Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. It contains graphic descriptions of sex between and among young adult men, and anyone who finds this subject matter objectionable, or who is not of legal age in his or her political jurisdiction to read such material, must leave immediately. This story is being posted to the Nifty Archive for the amusement and entertainment or readers. It may not be posted or reprinted in any other medium without the written consent of its author. Comments are always welcome.
My Adventures with Nick, Part Three
It was 10:30 on the dot when Nick cranked his car. The day couldn't have been prettier. I was used to dense gray clouds and cold, biting winds well into May, and that weather seemed like the height of summer to me. Nick retreived his cap from the back seat and opened the sunroof. As we drove through our neighborhood, I thought of all the people who lived around us who had to work or go to school that day, and I pitied them. I thought, too, of my friends in Minneapolis and elsewhere who were about their workaday chores, and inwardly I laughed.
Nick had a case of CD's on the dashboard, and I asked if he minded if I looked at them. He said something that made me realize how he viewed our relationship. He said, "Look, if we're going to be buddies, you've got to assume that nothing is off limits. If you want to look at my CD's, look at my CD's. You don't have to ask. If you feel like grabbing my dick in the middle of the mall, grab my dick. We're a part of each other now, remember? If you piss me off, I'll let you know. And if I piss you off, you tell me."
I didn't say anything. I was thinking. I had wanted an experienced jerk-off buddy, and by God it looked like I had gotten one. That boy had thought everything through. Finally, I said, "Isn't there anything private between buddies?"
"Oh, hell, yeah. But when something private comes up that you don't want to tell me, you say, 'That's private.' And that's it. It's private. We're not lovers, after all."
I had to give that some thought. We're not lovers, after all. What does that mean? What was the difference between a "buddy" and a "lover"? Eventually I asked him that point blank.
"The way I see it," he explained, "a lover is a person you have an exclusive relationship with. That means no fucking around. No girls. No guys. It's like that person is your spouse or something. See, I can't have a lover. Every so often, I've got to go to work at a club and pound pussy. Plus, I'm way too young to have a lover, and so are you. Boys our age have to have buddies, not lovers. We've got to be able to spew our cum whenever and wherever the occasion presents itself. We've got to find the person we want to spend the rest of our lives with, and that takes a hell of a lot more maturity than we've got right now. See, you probably think after what we did this morning that you want to spend the rest of your life with me."
The boy had insight.
"Well, that's bullshit, man. Buddy. You're not thinking with the right head. Intense sex like we had this morning is fantastic, but it ain't life. Life ain't a shower. My idea of what lovers are is my mom and dad. My brother Matt, who's the really horny one of us, told me one time about a year ago when we were talking about this that he and my dad had a conversation once about sex. Matt asked him point blank how often he and Mom did it. Do you know what my dad said?"
"No, what?"
"At least every couple of weeks. Every couple of fucking weeks? I think I'm deprived if I don't do it with someone every couple of days. Matt couldn't believe what he had heard. He told Dad that every couple of weeks would make him--Matt--crazy. Dad said that he felt that way, too, when he was eighteen. He and Mom got married when they were both twenty-two. They did it evey night, and sometimes two or three times in a day. Then Mom got pregnant with Scott. Toward the end, sex wasn't possible at all. Dad didn't go out and jump the bones of whoever he could find. Dad was in law school, and Mom was pregnant. Sex was terrific, but it wasn't the most important thing in his life any more. At twenty-three! I don't know where this is going, but a buddy is a buddy, and a lover is a lover."
"So does that mean you're going to look for other guys like me, if we're buddies, I mean?"
"Oh, we're buddies, buddy," Nick said. "No, I'm not going to be on the prowl. But I am going to work at our clubs, and if a woman really turns me on, I'm going to fuck her off the clock. And I expect you to do the same thing. Or a guy."
I needed time to process all of that, but I was grateful to know where I stood. I couldn't imagine a situation where I'd be tempted, and I said so.
"But see, a real buddy, especially one like you're looking for, has to make opportunities for his buddy. Like this weekend. I don't know for sure, but I strongly suspect Matt's going to show up with a bunch of people at some point. And who knows who else will drop by. We've got two guys who live together and take care of the place for us. They live in what we call the gatehouse. One guy is about thirty, and he's a horticulturist. He's got two college degrees, and he's kind of the intellectual type, like you. The other guy must be about twenty-two or twenty-three, and he's a stud. He's a construction-worker type, and he couldn't diagram a sentence if you held a gun to his head."
