Men of All Seasons Box Set

by R. W. Clinger

  Lance confided in Stone and told him, “My mother and step-father are fire and water.”

  Because of the trials and tribulations at home, unwilling to surrender himself to his mother and step-father’s brutal hostility, Lance ran away from the couple and became homeless, living on Plimpton, Templeton, Erie, and Codiver streets for almost eight months. Stone then took the boy under his wing and housed him, fed the poor thing, and dressed his nephew, accomplishing stability in Lance’s life.

  Before Stone’s interception in the boy’s street life, Lance did an arrangement of drugs, slept with men for cash, and sometimes stole money to survive. None of those actions caused Stone to judge his nephew, though, knowing he had suffered dearly under his mother’s and Stone’s brother’s questionable care.

  Perhaps the most tragic event in Lance’s life was the suicide of his mother. Trina Bangle failed to be mentally stable and consumed many prescription drugs for a balance. Stone believed schizophrenia could have been easily diagnosed had the woman been psychologically analyzed, as well as other psychological disorders.

  Because of Trina’s mental condition and the unstable and aggressive marriage with Stone’s brother, the woman became powerless, insane, and eventually hung herself in the spring of 2011. Stone had found her dangling from the bedroom ceiling in his brother’s Malibu beach house, swinging to and fro with a snapped neck, a purple and yellow cadaver that could no longer be considered anyone’s mother. Trina offed herself as quickly and quietly as her son had taken to the streets.

  Hardship reined without any limits in Lance’s life, which caused Stone to become a father-like figure in the young man’s life for the last few years. Not only had he made sure that Lance wasn’t homeless, providing a room for the young man, but he had kept Lance from taking drugs and selling his body for cash. Stone also had promised himself to feed and clothe the young man and keep Lance from offing himself the way his mother had.

  As of late, Lance happened to be doing well. He was turning twenty in a few days and leaving for Tokyo with one of his best female friends, Yoko, where he would stay for the next month. Of course, Stone paid for the Japan trip, forking out six thousand dollars for his nephew to enjoy his travels in the East where he could consume sake, Japanese pop culture, and be an expert of Feng Sui and Sudoku.

  Stone thanked all the gods in heaven that his nephew hadn’t been living on the streets anymore, residing temporarily with him, Tender, Yoko, and a number of men he occasionally slept with. Such comfort would be coming to an end, though, and soon. For now, Lance resided stateside for the next week, safe under Stone’s close care and readying himself to fly the thousand-plus miles to Tokyo. Stone planned to give Lance a few of the Robert Riley paperbacks he collected for his nephew’s travels, novels Lance could read on his flights to and from Japan and in his spare time when he wasn’t experiencing the Japanese culture of sushi, game shows, and Godzilla.

  Presumably, Lance was supposed to attend Stone’s book function, although Stone knew he didn’t like most of the book club members and maybe didn’t even like the books. Lance basically attended the gathering to enjoy the opportunity to discuss the ins and outs of Robert Riley’s writing style, even with members he didn’t care for. Something about Riley sparked Lance’s interest that Stone honestly couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps because the Pittsburgh-born and—raised author had written of sex, drugs, rock-and-roll, homelessness, divorced parents, and Japan; all topics Stone’s nephew could relate to. Then again, Lance rarely, if ever, talked about the writer and maybe didn’t like his novels and their shared themes.

  Everything about Lance Bangle seemed like a mystery, Stone thought, and one he would never figure out in its entirety. Not now and certainly not when he returned from Japan with Yoko. Lance would always be clandestine to him, even if Stone considered him a son-like figure in his life, part of him, and beloved.

  * * * *

  The chill of winter ate through Stone’s jacket. Snow blew into his eyes and seared his cheeks. A burning sensation moved across his bare flesh. He cringed in the snowstorm, abhorring the cold. The snow fell faster, harder, and Stone blocked his face with a gloved hand. The temperature dropped below twenty degrees, leaving him numb and bewildered. The bitter wind slashed against his body as he made his way to his next stop, continuing to run his errands. He braved the wind and cold, treaded forward, and carried out his day.

