Jazz Baby

by Roland Graeme

  Yes, that had been me, sucking away like mad on that big cock, which had felt as hard as the proverbial rock inside my mouth, but fleshy and smooth-skinned as it rubbed against my lips—! Yes, that had been me, lapping up that number’s outpouring of cum, as though it was mother’s milk spurting into my mouth!

  “Fuck,” I exclaimed, under my breath. “What a lousy, fucking whore I was! And the worst part of it is—I can’t wait to do it again. All of it! And more!”

  I hurried home. Letting myself into the apartment with my key, and without turning on a light, I got undressed, as quietly as I could, and I lay down on the mattress in the living room. I congratulated myself that I hadn’t disturbed Paul.

  I slept for a few hours. When I woke up and looked at my wristwatch, I saw that it was almost 7:00 AM, and, incredibly, I was still horny! I lay there between the sheets, fondling my sore cock and reliving my night out … thinking about the blow jobs I’d received, and all the hot bodies, tight asses, and big dicks which I’d seen in the dim light of that bar’s backroom.

  I heard a patter of bare feet from Paul’s room. He came into the living room and stood by the door. He was sleepy-eyed, and nude. He scratched his crotch absent-mindedly, his big cock swinging in front of him like the clapper of a bell, and he yawned.

  “Did you just get in?” he asked me.

  “I’m afraid so. Did I wake you?”

  “No. I was already starting to get up. So—how was it? The bar, I mean.”

  “It was … great,” I confessed. I stopped playing with myself, and I blushed, hotly. “How’d you make out?”

  “Me? Oh, I met a guy and brought him home with me. But he couldn’t stay all night. So it was basically a fast fuck, followed by the usual.”

  “The usual? What’s that?” I asked.

  “You know. ‘Thanks for the fuck. I’ll call you,’ as I let him out the door. He was hot. I wouldn’t seeing him again. But I won’t be heartbroken if I don’t.”

  Paul’s attitude toward sex seemed extremely casual. But I was in no position to pass judgment.

  When I said nothing, he rubbed his eyes, and smiled down at me. “It’s damn cold this morning.”

  “Yeah.”

  He fingered his cock, and he yawned again.

  “Yeah, winter’s coming,” I said. I looked at the lump which my hard-on made under the blanket.

  “Are you cold under there?” As he spoke, Paul squeezed his dick lightly with his fingers.

  “Yeah, kind of,” I admitted. I swallowed. The taste of cum was gone from my mouth.

  “Why don’t I get a blanket and, uh, get in there with you?”

  “Huh? Uh—sure, man. Why don’t you? Come on in.”

  Paul went into his room and came back with a quilt. He spread it over me and then he crawled in beside me. We were both naked. I already had an erection, and Paul wasn’t far behind me.

  “Are you warm enough now?” he asked.

  “Hell, yeah. It feels almost toasty, in fact.”

  As I spoke, I felt his leg touch mine. We were lying there facing each other. I let my hand fall to my side and rested it against his thigh, which was muscular and covered with fine, soft hair. I felt his cock harden and it touched mine under the covers. He brought his arm across my shoulder and we looked at each other in the dim morning light.

  For the first time, I really noticed his long, dark eyelashes and the warm blue tint of his eyes. His mouth was sensual. His reddish-brown hair was tousled from sleep. His earring gleamed in his right earlobe.

  He pulled me toward him and for the first time I felt how gentle another male body could be. It didn’t all have to be the rough, athletic action of a bar’s backroom, frantic and anonymous. I let my arm slide along the curve of Paul’s side and my hand cradled the small of his back. From there, it took no more than a quick downward slide before I was fondling the cheeks of his ass.

  “Well, aren’t you bold,” he whispered, teasing me. “You’re barely out, and already you’re grabbing other guys’ asses.”

  “I’m a fast learner,” I bragged.

  “Obviously. Do you like the way that butt of mine feels?”

  “Yeah, it’s really nice. It’s hot.”

  “Then don’t be shy. Get a good grip on it. Dig your fingers right into it. Don’t worry, I won’t break.”

  My hand did some exploring. He had a really nice ass!

