"Is that so?” Kurt left the sitting room and entered the outer office. Grabbing a pen and paper from the desk, he wrote something down and tucked the sheet in Jeff's palm. “My address. Just in case you have anything else to get out of your system. If I'm not working, I'll be there."
With hesitation, he shoved the paper in his pocket. “I shouldn't do that to her, or you. You should be free to see other people. If I dropped in, you might be with someone—"
Kurt leaned forward and squeezed his cheeks with one hand. “There's no one else I want to see. You're the only one I'm interested in ... make that infatuated with. I want more—of you.” He planted a light kiss on his mouth, and Jeff groaned and returned it.
When they separated, he said, “I can't promise—"
"No promises,” Kurt agreed. “Keep my address and use it anytime."
Kurt exited the bar with him in tow, stopping by the Honda to retrieve his motorcycle helmet. He strapped it on and glanced at Jeff, offering one last smile.
He watched Kurt toss a leg over the large bike and mount it. The simple gesture aroused him unbelievably, imagining the taut thigh naked and straddling him, mounting him. He shivered as the bike roared away, realizing how much he wanted there to be a next time. The thought of being alone and naked with Kurt was almost more than he could bear.
Patting his pocket to make sure the address was still there, he got in his car and headed home. He hoped Lana hadn't arrived from work yet. He needed time to shower and think. Jeff hadn't sorted out his feelings, but he already knew—the thought of not being with Kurt again cut him painfully, like a knife. He'd find a way to make it work. He had to.
Chapter Three
Jeff had time to shower and grab a sandwich before Lana arrived. The couple she'd pandered to all evening hadn't made a decision, and she was in a rotten mood. He feigned interest in a football game, causing her great irritation, and she stomped around for awhile before going to bed. With a sigh of relief, he turned off the game and focused on his memories of Kurt, and their time together in the bar.
It bothered him how easily he'd slipped back into that lifestyle. Five years had passed since he'd broken up with Scott in college, but in a matter of minutes he'd fallen back into old habits, and the whole thing scared him. He'd convinced himself that he was straight. Wanting to be straight, acting straight, made a guy straight, didn't it?
He wasn't sure anymore. All he knew was once he caught a glimpse of Kurt, things between him and Lana hadn't been the same. He even looked at her differently, but he didn't know what to do about it.
If he slept on the sofa, she'd be suspicious. At midnight, he dragged himself to bed, quietly, so as not to wake her. He fell asleep hugging his edge of the bed and thinking about the dark haired man who'd turned his world upside down.
* * * *
He woke to someone sucking his dick. He was drowsy, and the tongue lathing over his erection was wet and persistent. “Kurt...” he mumbled, half-awake.
"Hmm?” Lana's head popped up from between his legs.
He woke fully and stared at her. “I said ‘good',” he backpedaled, and jerked his hips. “That feels good."
She smiled. “I thought it might. We were both so tired last night.” Pressing one last kiss on his cock head, she squirmed her way up his body, kissing skin as she tugged off his t-shirt. She spent a brief moment at his chest, then continued up until her thighs straddled his head. “Wonder how good you can make me feel?"
Before he could speak, Lana pressed her pussy into his face. He could do nothing but open his mouth and begin licking. He wished he'd had more time to wake up, but she was a person who knew what she wanted, and when she wanted it. Most things in their relationship were ruled under her thumb, their sex life included.
Eating pussy had never been Jeff's favorite, but he did it regularly, and pretended to enjoy it. It never took long. He was skillful with his tongue and knew just the spots to concentrate on. Long, slow strides through her folds, followed by quick flicks over her clit, and finally a deep tongue-fucking of her pussy. Lana came explosively, spewing sticky juices over his mouth and face.
As soon as her orgasm abated, she climbed back down his body and impaled herself on his shaft. She clutched her bobbing tits while she rode him fiercely, bouncing up and down, until another climax carried her away.
He merely watched, thrusting his hips at appropriate times, and allowed her to do all the work. When she tugged each of her nipples out, twisting and extending them to inch-long pegs, she came a third time and collapsed on his chest. Jeff rubbed her back lightly, thinking suddenly how predictable their sex life had become. There were two or three scenarios they played out repeatedly and, watching her just now, he realized how boring they were, how bored he was.