  At 4832 Cullen Avenue, The Diamond Abyss resembled a sparkling gem. Glass-fronted with a jade tree covered in a variety of rings perched in one of its windows. The other window looked as if it had been decorated with raining diamonds and falling stars. Stone thought the inside of the store just as glittery with its rows of emerald watches, turquoise bracelets, ruby earrings, sapphire broaches, and pearl necklaces. Waist-high glass cases created a U-shape around the jewelry shop’s interior. The cases looked freshly dusted and sparkled. Stone studied engagement rings, Bolivia-imported gems, and emerald-cut rubies. There were silver bands, chocolate diamond wedding rings, and amethyst drop-earrings.

  Dan Abyss, the owner of the store, resembled a limber fireman in his late forties. He wore horn-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose, showcased a W-shaped mustache, and practiced being a Baptist. The storeowner had three sons who were twenty-seven: Michael, Matthew, and Marcus. The triplets worked under their father, running the business. Michael directed the opening of a second store in downtown Erie. Matthew labored in South Africa on a diamond hunt. And Marcus worked at the store in Plimpton, next to his daddy’s side, but had the day off while Stone visited.

  Stone decided the perfect gift for Lance Bangle was a set of diamond earrings since his nephew had an arrangement of holes in his ears. The diamonds had to be something simple and not too flashy. He knew Lance loved earrings, wearing two or three in each ear at one time, enjoying how they shifted to and fro in the sunlight; always a conversation piece in his young world. Lance wore a variety of colors, metals, gems, and sizes. Fourteen-carat gold not chosen over silver, and vice-versa. Like the company Lance kept, he was eclectic about his ear wear, pretty much nondescript. No one could ever predict his true style, even Stone.

  With Dan Abyss’s assistance, Stone looked at a number of diamond earrings. A few caught his eye. A sterling bracelet accented with two emerald clusters called out to him. The pair cost a little less than four thousand dollars, which wasn’t out of his price range. Another set of earrings that spoke to him entailed fourteen masculine-looking, gold, cross-shaped cuffs with diamond-shaped etchings, priced well above one thousand dollars. He ended up purchasing sterling silver cuffs with a wavy design in turquoise. The pair looked rather small, but quite eye-catching; pieces that could start many conversations during Lance’s Japanese travels.

  Satisfied with his purchase, Stone had the earrings gift-wrapped in a rose-colored box that felt like silk. Stone exited the jewelry store and came face to face with Cameron Phillips, a thirty-one-year-old administrator at Plimpton College. Stone hadn’t seen him in a while. Cameron looked adorable in every sense of the word. The man had chocolate-colored mussed hair, a high jawline, and green eyes that sparkled like the emeralds in Dan Abyss’s jewelry store. Cameron stood at six-three and had the physique of a lumberjack, handsome beyond words, smiling, and not at all unpleased to see Stone Daye.

  * * * *

  Long story short, Stone had a bizarre history with the younger man, something he wasn’t proud of. The event had taken place shortly after the ruination of his relationship with Jack Panda, at the end of last summer. The temperature stayed at a solid eighty degrees for five days straight, and it sprinkled outside. Such weather did not prevent Stone from going for a walk through Plimpton Park. To no avail, Cameron Phillips had also been taking a walk at the same time. The two men decided to walk together, chat about Plimpton College, the school’s impressive basketball team, Cameron’s administrative job for the last nine years, and novels Cameron didn’t read but had seen the movies based on them.

  After a t
wo mile walk around the park, discovering hormones and an attraction to each other, Stone ended up at the young man’s Colonial-style house on the opposite side of Plimpton, naked and sweaty. Stone had been escorted to the guy’s bedroom on the third floor where the walls were covered in naked glossy pictures of men with bare chests and plump erections; vintage pinup photographs from gay magazines like Torso, Advocate Men, Jock, and Honcho.

  Tucked in an eight-by-ten square foot bedroom with chipped paint on the windowsills, a broken window, and a bed that smelled of marijuana, Stone pumped the professor with his latex-covered cock, built up a sweat with the mathematician, and eventually blew his load on the man’s chest, glazing his fuzz-covered nipples and abs.