I laughed at that line. I couldn't have diagrammed a sentence either, but I got his point.
"If people show up, these guys are going to show up. And if people show up, I'd bet dollars to doughnuts they'll go to fucking. Well, you might take a fancy to one or both of them. If I was your lover, that would be off limits. If I am your buddy, then have at it."
I was beginning to see the distinction. I thought.
"Not only that, I want you to fuck a woman."
He paused, lit a cigarette, and let me soak that one in.
"Nobody ought to go through life without experiencing pussy at least once. Who knows, you might like it better than you like cock."
The conversation we had been having only added to my confusion. I had decided the night before that I was gay and in love, and that morning had only confirmed it for me. Now here was my "lover" telling me he wanted me to have sex with a woman because he thought I might like it. I now know he had my best interests at heart, but at the time I was only confused. Nick had never said he loved me, granted. He had only said he liked me a lot. I've liked guys "a lot" before, but I hadn't wanted to spend the rest of my life with them.
"Look," he said. "I know this might be confusing you. I like you a lot. Hell, I like you enough to suck you off and let you fuck my ass. And I want to do both those things a lot more. You're smart, you're sexy, and you're pretty."
Jesus! Nobody had ever said that to me before.
"I want to be your buddy into the foreseeable future. But I don't want to marry you. I don't want to be your 'lover.'"
I had forgotten all about the CD's, and we rode for a long while in silence. We got on the Interstate heading east, then, in Slidell, we took another Interstate heading north. I was enjoying the day immensely, but there were so many thoughts going through my mind that I really hadn't noticed much of the scenery. I was thinking mostly about our shower this morning. I knew how it had felt for me, but I wondered how it had felt for Nick. Finally, Nick broke the silence.
"What're you thinking about," he asked.
"You really want to know," I asked in return.
"Yeah. Why do you think I asked?"
Good point. "I was thinking about what we did in the shower and how it felt for you."
"It felt fan-fucking-tastic," he said. Sometimes Nick seemed to be able to read my mind and know what I was thinking before I said anything; other times he seemed a little less acute.
"I could tell that. No, I mean, what did it feel like? What were the physical sensations?"
"Uh, that's kind of hard to pin down. You know how it felt when I stuck my finger up your ass, don't you?" I nodded. "Well, it was like that only more so."
"I felt stuffed," I said.
"And I felt more stuffed. When you hit my prostate, I felt delirious."
"I expected to feel that way, too, last night when you fingered mine, but I didn't. It kind of burned a little. It didn't hurt, and the burn felt kind of good, but it wasn't a wave of pleasure."
"I've heard other guys say the same thing. Maybe I was too rough," he said. "That's something we'll have to work on." He looked at me and grinned.
"That's another thing. You've sucked me off twice, and I've come in your ass three times. When am I going to get a chance to reciprocate?"
"Don't worry, you'll get your chance. As for me fucking you, though, we've got some work to do before that happens."
"What do you mean," I asked.
"Until yesterday afternoon, you were a virgin. When I stuck my finger into you, your hole was super tight. Do you ever do that to yourself?"
"No," I replied.
"I didn't think so. I'm going to have to teach you how to relax your asshole. I'm also going to have to stretch your muscles a little bit before I'll be able to get into you. I don't know if you noticed, but my cock's pretty big." He said that with complete seriousness.
Nick the Clueless, again. "Gosh, Nick, I really hadn't," I said in my most ironic tone. "In fact, when I first saw you naked, I thought, 'Gee, I wonder when Nick's going to reach puberty."
"Fart-breath."
That time I was ready for him. "Cunt-hair."
"Uh," he said. I could almost hear the wheels turning. "Ball-sweat." That was it. I didn't have a comeback. We both gaffawed.
"So how are you going to stretch my muscles," I asked. "Assuming your cock really is big, as you say."
"Ve have our vays," he said, and grinned. "Have you ever heard of a butt plug," he asked, serious again.
"Yes." "Heard" was a bit of a stretch since I'd never heard anyone actually talking about such things. I had read of them, though.
"That's what I'll use. I'll start with a smaller one and gradually work you up to one that's my size. Then you'll be able to take me without it hurting."
Nick reached for his cigarettes in his shirt pocket and tossed the pack onto the dashboard. "Take the wheel," he said. "I'm hot. I'm going to take my shirt off."
