by Rob Rosen
On the third night, I arrived slightly earlier than the night before, determined to see more of this glorious man. Again, he was naked and stroking his thick, hard cock, only this time, instead of his fingers, he was vigorously fucking himself with a large dildo. At that moment, I wished it was my cock sliding in that hairy hole of his, but was making do with my fist to coax the come up from my swaying balls as I stood on his air conditioning unit. As had happened the night before, we shot at the same time and again I heard the moan through the window that was just barely separating me from him. I watched, glumly, as he quickly wiped himself off and got dressed to go wherever he was going. Then, also as the night before, I ran and caught my train.
Night four was a monster. The project was now running behind schedule because of my hasty retreats the previous two nights. Sadly, I had to stay late to get caught up. There would be no show for me that night. No air conditioning unit and buckling legs. My cock sat limply in my slacks and I sat miserably at my desk staring at my screen and wishing instead it were his window. It wasn’t until well into the dead of night I was jostled from my stupor by the office door opening. I jumped and so did the stranger who walked inside.
“Oh, sorry,” the guy said. “Just the cleaning man. Didn’t know anyone was in here. No one ever works this late.”
“Unfortunately, it happens,” I said with a crooked grin. “I’ll be done in a few minutes, so if you want to start in here, feel free.”
He smiled, nodded, and wheeled his garbage can and vacuum in. I pretended to work as he dumped the trashcans around my office. The man was, I guessed, in his early thirties, tall, obviously Latino. Considering my activities the last several nights, my cock instantly sprang to attention. But it wasn’t until I turned my computer off and started to leave that I noticed it. As he bent down to plug in his vacuum, there, just between his elbow and shirtsleeve, was that magic word: Yes.
My heart leapt to my throat. Because, standing right before me in the flesh, was obviously the man behind the window. He’d been coming here all along, as I’d been going there. And if fate was having fun with me, I’d be damned to let the opportunity slip by.
“Um, I couldn’t help but notice that tattoo on your arm,” I said as I walked around my desk.
He straightened his back and smiled. “Yeah, that’s my latest one,” he told me.
“What’s the Yes for?”
“Well, I got me a whole bunch of these, and when people see them, they always ask the same stupid question: did it hurt? Now I just lift up my arm and show them. Seems to do the trick.”
“Nice,” I said, and walked closer. “Name’s Dennis.”
“Freddy,” he said, and reached over and shook my hand. I lingered a few seconds beyond necessary and stared into his dark, brown eyes before he added, “Want to see the rest of them?” I nodded as he released his strong grip. I got the distinct impression he was thinking the same nasty thoughts I was. Yippy the fuck for me.
Within seconds, he was shirtless and pointing out the numerous pieces of body art that adorned his fabulous torso. Of course, I was already intimately familiar with most of them, though they did look a hell of a lot sexier up close and personal like that. Instinctively, I ran my hand across the one on his upper, left shoulder, accidentally rubbing my arm across his nipple. He shuddered and shut his eyes for a split second.
“They’re kinda sensitive,” he said by way of explanation.
“They are?” I asked and tweaked one of them between my thumb and index finger.
“Yeah,” he moaned, “they are.”
I leaned down and sucked tenderly at the other one. Again, he moaned and reached out to pull me closer. “Don’t stop,” he rasped. Naturally, I didn’t. Though with my free hand, I roamed down his furry, hard belly until I had his pants unbuttoned. I had to have that cock to myself for a change. Had to. A second later, it was out of his jeans and finally in my hand. It was thicker and longer than I had thought it might be, warm, pulsing.
Hooray for working late, I thought.
Within moments, we were out of our clothes and down on the ground. My lips pressed hard against his as our mustaches rubbed back and forth against each other. My near-hairless body felt the endless bristles of his ultra-hairy one, and my bare skin surged with a million tiny volts of electricity. But as much as it hurt to remove my mouth from his, I knew a much better place for it.
I worked my way down his neck, his chest, his stomach, his giant cock and huge balls, and found that furry hole I’d so been dreaming about. It was salty and musky and thick with matted hair, but my tongue easily found the sweet, pink hole in the center. Between my fingers pinching his swollen, erect nipples, and my tongue buried deep inside his ass, Freddy was clearly beside himself with joy.
“Man, you sure know what I like,” he moaned.
If he only knew. “How about this?” I asked, sliding a wet finger inside him.
“Oh yeah, baby,” he said. “All the way.”
I did as he commanded and slid my entire index finger up to the hilt. At the same time, I wrapped my mouth around his massive prick. It, too, was salty and musky, and I could only manage about three-quarters of it before I gagged, but I stayed on it, sliding my mouth up and down as I worked another finger deep inside his wet asshole.
“Wait,” he shouted, apparently close to coming. I stopped sucking and fingering and then watched as he reached over to his jeans and quickly produced a Trojan. “Now fuck me.”
Three of the nicest words I’d ever heard. I ripped open the package and had that thing on in a flash. And then I was on top of him and our lips were once again working their magic as I gently slid my cock inside his tight, hairy asshole. I looked deep into his dark, brown eyes and watched him as I worked my way farther and farther up his ass.
