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Authors: Mickey Erlach

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BOOK: Lover Boys Forever
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Unlike Eddie, I don’t have much body hair, and I keep my nether region neatly groomed. Though neither as long nor as thick as his cock, mine didn’t have to compete with surrounding shrubbery for attention, and one of Eddie’s strong hands enveloped it. I was too excited
, and it only took a few powerful strokes of his fist before I came.

My cock spasmed in his fist and a thin stream of warm cum covered my abdomen. Eddie released his grip on my cock and let it flounder against my abdomen. I started to apologize, but he stopped me with a smile and said. “You always did like to be first, didn’t you?”

Eddie slipped off the bed, dug a lubricated condom packet from his pants pocket, and then rejoined me. Ever since that night with the graduate assistant when I realized what I was and why I had felt the way I had about Eddie, I had dreamed of this moment.

He didn’t disappoint me. He tore open the condom packet and unrolled the condom over his thick cock. Then he knelt between my widespread thighs, lifted my legs and bent me nearly in half. He pressed the tip of his condom-covered cock against the tight pucker of my ass hole and then pushed forward. The lubrication allowed him to enter me easily and smoothly, and he buried the entire length of his cock inside me. Then, resting much of his weight on my thighs, he drew back and pushed forward as he stared down into my eyes.

Previous lovers had all taken me from behind, and being able to watch Eddie’s face as we made love filled me with unexpected pleasure. I reached up and cupped his face in my hands, stroking his cheeks with the balls of my thumbs as I held him.

As he pumped into me, my cock regained its former stature and his hairy abdomen rubbed against the head with each of his powerful thrusts. Eddie began pumping faster, driving deeper into me with each thrust, and I felt myself approaching a second orgasm. I moved my hands from his face and gripped the cheeks of his ass just as we came.

His face contorted as he came, and he stiffened above me just before filling the condom with his cum. And then I came, too, covering my belly with a second load of spunk.

For several heartbeats neither of us could move. Finally, Eddie withdrew, slipped from the bed into the bathroom and discarded the condom.

When he returned, he lay behind in and spooned me until I fell asleep in his arms.

When the alarm woke me Sunday morning, the other side of the bed was empty. Eddie had cleaned up the mess we’d made of the picnic food, and all that remained of him was the lingering scent of his aftershave and our coupling. He hadn’t left a note, hadn’t told me how I could reach him, and hadn’t even asked how to find me in Austin.

I checked out of the motel that morning, returned to San Francisco, the airport, and home. I never expected to see Eddie again. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe one powerful memory of the night when I realized Eddie felt the same way about me that I felt about him would be enough to sustain me for years to come. Maybe we finally had the answers to all the unanswered questions we had been carrying with us for twenty-five years.

For the next several weeks, I compared every man I met to Eddie – Eddie as a young man, Eddie as an adult – and none of them measured up nor were they invited into my bed.

Nearly two months after the reunion I returned home from the university to find a motor home with California license plates and a Jeep in tow parked in front of my house. I pulled into my drive, walked to the porch, and found Eddie sitting on one of the director’s chairs drinking from a sweating can of beer. He reached into the cooler at his feet and pulled out another can. After he handed it to me, I settled onto the other director’s chair. As I popped the top of the beer, Eddie said, “Nice place.”

“I think so.”

“It’s a little frou-frou, though,” he said. “Could use a man’s touch.”

“Yours?”

Eddie nodded.

He’s been here ever since.

SEAN
By Michael Turner

Michael Turner lives in South Wales, UK with his partner and a mad Springer Spaniel. He divides his time between writing, painting and walking the dog. E-mail
him at
[email protected]
.

It was Monday. I hate Mondays. They are the natural low points of the week, signaling, as it does, the end of the weekend, the end of fun and frolics and the return to the grindstone of work.

The morning dawned dark and overcast; the sky full of dark ominous clouds heavy with their unshed rain. The sky mirrored my mood
– black and thunderous.

I yawned and stretched, reaching over to the other side of the bed. My heart jumped into my throat as I reali
zed he wasn’t there. The space occupied by his masculine body was empty, cold. Reality hit me like a runaway steam train.

I sighed and slowly, like a sloth, climbed from my warm, pit of a bed into the cold dark world.

Shivering, I ran into the bathroom, pulled the cords on the electric wall heater and the shower and jumped into the hot spray of water.

Thirty minutes later, I was out of the front door and on my way to work
.

Alighting from the bus, which was full of the usual commuters, the suits and skirts of the corporate world and the soiled overalls and torn jeans of the blue collar workers mixed together in a mismatch of human life, I made my way through the cent
er of town toward McDonald’s, the neon yellow of the grand ‘m’ shining in the drab day as bright as the sun, acting as a lure to all those weary, hungry lost souls.

