There's always faking my own death when things get too suspicious. It's not like I haven't done it before, but never as part of a couple. Shit, it sucks to do it to friends; I really don't wanna pull that trick on a mate! Talk about a dick move! Still… He looks about nineteen, but that's no guarantee. He's damn shy for anyone older than that. What the fuck am I thinking?! Edgar, dude, you're contemplating something that could seriously mess up your life. Then again, he might just want another fuck… Screw it! I'm calling. First, the news.
Edgar always made it a point to keep abreast of current events. Not only was it the best way to avoid tipping his immortal hand, there was always the chance that science could further life-extension. Human vanity being what it was there was a good chance they wouldn't quit until they found a way to live forever.
Edgar touched the pad on his desk, bringing the screen to life. He tapped the News icon and his pre-programmed feeds popped up. He favored Quark for science news, Polzine for politics, Fin-News for finance, HappyFunTime for entertainment and Sssss! for current events. Sssss! was published by an eccentric ninety-year old who believed that snakes would ultimately evolve into a superior race. Aside from stories related to that particular world view, Sssss! was considered the crème-de-la-crème of current events sources.
The HC screened articles from all these sources, following a specific set of parameters Edgar programmed. He spent the next half hour scanning the articles, reading a few short ones and drinking another mug of hot, creamy coffee. Once he finished the news, he grabbed a glass of water and settled into the comfort of the sofa. "Call Jace," he said to the HC. The computer chimed, letting him know the call was being placed. Moments later, Jace's voice answered.
"Hey, Edgar! Finally awake, I see," the Spaniard's deep voice filled the room, followed by a chuckle.
"Good morning to you, too Jace!" Edgar said with a smile. "What's up?"
"I'm heading to Maxi's tonight at about ten. Care to join me?"
Edgar thought of Maddi, but decided that he'd reserve time for him tomorrow. "Sure," he said to Jace. "First round's on me. Wanna grab a meal, first?"
"Sorry, my friend; I'm having dinner with my sister tonight. Hence the strong desire for a drink afterward.
"My condolences," Edgar laughed. He knew Jace loved his sister, but she was a bit much to take sober. Some things never changed, and she was the 2-4's definition of the perfect know-it-all. The trouble was she didn't. Sadly, she couldn't be convinced of this, no matter what facts were presented. He wouldn't tell Jace, but Edgar never went to the – thankfully rare – events at which Anice was present without first getting a really good high.
"Thanks. Hey, if you don't have plans…" Jace said.
"I appreciate the kind invitation, Jace, but I just remembered I do have plans," Edgar said
"Sure, sure. Cleaning the house, I suppose?" Jace chuckled, knowing that Anice wasn't Edgar's favorite. "Don't worry, I get it. She has something important to tell me, so I wasn't seriously asking anyway. Just plan on the first two rounds being on you, though."
"You got it," Edgar said. "You're gonna need it, I suspect. Did she give you any hints as to what's so important?"
"Not a clue," said Jace. "Knowing her, she's found a new field of expertise and just wants to show it off." This was the closest Jace ever came to outright criticism of his younger sibling.
Edgar caught the cue and changed the subject. "Well, I'm looking forward to seeing you at Maxi's tonight. I'll be there at ten."
"It's a plan," said Jace. Then, to his own HC, he said "End call." Edgar's HC chimed signifying the call was over. Edgar sat for a moment, pondering Anice's big news. He refilled his glass and, on impulse, said, "Call Wizzer." He walked to the sofa as his friend's HC announced that Wiz wasn't available.
"Leave a message, please," Edgar told Wiz' HC.
"Please speak at the tone," the HC responded.
"Wizzer! It's Edgar. I need a word, please. I got an interesting call from a guy named Maddox; I met him at your place the 9th of last month. I know I didn't give him my call code; I was wondering if you did. I'm also considering calling him. Now, wipe that matchmaking smile off your face and call me back," this last was said with a smile in Edgar's voice that he knew Wiz would recognize. "End message," he instructed his HC. The familiar chime sounded and Edgar stood, intending to stretch for his run.
"Temperature outside," he asked the HC as he began his routine.
"The temperature outside is 72 degrees Fahrenheit," the unit responded.
