"The pain will fade, Greg, I promise,” Sammy went into his hospice mode. He knew the right things to say, but it was different this time. He cared for Greg, cared a great deal and placating him with the mundane truths of what he'd go through just didn't sit well with him. “I can't know what you had with Jean, but it must have been amazing."
Greg raised his head and focused on him. “Yes, she was amazing.” He choked back a sob, and then added, “And I let her down. I should—"
"You didn't let her down,” he interrupted. He knew Greg blamed himself for too much, and wanted to get him past that belief. “She loved you. She worried that you'd take on blame that wasn't yours. It was the cancer that killed her, not anything you did or didn't do."
"But I should have been there!” he cried, a little louder than necessary.
Sammy looked around, making sure there wasn't anyone too close, then replied levelly, “Greg, you were there. You spent every spare moment with her that you could. You work on the other side of town from the hospice but you were there every night with her."
"But—” Tears streamed down his face.
Sammy squeezed his large hands between his much more delicate ones, interrupting again. “But nothing. You couldn't have done anything to prolong her life. Not one damn thing."
Just then, a middle-aged waitress approached with their meals and coffee. Both men pulled their hands back and waited while the dark haired woman set their plates in front of them and then poured them each coffee from her large, white carafe. The smell of eggs and cheese was heaven.
"Will there be anything else?” the woman asked, dropping a handful of little sealed tubs of cream in the middle of the table. “Sugar's in the bowl.” She nodded to the side of the table.
"No, that's it, thanks,” replied Sammy, reaching for his cup. He sipped at the steaming black liquid and watched the woman nod before turning away.
"Sammy, it's easy to say I did all I could. But—I—I was with you so much of the time. I should have been with her.” He bit his lip, obviously to keep from saying something he'd regret.
"You think she'd have wanted you to sit watching her sleep?"
"I should have been with her, not you! I hate that I missed those hours of being with her. I hate that I had to make that choice."
Sammy was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “Greg, baby, she would have wanted you to be with the living."
"I know! But I feel like I deserted her when she needed me the most."
"I know baby. I know. I promise, it will get easier and I'll be here to help."
"I don't want it easier. I want to remember every second we had together.” Sullenly, he slid forward in his chair and gazed out at the ocean. “I want her back, Sammy. And I know that's never going to happen, but that's what I want."
"Yeah, I know that, too. You'd give anything to have her back. I know."
"We had so many plans. She was just getting started in her business. She was an interior designer. Her designs had been published in Woman's Monthly, twice. She was due to be interviewed by some big international magazine. It's just not fair.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the ocean.
"Life isn't fair.” He took another sip of coffee. “Eat something."
Greg looked as if he was going to snarl at him, but instead he took a deep breath and sat up straight. “Thanks Sammy. I don't know anyone else who'd listen to me rant like you do.” He reached for his fork and cut into his omelet. Stabbing a large portion of egg mixed with stringy cheese, he pushed it into his mouth.
"Don't think anything of it. I care for you. You must know that."
Mouth full, he mumbled, “Yeah, I know."
"Let's eat and get out of here,” he suggested, getting busy with his own knife and fork.
They ate in silence; the only sounds were the scraping of cutlery against china and the occasional request for salt or pepper. When they were finished, Sammy asked for more coffee. Each of them seemed deep in their own thoughts. He wondered how he'd get Greg past that feeling of betraying Jean. He watched Greg, thinking of how he looked when he was on the verge of coming. Remembered how he looked asleep, his face relaxed, and his hair askew.
Blue eyes peered back at him, winked and a smile touched the handsome face. “Let's go walk the beach for awhile. I feel like I need to air out or get rid of some cobwebs."
"Sounds perfect.” Sammy smiled back at him and rose. “Come on."
* * * *
The beach in front of the Foreshore was all sand and wind, and best of all, deserted; just what the doctor ordered. Standing just under the trees, they gazed out across the beach and listened to the waves washing over the shore for several minutes before heading down. “Why don't you take off your shoes,” Sammy said when he noticed Greg's feet sinking into the sand.
