This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental. Actual locations are mentioned, and are used for 'background' only.
'Phalen - Finding Happiness' Chapter seventeen
by Roy Reinikainen
David Layson crossed the room once more and stood before the window overlooking Kaivopuisto Park, the leafless trees stretching out to the edge of the water where several small sailboats sat rocking beneath a gray and cloudy sky. With the coming of winter, the weather was cooling rapidly, though the city had yet to see its first snow.
David's wife, Margit, sat on the bed, a half-filled suitcase at her side, and watched her husband, bothered by his distress, yet unable to do anything about it. The closer the time came for them to leave for the States to visit Jeff and Greg, the more agitated he had become.
He had come home from work shortly after lunch, telling her he had been unable to work, and had been absently pacing ever since. A glass of wine hadn't helped calm him. He had merely downed it in a couple of swallows and handed her the empty glass before continuing his pacing. Nor had a walk in the park. He had returned tugging off his coat, mumbling about the weather, the darkness, the wind blowing off the water . . . everything. He gave his wife a distracted kiss before he walked across the room and looked out of the window. From time to time he would flop into one of their home's deeply cushioned chairs, only to jump up a few minutes later, grumbling something under his breath.
She watched in silence as he took a deep breath, stretching the fabric of the crisply pressed white shirt across his broad shoulders. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his dark slacks before turning away from the window, intent on crossing the room once more.
"Oh, David." Margit looked up from placing something into the suitcase. "Please, do sit down and stop pacing. You remind me of a caged animal at the zoo. The moment you began growling, you completed the picture." She smiled, taking any potential sting out of the description, and then patted the bed next to her. "C'mere, love."
David sat down and took his wife's hand, his mouth curving into a sheepish smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes. His moustache was a recent addition, but the ghost of a beard was as much a trademark with him as with both their sons.
There was no doubt about it. Her husband, at forty-six, remained a strikingly handsome man. His steel-blue eyes, curly black hair, and, under normal circumstances, buoyant personality were instant hits wherever he went, from the college campus, where she had first met him, to the United States Embassy, where he now worked.
David turned to her, his sheepish grin maturing into the same smile which had melted her heart the night they had met. 'Strange,' she thought. 'Neither Jeff nor Greg have their father's smile, nor his playful personality.' He squeezed their interlaced fingers, bringing them to his lips for a tender kiss.
"It's easier for me to face some stressful situation at the Embassy than think of facing Jeff and Greg. I feel as if I'm going to be judged." His smile faded as he bowed his head. "I'm not sure if I can face them, Margit; not with what we now know happened to Jeff." He gulped for a breath of air in an attempt to not let his emotions seize control.
She leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body in the coolness of the house. "I'm sure all parents experience times in which they fear facing their children," she murmured, trying to be reassuring. If she were to be truthful, she was experiencing many of the same fears David had spoken of. "Most likely, the fears stem from the parents' own insecurities more than from any actual shortcomings in rearing their children." He gave his head a rueful shake at her encouraging grin.
"True of most parents, my dear; not true of us. Our boys have more than enough reasons to want to forget their childhood." He bowed his head once more and tightened his fingers in hers. "Especially, Jeff. I can't imagine how he survived . . . all those years . . . all alone." David's voice was thick with suppressed emotion. "We should have . . ."
Margit leaned close. "Sweetheart, please stop these recriminations. They aren't going to help either us, or Jeff. He did survive. That's what matters. In fact, he not only survived, but flourished. He's happy where he is now. He's got Phalen. He'll keep Jeff on his toes." Margit stared into the distance, barely noticing the feeble late autumn sunlight breaking through the heavily scudding clouds.
"I often wonder how he did it," Margit mused, half to herself. "Survived," she supplied, when David looked up. "Jeff," she added.
"Our entire family is made up of survivors, isn't it?" David's voice, a light baritone, so much like both of their sons', was one of the first things about him to captivate her when they had met. She remembered standing open-mouthed, glancing over his shoulder to her college roommate, the woman who had arranged their blind date. The roommate had smiled brightly and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, causing Margit to blush.
He had even brought her flowers! 'No one brings flowers to a blind date,' she remembered thinking as he handed them to her with a shy smile. From that moment, yellow roses had become her favorite flower. Every year on her birthday, and on the anniversary of their marriage, he would personally present her with a large bouquet of the yellow blooms, accompanied by a message, telling her of his love.
