Daedalus

IV. 1992 Flying

Ajit had seen Bryon Bradford a number of times after that chance meeting in Chicago. Each meeting contained incidents, perceptions, feelings that built one upon the other, as the stones of a foundation.

The first time: came three months later. He had been finishing up the conclusion to his dissertation, one afternoon when his phone rang.

"Ajit?"

"Yes."

"This is Bryon Bradford, How are you?"

"Well, hello, just fine, thank you, and yourself?"

"Fine, I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, not at all."

"I just got into town and wondered if you'd be free for dinner tonight?"

"Yes, I have nothing planned."

"Good. Shall we meet, say . . .8:00 at The New French Cafe?"

"That would be fine, see you then."

That evening, Ajit entered the restaurant, was greeted by the effusive Maitre d' and said, "I'm to meet Mr. Bradford this evening."

The Maitre d's eyebrow arched, conspiratorially and gushed, "Oh, yes! Right this way, Sir," and led Ajit to Bryon's table.

They greeted each other warmly and Ajit took his seat.

"Would you be having the same cocktail this evening, Sir," the Maitre d' inquired.

"Yes, please," Ajit answered, surprised that he would remember.

"Do you come here often?" queried Bryon.

Understanding the reason for the question, he answered, "No, as a matter of fact, the last time was when we met. He has a fantastic memory," he added, referring to the Maitre d'.

"I think a memory for a handsome face is more apropos," mused Bryon with a chuckle.

Ajit broke into a smile, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

The Chopin martini was served and Bryon asked with some interest, "How have you been, Ajit?"

"Fine," he answered, took a swallow of the iced martini and added, "It's a wonder what a lot of hard work can do for a person."

"Yes," acknowledged the older man, "I've found it has its own kind of balm. . . ." Then with a serious tone to his voice he stated, "Ajit, I was a bit concerned about you at out last meeting. You were obviously quite depressed. Understandably so," he added. "I took the liberty of contacting a couple of my associates and inquired about the Colewoods."

Ajit's eyebrows raised questioningly as he voiced, "Oh?"

Bryon took a swallow of his cocktail and continued, "Yes. Apparently, beyond the sketchy description I gave you last time, the Colewoods are members of the 'tight-assed,' uppermost social strata on the East Coast. As in most families, there are a skeleton or two. You knew Cynthia had a brother, didn't you?"

"Yes, his name's Richard."

"That's right. Well, presumably Richard was born seven and a half months after Morgan and Elyse Colewood were married, actually eloped. Supposedly, there was quite an explosion within the staid, outwardly stable Veneble family. The old man Veneble, Elyse's father, was none too happy. Elyse was his only child and Morgan came from an impoverished old family which had long slipped from the social register. There was talk, as there always is in a case like this, that Richard was not Morgan's child."

"Really?" Ajit questioned with a slight chuckle.

"There were all sorts of rumors surrounding the possible father. Apparently, most surrounded Old Veneble's young business partner who, a year later, the old man bought out and he moved to the West Coast. You must realize, Ajit, that none of this has been substantiated!"

"Yes, I understand, but that might account for the cool, almost hostile manner in which Cynthia would refer to her brother."

Bryon nodded, and continued cautiously, "Ajit . . . about, ahh . . . Cynthia. . . She was married last week . . . to the scion of an old Louisiana family. . ."

Ajit's eyes widened in disbelief, "What . . . !"

"I'm so sorry, Ajit. . . ," he answered with concern, "I certainly don't want to add to your discomfort, but I thought that you should know . . . "

"No, no . . . It's alright," he said, then he shook his head and uttered, uncharacteristically a low, "Shit!" He emptied his glass.

Bryon motioned to the Maitre d' to bring Ajit another drink and the two sat in silence. He realized that Ajit required the silence to attempt to file away, understand and accept the information he had just given him. Ajit took a swallow of his second cocktail, his eyes focused on some distant point. Bryon respected the process and waited for Ajit to emerge from his miasma.

After Ajit had recovered somewhat, they ordered and ate their dinner in relative silence. Ajit consumed most of the wine. Bryon understood. They had cognac--Bryon drank one snifter, Ajit two. By the time they were finished, Bryon could see that Ajit has having trouble focusing and asked him whether he would like coffee--the universal remedy. Ajit refused and said that he should be getting back.

Aware, that Ajit was quite drunk and also concerned somewhat with his well being, Bryon drove Ajit to his apartment and helped him in.

Ajit staggered to his bedroom, kicking off his shoes, discarding his jacket and caromed off the bedroom door as he ripped open his shirt. He vainly attempted to remove his trousers and fell, half-way across the bed. Hesitantly, Bryon followed him, removed the socks from the prone figure and inched the trousers off as well. Dazed, Ajit tried to remove his briefs but gave up only being able to push them down to the crease of his buttocks. Bryon admired those two, smooth mounds and carefully drew the briefs down those long legs and tossed them onto the chair with Ajit's trousers. Ajit rolled onto his back, legs apart, cock and balls hanging and arms flung out to either side. Again, Bryon marveled at the beauty of that recumbent body, took the throw from the foot of the bed and carefully covered Ajit's nakedness. He reached over, placed a light kiss on his forehead and quietly let himself out of the apartment.

Two days later Bryon picked up his ringing, phone, saying, "Hello."

"Bryon? This is Ajit."