I hurried through the large fat drops of rain that were just beginning to fall from the thunderclouds that covered the city from horizon to horizon, like a black dome covering the rooftops.

As I walked through the double doors, the heat hit me like an oasis of warmth in a city of cold. The glaring strip lights hurt my eyes as they adjusted to the brightness of the room.

The room itself was open plan in the typical McDonald’s way. To the left was a flight of stairs that led to the second floor of the restaurant and next to that the baby changing room. Nestled snugly under the stairs was a corner complete with tables and chairs designed to resemble mushrooms and a TV showing cartoons even at this time of the morning.

The main body of the room spread out to the right. The ubiquitous plastic table and chairs lined the walls and formed two islands in the middle of the open space. On the walls, in a very Romanesque-Greco style, were paintings depicting chipped and cracked terracotta urns and jugs. Throughout the open space, rubber plants reared their heads, their greenery lending a false air to the room.

At the far end stood the counter complete with its electronic tills and stainless steel so highly polished you could see your reflection. Behind the counter were two members of staff trying to look busy; I suppose that at eight-thirty in the morning with only a few customers, there can’t be that much to do.

Further back in the kitchen, another two members of staff, dressed in the black T-shirts and tight trousers that passed for the uniforms in this particular branch were hard at work preparing the world famous breakfasts that graced every McDonald’s counter this time of the morning.

“Two hash browns and a cup of tea,” I replied in such a flat, dead tired tone of voice a zombie would have been proud to the unspoken question thrown in my direction by the girl who served me.

It was lucky that I was half-asleep otherwise I might have said something about her appearance. It was awful and most certainly not something you wanted to come face to face with on a dreary, bleak Monday morning.

She was of average build and height with a pair of long legs that filled out the trousers of her uniform in a way I could only consider would be flattering to heterosexuals. Likewise the
T-shirt tucked in her trousers and cinched tight by the black leather belt that she wore outlined her breasts entirely. Yet another sight that would put a good poof like me off my breakfast.

However, the
piece de resistance
was her face. If I had to guess, I would say she had put her make-up on in a darkened room with a trowel. Talk about thick! If you were to scrape her lipstick off it would keep the whole chain of Body Shops in lipsticks for a year at least, not to mention her mascara and eyeliner. It was repulsive.

I paid and retrieved my breakfast from this walking Max Factor advert. I’m not really sure if she could talk for all she said to me was
“One pound fifty three.” No please or thank you and as she hadn’t strung a sentence together I couldn’t really judge.

I retreated to my favorite table on the side of the restaurant hidden behind a huge rubber plant potted in a large cracked urn and in prime position to watch the door for any decent eye-candy that walked in.

I tucked into my breakfast well aware of the fat and calorie content and that I was doing my heart and arteries no favors. I didn’t care. I loved hash browns, and there are worse things in the world for you to eat.

After a few minutes, I pulled the novel I was reading from my bag, turned to the marked page, removed the bookmark, and began to read as I ate. Now if there is one thing I cannot stand is being disturbed when I’m reading. So when someone began to clean my table I prepared a verbal assault and readied for battle.

I looked up, my face as black and impenetrable as the thunder clouds outside, my eyes flashing lethally and began my verbal tirade. “Just what the ...”

That was as far as I got. My mental preparations abandoned me
, and my mouth fell open leaving me looking like a fish. My breath seemed to have stopped in my throat, and my heart ached. I felt sick as my stomach turned and the butterflies that don’t normally reside there began an air display the Red Devils would have been proud.

Standing before me and looking at me with an alarmed expression, was a man who was simply gorgeous.

“Sorry,” I stammered as he regained his composure. “You startled me.”

“Not as much as you startled me,” he said in a normal voice. I had expected him to be pissed off
, but he took it all in his stride. Perhaps it’s some kind of secret McDonald’s training for handling grumpy assholes or maybe he was just an easygoing bloke, to this day I don’t know.

What I do know was that at that moment I felt myself going down the old familiar slippery slope of lust. The slope I had vowed I would never go down after the last attempt. So much for vows.

He had been talking to me, and I had missed everything he’d said. This was a great start. First, I shouted at him and then I didn’t listen. He would think I was a right twat.

To be fair, it wasn’t really my fault. As I have already said, he was gorgeous and I have a weakness for gorgeous men.

He was dressed in the ubiquitous McDonald’s uniform, which made him look wonderful. The shirt was stretched taut across his expansive shoulders and his arms which showed the bulge of his biceps every time he moved. His shirt was open at the neck and I could tell that he either had none or very little chest hair. The blue material was molded to his torso revealing the outline of his broad pectorals. He wore a tartan waistcoat, which while it hindered me in my investigation of his chest did outline his flat stomach and trim waist.