I took the wheel with some reluctance. We were moving right at 65 miles per hour, and I wasn't sure this maneuver was completely safe. In a couple of seconds he had his sleeves unbottoned and his shirt pulled out of his jeans. Then, with a flourish that scared the shit out of me, he pulled the shirt up so that it covered his face.
"I can't see. I can't see," he said in mock panic.
Jesus Christ, I thought. This fucker is going to kill us both. Then I realized I was the eyes; he was only the foot on the accelerator, and there wasn't a car in sight. So I relaxed. In a second he had the shirt off, and he tossed it into the back seat. His baseball cap stayed in place. He must have seen the panic still on my face and said, "Chicken turd."
"You win," I said, chuckling mildly. When my heart stopped pounding, I lit a cigarette. Then he said, "I want some sun all over. Take the wheel again so I can take off my jeans.
"Are you out of your fucking mind," I asked.
"Yes," he said, deadpan. Then after a pause, "If I wasn't just kidding."
After we both settled down, I admired his body. He really did have a great physique--tight skin with great muscle definition. I could easily see all six mounds of his abdominal six-pack, and there wasn't a single hair above his navel, except for a rather luxuriant growth under his arms. But I noticed that his face was covered with light brown stubble. I'm not very hairy either, but I do have some hair on my chest. I can get by shaving only every two or three days.
"You've got a great build," I said. He immediately responded by flexing every every visible muscle. My "love muscle," as I've read it called, responded a little. "Do you work out or something?"
"I used to work out a lot when I was playing sports. I still work out, just not as much. I have to if I'm going to dance at the clubs. It's kind of a rule. I also don't have much body fat. Only about five percent, according to Alvin's calculations at the gym."
Of course. I hadn't thought of that. They were selling beefcake, so the beef had to be buff.
"It looks like you have a pretty heavy beard, but you don't even have hair on your arms and legs, much less your chest."
"There, buddy mine, you're mistaken. I don't have much anywhere, and it's really light brown. Blond, almost. But it is shaved off."
My dick stirred a little more. I was intrigued. "Shaved off," I asked.
"Yeah. It's for work. Most women don't really like hairy men all that much. Since I don't have all that much hair to start with, Scott decided I needed to shave what I do have."
I looked more closely, enjoying the contours of his torso. Then I noticed a tiny gold ring hanging just below his left nipple.
"What's up with the nipple ring," I asked. "How did I not notice that last night or this morning in the shower?"
"You didn't notice it because it wasn't there either time. I put it in when I went downstairs and you were still upstairs packing. I took it out yesterday after school because I didn't want to scare you or gross you out. I would have left it out, but I was afraid the piercing would start to grow back together if I left it out too long."
By now my cock was more than half hard, and I was starting to feel moist from my pre-cum. I had been curious about body piercing, and nipple piercing in particular, since I first became aware a couple of years ago that people did that. I had seen lots of pictures of guys with nipple rings and other nipple jewelry, and I had even seen some pictures of guys with little barbells, and even rings, pierced through the heads of their penises.
"Did it hurt to have that put in," I asked.
"Not as much as you'd think, considering how sensitive your nipples are. It was my brother Matt's idea. Every stud in the stable--that's what we call the dancers at the clubs, studs in the stable--has the same ring in his left nipple. It's supposed to be our trademark."
"What's it feel like? I mean, is it a constant turn-on, or what?"
"I'm almost always aware of it being there, if that's what you mean. It keeps that nipple more or less permanently hard. Since I usually have a pack of cigarettes in my breast pocket when I have a shirt on, it feels really good. It makes me, like, on the verge of being aroused all the time. It feels really good when I take the pack out or put it back in. Especially if I'm wearing a pocket tee."
Taking Nick at his earlier word, I reach over and flipped it up and down a few time. It made him moan softly. I saw then that it wasn't just a ring. It had a tiny red stone at the bottom of it.
"I really don't want you to stop," he said, "but if you keep doing that I'm going to be as hard as a railroad track in about two minutes. We'll have to stop in the middle of the highway for me to get off, and that will just delay our getting where we're going."
I got his meaning and stopped playing with it.
After a few minutes of silence, I spoke up. "So tell me about this place we're going to."