"Yes, Ajit, How are you feeling."

"Fine, thank you. . . Bryon, I have to apologize for the other night. My actions were inexcusable!"

"Nonsense, Ajit . . . It was quite understandable."

"I want to thank you for your concern . . . and, ah . . . did I . . . did anything happen?" he asked, referring to the nude state that he found himself in the next morning.

"Nothing happened at all," Bryon assured him.

The second time: they met was after the New Year, Ajit had gone to Madison to visit university friends and rang up Bryon on the phone.

"What a pleasant surprise," Bryon said.

"I'm sorry I haven't contacted you before, but I was finishing up my dissertation and preparing for my oral defense, and the time just slipped by," he offered in the way of a tacit apology.

"I understand, no excuse needed. How did your defense go?"

"Fine, everything's done."

"Then you're Dr. Ajit Miller?"

"Yes, but never among friends."

Bryon smiled at term 'friends.' "Maybe, it's a bit late in time, but, would you like to come over for a drink to celebrate, Dr. Miller?"

"Yes, I'd like that. . . and remember, it's Ajit!

Later, that evening Ajit and Bryon were comfortably seated in the latter's living room. Their conversation had included Ajit's degree progress, Bryon's recent business trip to Norway, Ajit's acceptance of Cynthia's disappearance from his life, their reaction to recent political events, and then, mere trivia. It was Bryon who opened the door to that area of their first meeting.

"Have you heard from or seen Maarja, lately," he asked.

"No. . . not for four or five years . . . ," he answered.

"I thought that you two were 'an item'?"

Ajit smiled, "Not really," he admitted, then added, "Our relationship was certainly not Platonic, however," he chuckled, "she was quite accomplished in bed, actually, very accomplished!" He cocked his eyebrows knowingly and laughed.

"Really?" came Bryon's knowing reply, tinged with erotic implications.

Their conversation had taken a definite turn into the lanes of the carnal. Neither were completely aware of the implications.

Ajit, warmed by the two scotches he had been sipping and acknowledging the growing closeness, the developing friendship that he felt to Bryon, added with a light laugh, "She could bring the cock of a hundred-year-old to throbbing life."

Bryon threw back his head in laughter. "That really creates some marvelous images in my mind," he admitted.

"Yes, well still when I think of her, which is not too frequently, mind you, I must admit that the thought of some of her 'techniques' still arouse me," Ajit acknowledged. Briefly, he cupped his crotch to emphasize the point. Again they both laughed without any self-consciousness. His mind roamed back to that point in time, a point of building in his life. And reconsidered all that had transpired--a stream of consciousness.

"Have you heard from or seen George, lately?" he asked. Not really knowing why he had asked, but there it was!

"George . . .?" questioned Bryon.

"George . . ah, George Poulous."

"Oh, yes," recognition flooding his face, "He was at 'The Party' that night."

"Yes."

"Quite a handsome well built Greek . . . history major, wasn't he? . . ." Bryon mused, and then added, ". . . with rather a big cock, as I remember."

"Quite big, actually," Ajit admitted. "Why did I say that?" he asked himself!

Bryon lifted a questioning eyebrow, was about to say something, changed his mind and then stated, "I believe I heard he was married with a couple of children and living in St. Louis. . . , I think." Then he added, "Were you two . . . close?" choosing his words carefully.

"Close and not really close," he answered cryptically and paused.

Ajit had perceived a growing bond of understanding between the two. He felt that Bryon was someone he could talk to about a whole range of issues, problems, ideas. . . When he had met Cynthia he had transferred all his energies, for a time, into building that relationship. He had neglected, understandably, his male friends, the ones in whom he could confide. Then after Cynthia, his pain and loss, naturally isolated him from these confidants. Now, at the back of his mind he knew that he needed someone in whom he could confide, his conscious mind had carefully chosen Bryon. He continued, "After that party, we got together a couple of times. . . rather torrid, experimental meetings."

A knowing smile spread across Bryon's face. "Ahhh! I understand. Such contacts can be very enlightening . . . and rewarding," he acknowledged. "I remember a similar association after my divorce. I got drunk one night with an old college friend of mine. Well, one thing led to another and we ended in bed. Quite instructive, not to mention very physical and passionate," he recalled. "I was a bit embarrassed immediately afterwards--it was my first time--but not too embarrassed as we met three or four times after that. . . They were very gratifying encounters!" he admitted, smiling.

"It's amazing how agreeable sex with a man can be," Ajit admitted, completely comfortable in the openness of the conversation and the beginning friendship.

"Agreeable? Yes," admitted Bryon, "agreeable and . . . also fulfilling." Bryon could not help but allow his eyes to roam over Ajit's face and body.

Ajit understood and accepted 'agreeable' but he pondered the implication of 'fulfilling.' In so doing, he thought that he perceived a growing bulge in Bryon's pants mirroring his own swelling. "Why," he questioned to himself. Absentmindedly he adjusted the lengthening cock, a movement that did not go unnoticed.

"I have come to the realization that intimacy can be non-physical as well as physical," philosophized Bryon, trying to avoid staring at Ajit's crotch.

"Mmmm . . . ," said Ajit, as a form of assent.

"And,"he continued, "that both forms of intimacy--physical and non-physical--are not the exclusive province of heterosexual relationships."