He was as much to blame as she was, maybe more. If he tried, he could come up some new games for them. Maybe that's what he needed, something different to spice things up. His hand drew down to her butt, where he cupped one cheek before spreading them open.
"What are you doing?” Lana asked, rolling off him.
"Nothing.” He dropped his hands. She put up with his penchant for anal sex, but preferred it in the shower where it wasn't so ‘dirty'.
She glanced at his rock hard cock. “You didn't come!"
"It's okay.” He rolled away and sat up.
"What happened? That was so great."
Glancing back over his shoulder, Jeff said, “My fault. I held back too long. Now I can't come."
She cuddled against his back. “Want me to use my hand, or try something else?"
He thought briefly about suggesting she get on her hands and knees so he could fuck her ass like a dog. Burying her face in the pillow, asshole greased and gaping open. That's what it would take to get his rocks off. Of course, it was an impossible fantasy.
"You remember we're going to Mama and Daddy's this afternoon."
His erection fell with a thud. “This afternoon? I thought it was for dinner tonight?"
"Daddy wants to play croquet in the backyard. He's invited a bunch of friends. I think Mr. Walters beat him the last time they played, so Daddy has it in for him. He wants the two of you to be a team, and wipe up the lawn with that guy."
Closing his eyes, Jeff imagined an afternoon of hitting colored balls with mallets around the make-shift playing field Myron created in his enormous backyard. Sixty-year-old men in polyester pants, drinking gin and tonics and cursing up a storm until the last man staked out. He cringed. “I didn't know we were playing croquet. I thought it was just dinner."
Lana rubbed the back of his neck. “You know how much Daddy loves croquet."
"I do. I also know with you working on Sundays, we only have one day off a week together. Do you really want to spend it playing croquet?"
He heard her chuckle and felt her nuzzle his shoulder. “We've already had amazing sex. Mama will make a great meal. The day sounds just about perfect, doesn't it?"
"Oh, yeah. I'm going to hop in the shower.” He rose and made his way to the bathroom, turning the water to steaming hot. He intended to stay in there until the hot water was exhausted, then tell Lana the shower was all hers.
Stepping inside and yanking the plastic curtain closed, Jeff stroked his cock and tried to conjure an image of Kurt to help him beat off. All he could manage was an image of Myron Birdwell in yellow polyester pants and a wild Hawaiian print shirt. He waved his mallet like a madman as Jack Walters tapped his croquet ball out of bounds.
Releasing his cock, Jeff stood under the stream of water dejectedly, determined to stay there until the spray turned cold.
* * * *
It was exactly as bad as he'd pictured it. Myron wore green shiny polyester pants, but the crazy print Hawaiian shirt was just as Jeff imagined. The weather was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky nor sprinkle one to keep them from playing croquet from two p.m., well into the blessed evening.
Around the festive picnic tables Davna Birdwell had set up on the patio, M
yron regaled his guests with stories that even Jeff had heard repeatedly. During a particularly boring tale about fly fishing in the Canadian wilderness, Jeff did mental calculations. He'd worked for Myron for three years, and had been close with Lana about two and a half. So for approximately two years he'd been listening to the same stories over and over again. He knew some of the other couples present had been friends with Myron and Davna for ages—the Walters well over thirty years.
Jeff guessed he heard the same stories repeated every couple months, so probably six times a year. If Jack Walters was as fortunate, he might have heard the tales, give or take, 180 times. He smiled to himself, wondering if he'd listen that many times, or eventually speak up and say, “I've heard this one a zillion, you old fart. Got any new material?"
"What are you smiling about?” Lana snuggled into his shoulder.
He glanced down at her. “I just love that story."
Her eyes widened in horror. “When Daddy fell out of the raft and almost drowned?"
Jeff gulped. “Not that part, exactly. But he was rescued, and reunited with your mother. It has a happy, romantic ending."
"I guess it does,” she agreed, cuddling again.