“Fuck me hard, man,” he rasped. “Come on. Come on.”
That’s when I let loose, slamming my cock deep, deep, deep inside. Then I took it all the way out and popped it back in again. In and out. In and out. Hard and then harder. Like a machine, matching my stroking fist on his cock with the fucking rhythm while I watched him writhe beneath me, moaning all the while.
“Yeah, man. C’mon. Make me come,” he panted into my ear.
I rammed my prick like a rocket into his tight ass until I felt the hardness in the far end. Then every muscle in my body tensed and I shot a huge wad of come. Almost instantaneously, his cock exploded in my hand and I could feel a stream of spunk hit my stomach, one long wad after the next. Splat, splat, splat. I collapsed on his hairy body, exhausted and utterly, utterly appeased. Finally. And no air conditioning units in sight.
“That was hot, man,” he said, once he caught his breath.
“Fuck yeah,” I agreed. “Hey, since I normally get off work at six, and you don’t come on until now, maybe we can meet up in between sometime.”
“Sure. That’d be cool. Do you know the train stop at sixth and Crescent?”
A flush of crimson traveled up my neck. “Um, I think I can find it.”
“Great, come over tomorrow. Just look for the lit room when you get off the train. I’ll be there waiting with this,” he told me, grabbing at his cock, which was already starting to harden again. “Think we can switch next time?”
Now that’s a project I think I can handle, I thought, and then answered his question with one of my own, “What’s that tattoo on your arm say?”
Second Chances
The dig had gone well. The Inca, vanished but not forgotten, left valuable clues. As had the Anasazi and the Clovis People. As had numerous other seemingly lost civilizations, empires that spanned vast terrains only to somehow fade into oblivion. After twenty years in the field, I had come to my own conclusions as to where they disappeared to, ideas that had been, up until that very moment, mere conjecture, with no confirming scientific evidence. Ideas that, had I published them, certainly would’ve ruined my career.
Now, as I stood before the wall of ancient etched rock, my hea
rt beating furiously, my career seemed anything but ruined. In fact, I was sure to make history. Or perhaps not.
The etchings ran down a massive partition. It took me days to decipher it all, each symbol leading me to my ultimate destiny—and, as it were, to the Inca’s.
I’d suspected these people, all the vanished civilizations, had somehow devised a way to transport themselves through time. It did, of course, stand to reason that a group with such an advanced knowledge of the celestial heavens, of how the universe around them operated, could indeed transcend their boundaries and move not only from Point A to Point B, but also to any point in between, or backward or forward along the path. In other words, become masters of time travel.
And here it was, staring at me from across the ages: the proof I needed, had so long been searching for.
The stones at the bottom, nestled along the ground, nearly covered by vines and grass and roots, led me to the dreaded discovery: the Inca had left in search of a better place, with no wars, no invading hordes, and plenty of land and food and resources. There was, however, no way to find them, no clues as to where this place existed along the time path—and worse, much worse, the portal only went in one direction. In other words, if I attempted to follow them, I wouldn’t make it back to report my findings. All I had were these stones, evidence that would make me a laughingstock if I chose to publish my belief in them.
A society lost with no desire to be found. But could their knowledge help me in other ways? Could my life be altered, not by fame but by something even more tangible?
A second chance?
My mind reeled at the option thrust before me, causing my cock to stir inside my shorts. The Inca had their reasons for escape, and I had mine. Twenty years forward, twenty in reverse.
Late summer, 1984.
A crossroads.
The symbols pointed the way, the stones pulling back, back, back as time sunk ever downward into a pitch-black vortex, yanking me right along with it—and all it took was touching them in a certain sequence, an order only I now knew, obtained through so many years of research. I landed, not in a strange land, as the Inca most probably had, but in a place I knew all too well. My current spirit, my intellect, had replaced the old one, as I had also predicted.
My college dorm room. Senior year. Alone. Nearly naked from the shower. I raced to the mirror and smiled, a grin with no creases around the eyes, no lines scrunched together along my forehead, teeth a gleaming white, chin and jaw firm and strong. I dropped my towel and stared in awe at the body I’d lazily left behind, rife with dense muscle, sinew, tanned flesh. My cock instantly stiffened, rising, arcing up and out, the wide head slick with glistening, translucent precome. It throbbed at my touch.
I moved to the door, chained it, stroking all the while, sending goosebumps up and down my legs, my arms. I grabbed my roommate’s boxers off the floor, crammed the cotton into my face, took a deep, heady whiff. Musk, sweat, a tinge of urine. My cock pulsed, my balls already drawing up, the come rising like molten lava, ready to spew.
I stared at a picture of him by his bedside. Chad. Blond, blue eyed, buffed, smiling shirtless back at me. The boxers stifled the moan, deep and low, as my fist beat furiously up and down, the explosion rocketing forth a split second later, shooting several feet out into midair before landing in a splat against the already heavily-stained carpet.
“Fuck yeah,” I groaned, before quickly cleaning up, just as the door handle jiggled. I unchained the lock. Chad stood there, the ever-present smile stretched wide across his face. It’d been nearly two decades since last I’d seen him. My stomach did a gastric somersault as a trickle of sweat cascaded down my face.