"Good idea.” He toed his shoes off and stuffed his socks into the toes.
Sammy slid out of his sandals and dangled them from his fingers. Holding out his hand, he pulled Greg to his feet and the two continued toward the water, hand in hand. To their right, the tree-lined beach stretched for miles of unpopulated sand and waves. To the left, he saw houses built right down to the tide line, and the odd person wandering the shore. He urged Greg to the right, and they walked.
"We can almost make it back to my place this way,” Greg said.
It seemed that by mutual agreement they'd dropped the subject of why he felt so disgruntled. Missing Jean, and the guilt he felt for not being with her more, were things he'd have to deal with. Sammy just hoped he'd be able to, and soon.
The wind tore at them. The gulls squawked when they got too close, and flew overhead. After some time, Sammy realized they were both continually looking up at them, and finally asked, “You think they'll bomb us for disturbing them?"
Greg laughed, a tentative, hesitant sound, and replied, “Maybe. You're a better target though, bright colors and all."
Sammy gave him a dour look and then laughed. “Smart ass."
"Come on, we're almost there.” He tightened his grip on Sammy's hand and took off at a trot.
Sammy yipped, his high-pitched squeak lost in the wind, and hurried to keep pace with his much more athletic lover. The sand seemed to suck at his feet, and he stumbled often. Only the firm hold Greg had on his hand kept him going. When they reached the evergreens, he was nearly breathless and yelled, feebly, “Hey! You tryin’ to kill me?"
Coming to a stop, Greg looked over his shoulder and beamed. “You are so out of shape."
Gasping, all he could manage was, “Bite me."
"Love to. Bend over baby."
"Bugger!"
"Yeah, that too."
Still barely able to breathe, Sammy couldn't hold back the laughter. Releasing Greg's hand, he bent forward, dropped his shoes, and laughed. He wound up sitting in the sand, snorting with amusement. His lover joined him, sitting beside him in the warm sand, and laughed.
Minutes later, they stopped. Sammy was still gasping, but it was good to have Greg laugh. He didn't do it nearly often enough.
Sea-blue eyes peered into his. “Come on. At this rate it'll be dark by the time we get home."
"That wouldn't be so bad. You look amazing by candle light."
Greg blushed. No doubt he was thinking of the last time they'd been together in candle light. Sammy had been training him to suck a cock all the way to the root. He'd gagged outrageously, but had finally managed to take his dick all the way down. The climax had been spectacular.
Sammy chuckled again, and added, “I've got something different in mind for tonight."
Greg cocked his head, and asked, “You do? What, if I may ask?"
"Oh, you'll see, my pretty boy."
The blush deepened and he climbed to his feet, obviously eager to be on his way. “It's never boring with you, I'll say that.” He released Sammy's hand and dropped his shoes to the ground. The sand had turned to gravel and both men slipped into their footwear.
"No, never boring. At lea
st I hope not."
They walked the sidewalk in silence the rest of the way. There were very few people around, and that surprised him. When he saw the signpost to Greg's street, he reached for his hand. It never failed to make him shiver: his smaller, delicately boned hand against the large, well-muscled hand of his lover. They crossed the road and entered the driveway, skirting the one lone lilac bush on the way to the front door. His heartbeat picked up its pace.
* * * *
Sammy entered first, pushing the door wide and kicking off his shoes before going deeper into the living room. The single chair looked inviting, but that was not what he had in mind. He turned to face Greg, just in time to see him drop to the floor and begin struggling out of his clothing. Shoes followed by socks, and then he leaned back to unfasten his jeans. The shirttails hauled out of his jeans, buttons unfastened then the shirt folded roughly before being placed on his shoes. Jeans followed, were folded and laid on his shirt.
Before he slid out of his shorts, he looked up at Sammy, his brilliant, sea-blue eyes beacons drawing his gaze directly to them, and holding it. Sun-kissed flesh begged to be touched, the heat radiating outward. His tight white underpants tented in the front. The outline of his cock made Sammy's mouth water. He clenched his fists to keep from going for the man's balls. The soft plumpness looked huge beneath his stiff cock, the material stretched tight.