  Our dicks were pressed together under the blanket and quilt. He pulled me closer to him, in a real embrace, until his arms were around me. I brought my arm up his back again and held him while we kissed lightly on the lips, several times, gasping for breath. He smiled faintly, as though to himself, and then he kissed my chin and my throat, pushing my head back against his heavy bare shoulder.

  His leg came up and gathered mine in a wrestling move, squeezing tightly against my thigh. I moved closer to him, parted my lips, and covered his mouth with mine. Our tongues met and explored the interiors of our mouths, slowly and voluptuously, sucking and slurping. Paul let out a faint groan of pleasure and he embraced me tightly, his right hand rubbing its way down my side, over my ass, and then back up again.

  “Oh, Keith, you are so fucking beautiful,” he moaned. “So sexy.” He pulled away from me and smiled.

  I was at a loss. I wanted to say the same things to him, but I was unsure of myself. So I kissed him, instead—fully, with my tongue in his mouth—and I held his head in my hands as I licked his chin, his lips, and the bridge of his nose, the lashes of his eyes. He returned the favor, turning my head and licking the insides of my ears, which sent chills of raw pleasure shooting through my body.

  “Fuck me, Keith,” he said, softly, but very urgently, his breath hot on my skin.

  I hesitated, shivering against him. His hand was on my waist. He pulled me forward, against him, again. I once again caressed his ass, which was firm and utterly masculine, and which turned me on fiercely. As I fondled his butt, I slid my hand into the hairy crevice between those two solid buttocks.

  One of my fingertips touched the puckered opening he was offering me.

  “I really want your cock up my ass, baby,” he gasped.

  “All right.” I shifted awkwardly, waiting for him, the more experienced of us, to make the first move, to guide our bodies into the position he wanted.

  “Do it to me with me on my stomach, first. Then on my back.” He pushed aside the covers, got up, and went into the bedroom. He came back a moment later with a tube of K-Y and he got back into bed beside me, his cock every bit as hard as mine.

  “Paul, I … that night when I fucked Harold,” I blurted out. “That was the first time I ever fucked another guy.”

  “I know.”

  “I really didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “No? You could’ve fooled me. And Harold sure didn’t seem to have any complaints.”

  I blushed. “I mean, I was just making it up as I went along. If you expect me to do it in any special kind of way, then you’re going to have to show me how I should do it.”

  He laughed. “Okay. Class is now in session, Introduction to Fucking. Stop worrying. There’s nothing to it. Just take it easy when you first go in, until I get used to having you in me. Then pump away, until you come in my ass,” he added, with audible relish. He squeezed a blob of the K-Y out of the tube and rubbed it all over my hard-on. “Relax,” he coached me, when I jumped in response to the coldness of the water-based lubricant which his slippery-wet hand was massaging onto my dick. The pressure of his hand on my rigid prick made hot skyrockets of pleasure shoot through my entire body.

  He squeezed another glob out onto his hand, turned over onto his stomach, reached around behind himself, and matter-of-factly greased up his ass. I got on my knees and straddled him, rubbing my hard-on and looking down at his gorgeous butch ass. He finished lubricating his asshole, and he groped for my cock.

  “Okay, stud,” he told me. “Put it in me. Just take it easy on the way in.”

  My
head was throbbing with excitement. I bent my dick down and pushed it between his ass cheeks. Paul reached around, squirming, and guided it expertly into his asshole.

  “Oh, shit, man! Take it easy,” he moaned.

  My first impulse, of course, was to just shove it all the way into him. I was dying to fuck him and to come, but I forced myself to hold back, and instead I eased my whang inside his slippery asshole slowly, cockhead first, followed by half the shaft. Paul groaned and squirmed under me. I pulled back and waited for a few tense, breathless seconds.

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah, baby,” he whimpered, as he raised his butt slightly. “Go on. Take me all the way.”

  I grasped his hips, kneeling over his butt, and I pulled him back against my groin—a motion which, of course, made my cock enter his ass, all the way, but slowly and carefully, inch by inch. At last, though, I was possessing him completely. He was impaled on the full length of my dick.

