B & G Chapter 8
B & G
Timmead88@yahoo.com
Chapter 8
The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.
In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
Thanks and love to Tom for always patiently and carefully doing the editing chores, and to the rest of my Nifty Six colleagues.
GABE:
I realized I was lucky not to have blown things with Brent (though perhaps that's the wrong expression) because of my jealousy. I knew that nasty emotion sprang from what I could now realize was my love for him. I'd never loved anyone but my family before. There'd been some good sex, and I'd had a room mate or two in college that I had good feelings for, but never had I felt for anyone else the way I felt for Brent. I reacted possessively when I guessed he and Guy Mannington had had sex. Looking back on it, I saw how silly all that was, and I resolved that I'd make Brent know I loved him and trusted him. Besides, I really did trust him. Our sex after my fit of pique demonstrated that.
We talked about getting tested for std's, but he swore he'd used a condom with Guy, who was smart enough and experienced enough to insist on that, and I believed him when he said he'd never had sex with anyone except Guy. When I explained I'd had sex with no one since Guy and had been tested six months after that, we decided that there was no reason to be tested so long as we remained a monogamous couple. And that, we agreed, was what we were going to be.
There was no immediate rush for us to live together, though we both seemed to assume that we'd do so eventually. But there were possible ramifications if we were openly living together, repercussions with my work crew, primarily. I had decided, however, that when the renters of the other half of my duplex moved out at the end of the school year, I'd offer it to Brent. That way we'd be sharing a house, which would be very convenient, but we wouldn't be perceived as living together.
After second term classes began, we settled into a routine. We spent a couple of nights during the week and most weekends together, all very domestic. We enjoyed reading, listening to music, and watching videos together. We also liked to spend time just talking and snuggling, followed by hot sessions in bed. Before long, we had toiletries and changes of clothes at each other's places, not to mention books and dvd's. I looked forward to the possibility of living together, but I was much more content with the arrangement of sleeping back and forth than I'd ever been alone or in any of the brief liaisons I'd had before.
BRENT:
Early January was a busy time, what with the new term starting and all. I had 100 new names to associate with faces, plus my two horn students. According to the paperwork I received from the dean, Dane Pierce was a sophomore mid-year transfer from Baldwin-Wallace, and Judith Moore was a trumpet major who had decided to brush up on her lapsed skills with the horn. I was a little nervous about teaching them because I hadn't really done much one-on-one work with horn students.
As it turned out, they were both enjoyable to work with. Judith was a relaxed, sunny person with brown hair, brown eyes, and a nice figure. She loved the trumpet, loved music, thought being in the Conservatory was "like fantastic." She worked hard. I figured she'd never play in a symphony orchestra after graduation, and I learned later that she wanted to teach.
Dane was small, slight, not more than 5'7" and perhaps 135 pounds. He had curly honey blond hair and pale blue eyes. He was quieter than Judith, very shy at first. After his second or third lesson with me, he seemed to loosen up a bit. I thought he was a promising hornist. When I asked him why he had transferred from B-W, he told me that our university was close enough to his home that he could live there and thus save some money. He wanted to go to graduate school somewhere eventually, so he was already planning how to afford it. Even though diminutive in size, he had a tantalizing little butt and a nice package.
All in all, I was pretty sure I was going to enjoy my horn students that term.
Life off campus was wonderful. Being with Gabe two or three evenings a week plus weekends was a dream come true for me. During those years when I wasn't dating anyone, I never dreamed of having sex with a parade of different men. I always knew I wanted to find the perfect man and just enjoy being with him. So Gabe's presence in my life, especially since he seemed equally happy with our arrangement, was ideal. It may sound dull as I describe it, but it really wasn't. Gabe was always an interesting, intelligent, well-read companion, and my sexual education under his tutelage was more exciting than I had ever dreamed possible.
Speaking of sexual education . . . one afternoon early in the term Gabe appeared in the doorway of my office wearing a blue chambray shirt with his name and title embroidered on it, jeans, and work shoes. His eyes sparkled as he smiled at me, so I became instantly hard. I stood up as he came into the room and closed the door.
"Hey, studly. Better lock that door," I said, not wanting a passer-by to see the tent in my pants.
