The Abbey 3
By Bald Hairy Man.
This is an adult gay story for adult gay men. I this offends you, DON'T read it. This is a fantasy, not a sex manual. Play safely.
I was afraid my show on Franz's cock would be a problem. I was the leader of the group and no one is more vulnerable than in the throws of sexual passion. I was afraid they'd lose respect for me. It wasn't a problem at all. All of the men had either been there or wanted to be there. I remained the leader, but they saw me as a human being too.
Given the variety of the brothers' background, we got along well. Two men joined us the next week. Branford was a retired Art History professor. His partner had died and he had no other family. His partner had been uninsured and his final illness wiped out all of his savings. They had been together for 25 years and Branford was lost.
He loved the Abbey the minute he arrived. In some ways the Chapel was an Art Historians dream. He set to work researching and documenting the place. He appreciated Franz's efforts at restoration and soon was helping him. I later found out Branford's lover had been a slim, effeminate florist. Branford was attracted to Franz.
The other man, Buster, was a brick mason. He had been a good family man, until his wife left him ten years earlier. He had a business, but when he fell and broke his leg, he lost it all. The leg didn't heal properly and there were four years of operations trying to get it right. It wasn't quite right even now, but at least it didn't cause pain anymore. "If I could afford it, I'd have taken up drink," he told me. He wasn't old enough for social security and wouldn't take welfare. He was 56 but looked a lot older. I would have guessed he was 70.
Buster joined us not because he wanted to be here. It was us or living on the streets. A social worker found him and sent him to us. Ivan took him under his wing. Buster wouldn't take charity, but he would work for room and board. Ivan understood this. With the 80-year-old Abbey there was always work to be done. Once he got working, Buster was happier.
Branford was a talker and tended to babble nonstop. Buster had a hard time using words of more than one syllable. He was a strong silent type who found himself weakened by disease. They had to share a room until we finished fixing up other rooms. Branford was as academic a man as I had ever met; Buster was 100% redneck. I was afraid this was a recipe for disaster. Fortunately, there was more to Branford than met the eye.
He had nursed his partner through two years of cancer therapy. Branford was a sympathetic man and Buster's aches and pains were a challenge. Branford knew something about massage and helped the somewhat unwilling Buster. I knew things were good when I overheard Buster asking Branford if he could get a massage that night.
Buster was uneasy about Ron. He had worked with black men, but never lived with one. Ron was strong as a bull, and when Buster found out he was a hard worker, they got along well.
When you met Branford you knew he was gay. He wasn't exactly effeminate, but there was a distinct air about him. It was hard to believe Buster was gay. Don, the social worker who brought him to us, told me he was. I asked him how he knew.
"Let's just say I have some personal experiences with him," Don said. "He'd never say it, but he loves man sex."
Branford looked a little like Elmer Fudd, except he was more than six feet tall. He was bald and had a small mustache. The first time I saw him in the lavatory I realized he was a nudist. He was tanned from top to bottom with no tan lines. He had a covering of white hair on his chest and a treasure trail of white had to his cock. Branford was slightly pudgy, but not flabby, and had an average size cock.
Buster was gaunt, with bones that seemed bigger than his body. He was pale and almost gray in skin tone. He had a good sized, uncut cock and low hanging balls. You almost had the feeling his balls had stretched the ball sack. He was shy and sat next to Ivan almost as if to be protected by Ivan's bulk and his outgoing personality.
At first both men just watched the other men in the steam room. Branford joined in the general activity first. He had been leading a non sexual life for several years. His partner's death had devastated him, but he was coming out if it and was feeling sexual urges again. I was positive he was a bottom when I met him, but Branford was a top. His cock was thin, but a good seven inches long. Branford didn't shoot off easily and he stayed rock hard until he ejaculated. That turned out to be a very desirable quality.
Buster held back because he was embarrassed at his sexual interests. I later found out he was almost 100% a bottom and a cum hound. He liked anything that came out of a cock, including piss. It took him a while to understand his likes wouldn't shock us and they wouldn't make us look down on him. Buster was up tight and had a hard time relaxing.
