by Neil Plakcy
“Wait, I thought that was Minnesota.”
“Same difference.”
There were faint sparkles of mischief dancing in Carl’s eyes now, a sight that made Brian’s cock jump up like an eager puppy.
He would have liked to fully peel Carl out of that coat of woe, maybe run his fingers through the neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair, but the break was over and he had to go.
“Well, it’s certainly true about the men,” Brian said, and winked at Carl before returning to his post.
For the next half an hour Brian felt Carl’s gaze raking over his body, near constantly. He was glad that the loose cargo pants hid his excitement. He liked this part of the mating ritual, the prolonged foreplay: he enjoyed being wanted. Hell, if he wasn’t afraid his parents would find out he probably would’ve done well as a male go-go dancer. It wasn’t likely he’d meet anyone as classy as Carl, though.
Brian expected Carl to fall behind so they could exchange a few necessary words, arrange a time to meet later. To his dismay, Carl returned to land amidst the other passengers, without giving Brian a single backwards glance. Bitter disappointment and sexual frustration chewed Brian’s guts. You win some, you lose some, he told himself, but it failed to make him feel any better.
Brian conducted his next tour as professionally as ever, but without much enthusiasm. He was glad it was his last one for the day and was relieved to hand the boat over to Joan, the second-shift guide.
Another enjoyable thing about the job was that it left him with plenty of free time. Time he suddenly didn’t know what to do with. He decided to pop into the Art Institute before heading home. He figured the Cartier-Bresson special exhibit would provide a couple of hours of diversion. He’d seen the exhibit twice before, but he kept finding new interesting details in the old photographs.
Some of the grainy black-and-white prints were getting close to a century in age, yet the people in them were so very much alive. They weren’t stiff and posed; the photographer’s camera caught them in moments both mundane and real. Time kept flowing around them, through them, even as they stood frozen, fixed in silver. Looking at those photos was similar to reading only one intriguing sentence from a book and wondering about the rest. Like Carl, the enigma, they captured Brian’s imagination.
One of Brian’s weaknesses was his impatience. He’d given up on mystery novels because he always ended up skipping to the end to find out who the killer was. The mystery of Carl bugged him more than anything in a long time. Carl was a story Brian knew nothing about, not even the beginning, not to mention the end. Aside from the curiosity, he found the man fucking hot. Brian wasn’t normally into older men—they reminded him of his father too much—but Carl was something completely different. And completely unreachable.
It kept bugging him as he took the El to his apartment in Lakeview, while he fixed himself dinner, and even as he tried to zonk out in front of the television. He had a quick wank but it was a hollow satisfaction. Finally Brian realized he needed a stronger distraction. So he took a shower, spruced himself up and went out.
It was a weeknight, but it was also Boystown, so there was always something going on. The bars were busy enough, and men gave him interested looks, but Brian couldn’t see anyone he liked. Buck’s was the third place he popped into. He went straight to the bar and asked for a beer. Brian sort of knew Joe, the bartender, so they got to chatting while Brian scanned the room for potential hookups. What he spotted at the other end of the bar made him stop in mid-sentence.
“What? You look like you saw a ghost,” Joe asked.
“Seren-fucking-dipity, Joe,” Brian replied, not taking his eyes off the man with the salt-and-pepper hair.
He grabbed his beer and briskly walked up to Carl. The seats on both sides of this Man of Mystery were taken, so Brian wedged himself in the empty space between stools, moving closer to Carl than was strictly necessary.
“Hi there. Funny meeting you here,” Brian said to break the ice yet again.
He witnessed the same show as last time; Carl turned toward him with the air of a man rising from deep water. His face arranged itself into a mask of joviality, with a touch of confusion.
“Sorry, have we met?” he asked with a slight slur.
“Yeah, this morning on the boat. Remember?”
A crack appeared in Carl’s mask. “River Spirit! You’ve left your post.”
It made Brian smile. “Don’t worry, there are other spirits to take over.”
“At this hour?”
“Well, there are river taxis, at least. You should try that sometime. It’s really beautiful.”
“I know,” he said with a pensive smile.
“So you’ve been?”