"Them, too.” Sammy raised his hand and limp wristed, pointed at the last covering.
"Yes, sir.” Greg smiled and pushed his shorts down, wriggling out of them. His prick waved then got trapped between his thigh and belly as he slid his shorts down then off. Tossing them onto the pile of clothes, he got onto his knees and assumed the position: back straight, hands behind his back and his knees spread wide, he presented himself.
Sammy held his groan in. The man was truly gorgeous. Well muscled, tanned, except for the strip of white around his middle, and the mop of dark hair made to run your fingers through, and grab. “Horny, aren't you?” He asked, referring to the erection thrusting form his middle.
"Yes, sir,” Greg replied, lowering his eyes. His cock pulsed.
"Good.” He turned away, adjusted his own rapidly growing prick to a more comfortable position, then went down the hall. The storage room door was at the end, and inside was the apparatus he was looking for. The horse, or that's what he called it. Very much like a carpenters saw horse, it was taller, and had a padded top. The legs had been sanded, and each had two sets of leather straps, one at the bottom, the other at about the half-way point. It sat on castors.
He wheeled it into Greg's bedroom, positioned it in front of the window on the hardwood floor, and locked the castors. Done, he wiped his hands on his slacks and returned to the living room. There knelt his boy, his lovely dark haired lover, eager and horny. “Get to the bedroom and wait for me. Kneel on the bed."
"Yes, sir.” Greg dropped to his hands and crawled toward his bedroom, with Sammy right behind him. And what a lovely view that was. Again, Sammy rubbed the front of his slacks, pressing his palm against his prick. He shuddered.
Passing Greg, he went to his box of toys under the bed and retrieved his favorite flogger. Twelve inches long with a shocking pink dyed leather handle, he slapped it against his thigh. Yes, that would do nicely. Nestled among the toys was a small bag he'd specifically packed with lube and small toys. Smiling, he grabbed that, too.
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Chapter Five
Greg climbed up onto the bed, and knelt at the foot. His back was extremely straight, his hands clasped behind his back at the top of his ass cheeks, and his knees very wide spaced. He couldn't have done it better.
"Hands behind your head, please,” Sammy instructed and waited the few seconds it took for Greg to comply. He made his way to the side of the bed. His cock rubbed deliciously against his shorts, the wet spot sliding over the head. He shucked his shirt and then his slacks quickly, wanting to feel the naked flesh of the man on the bed presenting himself so beautifully for him. Clothing tossed helter-skelter, he reached for Greg's flank, caressing the warm flesh.
The leather strips of the flogger tapped his leg while he slid his fingers up and down the taut flesh of his side, then moved around to the sturdy mounds of his ass. Muscles clenched when his fingers slipped along the crease, trapping or trying to elude his touch, he wasn't sure and didn't ask. Instead, he gave him a harsh slap to the nearest buttock and in his most surly voice demanded, “To the horse, boy."
Greg lunged from the bed, but didn't rise to his feet, well taught to remain kneeling whenever possible, unless otherwise told. He clambered to the horse, and then draped himself over its length, belly along the soft leather top, genitals left to dangle, his thighs and arms pressed against the wooden legs.
Sammy swished his way over to where he could reach Greg's mouth, and thrust the pink leather handle between the big man's teeth. “Don't drop it,” he said in a husky voice while his hands went to the cuffs at his elbows. It only took a few moments to secure both his arms and legs at the ankle and knee. As he buckled him down, Sammy's cock pressed harder against his under shorts. He wasn't quite ready to strip. Part of his pleasure was being fully dressed while Greg was naked. Just making him strip gave him a rush. The power of controlling such a big, beautiful man took his breath, and made his cock as hard as stone. He rubbed it through his slacks, then stepped in front of Greg so he too could see how horny he was.
"Look what you do to me,” he said. Pushing his fingers through Greg's hair, he lifted his face so he couldn't look anywhere but at his crotch.