But by far the best part lay below his waist. To say his blue uniform trousers fit him snugly would be an understatement. They were like a second skin so tight did they fit. I could tell just from a glance that he had thick, muscled thighs to die for.

The material was stretched to the limit so tight over his groin I could see the outline of his cock and balls, all nestled comfortably toward his left leg.

He was like me in his looks
– to a certain extent. We were both around the same age with dark brown hair and eyes. That was where the similarity ended. He was taller than I, about six feet, with a full head of thick shining dark brown hair, which was pulled back away from his hard, handsome face in a style that was
en vogue
and held in place by gel.

“Sorry?” I asked as I finally reali
zed he’d been asking me a question.

“Do you want a top-up?” he repeated, his superb mouth breaking into a grin as he reali
zed I’d been checking him out.

I stared into his almost perfect face with its hard chiseled jaw complete with a dark beard line and full sensual lips. “Yeah,” I replied.

He reached forward to take my cup and as he did so, his lips parted slightly leaving a moist impression. My cock jumped as I imagined those sensual lips closing over my cockhead and sliding their silkiness over my length.

His touch jolted me back to reality. His one hand was on my shoulder
while the other was wrapped around mine, still holding my cup. I could feel the heat coming from him so close was he standing.

“Are you all right, mate?” he asked as he leaned forward, concern furrowing his forehead and making his deep brown eyes sparkle.

“Fine,” I managed to mutter as the pain from my cock, expanding into a region that was too tight for it, began to register in my brain.

“I’ll get you that top-up.”

As he turned toward the counter, I was faced with the best view I’d had so far on that bleak and dreary Monday morning – his ass.

Like the front of his trousers, the material at the back was stretched tight and had slipped up his crack revealing a small, firm, boyish butt with taut finely rounded a
ss cheeks, which undulated provocatively beneath the tight material.

My mind went into overdrive as I imagined roughly grabbing the collection of hard looking muscle and forcing my swollen cock between his firm cheeks past his tense sphincter muscle and into his tight little hole.

I imagined plowing my manhood into his aching hole, my long brown shaft creating friction and pleasure for us both.

My dick throbbed again and I could feel my load churning in my bollocks, which were pulled tight and trapped in my trousers.

Before I knew it, he was back with my top-up, the concerned look still on his face.

“I’ve had a word with my manager,” he began, “he says you’re to come with me to the restroom,” he flashed that cheeky grin at me again, “until you feel better.”

Was it my imagination or did he place too much emphasis on the word come.

“That isn’t necessary,” I protested.

“He insists,” he said, then in a quieter voice, “I insist.” He placed his hand gently over mine.

I don’t know why, nor will I ever probably, but something compelled me to follow him across the room and up the stairs.

The mounds of his curvaceous butt rocked gently in his tight trousers directly in front of my face as we climbed the stairs, and I couldn’t help licking my lips as I thought of them locked around his pink hole.

We crossed the upper floor and passed th
rough a drab brown door marked “Private. This door is alarmed.”

So much for that I thought. Either they don’t have one, it doesn’t work, or it’s been switched off. I mentally shrugged. I really didn’t care. My only concern was keeping my newly found Adonis in sight.

He held the door open, and we passed through into the region of McDonald’s that no self-respecting customer ever sees.

Here the fake plants and wipe clean plastic was gone. The corridor was breezeblock painted yellow, bare except for a notice board, which we quickly passed, turning into a room.

The room itself wasn’t overly large with the same plastic tables that graced the restaurant below. On the far wall was a group of lockers the same as you would expect to find in a school changing room. Opposite them, a large open window looked out on the street below and to the right of that two boring brown doors.

He turned around and le
aned his cute backside against one of the plastic tables folding his arms across his muscular chest at the same time looking me up and down, a thoughtful expression on his face as if he was weighing up some decision.

“I bet I know what would make you feel better,” he said softly as he spread his legs slightly revealing his cock bulging against the thin material of his trousers.

Whether he did this intentionally or not I don’t know but I appreciated it all the same. “Come here!”

As if in a trance, I did as I was told and walked
toward him.

“Your treatment needs to be in three parts.” He paused licking his sensual lips.

I held my breath as he unfolded his arms and slowly with exaggerated care reached out and grasped my cock, which was thickening down the leg of my trousers. Slowly and gently, he caressed my manhood, his thumb running over my cum-slit time and again.

Throughout this
, we had been staring at each other; his deep brown eyes were locked on mine, holding them as if in a vice, and every time he elicited a gasp of pleasure from me, they flashed with a life of their own.

I broke the hold he had over my eyes and closed them as I shuddered with the pleasure of his hard hand playing with my dick, his fingers firm through the material of my trousers, running up and down the length of my swollen rod.

BOOK: Lover Boys Forever
13.62Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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