During the . . . difficult times, she had often taken out those little cards from the place where she stored her special treasures, and read them, often with watery eyes, and would find the will to go on.
She remembered inhaling deeply of the heady floral scent of that first bouquet, suddenly at a loss for words. When David cocked an eyebrow, her blush deepened, and she felt a wave of heat envelop her that had nothing to do with the outside temperature. She was half in love before the two of them had left the house. Before the night was over, David was carrying her heart, as he had ever since.
"Greg's a survivor too." David spoke into the gathering darkness of their Helsinki bedroom, drawing her attention back to the present. "At least he's trying to be, by moving away from us." He snorted a soft laugh.
"Our boys survived . . . in spite of . . . us." He drew her close, with an arm around her waist.
"We've walked down a rocky road, haven't we, love?" He nuzzled her long blond hair and then rested the side of his head against hers. "Ever since the first time I saw you, I knew my life wouldn't be peaceful. I've not made life easy on you, have I?"
"Nor I you."
David stared quietly into the darkness, lost in his own thoughts, radiating the warmth she had always loved.
She had known from the first about his second life . . . and the men. He had not tried to keep that part of his life secret. Nor had he apologized for it. It was as much a part of him as his infectious laughter, or the incredibly sensuous feeling of his fingers caressing her skin. She had known . . . and accepted, that other life. There was no other way. She couldn't imagine living without him, so she tried to make the best of the situation, hoping that eventually, he would turn solely to her for love and companionship.
Throughout much of their marriage she had felt like an accessory, to be brought out and dusted off every time the Embassy hosted a 'function.' She knew they looked good together, her tall, slender, Nordic, porcelain-skinned beauty contrasting with his dark good looks.
"Oh . . . so you're David's wife", both men and women would croon, regaling her with how wonderful David was, how good looking, how humorous, how . . . everything. The trouble was, they were correct. He was damned near perfect. Near . . . but not quite.
Each time the two of them attended an Embassy event, she would despise the knowing looks; the looks of pity cast in her direction; the whispered words accompanied by sidelong glances. She despised herself for making excuses for him, for continuing to exist in a sham of a marriage. It was during those times Jeff and Greg had suffered most. She had given them all the love she could, but even then, she knew it wasn't enough. She often found herself, hating life, hating herself . . . David, and the feeling of being trapped.
But . . . she loved him, and even with all of his shortcomings, he did love her. There were . . . times . . . when there was no doubt. She lived for those times.
Once Jeff left for the States, something changed, in both of them. They saw one another, as if for the first time. She didn't know if he currently saw a male friend. She didn't care. Something had changed.
She no longer felt like an accessory. They were in love, and David went out of his way to let everyone know. He looked at her in the way she had always imagined he would, with love, with admiration . . . with longing. She would shiver with excitement every time he touched her. He sought her presence . . . her touch . . . her body. The emotions were enough to take her breath away.
The looks she now got, while attending an Embassy function, were ones of envy. David never left her side as he once did. He never gave the slightest hint he was looking at one of the male staff. He only had eyes for her.
Then . . . Jeff had called from the States and had spoken to them about visiting Finland. She was thrilled, but quickly detected something being hidden beneath David's veneer of anticipation.
He finally came to her and told her he had learned that Jeff was gay. Not bisexual . . . gay. David had tried to convince her he didn't care about Jeff's sexual orientation, but deep down, she knew he blamed himself for . . . somehow . . . making Jeff gay.
Then, they met Phalen and saw the change in Jeff Phalen had helped foster, and instantly, everything was all right. Jeff was a different man than the one who had left for the States four years earlier. He was at ease with himself, and with the world. He would laugh, and when he was at Phalen's side, he seemed to be able to truly relax.
That left Greg . . . now in America to find his own version of happiness. She had always known Greg was gay, though she wondered if her eldest son was aware of his own sexual orientation. Knowing him, he might not be. He got his stubbornness from her, as well as the ability to push aside and ignore any unpleasantness. It would probably take someone very persuasive to coax him into letting down his barriers.
'Poor Greg,' she thought. He was old enough to have been affected by her and David's . . . problems. He had walled himself off from the pain surrounding him, throwing himself into his studies. By the time Jeff came along, Greg had fully withdrawn into a protective shell, which as far as she knew, had never been breeched.