“Long time ago. Will loved it.” Carl drew his brows together, as if he was surprised or even displeased at what he’d just said. He turned his focus back on Brian. “Brian, right? And your last name means river in…Spanish?”
“Portugue se.”
“I’m very sorry. I’m afraid I’m a touch inebriated.”
“Not a problem.”
Spotting an open booth, Brian tugged at Carl’s shirt. “Come, let’s sit over there. It’s more comfortable.”
As soon as they sat down, Carl was getting up again. “Let me get you a drink.”
Brian had no intention of letting Carl go anywhere. Who knew, he might bolt for the door. Brian knew second chances like this didn’t come by often, and he was going to hang on to it. So he quickly stood up and pushed Carl back into his seat. “I’ll get it. What will you have?”
“Old-fashioned.”
A minute later, back with their drinks, Brian found Carl gazing wistfully at the people around them. His body filled the booth with the liquid languidness that alcohol brings, but his eyes gleamed sharp and lucid. As they tracked his every movement, Brian began to feel that prickling thrill of being wanted. Oh yeah, Carl was on the hook, but he was skittish for some reason, and Brian had to careful reeling him in.
“So what do you do up there in dairy land?” he asked to keep up the pretense of polite conversation.
Carl took a sip of his cocktail. “I’m a veterinarian.”
“Puppies and kittens?”
“Livestock. Mostly cows, the occasional horse or pig. The town I live in has a population of three hundred thousand and twice as many dairy cows. At least it seems like it.”
“I would’ve never figured you for a vet,” Brian admitted.
“What, then?”
“Retired male fashion model.”
Carl chortled into his glass. “You’re saying I’m old.”
Brian stretched his legs out under the table, taking Carl’s lower limbs captive. “Like a bottle of twenty-five-year-old whiskey is old.”
Fumes of pheromones and alcohol hung heavily between them. Brian leaned forward and took one of Carl’s hands into his own. He unfurled it, gently touching the palm and long fingers. Carl’s fingers seemed too delicate for a country vet, but the calluses on them belied their appearance.
Brian didn’t miss the quickening of Carl’s breath, the rush of blood heating up his cheeks. It matched his own state of arousal.
Yet Carl pulled his hand away. “Brian, Brian, Brian. What does a nubile young thing want from an old goat like me?”
Brian shrugged. “What does anyone want? You’re a very sexy old goat, you know.”
“I like your directness.”
“I thought earlier, on the boat, that you were undressing me with your eyes. Was I wrong?”
“You weren’t. I was undressing you. Anything less would’ve been an insult to your beauty.” There was playfulness in his tone, but he was still holding himself at a frustrating arm’s length away.
It only made Brian want to push harder. He leaned forward more, into Carl’s personal space. Under the table his legs held Carl’s tightly.
“You’re a randy old goat, then—a very fuckable randy old goat. I bet you’re kinky too,” Brian murmured suggestively
.
Carl’s breath hitched, and for the first time Brian saw the naked, unadulterated lust rise to the surface in Carl’s eyes. “Come back to my hotel,” Carl whispered, almost shy.
Brian felt the smug excitement of a cat who’d just gotten to the well hidden cream. “Let’s go. Where are you staying?”
“The Majestic.”
“Fancy,” he said approvingly, and put his arm around Carl’s waist as they left the bar.
They took a cab although the hotel wasn’t far away. Brian wanted to keep Carl in a confined space till they got back to the hotel, not giving the night air a chance to blow away the sexual tension between them. They both acted with reasonable decorum till they stepped inside the suite. After that all bets were off. Carl held Brian’s head with his hands and kissed him with an unexpected hunger. Brian occupied his own hands massaging Carl’s small, tight ass. Their hard cocks rubbed together through too many layers of denim and cotton. Brian went for the belt on Carl’s pants.
Carl stopped him. “Wait. I’d like you to do something for me.”
Brian pulled back a little to look Carl in the eye. “Something kinky?”
“A little. I’d like to watch you undress.”
“Like a strip show?”
“No, nothing so tacky, but go slow.”