  Their afternoon affair turned out be a one-shot deal, of course. No kissing or holding occurred during or after their intimacy. They didn’t discuss boyfriendhood or a second fling. It was a wham, bam, and thank you man kind of sexual encounter that allowed both men to get off, enjoying flesh and friction for a little more than twenty minutes.

  What did Stone know about Cameron Phillips? Absolutely nothing, except where he lived in Plimpton and other minor details that really were of no concern. He didn’t know if Cameron had any siblings, if his parents were alive, or if he even liked to read fiction, let alone novels by Robert Riley. The only thing he honestly knew about the college administrator entailed the size of his dick (seven inches long and almost two inches thick) and that he was well-built, somewhat bearish and furry, and with a lined stomach and muscular thighs. Stone also knew that the younger man preferred being a bottom, craving cock for his ass, riding dick after sometimes picking up strangers in Plimpton Park.

  * * * *

  “Stone Daye,” Cameron said, smiling outside The Diamond Abyss. He stood so close to Stone on the sidewalk, their chins and lips almost touched. “I never thought I would see you again after you diddled me.”

  “Plimpton is small. Of course, we would see each other again,” Stone replied, admiring the young man from head to toe, dazzled by his chiseled frame and Abercrombie & Fitch style.

  The man looked good, edible, and perfect for his sexual needs, even if Stone didn’t know anything about him, and vice versa. He was a total stranger, but still interesting. Stone didn’t know if the guy read graphic novels, painted, or was a stalker. Nor did he know if Cameron had a boyfriend, was safe to have sex with, enjoyed fast food, or if he liked to sleep in. He couldn’t tell anyone he knew what Cameron’s middle name was, if he had any siblings, or what he was allergic to, if anything. They simply messed around once, which was impersonal but a good time for both of them, Stone guessed, and very strange.

  Discreetly, Cameron reached between Stone’s legs, grabbed the man’s cock, and gave it a squeeze. As the pretentious and forward act carried out, the college professor said, “I want you to bang me again. What do you say to that?”

  At first, Stone recollected he had a million and one things to do before the book club party. But then his cock started to swell under his khakis, and one or two bubbles of pre-ejaculate seeped out of his dick’s capped head and decorated his white boxer-briefs, all in a matter of seconds. Yes, he felt horny and needed the company of another man. Sex could be fun with the right guy, especially Cameron Phillips and his taut and needy bottom. Because Stone couldn’t remember having sex with a man, since he was drunk and high at the time, he decided to take Cameron up on his offer.

  “I have an hour. Use my dick the way you want to, young man.”

  * * * *

  Cameron lived alone at 392 High Street, which gave Stone some private time with the young man, having every intention of bashing the college mathematician’s bottom with his inflated dick, pleasuring the both of them. Their clothes came off in the house’s cluttered living room, and they walked up the two flights of stairs and ended up inside Cameron’s third floor bedroom, which still smelled of cigarettes, old beer, and marijuana. The window overlooking High Street had been closed, and white sunshine filled the single room. Dirty clothes were scattered over the floor, and a video gaming system connected to the wall. Its components were scattered everywhere. A twenty-one-inch LED flat-screen hung on the wall, and college books where piled here and there.

  Stone listened to the wind outside, January at its full tempest. A howling echoed within the large house as snow blew against the wooden siding. Never in his life had Stone heard such anger in a storm, swirling and pissed, not at all friendly. No matter how hostile the snowstorm acted, Stone followed Cameron’s actions and ended up on the man’s bed with him.

  The twin-size bed squeaked under Cameron’s weight as he started to blow Stone. Stone let out a few moans of joy and ground his teeth together. The oral satisfaction continued for the next ten minutes, which almost made Stone shoot a load of ejaculate inside Cameron’s mouth.

  Eventually, Cameron hoisted both of Stone’s legs up and delved the tip of his tongue in the man’s asshole. Plunging with his tongue occurred as well as a few swirls. Cameron moaned, licked the rim of Stone’s rear, and mumbled unintelligible things between laps.

  They switched positions. Cameron lay on the bed with his legs spread open and Stone provided him with a ten-minute blowjob and an asshole massage.

  Both men groaned with satisfaction until Cameron finally decided to instruct Stone to, “Shove your cock inside me.”

