Chapter Seven
Catalunya is a long way from Beverly Hills; half a world away, in fact. To Joaquin it felt like light years, like Mars and Venus. He had just finished a phone call with Felipe; the farmer in Porrera was angry and frustrated, and hung up the phone without saying "goodbye" or "I love you".
Joaquin was concerned, and knew he had to figure out a path through all of the confusion to rescue this relationship if it was capable of being rescued.
The fucking Beverly Hills art queen had finally met Joaquin's price; the closing was next week at the attorney's office. The estate had finally been settled; the condo title transfer had been filed, the insurance had been received, the IRS had been paid, the Social Security had been finalized, the state of California had been satisfied, and the consulting partnership documents had been executed.
The only thing left for Joaquin to accomplish was to set up two headstone-markers for Ross, one at the cemetery where his parents were buried in New Jersey, and one at Malibu Memorial Park.
Most of Ross's ashes had been spread on the ocean along the beach outside of Mario and Peter's home, where he had invited Ross (Jr.) to dinner the following Saturday night; Joaquin had kept a small urn with a handful of the ashes in his bedroom. He decided to give that to Ross (Jr.) along with most of Ross's clothing, jewelry, art, and keepsakes. Joaquin wanted to keep the photo albums.
He got on the phone with his travel agent: he wanted the quickest flight to Barcelona he could find, leaving after the brunch-group dinner at Peter and Mario's house following the closing for the sale of the art gallery. He could not wait to introduce Ross Jr., to the group, but he also could not wait to get back into the arms and bed of Felipe Marquez.
Air France accommodated his request; he instinctively knew that first class on Air France was going to be a new experience.
The brunch group met at Mario and Peter's house on the beach in Malibu as scheduled and included Tad and Mike as well; Raj and Stuart were the first to arrive, followed quickly by Carlos, and then Sam and Mickey, Joaquin and Ross Jr.
Joaquin was hesitant about calling him `Junior' but the young man said he was honored by the nickname. He was a hit with the group; they all remarked at how closely he resembled his father. It was a nostalgic and melancholy moment.
Dinner was a Mario masterpiece: the Argentine churrasco con chimichurri was a hit, and Peter provided all of the side dishes: cous-cous with snap peas and slivered almonds, cold marinated veggies, fruit salad, and of course cases of wine and beer.
Following dinner, Junior asked if he could have everyone talk about their favorite memory of his father; Mario provided the first anecdote and related how he had first met Ross when he came to Los Angeles to stay with Mason for a quick vacation on his way to a conference in Mexico City.
Mario mentioned that Ross (Sr.) was fluent in Spanish and had been a presenter at that conference; he did not mention that Ross (Sr.) had spent the entire trip fucking every hole he could get his hands on and then bragged about it when he came back to LA on a subsequent trip.
Tad and Mike remarked about how Ross had turned celibate later, after meeting Joaquin, or at least, when they were all attending Mason's famous sex parties Ross and Joaquin had kept the sex between themselves. No one in this group had had sex with either Ross or Joaquin; Joaquin blushed and was silently grateful that was true.
Junior asked about the parties; Tad was naively willing to relate how the ribald parties had been the most exciting thing that happened in his then-young life and had provided the opportunity for him to come out and to meet his husband Mike. Tad gushed about the Dick of Death that belonged to a sheriff's deputy, Phil Downey, who attended several parties.
Stuart blushed when Tad was explaining how Mason had brought him out of the closet, with an overly-explicit description of the sex involved. Tad started to explain how Stuart and Carlos had also had sex during those parties, but Stuart managed to shush him before he got into it; it was not that Stuart was ashamed of sex, he just did not want to have any drama between his husband Raj and Carlos, who were both sitting adjacent to Stuart on the patio watching the fireplace.
Then, Tad wondered aloud about the other surfers and the neighbor boys who had attended these parties: Stuart explained that all of the surfers had moved away, some to the east and the Midwest, one was a high school teacher in San Diego; two of the neighborhood guys had remained in touch with Mario. Vince and Jeremy were both still in Los Angeles and saw Mario and Peter a couple times a year. Carlos volunteered that he saw them regularly, whenever Carlos was in town from his travels as a consulting architect.
Junior wondered about those sex parties; he had grown slightly turned on listening to Tad talk and glancing around at the men surrounding him on the patio, wished that he had been there to taste their cocks, their cum, their assholes, and get bent over the sofa and have all of those cock shoved into him.