Carl extricated himself from Brian’s arms and sat down at the edge of the bed. He looked up expectantly. Brian didn’t mind being watched, generally enjoyed it, and the desire darkening Carl’s eyes was a definite turn-on. Fortunately, he had on a button-down shirt that night. He undid the buttons one by one from top to bottom. The whole time he watched Carl, and didn’t miss how the man pressed his hand on the bulge of his pants. Brian pushed the shirt over his shoulders and let it slip to the floor. He ran one hand down his chest to his cock and kneaded it for a few seconds.
The leather belt slid out of its loops and landed next to the shirt. Brian undid the button on his fly and pulled the zipper down in a painfully slow motion. He pushed his jeans down, but only a few inches. Brian’s cock, free from its confinement, sprang up and poked its flared purple head out of his briefs. Carl’s lips parted and his tongue flicked out. Brian knew what Carl wanted and would be happy to give it to him, but not before turning up the heat some more. With his thumb he spread the precum around his cockhead. Carl’s groan let Brian know he was on target. Brian pushed his jeans and briefs the rest of the way down and stepped out of them. He also took a couple of steps forward so his cock swung only a few inches from Carl’s lips.
“It’s yours. Come and get it,” Brian said, giving his cock a few lazy strokes.
Carl’s knees hit the carpet with a dull thud. He put his lips on Brian’s cockhead, almost with reverence. He glided his tongue around the ridge, teasing the spot on the underside. When Carl licked down Brian’s shaft, Brian widened his stance to let Carl suck his balls into that warm mouth, one by one.
“Stroke yourself,” Brian instructed him.
Carl dutifully took his cock out and begun to slide his hand over it. His other hand kept massaging Brian’s sac. The wet heat of Carl’s mouth soon enveloped Brian’s cockhead again. Brian reached down to pet that fine jaw, to dig his fingers into the wiry hair.
“Fuck, so good,” he groaned.
Carl looked up, eyes filled with gratitude. He redoubled his efforts and soon he swallowed most of Brian’s cock down. An impressive feat, since Brian was a big boy. Brian lost himself to the assault, lost control somewhere, only vaguely aware that he was roughly grasping Carl’s head, thrusting his hips forward. Even worse, he didn’t care. Carl’s hands on his ass, holding him tight, convinced Brian it was okay. The last vestige of Brian’s self-control asserted itself as his balls drew up. He tugged at Carl’s hair, but Carl just held on tighter. So Brian let go, feeling Carl’s throat constrict as he swallowed Brian’s jizz. At last when Brian’s trembling legs couldn’t possibly support him any longer, Carl let him go. Brian plopped on the edge of the bed. He realized with shame he had no idea if Carl came or not. He was about to ask, but then the sight of a glob of cum on his foot answered the question. He wiped it off with the corner of the bed linen.
“Damn, Carl, that was one fine blow job. If anyone ever calls you a cocksucker, be proud.”
“Who said I wasn’t?”
“Was I too rough? I think I lost it there at one point.”
“You were perfect,” Carl said, standing up. “You guessed right that I had kinks, but then who doesn’t?”
Brian pulled Carl to him. “Let’s get you out of these clothes already. You make me feel self-conscious.”
“So you’re staying the night?”
“Of course I am. The night’s young, and we’ve barely gotten started.”
Brian was still extremely intrigued with Carl’s pert ass and hoped Carl would let him fuck him. However, Brian’s dick needed a moment or two to recover. He figured he could use the time to untangle the mystery of Carl. Once they were both naked and under the covers he rolled to his side, facing Carl. He propped his head on his elbow and lay his upper leg over Carl’s legs.
“What happened to Will?” he asked.
“What?” Carl looked at him with alarm.
“Will—you mentioned him earlier. He means something, doesn’t he? What happened to him?”
Carl gave a sigh of surrender. “He left me after fifteen years together. We used to go on a vacation together every summer. All over the world, Paris, Rio De Janeiro, you name it.”
“And this year you came to exotic Chicago, all by yourself.”
“I didn’t have the motivation for anything more.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did he leave?”
“Midlife crisis.”
“Huh?”