"It's cool. I think you'll like it. The house is really big, and it's pretty nice. My great-great-grandfather bought the place around the turn of the century as an investment and as a place to take his family during the summer away from New Orleans, and the family has had it ever since. When my dad and uncle inherited it from my grandparents, they made a lot of improvements. They put in a pool, a patio, a couple of guest houses, a great entertainment building that we call 'the pavillion,' central heat and air. The works. Besides a big party room, the pavillion has a full gym, sauna, steam room, whirlpool, you name it. My mom had a degree in interior design, and she put all of her talents to work. My great-grandmother apparently was a real gardener, although they tell stories about her never having touched a spade or turned a shovelful of dirt. So the gardens are really pretty just about all the time. Remember the guy I told you about who lives there and is a horticulturist? Well, he's gone hog-ass wild with the gardens, and they look spectacular. We used to come up here the day after school was out and stay until the day before school started in the fall. We also spent lots of other weekends and holidays up here. My dad and Uncle Matt used to commute, although they often stayed at home in New Orleans when they had court or something early in the day. We got the main house, and my uncle Matt got the 'overseer's house.' Back in the bad old days the place was a plantation, with slaves and all. The overseer's house is smaller than the big house, but it's really nice, too. Now me and my brothers own it all."
"How big is this place? I mean in acres," I said.
"All together, it's a little more than six thousand acres."
I probably gasped. The landed gentry.
"But most of it is rented or leased to families who farm it. We've kept about five hundred acres for our use, including a nice stretch of the river the house faces, most of the lake, and a good bit of forest land that has a really cool creek running through it. About twenty years ago Dad and Uncle Matt bought a strip of land on the other side of the river about a mile long so nobody could build a factory or something right across from us and spoil the view."
I was impressed. These are really people of means, I thought. I'd never known anybody who owned a country estate, especially at the age of eighteen. I wondered how much Nick was worth.
We passed a road sign that told us we were entering the State of Mississippi.
"It won't be long now," Nick said.
And it wasn't. In about five minutes we pulled off the Interstate onto a two-lane road that led into a sleepy-looking town. It was obvious from the large houses that the place had once been prosperous, but now it was beginning to turn just a bit seedy. We drove through what constituted the downtown district in less than a minute and turned onto a road that was narrower than just about any paved road I'd ever been on. Soon we turned onto another road paved with crushed stone and pulled up to a gate. Nick stopped the car at a stone structure that reached up to the height of the car window. It had a keypad on it, and he punched in a series of numbers. Just then the wrought iron gate opened, and we drove in.
"We're here," he said. We passed a beautiful house a hundred feet or so past the electronic gate. "That's the gatehouse," Nick said. "Where the two guys I told you about live."
We drove for maybe five minutes on this road. On both sides of the road, what I later learned were azaleas, native and planted, were in bloom everywhere, as were dogwood and redbud trees. The land had contour, unlike the flat stretches we lived in and most of the area we drove through to get here. The forest seemed to be mostly oak, sweetgum, and sycamore, and all of it was just bright green, spring having come in full force several weeks earlier. Here and there patches of daffodils and bluebells poked through the carpet of dead leaves. The whole thing looked like a park. We pulled out of the forest and were confronted with a huge and magnificent expanse of lawn dotted with mammoth oak trees that led up to an enormous manor house. So this was the country place. I checked the sun to get my bearings, but since it was about 12:30, I couldn't tell any directions. I learned that evening that the house faced west, so we must have entered from the south.
We stopped in front of the house. Nick popped the trunk handle next to his seat, and the trunk lid rose slightly. We both got out of the car. I stretched, but Nick moved around back from the driver's side to start unloading. After everything was out of the trunk, we started moving it up onto the wide porch that circled the front half of the house. Nick stuck a key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. In a very rapid move, he crossed the large and airy entrance hall to a keypad on the left wall and punched in a series of digits. "That's to deactivate the alarm," he said. "If it goes off, it rings in Bob and Tony's house, and it also alerts the local police that someone has entered the house who isn't supposed to be here. At least in theory. The security system in this house, including the hidden video cameras that I also just turned off, is supposed to be 'state of the art.' We've never had an intruder, so we really don't know if it's all that it's cracked up to be. That's more of Matt's bullshit."
I'd visited various Vanderbilt homes up and down the east coast, and this place most reminded me of them. Sunshine poured into the entrance hall through the huge expanse of bevelled glass of the doors, sidelight, and transome. Everywhere I looked I saw a work of art. Paintings, sculptures, furniture. Even the lamps and figurines looked like they should be in the Smithsonian.
"Follow me," Nick said, and I did, rubbernecking the while at everything I passed.