He really needed a cold shower and decided that he better not have any more alcohol, or he would probably make an un-solicited advance on his hosts. Mario and Peter were older, but still delicious to look at and fantasize about. He could not wait to get back to his hotel and jack off.
He mentioned to Joaquin on the way to his hotel how great it must have been to be in those parties; Joaquin laughed and said that it was indeed a unique experience. He did not want to elaborate, because he felt it was not appropriate to talk about the sex life of Junior's dead father; even if the kid was gay, Joaquin did not have a right to dishonor Ross with those stories. Tad had done enough already.
Junior found the number he needed when he searched on the `net for the menu of rent-men: his style was men like Joaquin, but he could never tell Joaquin the truth. There were a half-dozen like Joaquin in Santa Monica to choose from: he settled on a dark-haired Cuban gym-rat with big biceps, beautiful lips, and a big cock who advertised that he was versatile. Good, thought Junior, you are gonna fuck me and then I am gonna fuck you back.
And that is exactly what he did: the gym-rat rent-boy showed up in a half hour and began undressing as soon as Junior closed the hotel room door. He was commando- no underwear- and not cut, with a trimmed bush and the de-rigueur shaved balls and taint.
Junior loved sucking ass, so they were quickly in a 69-pose on the bed, with the Cuban kneeling over Junior getting his ass fingered and his cock sucked. Junior was moaning at the fingering he was receiving from the Cuban, wanting to cum as his rigid cock was being sucked and jacked.
Junior pulled the Cuban into position to fuck him; Junior loved having his ass assaulted, and after quickly lubing up cock and asshole, was receiving a thoroughly painful and highly pleasurable fucking. The Cuban was a master of restraint; Junior felt like his ass was going to fall off from the plowing he was receiving before the Cuban finally came.
But cum he did; gallons, buckets, shot after shot, half inside the hole and half on his back. Junior was shivering with delight; he loved cum and was only sorry that he had not seen it as the Cuban was spraying his back with the load. The rent-man shot gobs of cum like a rocket. Junior was jealous: he oozed cum, he did not shoot it.
Not even bothering to clean up, Junior repositioned the Cuban once again, this time placing him on his back on the bed, and climbed between his legs, lubing his ass and coating his own cock, then finding the warm hole where he gleefully planted his hard member.
Ross Junior did not know it, but his cock was exactly like his father, thin but long, cut with a huge helmet. He also did not know that his sexual prowess was just like his father; in the next year he was probably likely to fuck his way across southern California without stopping.
Junior hammered away at the Cuban, who had probably lied on the website about being gay and about being versatile. The grimace on his face revealed that he was not accustomed to being fucked and was probably in fact straight but gay-for-pay. Junior did not notice any of that and happily continued shoving his cock in the gym-rat's hole. He pulled out before cumming and jacked off to cum on the stomach and chest of the smooth Latino's six-pack.
Gym-rat got up without a word and went to the shower; Junior stayed in the bed and reveled in the memory of the past hour. He wanted the Latino to stay the night but did not want to pay the freight for a sleep-over. The Cuban left a few minutes later; Junior double-locked the hotel room door and then re-booted his lap-top to the same website and found Fuck Number Two.
It was dawn when Fuck Number Two left the hotel and Ross fell asleep; Ross had fucked himself on top of the guy, having him lay flat on the bed on his back so Ross could kneel over him and mount his enormous cock and fuck face-to-face. While the rent-man was cumming up Ross's ass, Ross was cumming and jacking himself on the guy's stomach. It was not the Dick-of-Death, but it was certainly memorable.
His recovery was a little slower than with Guy Number One, but Ross soon had him on his hands and knees so that he could fuck him doggy-style from behind; it was not his favorite position, but he did enjoy grabbing the guys' hips and pulling his ass back into his crotch while fucking him. This time Ross came into his ass and was worn out with the effort. He slumped on the bed and waited as the man showered and then left. At least this guy had not fabricated his web profile; he clearly enjoyed the sex and moaned loudly while getting his ass filled with Ross's cum.
When room service brought the late-morning coffee, Ross was too tired to notice that he was dressed only in his Armani boxers or that the room reeked of cum; the waiter pushed the coffee cart into the room and took time to set up the coffee service on the dining table, parting the curtains slightly to a view of the Pacific Ocean, and wasted time fussing around the room. Ross grew anxious at the seemingly mundane activities: he suddenly realized that he needed to tip the waiter.
