Thank you for reading my stories.
Please be aware these stories are copyrighted and may not be copied in any format without the express written permission of the author. Further please be aware these stories are fiction, and any resemblance between persons, places, or events described herein are purely coincidental.
Please take some time and make a donation to Nifty: this is a great resource and deserves your support. You may donate at:
Donate.nifty.org.
Thanks very much! In addition, if you wish to communicate with me, please use my email address at:
Pjwltx9@gmail.com
Chapter SIX
Mason was attempting to nap on the foredeck of the yacht; the run down to Catalina from Malibu was smooth and sunny. The air was brisk, and clearly the winter season, at least southern California style, was still attempting to hold on. Mario brought Mason a cup of hot tea, and they watched the sea run past arm in arm. Three days out of the house with friends and relaxing was a welcome respite from the stress of the past four weeks; after the car accident, the wedding, the many guests, and the need to accommodate a new and wonderful life together, both Mario and Mason needed this time out of the house together.
Mario's job interviews produced offers from the small immigration firm in Santa Monica as well as one of the top ten national firms in the city; he asked both to give him a week to respond. He intended to send a letter of acceptance to one of them the day after he and Mason returned from Catalina.
Mason was troubled by a nagging sense that he was not paying attention to the world; it first entered his conscience when he began to write his weekly online blog column for the news magazine. He was not sure that he understood the world anymore and that things had gotten away from him. He was not hip anymore, if he had ever been, but more than that he was content to be `just Mason' ensconced in his comfortable beach home in Malibu and let the world take care of itself. He mentioned this to Mario as they sat on the deck sipping tea; Mario laughed.
"Darling, you are one of the most astute analysts I have ever known, and I am sure that your perspective on current events is appreciated more for its maturity than its hipness. You do not have to be hip around me."
"Thank you love, I don't care much about being hip, I just want to be relevant. I realize I am not Dan Rather or Tom Brokaw, and I respect both of them deeply, but I want to be able to add a side of analysis to the business that is not the usual claptrap and folderol."
"Claptrap and folderol? Darling, clearly not hip" Mario laughed.
After a moment of contemplation, Mario volunteered: "Mason, what if you consider this: you have so much experience, so much maturity, and a great sense of humor and a world-view that is unique, why don't you send in weekly `notes from the edge of the world'- style comments on the current state of affairs and how it can affect you and your future, and then extract from that a point of view about how it also affects everyone else in our society? What do you think?"
"Hmm," Mason muttered, "do you really think anyone cares what I think?"
"Well certainly I do, and I am sure there are at least another hundred or so, if we include all of the wedding guests. And they would have never invited you to do this without first considering your audience."
They were interrupted by Ross who came to announce lunch; he told them they would be landing in Avalon in about an hour and a half, given current wind conditions. It began to look as if a rare late spring storm was brewing, and Mason was slightly concerned.
By the time they landed and disembarked at the harbor in Avalon, it was starting to sprinkle and they hurried to get a cab to the resort. Mason muttered "Another rainy weekend" and somehow it reminded him of some old jazz song from Dinah Washington4.
Mason and Mario met Joaquin and Ross in the dining room of the resort at 7 PM for dinner; they shared a bottle of California Zinfandel, Mason's favorite wine, and then had seafood all around.
Ross tapped his wine glass and announced "Joaquin and I have been wanting to thank you both for bringing us together; we do not know where we will end up, or whether we will become an old married couple like you guys, but we are certainly happy to be on this path together right now, and we have you to thank for it. We have a number of issues to work out such as where to live, whether to sell my house in Virginia and my condo in Atlanta, whether to expand the art gallery business, etc, but we know we are going to have fun wrestling with each of these issues."
The rain had sharply increased; Mason had wanted to wander through the old shopping district of downtown Avalon, but the weather suggested otherwise. Mario had brought along a couple of old black-and-white movies for them to watch, so they settled in for the evening in their suite. Leaning against the headboard of their queen-size bed arm in arm watching Breakfast at Tiffany's, Mario was asleep in about an hour; Mason turned off the TV and the lights and opened the curtains that had been obscuring their view of the harbor. He reminisced on how much his life had changed recently and was on the verge of giggling thinking about what twists and turns were coming for them ahead.
The first of those twists and turns presented itself the day they returned to Malibu: Mario decided to take the job offer from the firm in Santa Monica rather than the job with the giant national firm in downtown LA. He wanted to be close to home and close to Mason and felt that turning into a typical southern California commuter was not in his nature and being a corporate zombie was not his style. Stuart called to congratulate him and wish him well on his job choice. He was scheduled to start at the law firm on the following Monday, and already had a full load of clients who needed his expertise in Spanish.