"Do you think we can make things right," David asked, his eyes reflecting her own concern. "Or, do you think our stepping in might only tip the balance each of them has achieved?"
She shrugged her slender shoulders. "We'll have to wait and see. I want to see both of our boys happy. Whether they're happy because of us, or in spite of us, doesn't really matter. As long as they're happy, I'll be content. Even if we had been perfect parents, we wouldn't have been able to hand them happiness. It's something one has to find ones self." He glanced at her and smiled.
"Sometimes, finding it takes a long time."
Larry hung up the telephone and leaned back in his office chair with a deep sigh, looking around the office he'd called home for close to eighteen years. Mr. Casey, the firm's CEO had ordered him to his office. He shook his head. 'Ordered. That's the correct word.' Mr. Casey never asked. He always ordered.
He heaved himself out of his chair and quickly emptied his top desk drawer and scooted everything on the desktop into his large gym bag, except for Phalen, Jeff, and Brad's photographs. Those, he carefully stowed away, giving his office one last look before closing the door.
"I think this is going to be it, Jan." He placed his bag on a chair, and gave her a wistful smile as she set down the group of files she'd been working with and gave him a grim nod.
"Are you ready?" She gave him another nod, as well as a determined smile.
"So is everyone else."
He nodded and headed down the long hallway heading to Mr. Casey's office with Jan at his side.
"I'll watch you through the window to his office. If you scratch your neck a couple times, I'll give the signal and everyone will finish whatever packing they have left to do." He nodded, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his stomach, as Jan continued talking. She patted him on the back and gave him a brave smile.
"We're ready." She nodded to Larry's lead support worker as they passed, and soon the area with Larry's staff was alive with determined activity. No one spoke. No one had to. They all knew what was most likely going to happen. One of the workers watched Jan who casually stood near the window to Mr. Casey's office. If she gave the signal, everyone would move into action.
They all sat back and waited, glancing at one another. Most of them had been with Larry for years. He treated them well, resulting in their devotion. When presented with the possibility of following Larry to a new job, not a one opted to remain behind.
Larry closed the door and stood before his boss, his hands behind his back and his legs slightly parted, the perfect stance to show he was not, and would not be intimidated. His shirt was a blinding white, his suit pants crisply creased. For his part, Mr. Casey, the heavy set balding man looked much as usual.
He drummed his thick blunt fingers on the desk, hoping to intimidate by his silence and his failure to invite his guest to have a seat. Larry calmly, and silently, waited for whatever his boss had to say.
Larry found it difficult to keep from smiling as Mr. Casey realized his ploy at intimidation had failed. Mr. Casey's normally sallow, deeply furrowed complexion slowly became bright red. Like a cartoon character, he seemed only moments away from blowing steam out of his ears.
"Well?" He finally broke the silence, slapping his desktop with both hands, a sharp smack of theatricality designed to make someone jump. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm doing well, sir. Thank you for inquiring." Larry paused a moment. "And, you?"
It was too much. Mr. Casey abruptly stood, leaning on his desk with straightened arms, spittle spraying as he gave vent to his anger.
"I won't have one of my attorneys making a spectacle of himself . . . in public!" Larry refused to be bullied into responding.
"Don't deny it," Mr. Casey shouted, his voice quivering with anger. Larry's eyebrows rose in polite inquiry.
"You kissed another man!" Mr. Casey screeched the accusation before pausing to gasp for breath. "At a football game! You were seen with him! I have the reports!" He held up a sheaf of papers, presumably the reports to which he referred, waved them wildly, and then wiped the back of a hand across his mouth before continuing. "First, we learn you were seen holding hands with a man in a restaurant parking lot. Now this!" Mr. Casey clutched the papers and their evidence, as he shook them to emphasize his point.
"Eighteen years ago, I had great hopes for you. I thought that . . . someday . . . you might work your way up to a partnership, but this . . . abominable behavior has shattered my opinion."
He made a face, looking as if he had bitten into an apple and found half of a worm wiggling its way out of a hole in the piece remaining in his hand. "Others do not agree with me that you should be summarily fired." He paused in an attempt to control his heaving gasps for breath. "So, tomorrow, you'll present yourself to the full partnership and explain your actions. Do not be late, we will not give you a second chance."
The demand, and anticipated outcome of the next day's meeting, caused a smug smile of satisfaction to tug at the corners of Mr. Casey's full lipped mouth, at the same time a bead of sweat ran down his forehead, losing itself in an eyebrow. His leather chair squeaked in protest as he lowered his bulk behind the vast desk.
