From the Author: This is a sequel to the book I published on the Nifty Archive entitled Alpha-Male (this thread, last posting on May 15, 2001). While reading that work is not necessarily prerequisite to reading this one, it is strongly advised. As with the publication of the original, I'm posting this story as I write it. We'll see where it heads together. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive feedback is welcome except "write faster."
Once again, this is a fully copyrighted work. Do not print or repost any portion of this story without the express, written consent of the author. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people is coincidental. No animals were harmed in the writing of this story.
This is an erotic novel containing graphic descriptions of homosexual sex. If reading such a story is illegal where you are, get off your ass and get political. Change the fucking laws!
Finally, remember this is fantasy. In fantasy, you don't have to use condoms. In real life, you always do.
Master Beta Copyright 2001, David Buffet All Rights Reserved
Dear Dan,
It's hardly been a day, and already I'm feeling somewhat out of control. Isn't that funny? A year later, and I'm pretty much back to where I started. Whose bad idea was this anyway? It had to have been yours. I wouldn't have initiated something this big.
It's the middle of the night. I'm lying in bed in my new apartment having unpacked half my things. The rest can wait until tomorrow. I've been trying to sleep but can't seem to rid myself of the unbearable lightness of not having you on top of me. I can still smell you on my sheets, Dan. I didn't wash them before I packed for just that reason. I could tell you that already, after only some 18 hours apart, I miss the intimacy, the repartee, the intellectual challenge of being with you, but the truth is that right now I miss your weight. How did I ever get used to your falling asleep on top of me? And now, how can I reacclimate to a single atmosphere?
Have I ever told you what I like the best about sex with you? There are times when we screw, Dan - not just fuck, but rut - when, both of us blinded by limbic ferocity, you explode inside me with such force and heat that I become fairly convinced our pelvises will fuse together. We collapse, then, panting, out of breath and our minds. Complete relaxation follows complete tension - a lesson in isometric perfection - and within minutes we are both asleep, your weight on me, your density in me, too exhausted to move, too content to want to. All of that, Dan, and we are still not to the part I like best. It is an hour later when, both asleep, me still impaled, you harden again. It slowly wakes us both up when that happens.
Here, then, is what I like best. Those first few tentative twitches of you inside me. We are both still mostly asleep when it happens. It is that initial movement as you gather your strength to plow me again without ever having withdrawn. Slimed by your own cum - what's left of it that I haven't greedily absorbed - you probe my tightness, my soreness, my inability to refuse you. You seem to find, each time in a new place, exactly where I am most vulnerable and attack me just there. And you do it so naturally. We are still all but asleep. I am hard as a rock now just thinking of it. I know exactly how it works, and am still willing victim to it. There's the art of the alpha male.
So why the hell am I here, so many hours away from you? Oh, yes. The degree. I could understand your insistence if you were Jewish and had introduced me as what I am to your mother. "He's so nice," she'd say of me, "and a docteh, no less." But you're Lutheran, and as far as your mom is concerned, I'm just another friend who goes to cheer you on at meets. Besides, it's not that kind of doctorate. Do you remember how focused I was on that degree when I met you and Adam? It was all I ever thought about. Now I'm finding I have the opposite difficulty. Yes, it will be nice to move on to the next phase of my life, but I wasn't particularly finished liking the current one yet. Well, the former one, I suppose. It hurts to say that - the former phase of my life. That's how I know this wasn't my idea.
But the doctorate will be a good thing to have completed. And I know I've said this before, but I told you that they'd accept the transfer of credits, waive the course work and allow me to go right to the dissertation.
You and Adam may have changed a lot about me, but you didn't change my marketability as a Ph.D. candidate in psych. If anything, you increased it by a scale factor.
I still don't get why you and Adam are allowing me to use you as subjects in the diss. Of course your identity will be masked in the write-up, but the truth of the matter is that anyone who knows me will know whom I'm writing about. Your behavior is going to be clinically dissected in what may end up being a rather public way - including your particular history. I know we've talked about this already. A lot. And I know I've said this before too: my loyalty will have to be to publishing a complete, honest, and unbiased report - which might well necessitate my including a case history which would have to include a description of the incident. I know we've been over and over this - that in signing the informed consent, you gave me permission to write about that. I know you understand what's at stake here. What I still don't get is why you're doing it. You don't have to. You don't have to at all.
Anyway, my digs are pretty nice. It needs to be painted and something seems to have died in, and is currently haunting the refrigerator, but other than that it's homey enough. There's a total hottie who lives a floor below me. Saw him on the elevator, and he gave me the complete scan, head to toe. Thanks for making me lift with you. I know all I did was complain about how much I hated it all year long, but I gotta say, the results are impressive. I've never had a chest before, and it's not going unnoticed.
Tomorrow I have a meeting with my new advisor. He seems pleasant enough to work with, and he's got a good name in the field. That was the hardest part of finding a new program, of course. I mean, I had to explain why I left the old one and I couldn't actually come out and say Arthur was trying to steal my work. I'm still angry about that - can't seem to let it go. Christ, the man called me on four separate occasions over the first three weeks of observations and actually asked me to send him raw data. Raw data!
Did he really think I wouldn't figure it out? This is where you would slap my butt and tell me to get over it. Damn, I miss you.
Have you talked to Adam? I wonder how he's doing. Fine, I should expect. Adam will always be fine. It occurs to me that we might be able to coordinate when you each come to take part in the clinical trials. I'll need to administer the tests to you individually, but there's nothing that says we can't do it the same week (it'll take a little longer if I do each of you at the same time - that might present a problem if either of you is pressed for time) or at least have some overlap. Consecutive weeks, perhaps. He can come, I'll test him for a week, then you come the next week and I'll do you. That way, we'll have the weekend between when the three of us can hang out together.
Come to think about it, it might be very good if you're both here at the same time - at least for part of it - during the trials themselves. I'll have to think more about this, but I bet I could design some interesting experiments that involve both of you.
LOL. Get your mind out of the gutter. I just reread that last paragraph and can imagine you smiling at it. Fuck, I miss you. Have I said that yet?
So tomorrow I have the meeting with my advisor. I'm going to work out a little, too - at least try to find the gym - and perhaps take a run. I've been percolating on the instrument to measure people's placement on the scale. What the hell should I call that, anyway? The Dominance Scale? Six Degrees of Trepidation? Should I name it after myself, or would that be too much? Actually, I should probably name it after Adam. It was his idea, after all. I'd like to work on that tomorrow too.
That's about it. I've jerked off twice tonight already trying to get to sleep and think maybe the third time will be the charm. What shall I dream of this time? Dan in his shiny little spandex uni standing in the warm up area next to the vault and cupping his package? I knew that was for me at the last meet. Christ, you were looking right at me when you did it. Could you have been more obvious? Dan kneeling over my chest with his knees pinning my arms out beside me as he towers above me and dick-slaps my face? Dan trying to cook dinner? No, that would just make me laugh. I know. The junction between your neck and your shoulders as you fuck me. The way the cords bunch and the furrows just above your clavicles become deep right before you cum in me. That'll get me there.
Needless to say I'm thinking about you. I'll write again soon.
Everything, Mark