his body weight onto my pelvis. His head lolled back, mouth open, eyes rolled upward. I could feel him tightening his ass-muscles on my shaft, holding himself in-place and milking my shaft at the same time. In this position, I carried him into the bedroom. 

Ben and his partner had changed position, but the action was just as intense as before. I settled Paul on an open space near the foot of the king-size bed. As he bounced on the mattress, his ass milked my cock in the most delightful way. Ben turned to see what we were doing, then turned back to his vigorous fucking of Les’s ass. 

"Before you wear him out," I said to Ben, "let’s allow these boys to get to know one another." 

Ben smiled. "Sure. I’d like to watch that myself." We pulled out simultaneously and rolled the two into the center of the bed in a jumble of arms and legs. They were startled at first to be empty so suddenly, but they were so aroused that the touch of another body started the exploration, kissing, stroking and jacking that let us know their libidos were on auto-pilot.

Ben and I stood beside the bed and watched their ministrations to each other. I stroked Ben’s back and ass… just wanting to touch his hot skin. We nodded our approval as the two boys found new ways to pleasure each other, each in a mindless swirl of pleasure, unaware of the guy they were with… just using mouths as sensory organs, licking and kissing anything within reach.

Eventually they lay facing each other with pairs of hands on each other’s cocks. I nodded to Ben; it was time to join them. We approached the bed from opposite sides and slipped in behind the writhing pair… I behind Les, and Ben behind Paul. Both boys had been opened-up earlier, so we each lifted a leg to open an ass, then slipped our cock into waiting holes. There was a simultaneous moan from the boys as we started to pump in-unison,  with each plunge driving the two closer together until they were chest-to-chest. Their lips met in a desperate kiss… tongues intertwining, as our fucking rocked their bodies against each other. Clutching hands, trapped between them, tried to bring the other to climax.

Ben and I linked elbows to get more leverage for our simultaneous assaults. Suddenly I tightened my biceps, squeezing his arm; I was going to cum; it was unavoidable. I had waited too long. "Cum with me?" I said to him over the shoulders of the boys.

"Yes," he nodded. "I’m ready." We doubled the power of our thrusts, trapping the boys’ cocks between them as we increased the tempo. Les was moaning now… almost shouting into Paul’s open mouth. The suctioning sounds of cocks pumping in and out of asses filled the room. I sank my teeth into the shoulder in front of me. "Now!" I shouted through clenched teeth. "Cum… with… me… NOW!!!" Our elbows unlocked as we each clamped our arms around the boy we were fucking. The jerking muscle contractions. The clutching. The catatonic clenching. The last amazing thrust. The outpouring. The second… and the third… and the fourth. Ben reached for the back of my neck as if he was fucking me. I felt the impact of his eruption through the two intervening bodies. We lay there in a quivering tangle of raw nerve endings. 

As we began to relax, I could feel the two boys beginning to finger each other again as they kissed a second time. We let them play with each other as we regained our strength.

Hands exploring bodies again. Arousal regained. Kissing the soft hairs on the back of a neck. Stroking the curvature of a firm deltoid. Hips grinding against ass. The taste of salt on a shoulder blade. The grasping fingers of renewed ardor. Pinched nipples. Pubic hair against my hip. We were changing positions.

Ben and I traded sides of the bed. I slipped behind Paul again, nuzzling his shoulder to remind him who was there. "Hi. Remember me?"

"You’re the wonderful guy who brought me here. I’d recognize that cock anywhere." He snuggled his ass against my semi-hard erection. "I seem to remember that you said you were going to fuck me." He twisted his head to the side; I licked his earlobe and sent my long tongue into his ear canal. He gave a wiggle of appreciation.

"Use your mouth to get me hard again, and I’ll be happy to oblige," I whispered. 

He shoved himself away from Les, who was almost asleep, and rolled over. I rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, then turned around and knelt so that, as Paul rolled onto his side and lifted himself onto one elbow, his mouth approached my cock. I pressed him away for a moment and stripped the condom off my shaft. "Ya never know where something like that’s been," I said with a smile.