Larry scratched the back of his neck and glanced over his shoulder. He saw Jan nod and turn to walk down the hallway, gesturing to those who had been watching for some sort of signal.
Mr. Casey was watching him, wearing a satisfied smile as Larry turned back, confident Jan was handling things. "I'm afraid I won't be able to attend your inquisition, Mr. Casey. You see, I've already been offered a position in the new law firm across the elevator lobby." He paused, no longer able to contain his amused smile. "A partnership, in fact," he couldn't resist adding. Mr. Casey surged to his feet and began to sputter, visions of a carefully planned confrontation evaporating before him, leaving only the tall, self-assured man, standing before him.
"You can't. . . You . . . Across the hall? . . ." He began to wheeze. "When?"
"My entire support staff have also been offered positions. They've all resigned, effective immediately, as have my secretary and I. We're all looking forward to a job where our efforts will be appreciated, and where we'll be treated with respect."
Larry turned to leave, but stopped and turned back, holding the office door half open, unaware of the people gathering in the corridor. "I wish I could say working for you has been pleasant, Mr. Casey. It hasn't been. It would be difficult to think highly of any employer who encourages anonymous reports about his employees' behavior, and then organizes an inquisition to provide the opportunity for an employee to prove his innocence. It is not the Dark Ages, Mr. Casey . . . At least outside this office, it isn't. I am confident my new employer will not confuse my personal life with my ability to do my job." He huffed a soft laugh.
"Who I love, and whom I choose to hold hands with . . . or kiss, whether in public or not, is no business of yours, and has no bearing on my ability to be a good lawyer. Whom I choose to share my life with means no more to the people I will be working for than what I choose to name my dog."
A cheer erupted from the small knot of people standing nearby, causing him to look over his shoulder in surprise. Up and down the long corridor, other office doors were being opened and curious attorneys were sticking their heads out to see what was happening. Silence or shouting were commonplace, here. Unfettered laughter was unprecedented.
Larry turned his back on his former boss and walked into the group of smiling faces.
Mr. Casey stormed around his desk and slammed his office door, a sharp punctuation to the cheering in the corridor. The last thing he saw was Larry hugging his laughing secretary, spinning her in a circle, as everyone reached out to slap him on the back.
Brad opened the glass door and stepped into the billowing clouds of steam, inhaling the moisture with a satisfied smile. He always felt decadent, sprawling on the granite slab which served as a seat, letting the heat and steam ease away his troubles.
'Troubles,' he thought to himself. 'I've got my share.' He let the steam and subdued light relax him, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to ease. He and Larry had had some wonderful times in this shower, but today, Larry was at work, and Brad had only thoughts of the two men in his life to keep him company. Larry, tall, brightly smiling, blue eyed; the man with a ready laugh and the most beautiful dimples he had ever seen. He was also the kindest and most thoughtful person he had ever met. His parents loved Larry. His brothers loved Larry. Everyone loved Larry.
'Everyone but me. Oh, I like Larry . . . a lot. But love?' He had closely examined his feelings. He wanted to love Larry . . . to be able to return the feelings he knew Larry felt for him . . . but he . . . couldn't. Brad bowed his head and took a deep breath as another cloud of steam suffused the room, enfolding him like wisps of an erotic dream about Curt, the man he considered to be the embodiment of what it meant to be sexy. Curt, the strong man with the sparkling eyes and perpetually rosy cheeks. Listening to his voice, a furry baritone, was like running one's hands over thick velvet. His mere touch was sensuous. Being fucked by him was . . . indescribable, as was the taste of his tongue as they kissed. Curt . . . the only man he had ever loved; the only man, he was convinced, he would ever love.
Visions of the two men played on the inside of Brad's eyelids as he scooted forward on the granite seat and stretched his legs out in front of him, spreading them wide as the enclosure would allow.
He ran a hand over his smooth chest, to the taut muscles of his belly, and his black pubes and straining erection which stood perpendicular to his groin, pulsing with each beat of his heart. He wrapped his fingers around his penis, a feeling much like that of Larry's anus gripping him as he fucked him for the first, and only, time.
The encounter was unexpected. He had gone to Larry's office to meet him for lunch. After a lengthy kiss, Larry wordlessly closed and locked the door to his office and began undressing him. He removed Brad's sport coat, draping it over the back of a chair. After another deep kiss, Brad's necktie and shirt joined the sport coat.