"You must have the same thing in mind I do," he said, flipping the lock on the door. "How's Brent this afternoon?"
"Fuckin' horny now that you're here." I put my arms around his waist, pulled him against me, and we kissed, grinding our hard cocks against each other. It always excited me to see Gabe, to feel his body against mine, to feel the tickle of his mustache as we kissed. But there was also the thrill of doing what we were doing in my office, when someone, perhaps even the dean herself, could knock on the door at any moment. The door was, of course, locked, and we couldn't be seen. I suppose if anyone had knocked, we'd probably have simply not opened the door. But the extra titillation was there.
"Baby," Gabe said, "we've got to stop, or I'm going to come in my pants."
I rubbed his hard tool. "And I do that to you, do I?"
"Oh, yeah, just thinking about you does that to me. But when we're actually together," he said as he squeezed our pelvises together, "I'm on the verge of meltdown. Like right now."
I chuckled and stepped back, my dick oozing into my boxers, and said, "Well, we can't have the senior electrician running around campus with cum stains on his jeans, can we?"
"Wouldn't look too good, would it?"
"Nope." I knelt in front of him and unfastened his jeans, dropping them and his boxers to the floor. Then I took his beautiful, pulsing cock into my mouth and began to work on it.
Gabe groaned softly.
"Shush," I said. "We don't want to be heard in the hallway or the next office."
He had a glazed look in his eye as he began to run his fingers through my hair. Soon he was shooting volleys of semen against the back of my throat, and I was swallowing greedily. His knees must have weakened at the moment of orgasm, for he collapsed into one of my office chairs, his jeans and boxers still around his ankles, his cock gradually wilting.
"What a picture," I said, grinning at him.
"Whee! Let me get my breath, and then I'll do you."
"I don't think that's such a good idea. I'll take a rain check. I'm to come to your place tonight, right?"
"Yep. That was the plan."
"Well, you can reciprocate, if you're still of a mind to, this evening. Right now, I think you'd better get yourself put together while I eat a package of breath mints. I've got office hours until 3:00, and I'd better get this door open."
As he was fastening his jeans, he grinned at me and said, "A whole package of breath mints, huh? Didn't it taste good?"
"It tasted wonderful, but I don't exactly want to exhale cum breath in here for another hour or so."
He gave me a lingering kiss and said, "Thanks, lover. My working conditions sure have improved as of today."
"You're planning on making this a regular thing, are you?" I asked, leering at him.
"Ya never know, studly, ya never know." He unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway, leaving the door open behind him.
I picked Gabe up that evening in the used Taurus I had bought the previous summer when I had moved from New York to Ohio. We drove through slushy streets to a local steak house, which had some students and some older clientele, probably university faculty or staff, since it was close to campus. When we each had a beer and had placed our orders, big steak, fries, and salad for him, little steak, baked potato , and salad for me, I raised my mug to him and said, "Here's to more surprise visits!"
He touched his mug to mine, grinned, and said, "You liked that, did you? Seems to me I was the beneficiary."
"Just wait. I expect payback with interest tonight."
I got it, too. After we had undressed each other, something we'd established as a bedtime custom, he had me lie on my back on the bed. He turned off the bedside lamp, leaving only the faint glow from the bathroom night light for illumination. Getting onto all fours above me, he began licking and then sucking on my neck.
"Hey, don't give me a hickey where it will show. That would be pretty embarrassing."
He whispered in my ear, "Aw shucks, I wanted to mark you as mine."
"Mark me, lover, but do it where it won't show, please."
"What about the gym?"
"Oh, shit, I hadn't thought of that. Guess you'd better forget about the hickey tonight, okay?"
"Yeah, guess you're right." He worked his way slowly from my neck to my left nipple, which he sucked on enough that I was beginning to worry about a hickey again, but by then he had me so excited I wasn't capable of too much worry about anything.
Since puberty I had dreamed of a man who would love me, who would make love to me, and I had imagined all sorts of scenarios to which I jacked off. But none of my erotic fantasies could match what happened when Gabe and I were together. He was beautiful. Yes, beautiful. Not just great looking, but also a beautiful person. I'd never met anyone to whom I felt so close, whom I'd rather be with. I missed him every moment we were apart and felt fulfilled every moment we were together, even if we were doing household chores like loading the dishwasher or taking out the trash.