"Mmmm . . . ?" questioned Ajit. His mind began to consider the implications of Bryon's statements, and in so doing his burgeoning cock began to relax.

"I mean that same sex couples can, and often do have intimate physical and non-physical relationships. They can be completely intimate on all levels."

Ajit slowly nodded his head in understanding.

"Further, I believe, I know that someone . . . a man, for example can have and intimate, complete, fulfilling relationship with a woman at one point in his life, and the same kind of a relationship with a man at another point, or vice-versa. Neither relationships negating the other."

"You mean . . . bisexual?" Ajit asked tentatively.

"Yes, the most misunderstood and the least studied, clinically, of any human experience! Good, god, historically, it's been an accepted fact, and even now-a-days it is, if not an accepted practice, at least a custom routinely participated in by most married--quote, heterosexual, end quote--men in the Middle East, if not the rest of the world! In reality they are not exclusively heterosexual nor exclusively homosexual. The 'gray area' is wide and varied," he stated with some force of logic.

"I understand what you're saying. I hadn't considered all the implications . . . but, what about those apparently exclusive relationships we all know about--heterosexual and homosexual."

"Exclusivity in any human experience, endeavor or relationship has never been a proven, genetic given . . . except, possibly, our exclusive ability to be narrow-minded and stupid."

Ajit threw back his head and laughed. "You have a way with words," he acknowledged. "But, you're implying that man cannot have an exclusive relationship! That we as humans cannot be committed to one person, or one idea, or . . ."

"Not at all. Not. . . at. . . all. Man, the human being can be exclusive, but that exclusivity is, in the end, by-and-large a totally conscious choice, not a biological imperative." Then Bryon stood and announced, "Enough of this philosophizing. We're here to toast you degree. Can I freshen your drink?"

"Light, very light, please," said Ajit. "You know how I get when I've had too much alcohol?"

With a knowing smile and a lifted eyebrow, he admitted, "Yes, I seem to recall a certain . . . Shall we say, 'looseness?'"

"Touché. . . ," Ajit said, laughing.

He handed Ajit his 'light' drink, and sat down again. They both were lost in thought for a second or two. Bryon's musings brought a smile to his face which Ajit perceived.

He asked, "What's so amusing, Bryon?"

"I was just thinking about George. He was magnificently endowed, but, come to think of it . . . as I remember . . . so are you."

Ajit declared, grinning, "As I remember, that wasn't the part of my anatomy in which you were interested." Again the relicts of that evening brought a swelling back to Ajit's cock.

Bryon laughed, "Believe me, your cock didn't go unnoticed, but it was otherwise occupied and you presented another aspect that caught my attention." The memories duplicated the reaction in Bryon's crotch the same bulging that was taking place in Ajit's.

Ajit perceived the swelling in Bryon's pants. "It wasn't your attention that I 'caught.' I remember something more substantial." Half unconscious and half with purpose Ajit began to quietly massage his distending cock. "I wish he'd take me . . . I want him," Ajit thought to himself.

The older man watched, then said, "If you keep that up. Ajit," nodding at the kneading hand, "Maybe I'll be forced to reinvestigate my memory. . . . You think?"

Ajit did not offer a reply to Bryon, verbally. The answer was in his quiet stare and the continued massaging. For some unknown reason, Ajit desired Bryon. He found this older man very sexy, that night.

Slowly he slid his hips to the cushion's edge, with wanton desire he unzipped his trousers as he leaned back and slid his hand inside his fly. Bryon observed with quickening breath and a mounting desire. Truly this had not been planned, or even thought about earlier, but he would not discount the situation and surely would not pass up the opportunity. Beside he too began to fondle his erect cock through his pant's fabric.

Quietly, deliberately, he said, "Ajit, I would like to make love to you." Ajit merely smiled and continued his manipulation. Slowly, Bryon stood up, stepped over to where Ajit was sitting and knelt down between his open thighs. He grasped those muscled thighs in both of his hands and sensually, calculatingly ran them up and down their length.

Ajit spread his legs even wider apart, watched and felt the hands as they traveled over his covered, thighs' surface. Their touch sent shivers of desire through his body.

Bryon then moved one of his hands to that stuffed crotch and cupped the massaging hand beneath. He smiled as Ajit withdrew his hand and allowed him to replace it with his own. He could feel the warm, pulsating cock through the cotton briefs and the opulent balls as they shifted beneath his fondling fingers. He unbuttoned Ajit's trousers, 'V'd' open the the fly button, hooked the brief's waist-band under the pendulous ball-sack and watched as the cock, freed from its confines, as it stood tall, swaying and proud.

For a moment he merely regarded its incredible beauty. The cock's dusky color, the long triple-muscled shaft, lightly laced with bluish veins, the swelling of the mushroom-shaped head perceived under the satiny foreskin, half revealing the glistening purple head and its narrow slit; all this brought to him feelings of impending ecstasy. This pulsing, erotic missile rising from its bed of curly, black cock-hairs and the heavy twin orbs which were suspended beneath created untold joy in Bryon's mind and being. He bent forward and tasted the half-exposed head, causing the whole cock to jerk, involuntarily. Then he lightly grasped that ponderous prick just below the flaring crown with his thumb and forefinger and slowly moved them down the shaft, retracting the soft, silken sheath from its luminous captive. He reversed directions and marveled as the loose skin at first piled up against the spreading crest, then easily slipped over its constraining ridge,

half encasing the bulbous crest, and further until it covered that knob ending in a frill of loosely puckered skin. He was mesmerized as he studied its every delicious detail.