"I’ll bet I can guess," he said, taking the bare tip into his lips.

Meanwhile, Ben had slipped in behind Les and he was massaging his chest from behind.

"Y’all are gonna get me goin’ again," said Les as he responded to the stimulation and, in turn, began to stroke Paul’s back. His hand slipped down over the smooth, muscular ass and he gave a low whistle. "I want some of that," he murmured. "Pass me a condom, please." The southern boys were so polite. I reached for one and passed it across the bed.

As Ben rolled Les onto his side, he lifted his knee along Les’s side; Les gripped it under his arm and locked Ben into position with his cock an inch from Les’s hole. And Les did the same to Paul, sliding his inner thigh up over Paul’s hip, then over his side, and Paul instinctively gripped the overarching leg under his arm, settling back down onto his side. I slumped lower to keep my cock within reach. 

Ben’s cock found Les’s hole and began to enter. I could hear Les sighing as the shaft slid deep into him. Ben gave a quick, pulsing thrust, then paused as Les adjusted and slipped his cock into Paul’s crack. The boy hadn’t expected to be fucked in this position, so a cloud of concern passed over his face. "It’s OK," I said. "I’ll get you next." Paul smiled and settled back onto Les’s invading dick. "Get in line," murmured Paul. His mouth settled back onto my cock as he adjusted the angle so my head would slide into his cheek. 

Ben began his fucking motion then, rocking in and out of Les’s ass. And Les rocked back to meet each thrust, pulling his shaft almost out of Paul’s hole. And then, as Ben retreated, Les surged forward, still retaining Ben’s tip, but driving his shaft into Paul who rocked deeper onto my cock with his hot mouth. When we all realized the complicated rhythmic motion, we fucked like a four-cylinder engine. The waves of enjoyment were accentuated by a gentle moan that moved from one mouth to the next as we sank into the pleasure-pit. The pace accelerated gradually. Arms stroked hips, thighs, and hairy calves to urge the fuckers onward. I guided Paul’s head with my hand so he wouldn’t lose my shaft. 

"Fuck! Oh, fuck! Slam-fuck!"   "Fuck my boy-ass. Oh, God! Oh, God! Ooooohhhh, God!"  "MmmmmmmMMMMMmmmmmmm."

"Suck it," I said, changing the angle of insertion. "I want to feel it down your throat."

Les was the first to cum… a huge convulsion punctuated by a sharp cry. He trembled as if he were being electrocuted… and Paul stopped sucking for a moment to savor the feeling of fullness. He was jacking his cock now, wanting to cum with the others. Ben came next, a slower build-up and surge… he clutched Les’s shoulder for support as his shoulders hunched forward and then slammed back as his cum-load exploded. His face grimaced; he roared through clenched teeth.

Paul came next… a creamy deluge all over his forearm and shoulder… and I was a split-second behind him. As he gasped for air, I slammed the tip into his throat and pumped my load, almost choking him. He swallowed to avoid inhaling my spunk, then gagged as the unavoidable reflex took-over. I held his head in my hands, trying to help him breathe again as I pulled out a few inches.

Unintelligible moans of pleasure mingled in an all-male chorus. No music could ever sound as sweet as the pleasure moans of men in simultaneous ecstatic delight. Arms clenched. Hands gripped. Mouths kissed the closest patch of male skin. Like a giant organism in mitosis, we split and split again, until we were lying side-by-side… separate… in individual self-pleasure, etching the moment into our memories. I moved my hand slightly to brush the side of Paul’s thigh. He turned to smile at me in wordless, dreamy camaraderie. The pleasure fraternity.

We slept in darkness for a while… naked bodies clustered in twos and threes. Slow breathing in my ear… the radiated warmth of a torso so close, but not touching…a caress under the blanket… a gentle snore stifled by ministering lips… gentle fingers in my hair… a nose and lips nuzzling my neck… legs intertwined… fingers intertwined… soft breath against my shoulder blade… sweat-dampened hair against my shoulder… the back of a hand against my belly as fingers clutched me in a dream-line trance… a sigh of pleasure… too many sensations numbed and interrupted by sleep. I brushed my face with my palm to convince myself that this was real. My fingers brushed my lips like a silent kiss.

