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The following is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any person, place, or incident, living or dead. This work is copyrighted and may not be copied in any form without permission.
TWO
In the morning, Ross had business with an attorney in Wilshire, and so borrowed the Ferrari California and spent the entire morning out of the house; that was not unusual, given Los Angeles traffic. Mario had a delightful lunch ready for them, and after the lunch an hour in the pool and sunning on the chaise, Mason asked if Ross wanted to go driving north along the coast. They spent nearly three hours, and as they noticed traffic was staring to build up on PCH, called Mario and told him not to expect them for supper.
They decided they were going to the tapas bar and the jazz bar and would be home about midnight. When they arrived in the tapas bar, the manager Jerry Ride greeted them warmly, having been warned ahead of time of their arrival by Mario. Likewise, Mario's friends who waited tables there also crowded around to make sure they could be of service; mostly they just drooled over Ross. Mason had seen this before, at least a million times, so it was not something he worried about; Ross James was a veteran of the Gay Sex Olympics, and a gold medalist at that.
After they ordered, Mason excused himself and went next door to the sushi bar to greet his friend, the manager Yoshio Sato, and to order sushi to be delivered to the party on Saturday. Of course he also invited Yoshio as well. They kissed lightly and Mason returned to the tapas bar to a freshly-opened bottle of Rioja and plates of calamari, oysters Rockefeller, cold shrimp, and steak tartare and a selection of olives and cheeses.
It was a pleasant, quiet, leisurely Friday evening and soon it was midnight and they were headed to bed; Mason had his arms around Ross and was sufficiently buzzed from all of the wine to be nodding off to sleep sooner than he expected.
Ross turned in his arms and whispered "Don't you love me anymore?"
Startled awake, Mason asked "What do you mean?"
"You haven't tried to fuck me as usual."
"Do you want me to?"
"Well of course, old friends owe each other don't they?"
After several long minutes of sucking, rimming, tonguing, stroking, and finger-fucking, Mason was laying on his back with his ex-lover firmly encapsulating his cock with a warm asshole, Ross stroking himself up and down on his knees and panting and moaning, jacking himself until he came on Mason's chest. This was what they called their "Paris" moment; they had agreed when first parting as lovers to meet at least once a year in Paris and fuck like bunnies. Over the past half dozen years with business obligations, the location had changed numerous times and the frequency had slowed down, but it was still just as passionate. Their friendship was as strong as ever.
Saturday proved to be busy: shopping, decorating, chopping and stirring and mixing and freezing and cleaning and cooking and scrubbing, just to get ready for twenty or so very hot, very horny, very available and sexy gay men whom Mason had cultivated over the past three years. Naturally, TMGM was the first to arrive, nearly two hours before party hour, but Ross would not let him distract anyone from the party preparations.
Mason noticed TMGM several times attempt to pull Ross away from the kitchen toward the bedroom, and finally gave up the struggle. TMGM wandered off to the swimming pool to watch Mario lighting the torches, with one of Mario's patented ice-cold lemon-drop martinis in hand. Sufficient lubrication can help to smooth over ruffled feathers and perhaps a ruffled hard-on as well. Finally, Ross went out to the pool to him and kissed him passionately, and they wandered back into the kitchen together smiling.
In about a half hour, the sushi delivery was at the front door, in the hands of the smiling and beguiling manager of the sushi bar, probably the most beautiful Japanese man Mason had ever met. Yoshio Sato was not just beautiful and a great fuck, he had a great personality and spoke Japanese, English, Spanish, and Mandarin. He was introduced all around just as the three waiters and their boss from the tapas bar arrived, along with Mike, the bartender for the evening, although he was clearly an hour late.
The wine manager from the grocery store arrived with four cases of wine and champagne, and he was being helped out of his truck by the surfers from across the street; the three gay ones had convinced a roommate to come along with them. Mason's attorney David Neville and his life-partner were next, and he noticed another car pulling into the drive; it was Mason's doctor, Fritz Cooper, who had promised to bring an intern from the hospital.
Not sure what to expect, Mason noticed the man who got out of the car with Fritz was clearly a Hollywood model, not an intern. It turned out Mason was wrong but did not care at that moment. The two Beverly Hills hunks arrived about a half hour later, and by 10 PM the party was in full swing; everyone was clearly on the path to getting smashed, and the kissing and stroking going on was evidence this was going to be a great party.
By midnight, everyone was drunk and naked, the music was smooth and pleasant and thumping, the great room was witness to at least a dozen blow-jobs, and then Mason realized he had not seen Ross and his new boy-toy in quite a while. He was not searching for them, just curious, and soon saw them out on the far side of the pool fucking in the glow of the torches now burning very low.
Ross was riding TMGM's cock, with the Gorgeous Gallery Guy on his back on the double-chaise, and soon enough Ross switched places and was fucking his boy between his legs, face to face. Not long enough to even count, they were switching again, and boy-toy was on his knees being loudly fucked by Ross with his patented rhythm, and pretty soon that scene changed to Ross standing at the head of the chaise and taking it in his own ass from TMGM. Mason smiled; maybe this was going to work for them.