We went into the kitchen, which most reminded me of a restaurant kitchen, and put away the groceries. One of the triple stainless steel refrigerators was amply stocked with food, as were the two freezers. One of the refrigerators was packed with beer and soft drinks. I wondered why we had bothered to shop the night before. There was even fresh fruit in a basket on the enormous butcherblock table in the middle of the kitchen. "The guys," Nick said when he saw me eye the plenty. "They provisioned this place after I called them last Sunday and told them I would be here this weekend. They're great. We'll just freeze for next time what we don't eat," he said.
"Okay," I said, like any of this was anything I comprehended, much less was used to. Don't get me wrong, my mom made a six-firgure living, and my dad was faithful with his inflated child support payments, but this was really too much.
Nick and I were both hungry, so we dug into the fried chicken, eating it cold. After five or six pieces each, I was ready to explore.
The kitchen opened into a old-fashion butler's pantry that had two sinks and what seemed like a hundred drawers and cabinets. Every one of them had a lock. I asked Nick about the locks, and he explained that they went back to the old days, which I assumed he meant the days of slavery, when people kept all the valuable stuff, like the silver, under lock and key.
From the butler's pantry we moved into the dining room. From the dining room we went into a double parlour that was about the size of the bottom floor of our house. We also poked into the library, the study, the billiards room, the smoking room, the morning room, and the conservatory. The conservatory was full of huge potted plants, and, when I asked about them, Nick reminded me of the horticulturalist. There were several "powder rooms" around the place, and even a "ladies' sitting room." I was amazed. The place was magnificent.
We went up the carved staircase to a kind of lobby on the second floor. Nick told me there were four bedrooms and four bathrooms on this floor. There was also a ballroom that took up one entire side of the house. "Wow!" I said, genuinely impressed. "Yeah, and there are eight of each on the third floor," he responded.
"Those two guys take care of all of this," I asked.
"Well, they're the people in charge--well, Bob is, really. He and Tony, that's the young guy, supervise crews that come in to clean up and do the manual work in the yards. My dad hired Bob about six years ago. Tony's new. Bob loves this place as much as, or more than, my brothers and I do."
"This is my room. Our room," Nick said, opening a door at the corner of the house.
It was spectacular. Like the other rooms I'd seen, it was decorated with antiques, also, but it had a decidedly masculine flavor. It had a fireplace that Nick told me still worked, and the bathroom, which was all white tile and a little cold looking and feeling, was enormous. There was a smaller room linked with the bedroom that was fixed up like a study, with bookcases, a desk, a sofa, two big chairs, a TV and stereo, a computer, and a few other pieces of furniture. Nick said this used to be the dressing room for his bedroom, and now it was his sitting room. The view was of the river.
We dumped our bags onto the floor of a huge walk-in closet in the bedroom. Nick threw his cap onto a hook. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me to him. Then his hands moved down to my butt, and he squeezed both of my cheeks. I could smell his powerful masculine scent, and it was a bit dizzying. He looked me deeply in the eyes and said, "Let the fun begin. Cock-hole." We both laughed.
I had thought about this moment off and on during the whole trip. I wanted to do something spectacular, but I wasn't sure what it should be. Kissing him seemed a little mundane, and I hadn't really come up with anything else. At that moment I guess my instincts took control. I bent my head down to his left nipple and started working his nipple ring up and down with my tongue. He relaxed his grasp on me. His eyes were closed, and he moaned softly. I could feel his cock get hard, and my own, which had been nearly hard for the last forty-five minutes, now extended fully.
While I kept up the tongue action, I reached down and unbuttoned Nick's jeans. They dropped to his ankles, and I dropped to my knees. In an instant I had his cock in my mouth. This was the first time I'd ever done that, and I wasn't entirely sure I could fully please him. I held the base with my right hand and licked up and down the shaft. My own cock is especially sensitive on the underside right below the head, so I worked that part of his as best I knew how. He produced a generous amount of the clear stuff, so I took the head and as much of the shaft as I could into my mouth. Nick was moaning, still softly but with obvious pleasure, and he started moving slowly back and forth in my mouth. I knew by now that Nick is too unselfish a lover to "fuck" my mouth the way the porno guys do, but I made an effort to make my mouth as tight and wet as possible for him.
Then I remembered his anus. I paused sucking his cock for a second to moisten my finger, and I reached between his legs and found the spot. I put his cock back where it belonged and played with his hole. Then with more caution than was probably necessary, I inserted my finger as far as I could. Nick moaned a little louder, and his movements changed slightly so he could exert pressure of his own on my finger.