At that particular moment, however, I was caught between ecstasy over what he was doing to my nipples and desire for release.
"Gabe," I said.
He didn't answer, knowing that was just an exclamation, not the beginning of a conversation.
When I thought I was going to have to beg him to put my needy cock in his mouth, he left my nipples and moved south. I nearly jumped off the bed when he put his tongue in my navel. I never thought of that as an erogenous zone, and partly it tickled, but it also made my whole body quiver. I'd thought by this time Gabe had put me through the gauntlet of sexual feelings, but it seemed he had more things in store for me than I could ever have imagined.
>From my belly button, he moved slowly toward my pubes. He alternately rubbed the tip of his nose and his tongue in the hairy trail from navel to pubes, and then he lapped all over my abdomen with the flat of his tongue, making little growls occasionally.
As his head moved further in its course, he bumped into my turgid dick. In fact, it poked him in the ear. He seemed to take that as his cue to grab it with his left hand while, resting his head on my belly, he began to lick it with long, slow strokes with the flat of his tongue. By then I was quivering all over, thrashing around, moaning, cursing.
"Gabe, sweetheart, this is exquisite torture. I love it, but I can't stand it. Please, put it in your mouth!"
He looked up and gave me a lascivious grin. "Oh, you mean like this?" And he immediately swallowed my whole cock. Somewhere deep inside me I heard a voice saying I'd have to learn to do that to him, but the voice was drowned out by the chorus of other voices in my head saying, "Yes, yes!"
The heat of his mouth and throat, something he did with the muscles of both, gave me feelings I'd never had before, perhaps in part due to Gabe's skill, perhaps due entirely to the fact that it was Gabe who was doing it. Whatever the cause, I knew I was about to come. I didn't yell. I put my hands in his hair and whimpered his name. And then I had a powerful orgasm which emptied me completely, leaving me limp, sated, and incredibly happy.
Gabe patiently let me come down from the cloud where he'd put me, rolling over to lie on his side next to me. When my heart rate and breathing returned to normal, I turned to face him.
"You are a wizard, you know. It's impossible for anyone to feel as good as you make me feel, impossible for anyone to be as happy as you make me."
He put his arms around me and began to kiss me lightly, my hair, my forehead, my nose, my eyelids. He didn't say anything. No words were adequate. We simply lay there together, arms around each other.
"Oh, lover, thank you," I finally said into his chest. "You are magnificent. But don't you need to get some relief? It's been eight hours since our office tryst, you know."
He squeezed me, kissed the top of my head, and said very softly, "In the morning, maybe. Not now. Just let me hold you, baby."
GABE:
The next morning, we woke early enough for a long, sweet, slow fuck. After we shaved and showered, I fixed bacon and eggs and warmed up some pecan rolls. Brent tutted about the cholesterol, but he dug into everything I put in front of him. Nothing like good sex to give a guy an appetite.
As we had a second cup of coffee, he said, "I'd like to take Rae to dinner, and I'd like you to come with us."
"Me? Wouldn't that be a little awkward?"
"Not really. I told you, didn't I, that I came out to Rae before the holidays? She was totally cool with it, and we agreed to be like brother and sister. So now I want her to meet my man."
"Oh, she's done that. At least she and I know each other."
"Well, maybe I just want her blessings on us as a couple. Would you mind?"
"Of course not, if that's what you want."
The following Friday night was set as the date. I cleaned the tools out of the back end of my SUV and ran it through the car wash. It had been covered with salt, but we'd had a enough clear, dry days that it made sense to get it cleaned off. Since Rae was going to be riding with us, I cleaned it out thoroughly inside, too.
Brent had made reservations at one of the town's nicer restaurants. He and I wore slacks, jackets, and dress shirts open at the collar. With overcoats, of course, since this was January in Northern Ohio. When we had hung up our coats and we got a look at Rae, I whistled. She looked spectacular. She had on a black and white tartan skirt, a pattern I'd never seen before, and a black turtle-neck sweater. With her red hair down to her shoulders, she was one beautiful woman, and I told her so.