His hands then cupped that hair-covered, sphere-encasing, dark wrinkled sack that hung behind his cock. He hefted the orbs as if measuring their weight. Then he released them allowing them to drop back to their former, hanging position.

Carefully, he grasped the waist-bands of the trousers along with the briefs and began to tug them down. Accommodating the action, Ajit brought his legs together, lifted his hips, kicked off his loafers and watched as his pants and brief were removed. Bryon placed a hand on each of Ajit's knees and lightly forced them wide apart. Again he leaned over and began to suck that turgid, rigid, throbbing cock. Allowing it to sink deep into his mouth and then out again. All the while his tongue actively explored its sensitive surface as it plunged in and was drawn out. He ran his tongue around the flaring crest and into the narrow slit. He plunged that glorious muscle deep into his throat until his nose was buried in the curly, mat of black cock-hairs. Then quickly retreating all the way, creating a popping sound as the cock escaped his hot, moist lips.

Ajit sat up, eroticized by Bryon's actions and reached for the latter's cock.

Bryon said gently but insistently, "No, Ajit. Not this time. I want to make love to you." Ajit with a groan fell back against the cushions.

Bryon turned his attention to those hairy balls: first licking one and then the other until both were liberally covered with his hot saliva. He moved forward and sucked one into his hot mouth and then both, his tongue roving over their hairy surface. He released them and they fell, juicy and wet to their previous position. He returned to that fabulous cock and again sucked it deep into his drooling mouth. Saliva coursed over and down the ball-sack before forming a small rivulet that ran into that dark nether-region behind the pendulous sack. His head pistoned up and down the pulsating shaft as one of his hands began to fondle the slick-wet balls. Ajit began to groan compulsively. A finger traced the rivulet into that dark crack 'til it came to the tight, little buttoned orifice. He could feel Ajit spasm as his finger touched his ass-hole. The lubricated finger began to knead that little puckered opening to the increasing groans from deep in Ajit's

throat. He lunged down on the quivering cock, forcing it deep into his throat and at the same time forced his finger carefully into that tense little mouth. Ajit gasped and flexed his hips. With a slow, easy rhythm Bryon began to insert and then withdraw his finger into that hot tunnel with its tight little mouth. He matched his finger's fucking motion to his bobbing head. Ajit began to whip his head back and forth on the sofa's back-cushion, groaning and gasping, alternately. Bryon increased both the rhythm's frequency and the intensity of his finger fucking and cock sucking.

Ajit was quickly be brought to the edge of erotic release. His head spun, his body was enveloped in quaking, sexual stimulation, there was no conscious thought only his cock-centered and ass-centered being. He came to the edge.

Bryon sensed an expansion in the size of that already ample cock, he felt the ball-sack contract and the sphincter muscle which surrounded his finger began to ripple. Ajit was at the pinnacle.

"Oh, god . . . Oh, GOD, Bryon. . . I'm COMING . . . I'MM COMIIIING!" He arched his back and elevated his hips off the cushion.

Bryon thrust his finger deep into Ajit's ass-hole and plunged down on his cock as he felt spurt after hot spurt of pearly cum fill his mouth. Then with a guttural gasp Ajit sank back, spent and panting. Slowly Bryon removed his fucking finger and let his lips slip off the cum slathered cock and it jerked one last time and slowly deflated to lie on Ajit's left thigh.

Without disturbing Ajit's glow, Bryon quickly went to the bathroom, rinsed his mouth and returned with a hot, damp towel. Carefully he toweled Ajit's detumescent cock and wet balls.

"Oh, that feels good," crooned Ajit.

Bryon merely smiled as he forced the steaming, moist fabric to the relaxing ass-hole, held it against the still quivering opening for a few seconds and gently rubbed its surface. Ajit lolled his head in pampered relaxation and then sunk into a light sleep. Bryon covered him with a throw and went to the kitchen. He prepared a steaming pot of coffee and returned to the bathroom to take a hot shower. Himself refreshed and wearing a terry-cloth robe he ran a tub of of very warm water, poured in some relaxing bath oil and returned to the living room. Ajit was stretching into wakefulness.

"Ajit, I ran a hot tub for you. Go, climb in and I'll bring you a good hot cup of coffee," Bryon said.

"Thanks, that sounds good," he said tossing the throw aside, he got up and walked to the bathroom while he removed his sweater and T-shirt.

Bryon watched the retreating, bronze colored, muscled, nude body disappear down the hall, into the bathroom and mused, "I could really learn to love him."

They met a number of times after that eventful evening--three times in Chicago, twice in New York and once in Madison. Ajit having received his degree was exploring his options on the job market. Their meetings were brief, generally only two or three hours during which time they usually had dinner and long conversations, mostly about Ajit's career choices. Bryon was immensely helpful and supportive. He was a rock during that time of searching often asking pointed questions that helped Ajit narrow his options and focus.

In addition, they had talked routinely on the phone--long, open conversations. Their friendship had developed to where it became important for both to keep regular contact. They did not come together--sexually--during those times.

Ajit had a number of interviews and two offers, none of which really interested him. He had found that he had come to enjoy the area of research. However, none of the three offers, all from international corporate giants, really satisfied his interests. He did not want to be 'pegged.' He needed latitude and none of the positions that he was offered supplied that need, that freedom.