Larry hummed his appreciation of Brad's body as he began teasing Brad's nipples with his tongue. "Oh, counselor," he remembered moaning, as Larry licked over his chest and then up his neck for another deep kiss which left them both breathless.
Brad's slacks and underwear soon joined the rest of his clothing, leaving him standing before Larry, naked and very hard. To know the entire law office was on the other side of the office door heightened his excitement as Larry, still fully dressed, knelt and sucked Brad's cock deep into his throat.
When Larry stood, Brad had reached out to help him out of his clothes, anxious for them to both be naked. Larry shook his head and silently urged Brad to lie on the carpet as he pried off his shoes, and then stripped out of his suit slacks and black jockstrap.
He stood over Brad, his long erection sticking out from behind his long shirttails and suit coat. Brad reached up and tenderly fondled Larry's swaying testicles, causing him to throw his head back and sigh with pleasure. It was exciting to be lying on the floor, totally naked, while Larry stood over him, partially dressed.
Larry spread his legs slightly, allowing Brad's fingers access to the cleft between his buttocks, his strong legs flexing as he shifted position to allow Brad greater access.
"I want to feel your cock inside me," Larry murmured, as he straddled Brad and began to squat over his erection. "I want to feel what it's like to have a man stretch me and shoot his sperm up my asshole."
"You've never been fucked?" Brad spoke in a low voice, conscious of how close the rest of the law firm was. Larry shook his head once and began to chew on his lower lip as the head of Brad's cock pressed against his anus. Not only would this be the first time Larry had been fucked, it was the first time Brad had ever fucked anyone. Since they had known one another, Larry had always been the aggressor, and before Larry, Curt had exclusively been a top. Brad had always been pleased to have it that way.
The head of his penis pushed into Larry causing both men to gasp as Larry's sphincter convulsively tightened. Larry's gasp was from the sudden pain, Brad's from intense pleasure and the heat surrounding his cock like a hot glove. He now knew what both Larry and Curt had felt each time they had penetrated him. It was a feeling almost as good as having a man inside him.
Curt. Even as he slid into Larry, he thought of Curt, and of the feeling of Curt pushing into him, stretching his anus and stimulating his sensitive prostate. He remembered the feeling of Curt's weight, and the slow strokes, gradually increasing in intensity. He remembered the droplets of Curt's perspiration land on his chest, and the sound of Curt's grunts as he would fill the condom he was wearing.
The sounds of the office continued beyond the office wall, in much the same way the sounds of a football game filled the stall in one of the bathrooms at Sundevil Stadium once had.
"I need to fuck you," Curt had murmured, while watching the game. "Now." When Curt stood, Brad saw his erection straining at the confines of his jeans. Curt faced Brad as he edged past, the straining mound only inches from his face. "C'mon," he urged as he stepped into the aisle, high above the playing field.
They had almost run to one of the stadium's restrooms and entered a toilet stall in the surprisingly empty room. He remembered fumbling with the fastenings of his jeans, all the while watching Curt tease his own erection. The moment he had pushed his jeans and underwear past his knees, Curt had urged him to lean forward and brace himself against the wall.
Curt hastily knelt and spread Brad's buttocks, sloppily lapping at his ass hole, readying it to be penetrated. Then, without any hesitation, he slid into Brad in one smooth move, just as Brad had done to Larry a few moments earlier. He remembered the roar of the crowd as Curt penetrated him, and then the sound of fireworks masking the sound of Curt's quick orgasm.
Curt withdrew, still breathing heavily, his thick cock bobbing in front of him, still covered in its membrane sheath. Brad had stripped off the condom and held it before his face for a few moments before inverting it and letting its contents drain into his mouth. As the warm liquid drooled out of the condom onto his tongue, Curt pulled him close by grabbing both ass cheeks, and deep throated his erection. The taste of Curt's sperm coating his tongue combined with the expert attention his cock was receiving was too much. He jerked with the first shot, gasping loudly in a now-crowded restroom suddenly gone quiet. Curt looked up with a Cheshire cat smile and licked his lips after loudly swallowing one last time.
"Tasty," he murmured.