She laughed, thanked me, and said that the tartan in the skirt was one of three setts the Menzies were entitled to wear. There was a red and green hunting sett and a red and white sett.
"And," Brent said, "I'll bet you have garments in all three."
Her eyes sparkled as she said, "Several, in fact. But I thought the red and white or the red and green would look too much like leftover Christmas, so I chose this outfit instead."
"Well," he answered, "as Gabe just said with his wolf whistle, you look fabulous, doll."
We were seated and ordered drinks. Rae asked, as Brent had predicted, for single malt scotch. Brent had chardonnay, and I had Dry Sack.
"Okay, guys, so what's the occasion? No, wait, let me tell you. You've invited me here to tell me you're a couple now?"
"Yeah, well," Brent said, taking one of her hands in his, "I thought you should be the first to know, as my honorary sister, and all."
She allowed her left hand to remain in Brent's and took my hand with her right. "I'm really happy for you both. I had halfway suspected this after Brent came out to me." She squeezed his hand. "It's a shame, though," she said, smiling.
"Shame? Why?" Brent asked, looking worried.
"The two sexiest men on campus are now out of circulation. What a loss for the female community."
"You're teasing us."
"Not really. I can't think of any other guy I know around here as hunky as either of you." She paused and grinned. "Except maybe for the new tennis coach."
"Oh," I said, "I haven't seen him. He must be hot."
Gabe grinned. "Yeah, he's hot, trust me!"
"I'm not sure I trust you if you're checking out cute guys."
"Hey, babe, I'm yours, but I'm not dead!"
We all laughed and then I just sat there and listened to the two of them talk. Obviously they did have some kind of bond. Brent was lucky to have come out of whatever relationship he and Rae had on such a good footing.
We sipped our drinks and chatted. In response to a question from Rae, we took turns telling her about our trip to Cleveland to see "Fledermaus" on New Year's Eve. She got the highly edited version, of course.
After our main dishes came, Brent asked her about the program for the upcoming recital of the faculty string quartet. She said that they were opening with a one-movement work by resident composer Simon Wolfe.
"Rae, I'd love to see the score. Better still, could I sit in on one of your rehearsals? I can't very well write notes about it never having heard or seen it."
She assured him that he could borrow her score overnight on the coming Monday, and that she knew he was welcome to their Tuesday night rehearsal. Then she smiled at me and said, "And, of course Gabe, you're welcome, too."
I told her I'd love to come and then asked her what else was on the program.
"We're doing the Haydn Kaiserquartet and the Brahms Op. 51, No. 1."
I began to hum the national anthem of Germany as Brent commented that the Brahms they'd chosen was probably the best of the Brahms quartets.
I was totally out of my element, but I wanted to see what he'd say, so I asked him, "Why is Op. 51, No. 1 the best?"
He looked a little surprised, took a bite of his salmon, chewed and swallowed it, and said, "Because it is better focused, more intense, and less overwritten than the later ones."
Rae looked at him with something like admiration. I winked at him and said, "Thank you, professor."
She looked at me. "Gabe, I hope you are coming to our recital."
"Wouldn't miss it. I try to get to all the faculty recitals and the major ensemble concerts at the Con, you know."
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do know. Besides, now I suppose you two will be joined at the hip."
Brent nearly choked on something, and I Iaughed.
"Well, Rae," I said, "not entirely. And that brings up a matter I need to mention to you."
She waited for me to continue.
"I've always been pretty discreet here at the university. I've never denied I was gay if the question came up. But I don't want to come out to the whole campus. I'm not sure what that would do to my relationship with some of the guys at B & G."
"But won't they wonder, since you and Brent are together so much?"
"Let `em wonder. I'd just ask you not to tell people that we're a couple."
She gave me that gorgeous smile again. If I'd been straight, I think I would have melted.
"Okay, boys, my lips are sealed. But I don't think you are going to fool anybody for very long."
"Sheesh," Brent said. "We haven't touched each other since we left home. What kind of signals are we giving off?"
"Oh, it's the way you look at each other, the way you are so comfortable together."