Late one afternoon, right after the first of the year, Bryon's phone rang. "Hello," he answers.

"Mr. Bradford, do you have any plans of dinner?"

"Ajit, for god sakes . . . Where are you?"

"I repeat, Do you have any plans of dinner?"

"No, no, I don't. But, where are you?"

"About thirty miles south of Madison."

"What are you doing there. . . You didn't tell me you were coming to Madison. I should be a little annoyed, frankly."

"Now, Bryon, as they say in America, 'don't get your pants in a bundle.' I'll explain everything. I'll pick you up at seven, is that Okay?"

"Yes, of course, but, I warn you I'm going to kick your ass."

Ajit laughs, "'Til seven then. I have a surprise for you."

"Ajit! . . . Hello?" The phone goes dead. "Damn," he says, a little annoyed yet interested in what Ajit has to say. Normally this kind of secretive conduct was not Ajit's customary behavior pattern.

A few hours later, at precisely seven, Bryon's doorbell rings. He opens the door and is met by an immaculately dressed Ajit. "Always on time," he says, "Come in."

Ajit enters and they embrace briefly in greeting.

"Now, my friend, what is all this about," queries Bryon.

Smiling Ajit answers, "I'm sorry, I didn't let you know before, but I had an interview yesterday and today I was offered a position and accepted."

"Excellent! With whom?"

"Beloit College."

"Beloit College? Doing what?"

"A teaching/research position," he grins as he watches Bryon's incredulous face.

"I'm at a loss! . . . . Fill me in."

"Well the 'short of it' is: last Monday, I got a call from my advisor at Chicago, and he told me that there was this position at Beloit in which I might be interested. He had given them my name so when I called, they asked me to fax them by resume and transcripts. They called me back that day, described the position and all the P.R. stuff and asked if I would consider an interview. I said yes, drove up yesterday. . . looked the place over, they looked me over . . . actually, quite a grilling interview. I was offered the position at two o'clock, accepted and I begin at the end of the month."

"My god, I can't believe it. What made you decide on teaching?"

"Well, I'll be teaching one advanced seminar and the rest of the time I'll be in research. They're starting a new program in International Relations. It sounded really exciting and I'll be in on the ground floor. . . and, besides you knew I had enjoyed teaching that assistantship class I taught here."

"Yes, I remember you mentioning it. Well you obviously seem happy, and that's the most important thing."

After a leisurely dinner, discussing Ajit's new position, they return to Bryon's for a drink. Sitting on the sofa each with a drink they continue to talk.

Casually, Bryon says, "Of course, you'll stay here tonight."

"I was hoping you'd ask."

"Ask? Damn, Ajit! You know you don't need a special invitation."

Ajit smiles, "Some times it's nice to know you're wanted." Saying this Ajit bends over places his hand on the back of Bryon's neck and pulls the latter's face towards him and kisses him, on the mouth. Bryon is surprised.

Bryon responds, then sits back with a amazed look on his face. All the times that they had been together and the time that he had made love to him, Ajit had never kissed Bryon on the lips. There is something incredibly intimate about this kiss. Ajit seemed so relaxed in this action.

"You don't like it? . . . You don't want it?" asks Ajit, his voice tinged with concern.

"Yes, of course I do," he emphatically admits, "But . . . "

Ajit cuts off Bryon in mid-word by kissing him again. However, this time the kiss is searching, longer, insistent and infinitely more passionate. And, again Bryon responds with equal passion and asks to himself, "What's going on?".

"Bryon I have something to tell you . . . the surprise I mentioned."

"Surprise! Another? I don't know if I can take any more surprises . . . tonight."

Ajit smiles, slightly, a nervous smile. "I need to tell you something. A couple of years ago when we met again in Chicago . . . . Do you remember?"

"Of course I do."

"It seemed fated, now as I look back on it. You were marvelous, so supportive during that difficult time. Then that time, after I had completed my dissertation, here that evening . . . it was a bit one-sided but marvelous . . . I wanted it so much. I wanted it even after, but I thought that it might get in the way of the friendship that had developed. Your friend ship is more valuable to me that a 'roll in the hay,' as they say here."

"I understand what you saying," Bryon says and thinks to himself, "He's found someone."

"Lord knows I enjoy sex, but sometimes it can get in the way. . ."

"Yes, I know."

"When I met Cynthia, all my energies were focused on her, on our relationship. I realize now that I may have gone a bit overboard, but she was my first real love . . . I was truly in love with her and when she disappeared from my life I was completely cut adrift . . ."

"I understand."

"There was no one to confide in until we met again." Ajit gets up and walks to the window. "But, now, I find that I have fallen in love again. . ."

"I knew it," admits Bryon to himself, and then he says to Ajit, "Ajit, I'm really pleased, . . . happy for you. You deserve the best . . . May I ask who the lucky . . . ah, . . . woman is?"

Ajit turns to face Bryon, his face is deeply serious as he says in an almost inaudible voice, "You. . ."

"What?" Bryon asks incredulously.

"Bryon, I know that we've never talked about this, but I've fallen in love with you. . . . Do you mind?" The last again is said in almost a whisper, soto voce.

Bryon is momentarily silent as he contemplates this incredible revelation and its implications. The two stare in silence at each other.