Aroused again. A firm grip on my cock… stroking a dream-induced erection… wanting to plant it into some boy’s ass. I rolled onto Paul in the dim light of morning. One more time. Just one more time before going back to Pittsburgh. I reached over to run my fingers through Ben’s hair. His eyes opened sleepily as he lifted his head. "I love sex in the morning," he said with a sleepy, husky voice. 

"Let’s show ‘em how we do it in Pittsburgh," I said with a wink. 

Before the boys knew what was happening, we had moved them into position side-by-side on their bellies across the bed. Ben and I stood on the same side, and lifted sleepy boy-asses into a crouch… chest, faces, forearms and knees on the bed, asses in the air. New condoms were applied quickly.

"Last one to cum buys breakfast!" I said, plunging into Paul’s ass-crack.

"You’ll be buying sausage and eggs," said Ben, accepting the challenge and plowing into the still-drowsy Les. 

"Tighten that ass," I ordered as I slapped Paul with the flat of my palm. He jerked and tightened on-command. 

We pumped into the boys for five minutes. As they awoke fully, they cheered us on; we made promises we didn’t intend to keep if we won the wager. 

With a sharp pinch of my own nipple, I managed to shoot first, and my guttural moan brought Ben to completion too. Les and Paul were aroused and they wanted more.

I pulled Paul off the bed, walked him to the other side and pressed him downward into the same position, but this time in the opposite direction. "One more time," I said. "Double or nothing."

Ben looked at me as if I were crazy, but, not to be outdone, he gripped himself tightly and plunged again into Les who almost squealed in pleasure. 

Both boys were stroking their cocks; they were ready to cum, too. A night’s sleep had refilled the "tank." So, I paused for a moment and pushed Paul closer to Les. Ben, recognizing what I was doing, helped Les roll over onto his back while still penetrated. I indicated to Paul that he was to climb-aboard in sixty-nine position in the center of the bed. With Les’s knees over Ben’s shoulders and his head between my knees, I began to fuck Paul again while Ben fucked Les. And the two boys sucked each other and stroked each other’s bodies with eager hands. I have no memory of who came first; we never settled the bet. The mind-blowing climax of the entire weekend drained every last jizz-drop… collapsed every seminal vesicle… blew every erogenous brain-fuse… and cramped every muscle in that cum-soaked bed. I don’t remember breakfast.

Ben and I met one last time in the airport. Although we had been scheduled on the same plane for our arrival, we were on separate planes for our departure, a half-hour apart. We laughed as we approached each other, both wearing sunglasses to hide sleepy eyes.

"Any problem getting to the airport? I asked. "I tried to call the Jefferson, but you had already checked out."

"I took a cab," he said. "I thought about giving you a call, but I wasn’t sure you’d be able to find the airport." We both laughed. I didn’t tell him I’d driven the wrong way on Interstate-95.

"When we get back to Pittsburgh…" he began.

"What? You wanna hook up? You’ve got a boyfriend. Remember him?" I said. "You’re into relationships… and I’m not. You may have found someone…and it isn’t I."

He nodded affirmatively. "I know. I should try to make it work. But South Beach will always be on my mind," he said.

"Who could forget it?" I countered with a grin. It had been, perhaps, the most sex-filled four days of my life. Someday I planned to return.

"We’ll meet again… someday," he said with certainty. "Pittsburgh isn’t that big. But I don’t go to bars much. I meet too many students."

"Remember? That’s how you heard about me. You’ll certainly know where I am. But, as far as I’m concerned, it ends here." I held out my hand. He took it and squeezed it instead of shaking it.

"A tender end to a mind-blowing four days," he murmured, looking into my eyes. He patted the back of my hand with his other hand, then stroked his fingers slowly down mine. "Goodbye, Bri." He turned quickly and walked away from me toward his gate in the next concourse. My attention was suddenly drawn to a dark-haired Navy Lieutenant sitting in the waiting area and reading GQ. I adjusted my sunglasses… and headed for Pittsburgh.