by Wolfe, Sean
“Ladies, I am not kidding, here,” Sandra said as she cleared a path and motioned for the new guy to follow her. “There will be no cheesecake tonight for any of you if you don’t head back to your rooms.”
It was as if someone had dropped a tear-gas bomb right in the middle of the room. The ladies stiffened and began to move quickly out of the reception area and back to their rooms. Apparently they’d forgotten that when a new resident was admitted, the kitchen staff prepared cheesecake to welcome him. It was a treat, and one the ladies couldn’t get enough of. They were really booking it now, as Harry’s grandson often said, and moved away from the new guy as if he’d been pronounced a leper.
But to Harry, the prospect of companionship and real friendship and maybe a little affection was much more appetizing than cheesecake. Truth be known, cheesecake gave him gas. It wasn’t pretty for anyone involved. He’d much rather stroll through the gardens with this new guy and snuggle with him afterward. And at this point, he’d rather daydream about that than have cheesecake. Not that he was kidding anyone. He knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with this man, and he knew he’d have his cheesecake tonight, too. Sandra would never deny him.
“Harry, would you be a gem and escort Mr. Michaels to his room?” Sandra said as she looked at Harry and winked. “I have to go check on Mrs. Winters. She has a bad cough this afternoon.”
Harry just stood in his doorway, stunned and unable to move or speak.
“Harry?” Sandra said again, louder this time.
“Huh,” Harry said, sounding about as stupid as a Three Stooges movie. “Yes, of course,” he said, and grabbed his cane and moved one foot in front of the other.
“Mr. Michaels will be in Room 110. Mr. Roberts’ old room.”
“Okay,” Harry said, and tried not to look in Mr. Michaels’ eyes. “Sure, no problem.”
“You’re a gem,” Sandra said, and kissed him softly on the cheek. “They don’t come any better than Harry, here, Mr. Michaels. He’ll be a good friend for you, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to show you the ropes. Right, Harry?” She made sure Mr. Michaels wasn’t looking before she winked at him.
“You know, Harry, I’ve been here a month now,” James leaned in and whispered just inches from Harry’s face. He’d stopped being Mr. Michaels to Harry after the first couple of days at the home. “You’d think they’d figure out I’m not interested.”
Both men turned and looked at the group of ladies sitting at the table a few feet away. The women made a production of giggling and fixing their hair and sipping their virgin cocktails. They all waved over at James, and a couple of them winked at him.
“Nah,” Harry said, and swatted at them as if they were mosquitoes coming to suck the blood from both of them. “They aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, I’m afraid. They’re old and blind and senile. Look at poor Mrs. Callahan. She has her wig on backwards, and none of them has noticed. Not a one.”
James laughed, and Harry thought he could fall inside the depths of that laugh and never return.
“Still, I haven’t beaten around the bush or been sly about my disinterest. You’d think they would catch on.”
“Hmph,” Harry said, and moved his bishop within striking distance of James’ king. “Check.”
James looked down at the board and smiled, then moved his king out of danger without thinking much about the move. “And you’d think that you would catch on as well.”
Harry scratched his head and pondered his next move. “Oh, I get it. You’re not interested.”
“That’s right. In the women, Harry. I’m not interested in the women.”
“Oh, I see,” Harry said, and slapped James playfully on the shoulder. “Then it’s Mrs. Felter you have your eye on, huh?” Harry laughed so hard at his own joke that he began coughing and choking.
James stood and moved behind Harry, patting him on the back. When Harry stopped coughing, James leaned in and whispered into his ear, “No, Harry. I’m interested in you.”
Harry gasped so hard that he almost started coughing again. He looked up at James. Those steel-blue eyes were boring into Harry’s soul, and he couldn’t tear himself away from them. Those eyes were saying things to him that Harry had not heard in over thirty years, since his lover Paul had died in a car accident. For so long he’d wanted to hear those things more than anything else. But now that they were being said through James’ eyes, he wasn’t sure he was ready for them. Or even if he was actually hearing what he thought he was.
“James ...”
“I know how that sounds, Harry,” James said as he took his chair next to his friend. “I know it sounds ridiculous and stupid and impossible.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Harry said, and struggled to keep control of his voice that wanted to jump and shout and sing at the top of his lungs.
“I’m a very upfront kind of man, Harry. I don’t believe in pussyfooting around the issues. Besides, I’m as old and as senile as the coven over there. Hopefully not as ugly or desperate, but every bit as old and as senile. I don’t have time to waste. So, I speak my mind.”
Harry smiled, and wanted to cry, but knew he shouldn’t. He forced himself to count to ten as he stared deeply into James’ eyes. They were no longer hard or calculating or darting around him to assess any unforeseen calamity. Instead they were bright and alive and filling with tears as they looked into Harry’s soul.
“I love you, Harry Johnson,” James said, and reached out to place his hands on top of Harry’s. “And if you spit in my face for saying that, I will stake claim to that aforementioned senility and hold onto it for dear life. I’ll suggest they triple my medication because I’m that senile and had no idea what I was saying.”