  “Such a big dick,” Paul gasped. “That thing would turn anybody into a size queen! Start fucking, stud. Fuck my hole!”

  I began to thrust. It was as though I’d been fucking other guys’ asses all my life! We both made sounds like rutting animals mating in the wilderness. I lowered his hips and extended myself over his body, my cock now plunged all the way up inside his asshole. I bit his neck gently, shoved my hands under his chest, and felt his massive pecs. Pinching his nipples, I began to work my prick up and down, and around in a corkscrewing motion, deep inside him. I fucked him! And he loved it!

  “Fuck me harder, Keith. Go for it, baby!” Paul turned his head around and pressed his mouth against mine. He sucked my tongue out of my mouth and into his, blew air in and out of my mouth as though he was playing his saxophone, and drank my saliva. I fucked him frenziedly, humping away, banging repeatedly into his buttocks. We both began to sweat, despite the slight chill in the air.

  I raised myself up, squatted obscenely over him, my dick bulging out of his asshole, and I shoved myself all the way into his guts, pushing down on his back with both my hands to steady him for my thrusts.

  “Shit, man! You’ve hit it, now fuck it!” Paul howled, in ecstasy. Under me, he began to work his anal muscles rhythmically, in sync with my humping into him, shoving his ass up and down while I pushed in and out. His internal muscles squeezed strongly against the shaft of my rampaging, hard-fucking cock, as I drilled his anus with every inch of it.

  “Jesus, kid! You’re so fucking beautiful,” Paul gurgled under me. “And—you are such a goddam stud!”

  I stared lustfully down at the sweating, muscular back of the man lying under me, and at the asshole which seemed to be sucking away at my cockshaft.

  “I want to come in your ass, Paul,” I told him. “I want to shoot buckets into your hot, tight, sexy hole!” Feverishly, panting for breath, I pushed in and out of him.

  “Wait. Try not to come yet. Fuck me on my back. Just a few minutes more.” Without pulling away from me, Paul turned, twisted himself, raised his leg high, and screwed his body around on the fulcrum of my erection until he was on his back. “I can come, too, if you fuck me like this, with me on my back and my legs in the air,” he explained, breathlessly.

  He, too, was panting hard, like a dog on a hot day. His cock flopped against his stomach. It was fully hard and it looked very thick, painfully swollen. He squirted a blob of the K-Y onto his cockhead and spread it around, playing with himself, staring up at my face while I fucked him with lewd determination.

  I raised his legs over my shoulders, my dick still deep in his ass, and I shoved it all the way in.

  “Oh, fuck,” he sighed, and, keeping one hand locked in a fist and pumping away on his cock, he raised his other hand and grabbed my neck. “I love the way your big cock feels inside my ass. Oh, how I love having you inside me, fucking me. So go ahead. Work my hole. Fuck me hard, man, fuck me rough. You’re doing it to me, you’re going to make me come!”

  I pushed his legs back until his knees touched his shoulders, and our mouths cane together again. We sucked at each other’s mouths, swapping saliva, exchanging breath. I rubbed my hands up and down the soft brown hair on his thighs, squeezed his firm muscles, and I fucked him with flat-out, brute force. I shoved my prick up his ass until my balls banged painfully against his upraised butt, every inch of my healthy, horny young cock jammed up his incredibly tight asshole. The melting K-Y oozed out of the rim of his sphincter with an obscene squishing sound. Both of us panted desperately for breath. Then, at last, I felt the cum welling up in my groin.

  “I’m going to come, man!” I bellowed.

  “Kiss me—ah, Christ!” Paul demanded. He pulled my face down to his and grabbed his own cock again, beating it savagely.

  “Oh, God—oh, God—!” I whimpered.

  Paul jerked on his cock a couple of times, and then he shot a thick stream of wet jism over both our stomachs. “Fuck!” he shouted. “Oh, fuck!”

  I too started to unload, my own orgasm triggered by the sight of his, by the feel of his semen splashing against my belly and chest. I slammed hard into his ass—pumped in and out, in and out, very rapidly and roughly—and then, to my infinite relief, my cum suddenly started pouring out of me, a long steady expulsion of sperm. My cockhead spasmed away somewhere far up inside his warm, squirming rectum, plowing away back and forth within the furrow of his guts.