"I hadn't realized we were doing anything so obvious," I said.
"Not to everyone perhaps, but to me it's plain as day. Before long you'll be finishing each other's sentences." She laughed. "And you've only been together since Christmas?"
"Yep."
She took Brent's hand again. "Well, Gabe, I admit I had hopes for this one. But I can see how happy you two are together. Congratulations. And I'm still lucky. Before, I had no siblings. Now I've got two brothers. Two hunky brothers."
The rest of the meal passed convivially. When we dropped Rae off at her apartment, we both got out of the car and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She reminded Brent to stop by her studio and pick up the score to the Wolfe piece on Monday and said she'd perhaps see me after their rehearsal on Tuesday.
Back at my place where Brent was spending the weekend, we hung up our topcoats and jackets and kicked off our shoes.
"That went well, don't you think?" he asked me.
"Rae's a great woman. Sweet, beautiful, sexy. Sure you don't want to reconsider and be her man? She'd have you in a heartbeat."
He chuckled. "Not when she found out I couldn't get it up for her."
I went to the kitchen and fixed us each a bourbon. We sat close together on the sofa and watched the end of a Cavs game. They were looking good with their new rookie phenom from Akron, and they won the game with 8 points to spare over the Magic.
"Do I have to make like I'm sleepy," Brent asked, "or can I just say I'd like to go to bed with you now?" He grinned at me and then leaned over and licked the side of my neck.
We did our bathroom routines, undressed each other slowly, and then jumped into the bed.
After some initial kissing and frottage, he whispered in my ear, "I've got to indulge my obsession, okay?"
I kissed him. "Which way?"
"Start on all fours, and we'll roll you over later."
"My, you're getting pretty masterful for a newbie," I said, smiling.
"Only because you let me, big boy. Now, roll over, please."
A Victorian novelist would, at this point, draw the curtains and leave the lovers with their privacy. Since I'm a twenty-first-century electrician, I'll at least provide a synopsis.
Brent rimmed my ass for what must have been a half an hour, making little purring sounds as he did so. He'd told me that he had been obsessed with my ass from the first time he saw me, and he couldn't go more than a day or so without giving me his special treatment.
When, eventually, I pleaded with him to fuck me for real, and not just with his tongue, he had me roll over. We both preferred to look at each other. That night was a first. I had never had a simultaneous orgasm with any lover, but Brent took forever to come, jacking my cock occasionally as he moved slowly in and out of me, so that I was writhing and moaning, begging him to do me harder, further, wider, deeper. When we did finally explode, it was the best ever for me, and he said the same.
"Gabe, I think we're getting the hang of this," he said, almost smugly.
"You're a quick learner, that's for sure!"
He went to the bathroom and brought back a wash cloth dampened in warm water, with which he gently cleaned the cum off my belly and chest. After he returned that to the bathroom, we snuggled together until he went to sleep.
I lay there awhile, thinking how my life had changed in the last few weeks. I'd thought I might just become what used to be called a "confirmed bachelor," comfortable enough living alone, having the occasional evening or weekend with some guy I found sexy enough and interesting enough to go to bed with. When I first saw Brent, however, I was strongly attracted to him, even though I had no idea whether he was straight or gay. Our relationship was difficult all fall, and, as he'd told me, difficult for him as well as for me. Each of us wanted the other. Each of us was afraid to make the first move.
Now, since our first meeting after Christmas, we were together. Solidly, meaningfully, blissfully so. I'd never been very religious, but I offered up a silent "Thank You" that night.
As my wakefulness persisted, I continued to think about us. There'd been some changes in Brent, too. He was less guarded, less uptight than he'd been when we met back in September. It was as if, after eight years or so of living behind the wall he'd built, he'd relaxed, letting the wall crumble. In his own reserved way, he had been charming when I first met him, but now he was blossoming, enthusiastic, excited about simple, mundane things. For example, when I'd asked him earlier if he wanted to work out with me the next morning he seemed eager to do it. Then he told me he really needed to practice his horn for a while after our visit to the gym. When I asked if it would upset him if I listened to him play, he seemed genuinely pleased that I wanted to come along.