"Yes, sir,” Greg mumbled around the leather handle. His face was red, and would no doubt get redder as Sammy's plans went into action. He pulled the flogger from his mouth and Greg immediately asked, “May I kiss it?"
The request surprised Sammy, but he leaned in and pressed Greg's mouth to the soft material covering his cock. Through the cloth, he was sure he felt heat from his exhalation, and sighed in appreciation. Releasing his hold on Greg's hair, he stroked the soft mane as he reveled in the sensual feel of his lover's mouth and breath. Moments later he pulled away, sure he'd have to wash his slacks before he wore them again.
"Time for some fun.” He returned placed the flogger across Greg's back, positioning it so it wouldn't easily fall. “Now, try not to wriggle too much or the flogger will fall.” Stepping to the man's rear, he admired the view. Narrow hips, taut-fleshed, muscular ass, a well formed sack dangling beneath, and well tanned legs like pillars supporting him. Beautiful.
"Yes, sir,” came his instant reply. He clenched his buttocks, then relaxed, as if readying himself for what was coming.
Sammy hoped to surprise him though, and instead of taking up the flogger, he reached into the small bag he still held. Inside he found the tube of lube and pulled it out first. He filled the palm of his right hand with a dollop of lube. Rubbing his hands together, he coated them with the lube as well as warming it. Without another word, he slid one hand up Greg's inner thigh while cupping his erection with the other. The lube made his flesh slick, and as he ran his hand up the inside of his leg, he spread it around and over as much area as he could. When he felt it drag, he pulled his hand away and added more. Touching, teasing, he spread the lube over Greg's ass and between his cheeks, anointing the crinkled rosebud, gently pressing his index finger in to the first knuckle. His balls, cupped and caressed, the bristly hair slicked down with clear goo, his cock smeared from base to tip, again and again, with feather light touches. The cheeks of his ass, their taut expanse smoothed and soothed with yet more of the lube.
He tossed the tube onto the bed and went to work. Massaging the well-muscled cheeks of Greg's ass, he worked on easing them apart as much as he could. He slid the tips of his fingers along his crease, and smiled when his anus clenched, winking at him. Cupping the crinkled skin of his balls, he juggled them carefully in the palm of one hand, while slowly masturbating him with the other. His butt clenched and relaxed to th
e gentle stroking of his hand. Inner thigh, glistening with lube, shone as the play of muscles flexed and relaxed, as he tried thrusting.
Sammy tormented him mercilessly, gauging his lust, slowing down just before he came, then speeding up when he deigned it safe to do so. Pre-come joined the lube, making his shaft even slicker. He twirled his fist around the head until he heard a soft mewling sound coming from his boy. He tugged on his balls, drawing the walnut sized orbs first down the back toward himself.
"Oh, god,” moaned Greg, the desperation of two days of frustrating torment finally taking its toll. His hips jerked, spastically. His muscles trembled, and his anus clutched at the air.
"What a lovely sight you are, my sweet boy,” cooed Sammy, his fingers circling the tight, dark rose fluttering between his slick cheeks. He pressed the tip of his index finger against the center of Greg's anus, easing the digit in, but only to the first knuckle. Warmth surrounded his finger, clutching at it, trying to draw it deeper. He gently eased it out, leaving just the ball touching him. He felt it flutter, grasping, sucking at him. He circled again, the puffy outer ring softening under his caress.
His other hand wasn't idle. With a soft grip on his cock head, he twisted it one way and then the other, polishing it. Like wet silk, the head slid against his palm effortlessly. He ignored the shaft, knowing that if he kept stroking it, Greg would come no matter how he tried to prevent it.
"Sammy, sir, please,” Greg moaned. His fists were clenched, his toes curled, and sweat dripped from him onto the hardwood floor.
Sammy grinned, and slowly eased his finger into the clenching rosebud. Knuckle deep, he twisted it, then pulled it out. Twirling it around his anus, he collected up as much of the lube as he could, then eased it back inside. He continued this torment, adding more lube every two or three thrusts, and never going further than the first knuckle.
Phaze Fantasies, Vol. VI Page 18