  Latex and lube applied to Stone’s dick, he slid it inside the young man on the bed. The guy’s asshole was just as tight as the last time he screwed Cameron on the day of their shared park walk. Stone noticed Cameron’s chest was hairier and he now had some heavy-duty muscle.

  Stone pounded the guy as long as he could before coming on his chest. Splatters of semen spurted out of his dick and splashed against Cameron’s chest. Globs hung in the young man’s chest hair. Then he jacked Cameron off with both hands, cheering him to come while his palms moved up and down on the administrator’s dick.

  Eventually, Cameron came, oozing semen out of his upright cock like a volcano. It rolled down and over Stone’s knuckles and wrist until Cameron became empty, exhausted.

  The affair ended as quickly as it had started. Stone didn’t know why he kissed the guy, but he did. It turned out to be a raw kiss with open mouths and some tongue. Stone’s heart heated up a touch, and he felt dizzy.

  When he pulled away from Cameron, he said, “I’m having a book club meeting this evening at my house. You can come over after my guests leave.”

  “Which will be when?”

  “Eleven o’clock or thereafter. I’ll let you spend the night with me if you want.”

  “I’d like that,” Cameron said, smiling from the bed, sticky with ejaculate, and breathing hard. “I remember where you live, on the other side of town with just a few other houses, the lake, and a lot of woods. It’s hidden somewhat, if I recall right.” He had never been to Stone’s Tudor, but he did know the street and house, just the same.

  Stone really didn’t know why he told Cameron to visit him that night. Maybe if he hadn’t kissed Cameron, he wouldn’t have asked him over. Whatever. Stone couldn’t remember the last time he had slept with a man after having his world rocked. He needed some company. Maybe that certain somebody just happened to be Cameron, maybe not. Not that it mattered. Bottom line, it would be good to cuddle again with someone all night long and wake up to them in the morning. Every man needed that, right? Even Stone.

  Yes, every man does, he thought, while leaving Cameron’s house, heading to his BMW. And every man also needs some sex once in a while.

  * * * *

  Sadie Harrison had already completed her cleaning chores at Stone’s Tudor when he returned home from his errands and sex romp with Cameron Phillips. A vacuum sat in the middle of the living room floor, and Stone could smell Pledge on the maple end tables, proving that she had already dusted or was in the process of dusting. He found her in the dining room, dusting off the chandelier above the table that sat six comfortably. The woman looked top-heavy and always wob
bly, destined to someday fall over, particularly now while reaching forward and upwards with a five-foot feather duster, stretching every muscle in her overweight body.

  Sadie was the strongest black woman Stone had ever known, always a supporter of the local Black Rights Legion, a foundation that protected African-American men and women from being brutalized by racist cops in northwestern Pennsylvania, among other areas. Sadie organized and attended fund-raisers for the group, and she spoke as one of its key members, protecting communities from violence and disparage in the modern world of violence committed against blacks. Her IQ ranked at average, and never did she use correct grammar. Had it not been for her upbeat and positive attitude, her BRL foundation wouldn’t have taken off, leaving the woman heartbroken.

  “How are you, dear?” Stone asked, stepping closer to the table.

  The feather duster fell out of her right hand, and its plastic handle clicked against the dining room table’s surface. She grabbed at her heart with both palms and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Jesus, Mary, and Jo Jo! Mr. Daye, you scared the poo out of me! How many times have I told you not to do that? What were you thinking?”

  “My apologies.” He tried to soothe her, knowing the woman had always been on edge and nervous most of the time. He believed she needed something for anxiety, a little pink pill with quite the kick and easy to swallow, just to calm her down. Sadie didn’t do any kind of drug, though. Not cold medicine. Not aspirin. Nothing of the sort. Her body had been drug-free for the last forty years of her life, and that’s exactly how she wanted to keep it.

  She pulled out a chair and sat down, waving a hand in front of her face as if it was a fan, attempting to cool down. “Don’t ever sneak up on a woman twice your age. Some of us know karate and those fancy moves like your nephew’s friend, Tender. Other women would have beat you to the ground. I, on the other hand, am a lady, just as I’ll always be. Amen to that.”