When he reached for his wallet and realized he was only wearing Armanis and no pants, he blushed, but the waiter patiently told him "If you need me for anything, I can stay here for a few minutes" and that gave Ross a whole new train of thought.
"Like,,,?" began Ross.
"Like, maybe this,,," the waiter rubbed his own crotch; the coffee was forgotten, and soon the two were in the very rumpled bed, with the waiter on his back and his lovely and adequate 6-inches stiffly pounding up into the asshole kneeling over him. After the waiter had deposited a healthy amount of cum inside Ross, Ross knelt over his face and had his cock sucked until depositing a similar amount of cum down the throat of the waiter.
"I'm going to love California", Ross thought, as the waiter softly closed the door behind himself, folding his large tip. Ross nearly collapsed in the shower, still needing lots more sleep, lots of coffee, and time on the beach.
It was late afternoon when he had recovered enough to grab a beach towel and walk down the hotel steps to the private beach; there were a few families there with kids, all of whom had glow-in-the-dark white skin, a few surfer-types, a small crowd of sorority girls bent on getting drunk as quickly as possible, and a ladies-with-purple-hats brunch group.
The waiter from the beach-front bar came over to Ross to ask for his order; Ross asked for a Corona, the highly-advertised beer from Mexico. Ross thought he might as well get into the California style. The waiter soon returned with the beer, a couple of napkins, and a tray with tortilla chips and a small ramekin of salsa. Ross had never had fresh house-made salsa; this was a new and delightful experience.
While he was not hung-over, he still felt a little under the weather from the lack of sleep. He was delighted to have found the ready group of friends, and while thinking about them, his phone buzzed; the caller ID showed that it was Stuart, Mason and Mario's nephew.
While he was answering the call, the waiter returned. Stuart invited Ross to have dinner with them that evening at The Beachcomber, Tad and Mike's restaurant in Pacific Palisades; Ross agreed and made the arrangements and got the address, and then turned toward the waiter who had been patiently waiting.
The waiter told him that one of the surfers had bought him a drink and had it sent over from the bar; Junior asked who it was and looked in the direction indicated by the waiter and saw a hand waving at him from one of the cabana chairs. A delightful blonde young man was waving at him, and Ross waved at him to come over and sit with him.
Anonymous sex is sometimes awkward and most times not; it simply requires initiative and openness. The surfer had both. The two grabbed their bottles of beer, their beach towels, and climbed up the dune to the hotel patio and found the elevator to Ross's room. This was the second time Ross thought to himself "California is going to be amazing."
The blonde wasted no time in getting out of his swimsuit; he was already hard, and kneeling in front of Ross, took the cock into his mouth and began eagerly slurping. Ross moaned, threw his head back, and was deeply grateful he had showered before going to the beach. He had lost count of the number of climaxes in the past 24 hours; he did not care but was clearly going to have a couple more before going to dinner with Stuart and Raj.
Before Ross could decide if he was going to cum in the surfer's mouth, the surfer commanded him to cum in his mouth; oh well, when in Rome. Junior was almost there anyway, and so within a couple minutes more of vigorous sucking, his cum was gliding down the throat of the blonde on his knees in front of him.
"God that was good" the surfer moaned. "You wanna fuck?"
Of course.
Ross smiled, stood next to the side of the bed, bent over, and the surfer obeyed the natural instincts and shoved his tongue into Ross's hole. Within a couple minutes, Ross was wet enough, and the surfer had his cock inside of him; he must have been a very horny surfer, because he climaxed in less than five minutes, planting a nice load into Ross.
"Thanks" Ross murmured, as the surfer grabbed his swimsuit and headed out the door. He realized it was nearly time to leave for dinner in Pacific Palisades with Stuart and Raj and jumped in the shower; he was gliding south on PCH when his cell phone rang.
It was Joaquin; he wanted to remind Ross that he was leaving for Spain the next day; he invited Ross to come over to the condo, which Ross could use until Joaquin returned. That was a very generous offer, Junior thought; he still played the video in his mind of fucking Joaquin but was afraid to suggest it.
Oh well, he had had plenty of sex in just the past 24 hours, although he had paid for most of it; the surfer was icing on the cake, he thought. But this is California, and surely there had to be lots more horny surfers out there; he had to remember to try to get the beach bartender in bed as well.