Edgar smiled. Hundreds of years had passed and the U.S. still hadn't converted to the metric system. "Perfect," he replied. "Prep an SPF spray."
"The SPF spray is ready," the HC announced a moment later.
Edgar took another ten minutes to complete his stretches before heading for the shower. The SPF spray was an absolute necessity for any extended outdoor activity, especially one involving little clothing. Regardless of the great advancements in environmental technology and remediation, the damage done up through the late twenty-second century left a much-depleted ozone layer over most of the planet. Granted, curing melanoma was as easy as a week-long course of pills, but Edgar liked to avoid doctors as much as possible. He didn't know if his unique situation was discoverable by any medical scan and he didn't want to find out.
Instead, he used the spray; a concentrated SPF with a 100 rating. Delivered by the shower system, the mist went on fast and dried even faster. Edgar stepped into the shower, the sandy-colored tile cool against his feet, and asked the HC to begin the spray. He stood spread-eagle, eyes closed as the shower jets coated him with the fine mist. The spray process took all of twenty seconds and ten seconds after that, the SPF coating was dry. Edgar still marveled at how easy it was compared to twen-cen sunblock. It even coated his scalp, specifically designed to pass quickly through the thickest hair and left zero residue. He stepped out of the shower, heading to the walk-in closet to gear up for his run.
He chose a deep blue pair of onion-skin jogging shorts, loose and comfortable, providing barely enough covering to be considered decent. As a general rule, the less clothing he wore the happier Edgar was and, with the protection of the SPF spray, the only thing stopping him from jogging nude were the local decency laws. He pulled on a pair of dark blue running shoes and thumbed the closure. The shoes sealed, fitting Edgar's feet like a second skin, negating the need for socks. The last thing he chose was a pair of shades, a simple but classic design.
Unlike many people, Edgar liked experiencing his surroundings uninterrupted when jogging so he left his earbuddy at home. The freedom was exhilarating in itself. The small insert doubled as a voice-activated phone and a music player and sometimes it felt good to be unreachable. He took the elevator down and within moments was out on the street, jogging toward the Park.
Fifteen minutes later, Edgar was enjoying the feel of his muscles pumping, a sheen of perspiration glistening on his skin. The mid-day crowd in Gridley Park was on full, providing an ample supply of eye-candy and Edgar was taking it in like a starving man at a banquet. Gridley was the site of many mid-day activities beyond joggers and people lunching outdoors. There was a yoga group, largely female, but the men more than made up for smaller numbers with amazing displays of flexibility. He made a mental note to check out the group someday, purely for the benefits of yoga, of course.
The sun felt good on his skin and Edgar couldn't help but smile at the joy of being in motion on such a beautiful day. He caught more than a few lunchers gazing his way as he passed and he tossed a quick smile at some of them. One man in a tai chi group actually stared full-on at Edgar, completely ignoring the leader of the group. This man got a smile and a wave. There were few school-aged children in Gridley, today being a class day. The few children present were infants and toddlers, accompanied by caregivers, and not too much of a distraction. Edgar wasn't particularly fond of children, but the unaffected laughter of a baby occasionally touched even his heart.
T
hirty minutes in, Edgar changed paths heading back to Highland House. He usually ran for about an hour, making it two hours at least once a week. The benefit of regular exercise for Edgar was endurance, only because his body seemed forever frozen in a state of perfection. He always watched what he ate in public, though privately, he could easily put away a large double-cheese, double-pepperoni pizza and still have room for a pie. All without ever gaining an ounce; this, he knew from tracking his weight for the first hundred years of his life. After that, he counted tracking as a waste of time, instead counting the blessing of being able to eat like a hippo and look like a cheetah.
Given Edgar's love of sex, the increased endurance was well worth the time it took to jog. Of course, he thoroughly enjoyed jogging, so it was no great sacrifice. The pump he got from running felt almost as good as the one he got from sex. Almost. He'd been accused of being a sex addict, back in the day despite not fitting the definition. He always considered his love of sex and lack of inhibition to be natural; he'd been raised without the judgmental attitudes toward sex prevalent in the 1980s. In fact, his parents were flower children who never really left the 1960s. He never regretted it, even though it occasionally resulted in flak from schoolmates.