"It will just be a bunch of etudes and exercises and stuff to keep up my technique and my embouchure, nothing very interesting. But I'd love to have you there if you're sure you want to come."
As we were ready to leave the gym midway through the next morning, Guy Mannington popped up.
"Man," I said, "you should get a life. Or is this a busman's holiday?"
He looked puzzled. Brent saved the moment by saying, "I think what Gabe means is that you work here all week, so why are you here on a Saturday morning?"
"Oh, I went through a set of routines earlier. Got to keep up with that, you know."
I thought of Brent's wanting to practice his horn, looked at him, and winked.
"Yeah," Brent said, "I know."
"Besides," Guy added, "ya never know when you're going to run into some hot young stud needing to be fucked."
I chuckled. "Guy, you never change, do you?"
He grinned back at me. "Why should I? Now, you two seem pretty cozy. Is conjugal life agreeing with you?"
"Oh," Brent said, "we're not living together. Er, not all the time anyway."
"I predict that will happen, the full-time thing, before too long. You guys seem tight."
We said goodbye to Guy and got into my car to go from the gym to Kling Hall. As I drove, I began to hum a melody that was running through my mind.
"Wow, you know that piece?"
I racked my brain, trying to identify it. "Yeah, an English guy used to sing it. He had words, but I can't remember them. Isn't it Mozart?"
"Yeah, it's from the fourth concerto for horn and orchestra, the final movement."
"Well, the guy who sang and his pianist's names were Flanders and Swann,* though I can't remember which was which. My dad had the recording." I went from humming to singing it with "la la la's," and soon Brent had joined me, so there we were, driving across a cold but clear campus, belting out the Mozart lustily.
As we pulled into the Con faculty parking lot he said, "Do you suppose your dad still has that recording? I've got to hear it. I'd love to have a copy of the lyrics."
"I'll ask him the next time I email home," I said.
When we got to the studio he shared with the adjunct trumpet instructor, I asked him to get out his horn and play that melody for me. He did. Then he played other things for me, some of which I'd heard, and some I hadn't. There was one melody that I liked but hadn't heard before. When he finished I asked him what that was.
"Oh, that's from the first of Richard Strauss's horn concerti. It's pretty schmaltzy."
"Well, call me guilty of bad taste, but I liked it."
"Now, Gabriel," he said, putting his horn back in its case. "I want to try something." He sat at the upright piano against the wall of the studio.
He played an introduction and stopped. "When I nod to you, sing that Mozart thing you were doing in the car."
"Even with just the la la la's?"
He grinned. "Yep, even with the la la la's."
I recognized his lead-up and began to sing at the right place. It felt strange, but it was also nice to sing with his piano accompaniment. I hadn't done that since high school chorus.
When we were finished, he asked me to do it again. "Only this time, when I lower my chin toward my chest, lower the volume, and when I raise it, sing out, okay?"
"Yes, professor," I said, grinning.
This time it was even more fun. He couldn't direct me with his hands because he was playing the piano, but I could tell what he wanted and did my best to oblige.
When we'd finished the second run-through, he leaned back from the piano and said, "Bravo! You have a beautiful voice, sweetheart. Other folks should be able to hear you sing."
"Shit, Brent. You need to remember this is a conservatory of music, with lots of men and women who have great voices, who've been coached and trained since they were kids. Who'd want to listen to my amateurish attempts?"
"Lots of people. With some coaching, you'd be great!"
I leaned over him, put my arms around him, pinning his arms to his side, and kissed him. "I think you're partial, baby. And I love you for saying that. But I'm nothing special, as a singer or anything else."
After another long kiss, he said, "On that subject, hunk, you and I will have to agree to disagree. You have a beautiful voice, and it's a fuckin' shame you aren't using it somewhere."
"How about if I use it to tell you that I love you?"
To be continued
# # #
*The Mozart horn concerto is, as Brent says, Number 4, K.495, 3d movement. My friend Drew Hunt, who's a wonderful Nifty writer, has pointed out that the Flanders and Swann lyrics can be found on the following site:
http://hornplanet.com/hornpage/museum/articles/ill_wind.html
Thanks, Drew! -- Tim