  The cum spewed out of his cock, too, and it spread out over both of our chests as our lungs expanded and contracted, desperately sucking in air to cool our overheated flesh.

  With a final shuddering spasm, I felt the last spurt of my cum flow out of my cock and into his body. His dick stopped jerking between our torsos. We stayed motionless for a moment. Then, with a deep gasp, I pulled my exhausted prick out and I lay on top of him.

  Our stomachs and chests squirmed together with Paul’s slick cum trapped between us. I covered his open, panting mouth with my lips, and he brought his hands up my sides to embrace my shoulders and steady me on top of him. Our legs twisted restlessly together, grinding our crotches against each other in gritty friction.

  “Welcome out, Keith,” Paul gasped against my mouth.

  “Out?”

  “Out of the closet.”

  “Oh. I guess I really am out, now. And for good.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “Once you’ve had really good gay sex, there’s no going back. And don’t worry. You’re going to make out just fine. As I was saying—you are one hell of a beautiful stud. And right now, you’re all mine.”

  He ran his hands through my hair and across my flushed cheeks. I took his head in my hands, lowered my face into his reddish-brown hair to inhale the sweet aroma of his sweat, and I kissed him on the neck.

  Chapter Six: Cum Join Us

  I’m afraid there was no doubt about it. I was turning into a sex addict. All I thought about was sex. Hell, all I did, in my leisure time, was sex! The few weeks following that first early-morning fuck with Paul had to be the most erotically intense period of my life. It’s a wonder my overworked dick didn’t fall off.

  Paul and I now slept together, in the bedroom, in his bed. The mattress in the living room was now used as a daybed, or as extra seating when we had company.

  I continued to meet more of Paul’s friends. They accepted us as a couple. I was Paul’s boyfriend.

  Although the age difference between Paul and me was negligible, one of Paul’s musician buddies never tired of teasing Paul about it.

  “Now that you’re robbing the cradle, what’s it feel like, being a dirty old man?” That was the sort of thing this guy would say, to get a rise out of Paul.

  To his credit, Paul never took offense. “It feels great,” he’d reply. “You ought to try it sometime. It might be a nice change for you,” Paul added, slyly, “after all the really old guys you’ve sold your ass to.”

  This same buddy of Paul’s started to call me, and refer to me as, Paul’s “jazz baby.” The nickname stuck. At first I hated it. But then I took my cue from Paul,
who just laughed it off.

  I was infatuated with Paul, of course, but our relationship really went beyond sex. He was a role model for me. He was, after all, doing what I aspired to—making his living as a professional musician.

  Ever since I’d come to New York, I’d wanted to upgrade my equipment. I’d saved enough money to buy a really good vintage sax. Paul took me to a shop which specialized in such used instruments, and we spend nearly two hours scrutinizing the stock and trying out several alto saxes.

  I liked a Conn and a Buescher, but the instrument I really fell in love with was an old SML—a Strasser Marigaux Lemaire—from the early Sixties. It had been completely refurbished, so that its mechanism played like new. Paul, who was prejudiced in favor of French-made saxophones, approved, so I bought it.

  I devoted my evenings at home to practicing on my new purchase, familiarizing myself with it.

  Paul was amused by my dedication. “You pay more attention to that sax than you do to me,” he accused me, teasingly.

  “You’re the one who’s going to benefit in the long run,” I told him. “The more I practice, the more limber my lips and tongue will be when I suck your dick.”

  He laughed. “Keep playing then, baby,” he advised me. “A guy’s mouth can never be too flexible, I guess.”

  Paul and I had a lot of fun together, both in and out of bed. One of the things we’d do was pull out sheet music at home and play together. One of our favorites was a book of duets for two saxophones. These were exercises meant for students, with each duet emphasizing a particular skill—legato, staccato, intervals, chromatic scales, breath control, and so forth. We’d play the duets as written, but then we’d run through them again, and we’d start fooling around, embellishing, improvising, and trying to outdo each other in a playful competition. Inevitably, we’d end up giggling and fighting for breath, and needing to take a break, after pushing ourselves too hard.