Harry laughed, and squeezed James’ hand.
“But I do know what I’m saying, just between the two of us. And I do love you.”
“I love you, too, James,” Harry whispered. He looked over at the old ladies and resisted the urge to lift his hand entwined with James’ and to shout at the top of his lungs, “He loves me. James Michaels loves me and I love him. So take your dried-up, pruny old venom somewhere else, old biddies. He’s all mine.” But he didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled at James and repeated, “I love you too.”
“Oh, thank God,” James said through a burst of breath he’d been holding. “Because I seriously don’t know what I’d have done if you’d have laughed at me or shaken my hand from yours.”
“I would never do either.”
“Thank you for that. Harry, I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you from the moment I walked into this place. When you led me to my room I wanted so badly to pull you inside the room, shut the door and kiss you until we both collapsed.”
“It took you that long, huh?” Harry said through a smile, and caressed James’ long fingers. “I wanted to push you back into the taxi and let you have your way with me as soon as I saw you step out of the cab.”
James looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour and a half before dinner. Would you care to accompany me to my quarters?”
“I’d love to,” Harry said as they stood up. “But an hour and a half might be a little overly ambitious.”
“You don’t know me very well,” James said, and winked at Harry as they walked hand-in-hand toward the door.
“Should we close the curtains, do you think?” Harry asked as he stepped aside to allow James room to enter. It was only four in the afternoon, and the sun was shining brightly into his room.
“A little bit,” James said, and leaned in to kiss Harry. “We don’t want the coven peeking in from outside and seeing all the action. But don’t close them all the way. I want to make sure I can still see you.”
“Not all that much to see, really,” Harry muttered as he pulled the chain on the vertical blinds so they were a little more than halfway closed.
“That’s not the way I see it,” James said from only a couple of inches behind him, and pulled Harry into his strong embrace. He locked
his lips onto Harry’s, and kissed him.
As James’ tongue licked around his lips and then slowly slid inside his mouth, Harry felt the wind knocked out of him, and thought he might fall. How long had it been, exactly, since he’d been kissed like this? Thirty-two years? Thirty-five? A hundred? He wasn’t sure anymore. He sucked gently on James’ tongue for a long moment, then tentatively returned the kiss. James’ response was not as gentle as his own, and he sucked Harry’s tongue into his mouth and moaned.
It was Harry who broke the kiss. He pulled back and stared into James’ eyes, and felt himself blush. “It’s been a very long time,” he whispered.
“Too long, I’m sure,” James said, and leaned in to kiss Harry’s neck.
“Over thirty years.”
“What?” James said, and stood back to see if Harry was kidding with him. He could see he was not. “Well, that’s absurd. A hot number like you shouldn’t have been left alone for thirty years.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, and smiled as he felt his blush deepen another shade.
“That is going to change right now,” James said, and pulled Harry’s hand over to rest on his crotch. “You will never again have to experience the absence of a man’s touch. A lover’s touch.”
“Good Lord,” Harry gasped, and withdrew his hand quickly, as if he’d been burned. He looked up at James’ smiling face, and smiled back. “Have any more?”
“Any more what?”
“Viagra.”
“Oh, I don’t need that stuff,” James said. He noticed the embarrassment on Harry’s face, and smiled. “And neither will you.”
“It’s been ...”
“Yes, I know. A very long time. All the more reason you won’t need it. Now come over here and let me undress you.”
Harry stood as still as a statue as James disrobed him. His knees shook and his teeth rattled as if it were twenty below inside the room. When he was completely naked, James took a couple of steps back and stared at him. Harry looked down at his own body, and wanted to die. His skin was pasty white and clung to his bones in some places, while it sagged against muscle in others. Dark freckles dotted his torso, and wiry white hairs stuck out sporadically across his scrawny chest. His knobby knees were still knocking, and looked like they might collapse at any moment.
“James, I ...” He started to say that he didn’t think this was such a great idea.
“You are an amazingly beautiful man,” James said in a very soft voice that let Harry know immediately that he meant every word.
“Thank you,” Harry said.
He looked at James, who now stood naked in front of him. James was only a couple of years younger than Harry, but it was obvious he’d been in much better shape all his life than had been Harry. Even at seventy-one, he was muscular and toned. Sure, there was a little extra skin that hung loose in a couple of places, but not an ounce of fat to be seen anywhere. And when James flexed, the extra skin smoothed out and clung sexily to his muscles. His penis was fully hard, and throbbed anxiously. Harry was shocked at how beautiful it was. The perfect length, the perfect thickness. Big, hairy balls swung low beneath the shaft, and Harry couldn’t remember wanting anything so badly in all his life. “You’re beautiful too.”
James wrapped Harry in his arms and kissed him gently on the lips again, as he pressed their bodies together. When he broke the kiss, he laid Harry gently on the bed. Harry inched up to the head of the bed, and scooted over to make room for James next to him, but James didn’t follow. Before Harry knew what was happening, he felt James’ warm, wet mouth envelop him from below, and his world threatened to go black.