"Ajit, I have never expected this. . . . ! Of course I don't mind." He crosses to Ajit and enfolds him in a tender embrace, then steps back. "But, I must admit I'm stunned . . . !"

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to . . ." Ajit's sentence is stopped as Bryon gently places his fingers over Ajit's lips.

"Please, let me continue," he says as he steps back to arms length. "When we remet that time in Chicago, I must admit that I really had the 'hots' for you--I lusted over you--but your obvious distress mitigated any action on my part. Then as we met and contacted each other after that, there developed a . . . a friendship . . . Platonic, if you will . . . that obviated any physical contact. I accepted that. Furthermore, let's admit it . . . you are a superbly handsome young man and I am no Robert Redford as well as my being fourteen years older than you. So I accepted the friendship happily, although, I must admit I wanted a bit more!" Saying this he smiles. Ajit begins to speak and again Bryon holds up his fingers. "That night, after you had finished your degree requirements, I must admit, my motives were completely selfish when I mad love to you. I wanted one time . . . one last time. The ensuing months made me happy and pleased that my action did not

offend you or get in the way of our friendship. So when you say that you love me . . . I'm really taken back . . . I never had dreamed . . . . Oh, Ajit, I have loved you so much . . . I never . . . dreamed . . ." Tears roll down his face, he brushes them away and starts to continue.

This time, Ajit places his fingers to Bryon's lips. "That's all I want to hear . . .that you love me. Nothing else matters at the moment." He enfolds Bryon in his arms and kisses him on the lips and feels his body shake with emotion.

"Ajit, I do love you."

"And, I love you Bryon."

Ajit leads Bryon back to the sofa and the two hold each other in silence.

After a few minutes Bryon takes a deep cleansing breath and states, "When you said that you had a surprise, you weren't kidding."

"You're not upset, are you?"

Smiling he answers, "What do you think?"

"Then, can I spend the night here with you?"

"Tonight? No way! I'm going to lock you in the bedroom for the whole weekend!" he answers, laughing.

"That's more than I expected," Ajit says, also laughing.

"You expected less? Look here my friend, my love, I may be forty-six, but I'll bet you I can keep up with you in the bedroom any day."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" asks Ajit.

He releases Bryon, stands up, walks quickly towards the bedroom, shedding his clothes as he goes. Bryon follows and as he enters the bedroom, Ajit stands nude in the middle of the room facing him. Bryon, having peeled off his shirt, begins to unbuckle his pants. Hastily, Ajit steps to Bryon, drops to his knees, wraps his arms around the latter's upper thighs and tightly hugs, burying his face in Bryon's pants-covered crotch and inhales deeply. Bryon runs his fingers through Ajit's black wavy hair.

Ajit releases Bryon, unzips his trousers and pulls them and his briefs down to his ankles. Bryon's cock, not yet completely hard, arches out from his curly mass of cock hairs. Immediately Ajit sucks that hardening shaft into his mouth. Bryon bucks backwards, pulling his now hard cock from Ajit's mouth.

He reaches down, tilts Ajit's face upwards and says, "Do we have time to get to the bed?"

Ajit grins and says, "I'll give you two seconds."

Hastily they move to the bed--the two reclining on the bed, deeply kissing each other, groaning in anticipation. Ajit, pushes himself down between Bryon's legs and pops his stiff, erect cock into his mouth. He plummets down on that rock-hard cock, nearly as long as his own and equally as thick. Bryon's cock is cut, heavily veined, the rouge-red head is heavy . . . almost massive and Ajit marvels at its incredible stiffness in his mouth. He pulls off the cock, popping his lips past the wide flaring crown. He regards it, probes the slit with his tongue, then licks around the flaring ridge and down the bulging underside. With his forefinger, he gently traces the path his tongue has just taken, following each jutting vein and then he fondles the ponderous ball-sack, bigger than his own. Again he wraps his hot lips about the formidable head and slips down the shaft, letting his lips detect the girth, length, and the veins until his nose is buried in Bryon's

lush cock-hairs--a veritable bush. Rhythmically he begins to suck that wonderful cock in and out of his mouth. His hands move up to the hair-sprinkled chest and onto the purplish tits with their large erect nipples. He rolls the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and then as he begins to suck with more fury, he increases the rolling pressure. Bryon's body begins to pitch and arch in passionate arousal.

He jack-knives to a seated position. Then he pulls Ajit's head and mouth off his cock.

He says, hoarsely, "Stop, I don't want to come yet. . . I want to suck your cock!" They spin, in place until Ajit's head lolls off the foot of the bed, his muscular thighs bracketing Bryon's kneeling form. Slowly, Bryon jacks that magnificent cock, watching the sheath cover, then retract from the purple head.

"I never thought an uncut cock could turn me on so much," and he slips his mouth over the exposed cock-head and ravenously sucks that dusky prick. He reaches his hands around Ajit's waist and pulls body further up on the bed.