Mario came rushing to find Mason: the doorbell had rung and when he went to answer it, a sheriff's deputy in full uniform was standing there. Mason went to speak with him, and the cop told him there had been a report of a noise disturbance. Mario instantly began stroking the cop's crotch and said "The only disturbance here is that you are the only one fully clothed." The deputy had already grown hard through his pants and a waiter and a surfer came to assist Mario in undressing the man; soon the floor was littered with his gun belt, his Smoky Bear hat, his uniform, his boots, and his white ass, while Mario was sucking him like a pro.
A small circle gathered around the deputy: Fritz Cooper was standing next to David Neville, with a couple of fingers inserted into his Harvard asshole; the intern was standing next to them and was being stroked by the fourth "I'm not gay" surfer, and the waiters were busy pleasuring the sushi bar owner Yoshio as well as Mike the bartender. Mason suddenly realized he had not had any action all night but was not really worried about it; he planned on having every one of them before the night was over.
He began immediately; he knelt on the floor between the thighs of the deputy with his ass in the air, sucking the fat cock of the white cop; he felt a hand and then a tongue dive into his ass. It was the sushi bar manager and Yoshio soon had him dripping wet and was shoving his cock into Mason, who was gagging on the cock of the cop; Mason soon gave up and took the not-gay-surfer into his mouth. The surfer had probably not stopped moaning all night, and almost began shouting when Mason's face hit his pubes with his nose and had his cock all the way down his throat.
He came in record time, and as Mason was swallowing, Yoshio was finishing in Mason's ass; most Americans assume that Asians have small dicks, and while that may be generally true, in Yoshio's case it was about 6 inches long, hooded with a nice foreskin. The surfer was replaced by one of his friends, and Yoshio was replaced by the last surfer. The fourth surfer was ridiculously fast at fucking, but he was immediately replaced by the tapas restaurant manager, Jerry Ride. Mason lost count after that; he fucked the wine department manager, the hospital intern, and the Viking god, but never got a good look at anyone who had possibly fucked the cop. It turned out to be Mario.
The best overall-blue-ribbon massive cock at the party clearly belonged to the cop: long, thick, bulging, stout, never losing its hardness. The cop was Phil Downey, a great-grandson or something of the man for whom the Southern California city had been named. The most beautiful cock was probably TMGM, and Ross was extremely proud of that, even though they kept their own hands, mouths, assholes, and cocks exclusively to themselves, and did not share with anyone else at the party.
The surfers all had reasonably nice white-boy cocks: long, cut, thick; the waiters, all Argentines, had variations on Mario's cock style, with long foreskins begging to be sucked. Yoshio had a not unreasonable cock with huge balls, and Mike had the most athletic cock, ready willing and able to stuff an asshole at a second's notice. Long after midnight, people began dropping off to sleep; Mason was probably the last one fucking, with a surfer inside of his ass and his cock inside yet another surfer.
Late the next morning, Mario gently awakened Mason; the surfer inside his ass had been replaced by the hospital intern, who was still technically fucking but not actually conscious. Mario and Mason went to the kitchen and began making coffee, setting out fruit and Danish and supplies for Bloody Mary's. With all of the tables on the patio covered, they turned on some very gentle music, and soon the fuck zombies began to stir. About half headed for the swimming pool, a few headed for the hot tub, and several couples went to the showers. Standing in the kitchen having coffee with the deputy, Ross came in very groggy hand-in-hand with TMGM asking "What time is it?"
"Just past two" said the deputy, and Ross shouted, "Fuck, I have to catch a plane at six!"
"Don't worry, babe, I can take you" TMGM said, and Ross laughed and said "Oh Hell no, you have already taken me plenty, my ass has not felt like this since I was a teenager!"
Everyone laughed and TMGM blushed, and Deputy Downey offered to drive Ross to LAX with lights and sirens blazing. Soon the place was slowing down and clearing out; the waiters and surfers all left together arm in arm, and Mario noticed they all headed directly across the street to the apartments. The Viking and the Hunk were exchanging cards with the doctor and the intern, and the two restaurant managers were chatting with the wine department manager on their way out to the driveway.
By 3 PM, Ross was in Deputy Downey's car headed south on PCH with the promised sirens and lights, while Mario and Mason were slowly cleaning up the party debris. By 9 PM, all was done, and they headed to bed together into the master bedroom. Mario said "I need to change these sheets" and Mason said "Don't worry about it, in fact, take tomorrow off. We deserve it."
At midnight, Mason's cell phone rang; it was Ross.
"We got home safely; thanks for a wonderful weekend. When are we going to Paris?"
"I have a conference there in the fall; you just tell me when you are free."
"Mason, I am not sure; let me check."
"Is something wrong? And why did you say `we' got home safely?"
"Let's talk about that later."
"OK, just be careful; remember the last time you brought home a stray puppy."