When Buster watched the activities in the steam room, he got hard, but didn't do anything else for a week or so. Ivan was siting on the marble bench with Buster by his side. Everyone else was occupied, so Ivan asked him to suck his cock. Buster did that.
I watched from the corner of my eye. You could see Buster's body relax as he sucked his friend's meat. Branford was watching too. He went over to Buster and worked some lubricant into his ass. Instead of tensing up the way most men react to having your ass touched, I saw Buster relax even more.
Branford toyed with Buster's hole with his cock head. He just popped it in and out of the sphincter, then he pushed his entire organ into Buster's hole. You could sense the tension leaving Buster's body as the organ penetrated deeper. Buster continued to suck Ivan.
When Branford began to thrust, Buster's enthusiasm for sucking Ivan increased. After five minutes Branford pulled out.
"Don't stop," Buster moaned,
"Do you mind if someone takes my place?" Branford asked.
"Shit no!" Buster replied.
Bob coated his cock and slipped it in Buster's ass. Bob had a nice, thick cock, Buster sighed in relief. He was happy when there was a cock in his ass. When we went to the pool, Buster came alone a bit unwillingly. Ivan made him come. He got Buster to get on the bench and lie down. Then he placed Buster's legs on his shoulders.
"Do you mind if I sample your ass?" Ivan asked. Buster smiled in answer.
"You're nice and open," Ivan remarked. "It's always soft and warm inside an ass. Are you comfortable?"
"Never been better," Butch said. "I've never done this before."
"Never been fucked?"
"Never been fucked while sucking a cock," Buster replied. "It's nice. Really nice."
"I told you, you'd get to like it here," Ivan said. "Everyone's friendly and helpful."
"I didn't know the guys were that helpful," Buster remarked.
Bob joined in the conversation. "I will say the Abbey has changed my view of the golden years," he observed. "It's not what I expected."
"Shit, I was raised Baptist," Buster said. "My Ex was the church goer. She left me for the Choir Director. This is the last place I expected to be."
"It's nice here," Mario said. "Everyone's nice." He came over and stood beside Buster and Ivan. Bluster turned his head and began sucking Mario's cock. Mario responded immediately to the stimulation. Mario caressed Buster's head as Buster sucked his cock. For the first time since he had come to the Abbey, Buster was relaxed and happy. He looked contented.
On the other side of the pool, Franz was sitting on Branford's lap. I could tell from the expressions on their faces Branford's cock was deep in Franz's ass. Franz was slowly twitching, I knew he was trying to work Branford's cock into a better location. When it hit the spot, Franz would moan. You could see him rubbing the cock against his prostate. The slender rod of Branford's organ did the trick for Franz.
I glance over at Ivan. It seemed Buster's sphincter was hitting his hot spot too. Ron was next to me in the pool.
"All the bothers are having a good time, aren't they?" he asked. "We are brothers."
In the course of the next few weeks, Buster was transformed. Buster was downright ratty looking when he came here. He hadn't been eating well, or exercising or sleeping. He told Branford he had been living in a flop hose with drug addicts and people he called "hippies."
I would have to admit, Franz's cooking helped Buster a lot. Having a job also helped. He was weak when he came, but he quickly built his strength up. Ivan was a good gauge of men and eased Buster into a full schedule.
Branford was a mother hen with respect to health he watched over Buster. Branford's massages soon included an extended anal session. Branford told me he could ease it in so slowly Buster hardly knew he was being fucked. "He likes it when it's really slow," Branford explained. "It's hard to believe, but he's fallen asleep while I was in him. He must be the most up tight man I've ever met, but as soon as a cock pops into his ass, he relaxes. It's as if you flipped a switch and turned off the anxiety."
While Branford talked nonstop, he was a good observer of men. He noticed everything. This included noting the sexual likes and preferences of each of the men in the Abbey. That included me. Branford was very well educated with a PhD and post doctoral studies. I was surprised when he got along well with Ron, Mario and Bob as well as Buster. At first I though he was slumming, but Branford genuinely liked the other men.
Branford became interested in finding Ron's friend Edgar. It was obvious Ron loved Edgar, but they had lost touch. Branford was a computer wiz and went cyber hunting. Edgar's last name was Smith, so it was a difficult search, but Branford was dogged.