Then again he lifts off that ponderous dick and says, "My love . . . . I want you to watch me. . . I want you to watch me sucking your cock." Ajit lifts his head as his cock disappears into Bryon's mouth again. The sight of his cock appearing and disappear into Bryon's mouth coupled with the tactile sensation is electric. Up and down that heads moves, in and out his cock vanishes only to reappear. The luxurious sensation of those hot, moist lips gliding over skin and engorged muscle is staggering in its erotic sensation. Bryon's hands snake over his lower torso and onto his smooth, hairless, muscled chest to grasp and lightly pinches his purplish-brown nipples. Ajit's hyper-eroticized state causes his buttocks to flex and relax in small fucking motions in rhythm with Bryon's bobbing head. He can feel himself being forced to the edge. Bryon also senses the impending explosion and removes his mouth from that throbbing, jerking cock. He, likewise, releases

the nipples and reaches over to the bed-side table for a bottle of lotion with which he liberally anoints two fingers.

"Ajit," Bryon quietly calls.

"Yes," comes the husky answer.

"I want to play with your beautiful ass. . . ."

"Oh, yessss."

"Bring your knees up and spread your feet apart," directs Bryon and Ajit complies.

Bryon looks deep into Ajit's wantonly-glazed eyes, down to his glistening, upright cock swaying above his hanging ball-sack and down to the puckered opening. Exposed to his lust-filled eyes and lotioned fingers. Slowly Bryon rubs the two fingers over that opening. At the first touch it jerks in a small convulsive motion. Then Bryon lightly drags his finger-nail across the tight little hole--again a slight seizure and a gasp from Ajit's lips. Slowly he applies an inward pressure with his middle finger, quickly the tight opening gives way and his finger slowly sinks into that hot fuck-tunnel. Ajit groans and draws his knees up to his chest, further exposing his sensitive ass-hole. Bryon smiles at the effect of his penetrating finger. Slowly he moves his finger in and out to Ajit's further groans of pleasure. He removes his finger and smears some of the lotion on his thumb which he now inserts. Ajit lifts his ass even higher in an attempt to achieve more pleasure. Bryon rotates his thumb in that hot, dark place.

"Oh, god. . . that feels good, " comes Ajit's husky reply to the thumb's action.

Bryon falls forward onto Ajit's cock and plunges the whole thing deep into his mouth.

"Arghhhh. . . !" Ajit screams sensually.

Two thrusts of both his head and his thumb and Bryon removes both. Ajit escapes into an erotic splendor of recall, savoring the sensations that are coursing through his body. Then he feels his legs being drawn back to their prone position and a lavishly lotioned hand wrap itself around his throbbing cock. His eyes snap open as he watches as Bryon urges his legs together, straddle his thigh, places a liberal dollop of lotion on his ass-hole and slides up Ajit's thighs until the his hole is positioned over Ajit's cock. Slowly he watches as Bryon lowers his torso 'til contact between the surging cock and twitching hole is made. He watches him take several deep breaths and then with exquisite concentration, relax. He feels an increase of pressure on his cock-head and then a slow release as the purple knob slips inside that hot, moistened tube. Bryon gasps, holds himself suspended thus and after a moment or two lowers himself even more.

Ajit can see that half of his cock has been encased in that fabulous passageway. Bryon relaxes even more then sits all the way down, expelling a lung full of air. Then slowly he raises his ass and then lowers it in a slow fucking motion, reveling over the sensation of Ajit's cock in his fuck-tunnel.

"Oh, I never thought a cock could feel so good. . . " Bryon gasps and he bends over to plant a long languorous kiss on Ajit's moist mouth.

"I love you Bryon. . . " Ajit whispers and enfolds him in his arms.

Bryon, with the aid of his arms sits up, bringing Ajit, likewise to a seated position. His legs wrapped around Ajit's waist, arms encircling each other, the latter's cock firmly embedded in his ass, Bryon again kisses Ajit, deeply, with probing tongue. They break, breathless in their mutual passion. Bryon falls back, still implanted on that hard, long, pulsating cock. Ajit flexes his legs 'til he is kneeling between Bryon's spread legs and looks down to his cock buried in that tight, steaming hole. Slowly, deliberately he begins to fuck Bryon's ass. Slow and easy his cock slides in and out that ass hole.

"Oh, yes . . . Oh, yessss . . . it feels so fuckin good . . ! I love your cock in my ass . . ."

"Ohhh . . . fucking your ass!" is all Ajit can say.

The feel of his hard, swollen love-missile in that hot, incredibly stimulating hole starts to push Ajit towards the edge. He takes the lotion, pours some into his hand and reaches down for Bryon's hard jerking cock and begins to jack it off.

"Come on my love I want to watch you shoot your cum while I'm fucking you . . . " Ajit hoarsely asserts.

"Oh, god . . . your hand on my cock . . . your cock up my ass . . . I'm going to cum . . ."

"Yes my love cum. . . shoot your load . . . fuck your tight ass . . ."

Ajit feels Bryon's cock suddenly swell and simultaneously a constricting of his ass muscle. He jacks harder, he plunges in deeper. Suddenly . . . .

"ARGHHHH . . . " Bryon shouts as he explodes and copious amounts of milky-white gism spatters over his chest, face and pillow.

The spasming sphincter and the sight of that pearly rain shoots Ajit over the edge and he too comes to a screaming crescendo of release.

"I'M COMIIIING ! ! ! ! ! "

Gasping and spent, Ajit falls sideways, still embedded in Bryon's ass. Gently they clasp hands, gaze deeply into each other's sexually shrouded eyes and slip into a shallow slumber reserved for lovers.