Mason was deep into his weekly blog for the magazine and had received a call from the local affiliate for NPR to share with them his take on the recent national political and economic news; that led to an offer from the LA Times for a weekly column in their Sunday magazine. He was flattered that all of these offers were coming in and slightly overwhelmed that he had now a nearly full schedule, instead of being a beach bum as he had planned.
The following afternoon the doorbell rang; it was one of the surfer boys from across the highway, the blonde and blue-eyed boy-next-door who had seemed so reluctant at first to attend their parties. He asked Mason if he had some time to possibly discuss a problem he was having. Settled on the chaise next to the pool, the boy, who as it turned out was nearly 24 and not a boy and was named Tad, began with "You know I am not gay."
"Right" Mason said, remembering having both fucked and been fucked by this young man.
"Well, what I mean is, I have never said I was gay" Tad reiterated.
"So then, it probably matters a whole lot more to you than to me, but what are you? Gay? Straight? Bi? Transgendered? Catholic? Mormon?" Mason was joking but Tad did not smile.
"Well, that's the problem, I do not know what to call myself. See, I was always straight, or I thought I was straight, and then I met my roommates and then I met you guys and ended up sucking dick like a whore, and did not hate it, and in fact I can't jack off anymore without thinking of getting fucked, and my fantasies usually are about you and your husband with me in a three-way." Tad was nearly out of breath as he explained his problem to Mason.
"So is that a problem? Where you stick your dick and what you do with it is only your business, it does not have anything to do with anyone else, and it seems to me that all that matters in this world is if you are an honorable man and a decent person, not what you do sexually."
Tad developed a tear in the corner of his eye; he continued his story. "See, my family does not really care anymore where I am or what I do, they are all gone. My Dad died a couple of years ago, and he and my mom were already divorced, she took off when I was 15 and ran away with some truck driver, and Dad and I ran the farm in Oregon for a few years until he got cancer and died, it was just me and him, so it was pretty horrible."
"I am so sorry Tad, that's very sad. So you are alone now?"
"Yeah, Grams died right before Dad, and I am the only one left. I have no idea where Mom is now; she showed up for the funeral and wanted some money, but then took off again and I have no idea where she is. So, I sold the farm and went to Portland to school for a while, bartended for a while, and then drifted down the coast and here I am."
"And in all that time, you were straight? Girlfriends?
"No girlfriends, but plenty of pussy, some girls have no self-respect and spread their legs for as little as a beer or a ride home. Sad."
"So what's next Tad? What are your plans?"
"Well see that's the second problem; I have no fucking idea what to do with myself, the money is no problem, it is in a bank in Portland and I get a monthly stipend and I can go to college if I want, but I just do not have any clue what I want."
"Ah." Mason mused.
They sat silently staring out to the Pacific for a few minutes. Finally Mason asked "What kinds of things interest you that are also things you are good at, like drawing or writing or math or photography or something like that?"
"Hell I am damn good at most things" Tad laughed. "Not really, but this sounds crazy but I am really good at cooking and I have always thought it might be fun to open a restaurant. That's why I am working at the tapas place right now."
"That's nice. What about culinary school, have you thought about that?"
"Yeah, I guess, maybe I should look into that."
"So then what about the gay thing? What do you think is going to happen in your life with that?"
"Well Mason I guess maybe my dick is going to show me the way on that; I mean, after meeting you and Mario, I was really for the very first time thinking about sex as a way to be close to someone, rather than just a way to have an orgasm and get my nut. You guys really really like sex, that's obvious, and when that big cop with the giant dick fucked the brains out of me that night at your party, I became addicted. Now, I want to find something like what you have with Mario."
"OK, well, does that mean a relationship? Maybe a gay relationship? A boyfriend?"
"Yeah." He smiled shyly. "Actually there is someone I kinda like and I think is cool."
"Have you told him?"
"Hell no, I would die first, I think he may not like me, especially as a boyfriend."
"Well, Tad, I am not going to ask who it is, but maybe if you try talking to him, it might change your feelings?"
"I dunno." Tad looked at his feet.
"What if we have a little party over here, something small, not the orgy we had last time, maybe just you and a few friends and this special guy that you like? Do you think that might help?"
"You would do that for me? Hell that's really cool."