Someone in the adjacent toilet enclosure groaned. Curt grabbed the still-dripping condom from Brad's hand and held it over the top of the toilet enclosure to have it promptly snatched away. The restroom remained silent as the groans reached their peak, followed by three relieved grunts, and a final sigh of pleasure.
Curt and Brad left their cubicle at the same time the young guy next to them left his. "Thanks, man," he smiled shyly at Brad and Curt before adding. "Tasted great." He licked his lips and blushed, seeming to be taken aback by his audacity as well as the silent audience which watched them pass.
Curt chuckled as he patted the guy on the shoulder. "Glad you liked it." He reached out and cupped one cheek of Brad's butt through his jeans as they and the young guy left the restroom.
His encounter with Larry in his office was nearly as exciting. There wasn't anyone masturbating close by, as there had been at the stadium, but the sight . . . and feeling, of Larry squatting on his erection, and knowing this was the first time for both of them, more than made up for the exhibitionistic feelings he had experienced with Curt.
Brad thrust his hips upward, burying himself in Larry, mesmerized by the swaying and bobbing of Larry's penis sticking out from beneath his shirt tails as he continued to squat on Brad's erection. His testicles would sway from side to side with each downward motion. He was lost in the sensations, his eyes closed, his mouth open, and his head swaying from side to side, fucking himself on Brad's cock, as much as being fucked by Brad.
Larry opened his eyes in surprise when Brad reached out and began to fondle his erection. He smiled and squeezed his anus harder in response, bringing Brad that much closer to orgasm. The sound of a telephone conversation taking place outside Larry's office door was enough to send Brad over the edge.
He tried to suppress a groan as he thrust his hips up and pulsed stream after stream of sperm into Larry's hole. With the first shot, Larry's eyes widened and his mouth formed a silent, "ohhhh."
Larry sat on Brad's pubic hair, seemingly unwilling to pull free.
"Shoot on my chest, counselor," Brad urged, keeping his voice low, as Larry stood on legs gone wobbly with exertion. Larry reached down and fingered his hole, before bringing the slick fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. Brad gestured to the floor beside him. "On your knees, so I can finger your hole as you beat off."
He didn't have to ask twice. Larry immediately dropped to his knees and spread his legs to give Brad easy access to his hole. He pulled his shirt tails aside with one hand as he began masturbating himself with the other as Brad slid two fingers into the sloppily drooling anus. He felt it convulsively grip at him as he sought out Larry's already swollen prostate.
Larry gasped with pleasure when Brad found the sensitive organ, throwing his head back and groaning aloud. His sphincter gripped at Brad's fingers as his prostate swelled even larger. Larry groaned once more and began to shoot onto Brad's chest. With each shot, his prostate pulsed beneath Brad's fingers. It was as if Brad was pushing a button, causing Larry's orgasm.
"Holy shit," he laughed as he pulled free of Brad's fingers and rolled onto the carpeted floor. "I have absolutely never experienced anything like what just happened to me." He rolled his head to the side and gave Brad a mischievous look.
"By any chance, did you hear fireworks and bells and whistles?"
Brad grinned in return. "No, but I did hear some of the "Hallelujah chorus."
Larry chuckled. "Oh yeah, I forgot to mention them. Sort of made me feel as if was on stage." He focused on Brad's wet chest and scrambled to his knees and began licking and slurping him clean.
Now in the shower, Brad fingered his own hole, lying back on the granite shower seat. He imagined what a person would have seen if they had been standing behind Larry as he licked Brad clean. He imagined Larry's low-hanging testicles swaying from side to side as he moved. His smooth butt cheeks would part to reveal the still-sloppy hole which continued to drain down the inside of both thighs.
Another cloud of steam filled the room as Brad imagined . . . Curt . . . crawling up behind Larry and sucking his sperm out of Larry's hole. He increased the speed of his hand as it slid up and down his erection, as he recalled how much Curt had always loved licking his hole
He licked his forefinger, spread his legs as wide as possible and slid his own finger up his anus as he thought of Curt's tongue aggressively penetrating him. He groaned loudly as the first jet of sperm splashed against his chest. The second, draped itself in a thick white line across his belly; the third coated his hand, running into his thick pubes.
Larry . . . Curt . . . each outstanding in their own way. He loved one of them, and he knew one of them loved him.
~ to be continued ~
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask.
In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may want to read. 'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College Section. The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult Relationships section. I hope you enjoy them all.
Best wishes,
Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com suomalainen_abq@mac.com