Nearly twenty minutes passes before Ajit rouses from his golden, light slumber. His now flaccid cock lays, limply on his thigh. He shifts his legs, Bryon moans slightly and extends his legs to their full length, his cock arches slightly and bobs. Ajit looks first at Bryon's placid face and then roves over his whole body.

"What incredible passion this man brings out in me," he muses to himself, "What a sexy body and WHAT a beautiful cock." He reaches over and lightly fondles that half-sleeping muscle. His light touch causes it to jerk and Ajit smiles as he feels it beginning to swell in his hand. Thoughts of the last hour causes Ajit's cock to lengthen and harden again. With his free hand he grabs the lotion and quietly pours an abundant amount on Bryon's hardening cock, smoothing it over its whole length. Bryon groans in his sleep and his cock jerks into full erection. Carefully, Ajit releases the up-standing dick, and even more carefully stands on the bed, straddles Bryon's recumbent form, re-anoints his own ass with lotion, kneels, carefully positions the erect cock and sits, plunging Bryon's entire cock-length up his eroticized ass-hole--he gasps with pleasure at that sudden, desired intrusion.

Bryon gasps, his eyes snap open and focuses on Ajit straddling his hips and on the growing awareness that his cock is buried deep up that burnished-teak ass. Ajit, slowly begins to fuck Bryon's cock with his ass.

"Aaahhh . . . ," gasps Bryon, "What a wonderful way to wake up!" He begins to thrust his hips upwards in counterpoint to Ajit's plunging ass. He concentrates on Ajit's bobbing hard cock it's purple radiant head partially exposed. He reaches out and encircles it's thick, hard girth with his fingers.

Ajit, gently reaches down, removes Bryon's hand and says, "No, my love. Now it's my turn and I want you to finish what you started seven years ago."

Bryon's brows knitted, questioningly and then relaxed as a knowing smile spread across his face. "You'll never let me forget that night will you?" he chuckles.

Ajit beams down at him and says, "No, that's the night we first . . . . met, as I remember." Then he laughs. Suddenly his face changes, "But, this is not right," he declares and quickly lifts off of Bryon's fucking cock.

"What isn't right?" asks Bryon a bit confused.

Ajit drops to all-fours beside Bryon, smiles and says, "This was the position, wasn't it?"

Bryon chuckles, "You don't forget anything, do you?" He rises up, kneels between Ajit's legs, positions his cock, grasps the latter's hips and thrusts forward. Looking down he watches his cock sink all the way into Ajit's steaming, tight fuck tunnel. Ajit's cock jerks in concert to the abrupt penetration.

Ajit bucks his ass as Bryon plunges in and out, feeling their balls slap together at every inward lunge. The feeling of Bryon's hard, thick, fucking cock fills him with torrid desire. Groan after groan issues from his throat as that penetrating cock performs its duty. Erotic stimulation flows from his hot, aroused hole to every fiber of his being. Bryon grasps those muscled hips more securely and begins to increase the pace of the thrusts. His cock rams that tight ass-hole with the rapidity of a high speed machine. Ajit's swollen cock too, twitches spasmodically, slapping against his belly with every thrust.

"Oh, god," gasps Ajit, "Fuck me, fuck me!" he urges Bryon.

Both bodies and heads are lurching with every sinking of that high speed fucking machine. Ajit's throbbing, fuck-hardened cock is a blur as it slaps and bobs against his belly. The rapidity of the fucking motion stimulates Ajit to heights and in ways he never imagines. He feels that he has loosed the bonds of gravity and is flying, soaring high above the earth as did that fabled mortal. Suddenly, Bryon arches his back, throws his head back, lunges forward with force and screams, "ARGHHHH ! ! ! !"

That last deep thrust brings Ajit to the very edge. He can feel that hot, swollen, hard cock convulsing deep in his ass.

Feeling that buried spasming, his eyes snap open in wonder as he utters, "Jeeze . . ." and his own, unattended cock convulses, shooting his pearly, lustral fluid onto the bed covers. His cuming causes his ass-hole to constrict in violent little seizures. Bryon jerks his body as his imprisoned cock is thus assaulted and smiles, knowing the reason.

They collapse from the joy of release and from the exertion and fall apart. Without even saying a word they clasp each to the other, intertwine their legs and fall into a deep, relaxing, rejuvenating slumber.

Some time later, deep in the night, Ajit rises from his slumber. They are still intertwined and he glories in their mutual warmth. He moves, slightly adjusting a limb.

"Are you awake?" whispers Bryon.

"Uh-huh," answers Ajit.

"Do you know how happy you've made me?" comes the whispered question.

"If it is as happy as you've made me . . . , then I know," Ajit says quietly.

They hug each other closer and lay without speaking for a short time. Then Bryon asks, "Do you know something?"

"What?"

With a low chuckle Bryon declares, "I'm hungry."

Likewise, Ajit's laughs lightly, "Me too . . . , but I can't move!"

"Why?" queries Bryon.

"I'm cum-stuck to the bed clothes!"

They both laugh lightly and again hug each other closer.

"I've never cum before that way," declares Ajit, in wonder.

"You mean without having your cock stimulated?"

"Yes."

"Neither have I, but I've heard about it. I always thought it was spurious."

"Well, it's not. It happened. . . . it was wonderful . . . like I was flying . . ."

Many times in the ensuing years they flew high above the earth . . . . A state reserved for those who love each other unabashedly . . . unequivocally . . . completely. Daedalus, reborn!