Mason explained his scheme to Mario over dinner; Mario was exhausted from his first week at the law firm with a full case load already and thought a small party on Friday night might be a way to release some steam. "So just the blonde mouse from the wheat farm in Oregon and his roommates and Ross and Joaquin and you and me?"
"Right. The point is to get Tad into an environment where he can gain some courage to speak to this Mr. Right and find out if he has a chance."
"See Baby that's why I admire you, always trying to help."
"Are you alright with this? There might be fucking involved."
"Mason I assume there will be fucking involved. Yes, I am alright with this, and by the way, I have something to tell you about the law firm."
"Really? Dish."
"Well, there are three partners, one is a lesbian, very sweet and very pretty, a total lipstick lesbian, dresses in haute couture every day, a total babe, and not even a bitch until I saw her in court the other day and shit! Watch out, she carries knives, and then the other two partners are brothers, twins, one gay and one straight, rival law schools so the talk around the firm is always our bets on one or the other for this or that case. They are funny as hell and totally frat boys, and I bet the gay one might like to be invited to one of our parties sometime, but not this time, this party is for the little stray redhead from across the highway."
"Blonde, but you make him sound so pathetic."
"No, it's just I have been there and I absolutely share his experience to a degree, I know what it is like to feel those things about who you are and what you are and where you belong."
"OK love, I get it. So you are ok with this party?"
Mario stood up from dinner and grabbed Mason's face with both hands and kissed him deeply; "Yes."
The week raced by for both Mason and Mario; when Friday arrived it dawned on Mason that he had not made any arrangements for catering the party. He made his first call to Mike, their favorite bartender, who politely turned down Mason's request with the excuse he had a date that night. The tapas restaurant was out of the question since Tad needed to make such a personal decision, which was the point of the party. In desperation, Mason called Tommy's Burgers, which was happy to arrange a BBQ truck to come by and feed the crowd.
Mario was home from the law firm early; the three partners were out of town on the opposite coast for a legal conference, and the law firm staff all seemed to scurry away just after lunch. The law school had called Mario on his way home to invite him for a meeting with the Dean the next week; when he got home and found his lover standing in the entrance hall with a classic martini for him, Mario melted into his arms.
Ross arrived an hour later, and when Mason asked where Joaquin was, Ross filled him in on some business meetings they had been attending the past two days to explore expanding the gallery business. Joaquin was in Beverly Hills, and would be late getting to the party, Ross said.
Mason was filling the martini shaker for the second round when he discovered his husband asleep on the chaise on the far side of the pool; the sun was just hitting the far horizon and turning the entire Pacific gold, and the doorbell called him away from molesting his lover's bulging crotch. Tad was at the door and breathless.
"What's wrong, Tad?"
"Nothing's wrong sir, I am just a little nervous."
"You're a lot nervous it appears to me."
"OK, yeah, well, you're right; I might not even be able to get hard, I am so nervous."
Mason pulled him into the house and standing in the entrance hall, groped Tad's dick, which began swelling instantly. Mason did not let go but continued stroking the Oregon farm boy vigorously, until Tad was having difficulty breathing again.
"Guess we fixed that problem?" Mason laughed.
"Damn you sir, I mean Mason, I mean, now I want to jack off but I don't dare until the party!" They both laughed.
"Well if it will help any you can just keep fantasizing about the times you and I have fucked, and I promise to be your first blow job tonight."
"Blowjob like I suck you or like you suck me?"
"Hell, Tad, I want to suck you right now, how about it? Now or wait?"
Tad had his stiff dick out of his pants before Mason had finished speaking; Tad was panting heavily when the doorbell rang, and Mason merely reached upwards and turned the handle. Joaquin let himself in and tapped Mason on the shoulder and said "May I have this dance?" and knelt in front of Tad, took Mason's place and swallowed all 8 inches of Oregon farm boy pride.
Tad began some serious moaning interspersed with "Oh shit" and "Fuck me" and "Oh God oh God ohgodohgodohgod". Joaquin pulled back in time to see a majestic burst of cum shoot across the entry hall; Tad's knees gave out and he slumped to the floor, continuing to shoot ropes of cum. Both Mason and Joaquin cheered.
A few minutes after Mason and Joaquin had finished cleaning the floor and Tad had recovered well enough to stand, the mobile hamburger stand arrived, followed by the rest of the surfers. Mason enjoyed a few minutes to recover by sitting near Mario on the opposite chaise lounge facing the sea, sipping his second martini. Within about twenty minutes, Mario had begun awakening, and motioned to Mason to come to him. Mason leaned over and kissed his husband deeply, and they said nothing but just enjoyed the moment together. Mason ambled to the kitchen to fetch Mario's second martini, and they sat together again side by side on the double chaise.