His free-and-easy attitudes fit perfectly in the 2-4, at least on Earth. Puritanical values had ceased being de riguer shortly after the majority of humanity abandoned religion. Some people found this change utterly unbearable and founded the first lunar colony, un-ironically called Genesis. Edgar visited once, wanting the experience of actually seeing the Moon; not surprisingly, he found the social mores stifling, cutting his two-week trip short by a week.
Other colonies had been started since Genesis, some thriving while others went extinct. Edgar visited each of the current fourteen human colonies once they'd become established civilizations. He learned early on that he had no love for the rugged wilderness stage of interplanetary colonies. The colonies' cultures varied, though the general flavor of each reflected the freedom found on humanity's home planet. Home was home, though and Edgar always chose to return to Earth. Now, with Highland House coming into view, his thoughts of home were far more specific, mainly a shower and a hot breakfast.
CHAPTER 5
Freshly-scrubbed from a quick shower, Edgar carried a heavy-laden plate of food to the living room. Breakfast today consisted of a huge, six egg omelet filled with cheddar, onions & peppers, two rectangular hash browns and twelve slices of crispy bacon with a tall glass of orange juice. He left the two blueberry muffins in the kitchen; saving them, and the cold milk, for dessert. Settling on the sofa, tray in his lap, he dove into breakfast. The enormous meal was gone in twenty-five minutes and Edgar returned to the sofa with the warm muffins, slathered with rich butter, in one hand and a frosty glass of milk in the other.
Whatever made me the way I am, I'm damn grateful I don't have to spend eternity counting calories. Being immortal isn't so bad, really, once you find a coping mechanism for watching everyone else grow old and die. Harsh, true, but reality is reality. Hobbies are good, too; without interests, even a mortal life would be boring. It makes you cut out things - and people - that just aren't worth your time. When all you have is time, there's no fucking point in suffering. Hell, everyone could benefit from that outlook, in my opinion.
Of course, some things never change and some form of bullshit always pops up, like this ridiculous legal action, but you still don't have to let it run or ruin your life. Speaking of, I should be hearing from Evans pretty soon. I'd feel sorry for the bitch if she wasn't trying to fleece me; I think Evans gets his rocks off on taking people down. I sure as hell haven't figured out what floats his boat. He's not a bad looking guy, either; I wouldn't kick him out of bed. Then again, I make it a policy to not dip my pen in the company ink and it'd be a helluva lot harder to replace him as a barrister than it would be as a bedmate. Which reminds me, I need to call Maddi. But first, these muffins need my attention.
A short time later, that attention given, Edgar stretched out on the sofa pondering which call to make. "Eat the crust first," his mom always told him, meaning "get the less enjoyable task out of the way so you can enjoy the sweet." However, experience told him that if there was news to be had on the legal action, Evans would already have called. Decision made, he instructed the HC to replay Maddox' message, listening for any nuance that would give away the young man's intentions. Nothing jumped out at him, so his next step was to tell the HC to call Maddox. As the computer placed the call, Edgar chuckled, thinking again of his mom's wisdom. Certainly, Maddi was a sweet piece of pie, one that Edgar would love to eat someday soon.
The sweetness in question wasn't available and Edgar left him a message. "Hi Maddox, it's Edgar. Thanks for calling; I'm sorry I missed you. I remember you from Wizzer's party; it was a great time, wasn't it? Give me a call when you get a chance; I'd like to talk about getting together sometime soon. End call."
Hmmm. I guess it's phone tag; or, as they call it today - comm tag. Same difference. Anticipation just makes the game more fun. The next move is his, though I hope he makes it soon. I definitely wouldn't mind a doing what that daddy did at Wiz', though without the extra hands on deck, or dick in this case. I don't mind groups, or audiences, but it'd sure be nice to be alone with him. It's one thing to let loose with a group, but there's not much personal interaction, just huffing, puffing and blowing the shit out of each other. He's so shy one-on-one, but what a dynamo when he finally gets comfortable. Hell, I'm gettin' boned up again, just thinking about his sweet ass.
Edgar's soft cock was lengthening. He leaned back on the sofa, stretching his long legs out, slightly spread apart. He reached down with his right hand, slowly tugging on his swelling member, tweaking a nipple with his left. He sighed as his cock reached full erection and dipped his hand below to gently cup his full balls, rolling them around slowly.