"God, that feels good," he said. He was breathing heavily. I couldn't see much of his face, but I could tell his eyes were closed and that he was definitely enjoying himself. His hands were on my shoulders, and he moved the right one to my face and caressed it.
I really don't know how long this lasted, but it seemed to last a long time. Finally Nick announced his impending orgasm and told me to pull away if I wanted to. I didn't want to, and he rewarded my labors with a gush of cum. His first spasm was so intense it almost squeezed my finger out of his asshole. He didn't jerk when he came, as he had done before, later telling me that he rarely does that during a blowjob out of fear of startling, or even choking, the other person. I didn't count his spurts, but they seemed to be abundant. When he was done, he helped me stand up and hugged me hard.
When Nick finally released me, he kicked his jeans off and took off his shoes and socks. He grinned at me and moved me backwards toward the bed. With the flick of his wrist, he pulled back the comforter and top sheet and told me to lie back. He first took off my shoes and socks and tossed them across the room to where his were. Then he loosened my jeans and pulled them down. Next came my briefs and then my shirt. Now I was naked, too, and I felt completely comfortable.
My legs were hanging over the side of the bed far enough for me to bend my knees. I started to scoot up on the bed, but he told me to stay as I was. My cock was leaking badly, and a drop splashed onto my stomach, leaving a tiny thread connecting my abdoman and my penis. Nick said he would be right back and went into the next room--Matt's room, I later learned--through a connecting closet. He was back in a second holding two flesh-colored objects that I couldn't see clearly and a jar of Vasoline.
"Are you ready for your butt plug," he asked.
"You know I am," I said, and he smiled with me.
He set two butt plugs and the Vasoline down next to me on the bed. Then he did something I wasn't ready for. He grabbed my ankles and pushed my legs back to my shoulders. It didn't hurt, or anything like that, but it made me feel really vulnerable. My ass was completely exposed, and I was virtually powerless to move.
Nick bent down and began tonguing my hole. The sensations of the night before returned, and in a matter of seconds I was moaning. He licked and tongued me until my entire consciousness was centered in my anus. My hard-on was pressed into my belly, and, as he licked, he pushed back and forth gently on my legs. This caused my erection to rub against my own flesh, and the feeling was incredible.
Before I could come in this position, Nick coated his hand with Vasoline and inserted one, then two, then three fingers into me. He moved them in and out rhythmically, and I felt a heat in my rectum that I had never known before. He withdrew for a moment to lubricate the smaller of the two butt plugs. Then with a gentleness and a firmness that overwhelmed me, he inserted it into my ass. The object was the largest I'd taken thus far, and I felt the wave of pleasure I had read about. He twisted it slightly to align it properly, and then he pulled it in and out a half dozen times. Without so much as a flick on my cock, I came in a splash. Wave after wave of pleasure ensued, and I deluged my abdoman with my own juice. It was close to ecstasy.
When I finally finished, Nick's face was in mine, all a-grin. "How do you feel," he asked. "Fabulous," I said weakly. Nick lowered my legs and straddled me, his hard cock laying atop my hard cock. Without a word, he began humping me. Our dicks were between us, and the sensation was indescribable. He humped and humped, and I responded in kind. Before long we both came. I don't know what it was like for Nick, but for me it was heaven. The butt plug was working its magic, and I felt my ass contract on it seven or eight times. Again I didn't know where to focus. I decided to focus on Nick, and I flushed with the affection I felt for him at that moment.
After a time of mutual caressing, Nick stood up straight. He cock was at half mast.
"Put mine in me," he said.
I was confused. "You don't need any training," I said, knowing his asshole could take anything I could offer with room to spare.
"You're right. I don't need training. But a butt plug just feels good, and I want one," he said. "And I want you to put it in me."
I did as the man ordered. I greased up the other butt plug and stuck it in him while he held his own legs back to his shoulders. I had seen dogs assume the submissive posture to other dogs and to their masters, and Nick's vulnerability in this position reminded me of that. I gently pushed the plug into his ass, and it took it like a baby takes a tit. Neither of us came, but, by my reckoning, we'd each come five times that day--almost a record for me.
Nick joined me in a sitting position on the bed. We both wanted to smoke. Nick's cigarettes were still on the dashboard of his car, so I got up and got mine. When we finished our cigarettes, he said it was time to explore the country place.