When the doorbell rang again, Mason opened the door to a slack-jawed Mike, their favorite bartender. "I thought you had a date tonight and could not bartend for us?" Mason asked.
"I do; and my date is right there" Mike answered. He pointed behind Mason, who turned to see a blushing Tad. Mike reached out his hand and took Tad's, and they proceeded to the kitchen together. Mason smiled and went back to the chaise with Mario's third martini.
By midnight, as the hamburger truck was pulling out of the driveway, the surfers were in some serious competition for most number of fucks, as the three surfers had all sucked and fucked each other, and had also been fucked by Mason, Mario, Joaquin and Ross, and Mason and Mario had been fucked by each of the boys as well. Mason noticed Tad and Mike had disappeared long ago and decided to take Mario to go searching for them and found them on the guest bed, where Ross usually did all of his fucking. Mike was up to his hips in Tad's ass, and Tad was moaning so loudly he sounded hoarse.
Tad's dick was streaming pre-cum, which Mario tool advantage of immediately by crawling under Tad and sucking his ample dick; that motion made Tad cum in gallons, and Mario was not quite ready for the drowning and the cum ended up all over his face. Tad's orgasm spurred Mike's, who began spurting large globs of his semen into Tad's narrow white ass, and soon slipped out even though he was still cumming. He grabbed his dick and began jacking it furiously, cumming even more into the airspace between his throbbing cock and the farm boy's hole.
Mario lay on the bed next to Tad and spread his legs open, and begged Mike to fuck him; without a second thought, Mike shoved his cock into Mario's winking hole and began pumping him as if he had just started for the day instead of already fucking to his heart's content. Mason whispered to Tad, who followed his host's request, and stood aside while Mason lay on the bed next to Mario and followed his lead, helping Tad shove that sweet Oregon cock into Mason's ass. Soon the noise had the rest of the party gathered into the room, men standing in a semi-circle around the bed jacking each other off while the two couples were getting truly and deeply fucked in front of them.
Mason felt a change in the rhythm of Tad's fucking; it slowed down considerably, and then realized that Tad was being fucked by Ross and also that Mike was being fucked by Joaquin. This was new, and the jacking cocks around them began to get very noisy as this heightened fucking activity spurred a lot of horny surfers to jacking each other furiously and moaning like they had been thrashed. The cum was flying, and Mason was enjoying the new electricity. It was highly erotic to see his lover being fucked next to him; they held hands as they both came, cocks pointed toward each other. They kissed as they came, increasing their enjoyment.
With surfers in all sorts of combinations, cumming, jacking, sucking, faces being covered with hot cum, mouths swallowing cocks, and moaning loud enough to bring the neighbors running, soon the room was filled with dead bodies, as fully sated men lay on the bed and the floor, with Ross and Joaquin being the last to cum inside Mike and Tad, both of whom had deposited enormous loads inside Mason and Mario. Mason was afraid he would never cum again, this had been so energetic. He and Mario looked at each other and laughed and kissed again.
Slowly the surfers began to crawl into standing positions licking cum off of each other, and within an hour the showers had run out of hot water and all of the guests had left except Ross and Joaquin, who always stayed the night, and Tad and Mike, who were kissing on the sofa in the great room. Tad stood up as Mason and Mario entered the room, and said to Mason, "I think I found a couple of answers tonight."
Mason smiled, and asked "And what were those answers?"
"Well, I want to go to culinary school, and I want to work in a classic French restaurant."
"Oh" Mason laughed; "I had entirely different answers in mind."
"Oh that" Tad laughed. "Yeah, fuck yeah, I am gay, and this guy right here" he pointed to Mike, "might be part of the reason."
"I did not make you gay, Hell I am not even gay myself" Mike laughed and everyone groaned.
"And if you are not gay then I do not have a dick" Mario laughed.
At that moment Ross and Joaquin entered the room, and Mike looked at all of the naked cock lining the room in front of him and said, "Ah fuck it, with this much flesh handy how can I be straight?"
They all laughed, and Joaquin knelt in front of Mike and began sucking his warm and half-limp cock back to life, and as soon as he was stiff, they all watched as Tad impaled his ass on Mike's gorgeous cock. Tad had his back to Mike while he was fucking himself on Mike's cock, and his own dick was stiff again, which Ross took advantage of by kneeling in front of Tad and taking his cock into his mouth.