What about all of the gay web sites like Men to Men, Adam4Adam, Grindr, Craig's List, Flirt, Scruff? Lots of possibilities. Somehow being in southern California made him feel more open to the possibilities than he had ever been in New Jersey.
He was sure it was not because of his mother's Catholic background, although that had certainly been a barrier between them. Is it possible that there is a dominant cultural bias that differs from state to state, region to region? Was California gayer than New Jersey, or hornier, or more open to anonymous sex? Was Pennsylvania filled with sex-starved horny Amish buggy drivers? Was New York filled with skittish uptight Wall Street guys who just needed to get their freak on?
He reached The Beachcomber, parked and went to the bar, where he found Stuart and Raj waiting for their table. Raj of course was drinking club soda; Stuart was having a Cosmo. Ross wanted to laugh but kept his composure. They hugged, and just at that moment Mike came up and showed them to their table.
Tad came to the table along with the waiter and brought Stuart another Cosmo and another club soda for Raj; he told them to ignore the menu, he had made a special dinner for them. Mike asked Ross for his drink order; he asked for a Manhattan.
The dinner was a delight; it was a Chile relleno, with pulled broiled chicken stuffed inside of the poblano Chile. Ross was not yet accustomed to the Mexican influence on California cuisine, but was excited to try it. The Chile was a mild Poblano, and the stuffing of broiled chicken included Asadero cheese; the side dishes were grilled squashes and rice. Desert was tangerine pie; Ross was amazed by the entire experience.
He was, however, even more amazed by the conversation following dinner. Mike suggested that Ross might want to sleep off the drinks before trying to drive all the way back to Santa Monica to the hotel. The state police were famous for catching drunk drivers. The last thing Ross wanted was to start his life in California with a DUI ticket. However, where was he going to sleep?
Mike had that covered; Ross was going to stay with them at their house two miles away. They insisted Ross leave his car at the restaurant, and they drove him to their home.
Tad showed Ross into the guest room, which had its own bath; he turned on the lights for Ross and said he would be back in a moment to check on him and make sure he was comfortable.
When Tad returned, he was with Mike; the two were grinning, wearing only their boxers, and Ross, who was in the middle of getting ready to jump into the bed, was down to his socks and underwear. Ross had a hunch about what was going to happen next: having been clued in from Tad's description of the sex parties at Mason's house; he definitely knew which direction he wanted this to go.
He got his wish without even having to express it: Mike and Tad came up and stood on either side of Ross, caressing him front and back, chest, arms, nipples, neck, ass, and crotch, and soon had Ross hotter than he had been with the surfer at the hotel. They pulled down his Armani's, and Tad knelt in front and Mike knelt in back, and tongues and mouths got busy getting everything wet.
Mike's tongue went inside Ross's asshole, causing a sharp intake of breath; Tad's mouth slurped on Ross's cock, which was already hard. Ross was having a hard time breathing and having a hard time concentrating on the feelings assaulting him. He wanted to fuck, he wanted to be fucked, and he wanted it all at once.
Mike and Tad accommodated him wordlessly, Mike shoving his cock in Ross's asshole and Tad bending over and taking Ross's throbbing cock into his own asshole. It was a sex sandwich; Ross had heard of it and had seen it on gay porn videos but had never experienced it.
It was fun, exciting, and nerve-wracking: he did not know who would come first and was afraid he was going to cum too soon and break the chain.
That did not happen; Mike came first, and he and Tad changed places. Tad slammed his huge Oregon farm-boy cock into Ross's well-lubed hole, and Mike took Tad's place at the front and yelped when Ross's cock slid into him.
The electric current rushing through Ross made him feel like he was going to cum; it was an amazing buzzing feeling of being over-charged with emotion, feelings both physical and mental, and the buzz of the alcohol at dinner with Raj and Stuart. His attention was momentarily diverted to Raj and Stuart, and he began wondering how and when he could get them into bed as well. That thought actually made him harder, and he began fucking into Mike more earnestly.
Tad was shouting behind Ross, and cumming; that created a chain reaction, and Ross came next, spilling his hot seed into Mike's warm asshole. Mike came again, and soon they were a tangle of arms and mouths and legs and cocks, kissing and embracing and nuzzling.
Ross awoke in the morning to the aroma of warm biscuits; he managed to jump out of the bed and piss, and then wander out to the kitchen to find Tad cooking a breakfast casserole while Mike was making coffee.