“He was…used to be a true bear, big and hairy. I loved that about him. But I guess he didn’t love himself quite the same. Something happened to him when he turned forty-five. He started working out, dieting, dying his hair. He even got his body waxed. In a year he was a completely different man. Then he got himself a convertible and moved to San Francisco.”
“That’s harsh, man.”
“I can’t really blame him. It’s his life. He’s fulfilling some boyhood dream.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I’m guessing it’s not easy to find somebody over in cow country.”
A muscle in Carl’s face twitched involuntarily, and he closed his eyes.
“Wait a minute. There’s somebody, isn’t there?”
“Mmm.”
“I bet he’s a brown-eyed kid following you everywhere like a puppy, and you’re a total bastard to him.”
Carl kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut.
“Look at me,” Brian said in a firm voice.
Carl complied, obviously not able to resist a direct command. “Blond, blue-eyed, two-hundred-something pounds of pure muscle, but yeah, I’ve been a total bastard to him.”
“Why? You don’t like him?”
“I like him very much.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Carl heaved a sigh. “He’s too young, for one thing—”
Brian snorted. “Bullshit excuse.”
“And there is the other thing. Will and I were cut of the same cloth. When your sexual preferences run to the exotic side, it’s hard to bring that up to a potential date, especially if you’re fifteen years out of dating practice.”
Brian broke out in a hearty laugh. “You kinky bastard! You don’t just like it rough, you like it really rough. Right?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, fuck me. I’ve only been scratching the tip of the iceberg here, haven’t I?”
“And mixing your metaphors.”
Brian rolled out of the bed and stalked around the room, not finding what he was looking for. Following his instincts, he opened the dresser and here it was: a long swath of fine silk. He took it out and held it up appreciativel
y.
“I knew you were the kind of guy who’d bring a tie with him on a holiday,” he said.
“I had a theater ticket.”
Brian retrieved packets of condom and lube from his jeans. He walked back to the bed feeling very pleased with himself. He pulled the cover completely off the bed. Carl looked back at him, eyes narrowing and cock twitching. Something about him totally brought out Brian’s pushy, assertive side. Throwing the foil packages on the bed, he bent down and with a quick, strong movement flipped Carl on his stomach. Straddling him, Brian forcefully took the older man’s wrists, crossed them behind Carl’s back, and bound them with the silk tie.
Brian leaned his bulkier frame over Carl, trapping Carl’s immobilized arms between them.
He bent his head close and spoke into Carl’s ear with the deepest, most authoritative tone he had. “I can’t give you exactly what you need, but I can give you a hard fuck that will stay with you for days.”
Carl’s fingers stretched between them, desperately seeking contact. Brian’s hardening cock took notice. He wedged it in the crevice between Carl’s buttocks, sliding it forward and back a few times.
Brian went on. “Or I could leave you here, high and dry all night. It’s your choice.”
Carl grunted angrily and tried to push himself up, but Brian entwined his legs with Carl’s and held him still. “I promise you I will fuck you hard and long and won’t let you come till you want it so bad that a brush of my hand will set you off. In exchange, you promise to go back to bovine country, and ask this guy…what’s his name?”
“Robert.”
“You ask Robert out, wine and dine him, and then take him home and make him own your ass. Show him your dungeon as well.”
“I don’t have a dungeon.”
“Whatever. Promise!”
There was a stubborn silence, so Brian sank his teeth into the fleshy part of Carl’s shoulder. At the same time he resumed rocking his hips against Carl’s ass.
“Oh fuck! I promise!” came Carl’s muffled cry.
“Good, baby. I guarantee you’ll feel my cock in you long after I’m gone.”
Brian got off the bed, pulling Carl to its edge. He arranged Carl in the pose he wanted. He did just as he’d promised; he fucked Carl with rough, merciless determination. Every fiber of Brian’s being focused on making Carl tremble and moan, to beg and whimper with fevered frustration. He brought Carl to the edge several times and back. He marked Carl’s beautiful lean body with his teeth and hands. And when Carl was reduced to a sweaty, quivering mass, and Brian himself teetered at the edge of his self-control, he brought them to a primal, howling orgasm.