Harry looked down the length of his body, and was amazed to see his fully hard penis disappearing inside James’ mouth. He pulled almost all the way out, so that he could make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. Satisfied he slid back inside James’ mouth and moaned as pleasure coursed through his body.
It took a couple of minutes for the bright spots behind his eyes to fade away, but when they did, he was more alive than he could ever remember being. “I want you,” he said as he continued pumping in and out of James’ mouth.
Not one to disappoint, James arranged their bodies into a sixty-nine position, all without letting go of his grip on Harry’s cock. He moaned loudly as his cock was enveloped in warm, wet ecstasy. At first Harry’s mouth and tongue were a little hesitant, so James reminded him how it was done. He licked around the head of Harry’s cock, then sucked it into his mouth. He smiled around Harry’s cock head as he felt his new friend copy his every move, and moaned his appreciation. He took a couple more inches into his mouth as he wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of Harry’s cock, where it met his balls.
From here James could see Harry’s ass cheeks perfectly, and between them the dark hair that barely concealed the hole beyond. He spread Harry’s ass cheeks and there it was in all its splendor. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a more beautiful ass. He was sure that at some point many years ago, he could not have said that, and wouldn’t have thought this old man’s wrinkly ass was at all sexy. But he was much older now, and had a wealth of experience behind him, and at this particular point in his life, the ass was glorious. Every inch of Harry’s skin, every word out of his mouth, every essence of his being, was intoxicating to James. He might not wear his loneliness as visibly as Harry did but he had been every bit as lonely for the past eight years. He’d continued having sex after Burton passed away, but it never meant anything. It was emotionless and joyless, and he’d even paid for it on more than one occasion. But now, with Harry, he was experiencing the real thing all over again, and he knew he couldn’t live without it again.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered, as he let Harry’s cock slip from his lips.
“You are making love to me,” Harry said, from somewhere deep inside what had to be a dream.
“No. I mean, I want to be inside you.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Harry looked down between their naked bodies and into James’ eyes. “You’re not kidding me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“James, really! The last time I was penetrated, Mrs. Schooler still wore stockings and didn’t drink a gallon of Scotch a day.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” James said, and maneuvered himself between Harry’s legs.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“A couple of years ago I tried riding a bike again after many years,” Harry said. “I fell and almost broke my hip. I’m too old for that. And if I’m too old for riding a bike, well then ...”
James laughed, and spread Harry’s legs a little farther apart.
“Seriously, James, I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Harry stammered, and realized that even as he spoke the words, he wanted James inside him more than he’d wanted anything in a long, long time. “I’ll never be able to get my ankles behind my ears, and if I do, they’ll never come back down. Not in one piece, at least. They’ll have to bury me like that, and with a big smile on my lips. People will talk.”
“So, we’ll try another position,” James said as he kissed the inside of Harry’s legs.
Harry had already decided he was going to try it, despite the butterflies in his stomach and all common sense. “Be gentle with me. I’m sure after all this time, I can be considered a virgin again.”
James just smiled, and turned Harry over onto his stomach. Harry spread his legs as wide as they’d comfortably go, and then thought, James is right ... it’s just like riding a bike!
There wasn’t a whole lot of foreplay and Harry didn’t expect much. At their age, one didn’t waste valuable time. He felt a drop of saliva slide between his ass cheeks, and when it reached his hole, he quivered. This afternoon had been filled with wonderful surprises, and continued to be. First, he’d discovered that his best friend and probably last true love of his life was playing on the same team as him. Second, he was now lying naked in bed with tha
t man. Third, his cock was fully hard for the first time in almost ten years, and looked mighty impressive, if he did so say himself. And finally, he was about to be fucked. At seventy-three years of age, that was amazing. Worthy of an award.
James rested the head of his cock at Harry’s hole for a moment, letting him get used to the idea of the penetration. He leaned down and kissed Harry on the ear, nibbling at it a little, and then slowly slid inside. As each inch worked its way inside with little resistance, James realized he was in heaven. He’d fucked many an ass in his seventy-one years. And with Burton it had even been the real thing. But even then, it didn’t feel like this. When he was fully inside Harry, he was home. He was alive.
“Are you okay, my friend?” he asked.
“Yes,” Harry answered. “I think so.”
James slid almost all the way out of Harry’s ass, and then slowly back inside. “Let me know if you want to stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Not a chance,” Harry said, and leaned back to kiss his lover on the lips. He vaguely remembered the sensation of being filled with another man. He’d had a few men in his time, and in his prime he was quite chased and considered a very good catch. He even vaguely remembered what it felt like to be filled with the man he loved. It was that feeling he was now experiencing. Again, miraculously, after so many, many years. “Please don’t stop,” he said.
He moaned loudly as James moved in and out of him. When he was much younger and in this position, he would tighten the muscles down there and make his men moan and whimper in ecstasy. But he knew better than to try that now. At this juncture, he’d be thankful if all of his internal organs remained in their original positions. But from the sounds James made behind him, and the way he expertly moved in and out of him, Harry figured it didn’t matter that much that he couldn’t create a vice grip with his ass.