In class yesterday Nick had said he intended to spend the entire Spring Break "bare-ass naked," but I thought he was exaggerating. I got out of bed and went for my clothes. Nick looked at me (admiringly, I hoped) but didn't say anything.
Then, "I'm not putting on a stitch of clothes as long as there's sunshine. I hope you won't, either."
"Won't people see us naked," I asked.
"Who? Bob and Tony? They'll probably be naked themselves," he said and chuckled. "None of the other help will be here as long as we're here. The great thing about this place is the privacy. Nobody'll see us. But fuck 'em if they do. I don't care. But if you do. . . ."
"Fuck 'em," I said. The thought of spending the next five days naked started to turn me on. In fact, I noticed that I was still half hard after coming twice. Nick was, too.
We went downstairs and out onto the patio. The pool was beautiful, and the landscaping around the pool was obviously the work of a professional. Bob, I thought. Nick showed me the pavillion and the two guest houses, each large enough to accommodate ten people each, very comfortably. Then we strolled the gardens. The freshness of the vegetation was exhilirating, and the flowers everywhere were magnificent. I think this was probably the first time in my life I have ever been naked outdoors, and I felt completely free and uninhibited.
We walked down to the river and out onto a dock. You couldn't see another house or a sign of human life in either direction. Nick turned to face me and grabbed my arms a little below the shoulders. We were close, and our dicks were touching. He started turning slowly from side to side, and each time he did our dicks rubbed against each other. I started getting harder, and so did Nick. In a few minutes, we were both at full staff. Something emboldened me. "I want to see you jerk off," I told Nick.
He told me to sit down on the dock and open my legs. He sat between them and put his legs over mine so that his calfs were on top of my ankles. I had a perfect view of his cock, and he, of course, of mine. Without another word, Nick started jerking off. I expected him to pound himself wildly, but he made his strokes slow and long. He got faster as he got closer to orgasm, but he never truly "beat" his meat. He came with a great grunt and splashed only a small amout of cum onto the dock between us.
Watching Nick pleasure himself was a real turn-on for me. I started dripping pre-cum almost immediately, and responded eagerly when he said, "Okay, your turn." It took me no more than a dozen strokes to bring myself off, and I, too, dribbled out only a few drops of cum.
"What's happening," I asked. "Why didn't we make more cum?"
"There's not an infinite supply, you know," he said good naturedly. "This was time number six for us today, and it's only mid-afternoon. I've had completely dry climaxes when I've been doing it a lot. It's nothing to worry about. Mine was really intense. Was yours?"
"Mine was so intense I thought I was going to shit."
"The butt plug helps with that. So does the fact that we've already come so many times today."
"By the way," I asked, "why did you use vasoline instead of the KY you bought?"
"That's a good question. I should have explained it. KY is water-based, and it tends to dry out when the water in it is absorbed by your asshole. The plug would have gotten stuck to you and been uncomfortable when I take it out. The Vasoline is oil-based and won't dry out, at least not nearly as fast."
"How did you know that," I wanted to know.
"Experience."
"Have you trained other guys like you're training me?"
"No, I haven't. I've done this with a couple of girls, though. But the experience comes from wearing butt plugs myself."
"You mean you just wear one sometimes?" I probably sounded like I found that outrageous, but with Nick nothing was outrageous.
"Yeah, I do. I even wear them to school sometimes. Especially if I think it's going to be a dull day. I stay half aroused all day. I usually wear underware on those days so the front of my jeans doesn't get too wet, though." He laughed, and I laughed with him. "One of these days I'll have to tell you about something that happened earlier this year with Dean Slappit," he said. "But that can wait."
We still hadn't moved. Nick scooted closer to me, and I thought he had something else in mind. Instead, he said, "I'm a little sleepy. Let's just lie here for a few minutes, okay?"
We both lay back and closed our eyes against the sun. In a few minutes we both dozed off. I remember thinking just before I went to sleep how contented and, well, happy I felt. We must have slept for a half hour or more, and when I awoke I could feel my skin tingle with the beginnings of a sunburn. I woke Nick up and asked him if there was any suntan lotion around the place. He said there was and that he ought to put some on, too. He told me he uses the tanning bed they have for the dancers at one of the clubs at least twice a week, so he never fully loses his tan, but, like me, he didn't want to burn. We got up and Nick put his arm around my waist. I did the same to him, and we walked back up to the house.