“Dude,” he said, walking in and slapping me on my still-exposed rump. “Beating off again? You’ll rub that sucker raw.”
A red flush rose up my neck and burned across both cheeks. “Dude,” I replied, “this coming from the jack-off champion.”
“Gotta be good at something, John,” he retorted, then changed the subject, his eyes moving quickly from my cock to something, anything, else. “Given any more thought to the road trip?”
For twenty years, it was something I never once stopped thinking about. Missed opportunities. It seems I chose the correct date for my return. “Yep,” I told him. “Changed my mind. Let’s do it.”
He coughed. “Really? But…but you were dead set against it. Straight off to grad school, you said; do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars. Why the sudden change of heart?”
There was nothing sudden about the change. He had my heart since freshman year. Sadly, the old me had used his head instead and continuously declined the offer. “It’s only a year, right? Besides, I deserve a break.”
He patted me on the back, his hand lingering for a few seconds, flesh on glorious flesh. My cock jumped but remained well-behaved. “Cool,” he proclaimed. “The van leaves just after graduation. We’ll be in Mexico quicker than you can say dos cervezas, por favor.”
Though, of course, it would really be a ten-hour trip, which was fine by me. The time I spent with Chad had remained my fondest memories, blue-balls and all. Maybe, I figured, this adventure would change all that. I knew already neither one of our lives would ever be the same again.
When all was said and done, we drove off campus for the very last time, best friends with futures spread out before them like a veritable buffet. “Um, mind a little detour?” I asked, soon into our journey.
“Dude, can’t you wait until we hit Mexico before you start partying?” He grinned and punched me in the arm.
I returned his smile with one of my own, even wider, more knowing. “Just take a left and go to the corner parking lot,” I told him.
He did as I asked, surprised at where we’d ended up. “A bank? What, are we gonna be like Butch and Sundance now? If so, I, um, left the gun back in the dorm room.” I didn’t reply. Instead, I strode in, with him following close behind. A minute later, I had my entire life-savings in my hot, sweaty hands. “That’s a hefty load of wampum,” he said with a long, low whistle.
I looked at him, the smile still present, eye to eye, his a magnificent blue, sparkling beneath the overhead lighting. “Do you trust me, Chad?”
He didn’t have to think about it. “Dude, with my life.”
My smile faltered for the briefest of seconds. “Then take out everything you can and hand it over.”
“Well, I, um…huh?” he croaked, the shock evident on his impossibly handsome face.
“Trust me, you’ll get it back.” A thousand times over, maybe more.
Again, without a pause, he did as I asked, handing me a large stack of hundreds. “Okay, John. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
So did I.
One more stop to exchange the cash for several sheets of paper was all it took. Chad looked at me as if I’d lost my marbles while I completed the transaction, but he remained his cool, calm, and collected self. Then we were off, windows rolled down, a cool summer breeze shooting through the van, the smiles returning to our young, tanned faces.
We hit Mexico at dusk. My stomach sank in anticipation, the smile now forced. Chad turned off onto a deserted side lane, on the way to the cabin we’d rented by the ocean. The road was poorly maintained, with potholes greatly outnumbering flat stretches of road.
“Watch out!” I shouted, knowing what lay ahead before I’d even spotted it.
Chad swerved, missing the giant sinkhole by several inches, the van sputtering and coming to a screeching halt along the roadside, dust rising all around us. This time around, no overturned vehicle, no blazing fire, no charred and unrecognizable best friend. No funeral. No regrets.
I turned and faced him. His hands still gripped the steering wheel. His breath was ragged, his cheeks a pale white. “Close call,” I said with a grin, trying to relieve the tension.
“How did you…how did you do that? I didn’t see that hole until after we passed it. You, you saved my life, dude. Both of our lives.” He
turned to look at me, his brilliant blue eyes boring into my very soul. “I owe you one, dude.”
“Yep, you do,” I agreed, unsure for the first time since my return of what was to come next.
He continued to stare, his head tilted to the side in confusion. “Yep, I do.” His voice had grown quieter, shallow.
I leaned in, our bodies now inches apart. “Care to pay off on the debt, dude?” Closer, closer still. Lips separated by a hair’s breadth. Eyes still open, locked, watching, waiting.
He paused, then kissed me, softly, gently, tentatively. “This has been one weird fucking day, dude,” he whispered into my mouth.
I laughed and returned the kiss, hard, even harder, then replied, “Seems just perfect to me, dude.”
He reached his arms around me and held on tight, a moment I’d waited for since I’d first met him. He sighed, the sound rumbling through the small enclosure, cascading over me like a waterfall. “Now what?” he eventually asked, his mouth drenched in my spit.
“There a mattress in the back of this van?”
He grinned wickedly. “Dude, you fucking read my mind.”
If only that was possible, I thought. It would have saved me a lot of sleepless nights over the past twenty years.
We hopped out and ran to the back. He popped the door open. Our luggage was stored toward the rear. The mattress rested up front, clean and inviting. We jumped in and slammed the door behind us, resting on our knees, staring at each other, both of us nervous, unsure.