Ahh... So nice. Wish it was Maddi's tongue... God that would be fun. I'd love to dive into his bush, too, though. And that ass; oh man, that ass! I couldn't dream up a hotter ass in all my wildest fantasies. Oh well; he's not here now. As they say, a cock in the hand...
"Computer," Edgar called, bringing one leg up, pseudo-Lotus, "access porn files. Play Royal Dreams, scene 3, beginning." The HC chimed and the viewscreen came alive, the image of a shining marble throne room as it would've been in ancient Thraxian times filling the shot. This particular scene was one of Edgar's favorites; no matter how many times he watched it, he couldn't make it to the end of the scene without climaxing.
Onscreen, the camera panned to a lone figure, the Thraxian Emperor, seated on his throne. The man's azure robes were open at the front exposing his muscular, hairy chest and washboard abs. A small treasure trail of dark hair led to a full bush over an uncircumcised cock of a full six inches flaccid. He looked about the empty room, seemingly bored as hell. Sighing heavily, he reached for a velvet rope beside the throne and tugged it hard.
Edgar smiled as his own cock twitched, leaking a drop of pre-cum. The scene was about to heat up. A young man, twentyish to the Emperor's forty-something, trotted on camera wearing a skimpy cloth around his waist. He bowed low before his Emperor, blonde locks falling over his forehead.
"You summoned me, Your Highness?" he asked, rising.
"Yes, Page. Your Emperor is bored; I require entertainment." The look that accompanied the emphasis let the page know exactly the type of entertainment desired.
"Yes, Highness," the page replied, kneeling again but much closer to the throne this time. "If it pleases you," he said, lifting the older man's growing cock to his eager mouth, pulling his foreskin down as he did so. His tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive spot where shaft met head before encircling the thick mushroom with his lips.
The Emperor's head lolled back against the throne as he sighed, "It does; it pleases me very much." The camera panned to the side of the throne, showing the younger man's head bobbing gently up and down the top third of the Emperor's thickening cock.
> Edgar's hand was once again on his cock, thumb slicking the head with his pre-cum. He squeezed his shaft hard, forcing more of the clear, sweet juice to leak out. He licked his thumb clean, enjoying the taste of his own fluid and began slowly stroking himself with a firm grip.
The Emperor, meantime, grabbed a handful of the boy's hair and was forcing him ever farther down his impossibly huge cock. The page took it, eyes watering slightly, jaw stretched almost to the limit. Every fourth stroke, the older man pulled the page all the way off his spit-slicked rod before roughly shoving it down his throat again. This went on for a good five minutes, Edgar's hand on his own cock picking up speed.
Finally, the boy was nose-to-pubes and the Emperor let out a loud cry of pleasure as he held the boy firmly in place. The camera panned in close, showing the page's throat working around the massive invader. Unable to hold back, Edgar gasped as his orgasm ripped through him. He shot so forcefully the first volley landed on his lips and he greedily licked it off. The rest of his load coated him from chin to navel. His breathing ragged and hoarse, he ordered the film stopped just as the Emperor was pulling the page to his feet and bending him over the throne. He sat, head thrown back, as he came down from the heights of orgasm.
After he cleaned up, he checked the time. Edgar decided he'd knock out a freelance piece. It wasn't due for a few more days and he hadn't planned on working today, but thinking about Maddox left him more wired than he expected. Even after jerking off, he still had an excess of energy and writing was always a great way to burn it off.
CHAPTER 6
When Edgar looked up from his work, he noted the time. It wasn't unusual for him to lose himself for hours in things he found interesting.
Six fifty-eight? Wow! This is gonna be a great piece, if I do say so myself; but, it's time to call it a day. I love it when a piece comes together like this one. The client's a good guy, too. It doesn't hurt that I like the subject matter, either. Then again, what's not to like about hydroponics? With most of the available land taken up by people, hydro revolutionized farming. Take that, Nancy Reagan; without all us eighties stoners, hydro wouldn't have become so big and we'd probably have starved ages ago. Let's see, gotta meet Jace in a few hours; plenty of time for a nap and a light meal. Immortal I may be, but drinking on an empty stomach is a sure path to a bad night.
Edgar Aeternum, Book 1: Tales of Aeternal Love Page 4