He found Edgar one hundred miles away in Roanoke. Ron called his friend. Branford had a car, so he arranged for them to meet. The meeting was apparently a success. Ron asked me if Edgar could visit us. I told him, "Sure." A week later Edgar appeared at the Abbey. He was driving a twenty-year-old Dodge, badly in need of a paint job. Ron hadn't described Edgar, so I had no preconceptions. Edgar was a slight, almost delicate man of about 40. He was about 5'-6", but weighed no more than 120 pounds.
Ron met him at the car and brought him over to meet me. "Brother Jules, this is my friend Edgar," he said. I shook hands.
"Hiya, Brother Jules," he said. Edgar had a very strong Southern accent. He had a deep bass voice. The contrast between his small body and deep voice was startling. He had a big handle bar mustache and a week's growth of beard. "Pretty place you have here. Ronnie said it was nice."
"Why don't you show him around, Ron?" I said. They went off. The two men rejoined the rest of the brothers just before dinner. Edgar was quiet, but began talking after he got use to us. He was a cautious man. He confessed he had a poor background. "If you need a poster boy for fucked-up, know-it-all teenager, it's me," he said. "I though I knew everything when I was 16. Every year I get older, I get stupider."
"That's the way I feel sometimes," Butch said. "I thought I did everything right, but that's not the way it turned out."
"Look on the bright side," Edgar suggested. "At least you didn't spend time in the pen."
"What did they get you for?" I asked. I was afraid I had insulted him, but he didn't take offence.
"Grand larceny," he replied. "I had a warm spot for red Mustangs. The cops noticed. I'd been in jail before for drunk and disorderly and for petty theft, but the Mustang belonged to the Judge's daughter."
Butch laughed. "Bad luck."
"Maybe it wasn't so bad. I was headed downward and I could have done something really bad," Edgar said. "The pen was awful, and I've been on the straight and narrow ever since. Being an ex-con doesn't look good when you want to get a job."
"I met you in the pen," Ron said.
"Well Ron saved my ass," Edgar explained. "Being a small, know-it-all, twirp is really bad in the pen. Ron was big enough to protect me. Besides he was in there for murder. They kept away from him."
"He was innocent," I said.
"They didn't know that," Edgar said. "You know, most of the men in the pen said they were innocent. Ron's the only one I believed. We got to be friends. I'm sorry we lost touch."
"Why is that?" Branford asked. Edgar was quiet and looked embarrassed.
"I wasn't too good at school," Edgar said. "To tell you the truth, I can't read or write worth shit."
"That doesn't help you get a job either, does it?" I said.
"Dishwashing and short order cook are about the best jobs I can get," Edgar said. "You can't teach an old dog new tricks."
Once he got comfortable, Edgar was funny and had a store of odd stories. We had a festive dinner and went to the steam room. Ron must have told Edgar about the steam room. Edgar didn't object at all. When he came into the steam room, he said, "I know I look like the missing link, so you don't need to say it."
"Don't worry, we're missing link friendly," Branford said. Edgar's hair was reddish-brown and he looked like a scrawny orangutang. His head was large, but the rest of him was undersized. I couldn't tell much about his cock. The hair was so thick you couldn't see.
He sat between Ron and Branford. Ron put his arm around him. Franz entered with Ivan. Bob, Buster and Mario sat next to me. While we talked, Mario got on the floor and started to suck Buster. Franz did the same to Ivan.
"You're a friendly group here," Edgar remarked. "Are you guys couples or is this a more open group?"
"You can't get much more open than us," Ivan replied. "We're all free agents. Do you see anyone you like?"
"Damn!" Edgar replied. "There's nothing here I don't like!" He looked around the steam room. "You're all available?"
"I guess you could say if you're available, we're available," I said. " I thought you had enough sex in the pen?"
"Only with Ron," Edgar replied. "No one in the asked, except for Ron. It's not the same."
"We can all agree with that," Bob said. "Ask away!"
Edgar turned out to be a sexual spark plug. We all liked sex, but not as much as Edgar. Actually I think we did, but we didn't express it the way Edgar did. Edgar liked it and let you know just how much he liked it. He provided a running commentary on what he was feeling.