This inspired movement from the others in the room, and pretty soon Mason, Mario, Ross, and Joaquin were in a circle gently stroking each other and moaning. They soon lay on the floor in a circle, took all four stiff dicks into four eager mouths, and drew yet another orgasm out of each other: Ross inside Mario, Mario inside Joaquin, Joaquin inside Mason, and Mason inside Ross. It was a perfect circle. Before they had finished, Mike and Tad had changed positions and Tad had Mike bent over the arm of the sofa and was eagerly fucking the bartender and moaning like a schoolgirl.
The remainder of the spring went on as if in a dream for Mason and Mario; Mario was deep into his new job at the law firm and learning the court system and building his case load. Mason was heavily involved in his media projects, writing his weekly blog for the financial news magazine, giving an occasional interview with organizations like The Economist magazine, guest lecturing at Santa Monica City College and a weekly radio show with NPR as well as the weekly Sunday magazine column for the LA Times. He felt busier than when he was on the east coast working full time.
Mason and Mario developed a routine and were enjoying their new marriage and the lives they were building; Mario came home early on Fridays and they usually had a small cocktail party, rotating among their many friends and social obligations including the Malibu home-owners association, the surfers and waiters fuck club, Ross and Joaquin, and their professional acquaintances. The remainder of the weekend they spent devoted to each other, with quiet lunches on the beach or day trips along PCH or even renting a boat and spending the day on the ocean, and the occasional birthday party for close friends like Stuart or Ross and Joaquin.
The summer season was soon upon them and the traffic at the beach house increased: waiters and surfers used Mason and Mario's home as their launching pad, and it became an informal half-way house for ditching clothing and doing laundry and hanging out. Yoshio Sato had family visiting from Japan and they of course stayed a weekend with Mario and Mason, and the free sushi fulfilled at least Mario's appetite for raw fish for the remainder of the year.
Jerry Ride, the manager of the tapas restaurant, took a sabbatical from work and spent the summer in Barcelona honing his craft as a manager and a chef, learning more recipes from coastal Spain. When he returned he spent a weekend with Mason and Mario testing his recipes before introducing them to the restaurant. The waiters, in Jerry's absence, spent a great deal of time with Mason and Mario, and it seemed as if a constant party was in progress at the beach house. Whenever the waiters were in the house, the surfers from across the highway seemed to be magnetized toward the house as well.
Mario spent the summer trying to renew his interest in watercolor painting; he would take long walks on the weekend finding landscapes to paint, ending up with a dozen new paintings by the end of the summer. He had no intention of trying to sell his paintings; they were his creative release, even though he had been urged by Joaquin to display them in the gallery.
His brother and sister came to visit for a week from Buenos Aires, and they stayed at the house of course, and Mario was having difficulty finding time available from the law firm. Mason had his hands full playing chauffer and cook and housekeeper; by the end of their stay in California, Alfonso and Louisa Marie had gathered far too many goodies to take home on the plane and Mason and Mario volunteered to ship them home to Buenos Aires for them- serapes, boots, paintings, wine, and books. Though Mario loved having his family visit, he and Mason were ready for a quiet weekend alone to recover from housekeeping when they had departed.
Mason arranged for a two-day stay in a quaint beach-front B&B in Santa Barbara, and Mario took two days off from the law office. They flew up the coast to Santa Barbara rather than drive- although the drive itself is exquisite the length of the drive is tiring because of the two-lane road most of the way. Yoshio Sato, the sushi restaurant manager, is a pilot and Mason rented a private plane for them to fly; in just under an hour, they were door-to-door from home to the B&B. The Cote d'Azur Inn was a great place to relax and unwind after a whirlwind week of entertaining houseguests.
Mario spent most of his time sleeping on the beach; Mason spent most of his time shopping and reading. They ate dinner out both nights at beach-front restaurants, enjoying a great bottle of wine both times. By the time they returned home to Malibu they were re-fueled for another week of work and obligations.
By the fourth of July, they were ready for their annual party. Mason always invited the neighborhood homeowner's association, and of course they also invited the usual fuck club gang. Mario invited his law office, and Mason invited his professional friends as well. By the time the fireworks had burned out over the Pacific from their stretch of beach Mason and Mario had fed and entertained nearly a hundred people, and the trash cans were overflowing with paper plates and beer bottles. The law office staff and Mario's partners were in awe over their home and the party itself, expressing how much they enjoyed themselves. The surfers and waiters were intent on spending the night and getting their ration of sex, and Mason and Mario said goodnight to them and retired to their master suite and ignored the remaining crowd of horny gay men in their great room.