"Good morning Jersey Boy" Mike said; Tad laughed, and Ross smiled. "Your hair looks like you have been good and truly fucked."
"Oh yes, and it would be nice if my future held more of that" Ross replied.
"Well, get some coffee and some breakfast, and your wish is our command" Tad smirked.
Ross could not believe his new life: "I am fucking loving California", he thought, smiling through the breakfast and thinking about his hard cock already impatient for these two. It was not long before Mike and Tad had swept the kitchen of the breakfast, and pulled Ross outside to the deck in the rear of the house overlooking the ocean; sex and scenery? Ross was delirious.
He was also amazed at how creative and clever these two were sexually: Mike pulled a vibrator out of his pocket and turned it up high and worked it around Ross's cock and balls. The buzzing set him on fire; he wanted to cum at once.
Tad had placed himself on his knees behind Ross, and was kissing and licking his ass cheeks, and spreading his cheeks apart and fingering his hole. The combination of the dual assault made Ross slightly dizzy, and he reached for the railing, when Tad took the initiative to lick inside of his ass and get him prepared to be fucked.
Tad lay back on the chaise lounge, and Mike steered Ross toward it and placed him over his husband's hard cock; seeing it in the daylight made Ross gulp. That monster had been inside of him last night, he knew, but now seeing it in the bright morning sunlight was a scary new reality: he did not know if he could do it again.
But he remembered the "Situation", the loud-mouth Jersey Shore kid on TV: no way was Ross going to let anybody on the West Coast know that a Jersey kid was not up to the task.
He knelt over Tad, took a deep breath, opened his ass cheeks, and plunged down on the monster. The cock slid into him as easily as an aircraft carrier sailing upstream on your favorite fishing creek: extremely tight and not without some pain. But Ross was determined to make this work; he let out his breath, pushed his ass downward, and the rest of the monster popped into him, all the way to the hilt.
"Oh fuck" all three said at once; Ross laughed, and then began very slowly pumping himself up and down on Tad's cock. Mike was leisurely jacking himself while watching; he stepped closer to the chaise lounge and Ross took Mike's cock into his mouth. It became apparent that Tad was not going to cum any time soon, and not wanting to destroy his asshole in the process, Ross climbed off and bent over the deck rail and turned back to signal that it was Mike's turn.
Mike has never been slow; he is quick to pick up signals, and quick to follow suggestions. His cock was inside of Ross before he had turned back to look down toward the ocean. Mike had also never been slow in cumming; in a couple of minutes, five at the most, he was flooding Ross's asshole with more of the cum he had used the night before.
At that moment, Ross noticed that he could see people on the beach below them; two were looking in their direction, actually staring in their direction. Ross mentioned it to Mike; Mike looked over the railing and laughed and said "Oh yeah, that's Kris and his boyfriend. He is a waiter at the restaurant."
Ross was not prepared for it, but in about ten minutes he was being introduced to Kris and his boyfriend; they were trying to shake hands while also slipping out of their swimsuits, cocks already hard. Ross sat on the second chaise lounge, and took Kris's hard cock in his mouth, while the boyfriend stood behind Ross and gently pushed his head into Kris's crotch.
Moaning, Kris was obviously enjoying the sucking; Ross could not see that Mike was fingering the boyfriend from behind, who was also moaning.
It was well into late afternoon when Ross was driven back to the restaurant to recover his rental car and prepared to drive back to the hotel. He had been fucked by the boyfriend, who was a quick little twink, and came almost as soon as he entered Ross's asshole. He had been fucked by Kris, who was a study in stamina if not finesse; he lasted far longer than the pleasure did, and Ross was truly grateful when Kris finally came inside of him.
He was fucked again by both Mike and Tad, in a more gentlemanly leisurely relaxed style; and he fucked the boyfriend, just for the sheer joy of seeing his eyes roll back in his head. He was one of those skinny blondes you see whose ribs crack when you shove a stiff cock into his hole.
When he returned to the hotel, there was a message for him from Joaquin; Ross had been invited to dinner so that the two could meet and Joaquin could give Ross the keys to the condo and provide a guided tour. He showered, changed clothes, and zoomed away toward Beverly Hills to the condo which his father had owned.
He was thrilled and melancholy simultaneously; he was sad that the man was gone and was angry at his mother for having lied to him all those years.
He was delighted that Joaquin had been so open and hospitable; he easily could have told Junior to go fuck himself.