"Don't they make a cute couple?” Myron said to Jack, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Didn't he give her a ring?"
"A nice one,” Davna added.
"Then what's the hold-up, boy?” Jack Walters said loudly. He was a short, balding man with a big mouth. Jeff hadn't minded grinding him into the dirt that afternoon as they beat him at croquet.
"We're waiting for the perfect time,” he replied, placing an arm around Lana's shoulder.
"Well, it's not going to pop up in front of you. You have to call the shots. Pick a date, go for it. What about Christmas?"
"Oh, Christmas weddings are lovely!” the man's wife agreed, and other women murmured assent.
"Christmas is in a few months!” Davna snorted. “There'd never be time to pull off a respectable wedding in that short time. We'll be pushing it to get it in by next fall."
"Oh, Mama!” Lana protested. “That's a year! I don't want to wait a year."
"We might be able to do July. I'd have to call the Country Club, of course, and make sure they're available for the reception."
"July in Kansas?” Jeff chuckled. “I don't think so, if you want me to wear a tuxedo. I'll melt."
"Of course you'll wear a tuxedo,” Davna chided. “Haven't you heard of air conditioning? Lana, if you're seriously thinking July, we need to pick some prospective dates.” She stood and the other women stood with her. “Let's go in and look at the calendar, and see what we've got to work with."
"Yes, Mama.” Lana cast a smile at Jeff, and followed the group of women into the large house.
"I don't want to get married in July!” he called after her, only half joking.
"Never mind what you want.” Jack waved a hand. “That's the first thing you have to learn. The women rule the roost."
"Or think they do.” Myron nudged his friend, and the older men all laughed.
He suddenly felt ill. Things were happening quickly. This whole day felt out of his control, and he wasn't sure what to think about that.
"It's going to be great having another man in the family,” Myron spoke up. “I won't have to worry about these weekend croquet tournaments with you on my team. We'll mop these guys up every week.” He raised his glass in a toast to Jeff, then drank.
Jeff smiled, reached for his glass, and emptied it. “Do you think I could get another one of these?” He needed to get drunk and turn off his whirring brain. Tonight, it hurt too much to think.
* * * *
It hurt even more the next morning, Jeff discovered, as he sat up and reeled from a ferocious hangover. Lana rose early and dressed, meeting some friends for brunch before going to the first of two open houses she was hosting that day. He knew she'd be gone until at least five p.m.
He glanced at the clock and saw it was barely eleven. With the first jolt of enthusiasm he'd felt all day, he jumped in the shower and let the pulsing water ease his headache. That, plus the aspirin he swallowed earlier, did the trick.
Dressing in jeans and a button down shirt, his excitement took control and he forgot about feeling bad. He felt nothing but exhilaration, and didn't stop to think too much about what he was doing.
Looking at the address Kurt had written on the piece of paper, he wished he'd gotten a phone number. If he showed up and the other man was gone, he'd be in for a major letdown. Sliding into some loafers and grabbing his keys, he headed out the door.
The apartment was in a small, old complex not far from their office. He saw Kurt's motorcycle parked in front, and breathed a sigh of relief. At least he's home. Now, if he was receptive to a visitor.
The look on Kurt's face when he opened the door answered that question. Cautious optimism, tinged with pure lust, was evident in his wide smile. “Hey! You're here."
"Yeah.” Jeff was self conscious all of a sudden. He'd never made a booty call before, and this certainly felt like one. “Lana's working until five. I didn't know what you were doing—"
"Nothing all that interesting. At least, not as interesting as what I'm going to be doing.” He grabbed Jeff by the arm. “Get in here."
With a yank, he found himself in the other man's arms. Kurt kicked the door shut and shoved him up against it, his body pressed close. “Oh!” Jeff exclaimed.
Kurt grinned before his mouth grazed across his lightly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you."
Jeff felt a hard erection straining against the top of his thigh. He returned the smile as he jiggled his leg. “I have some idea."
Kurt's mouth pressed his firmly, and they kissed. Lips still touching, he whispered, “I've done nothing but think about you all weekend. After Friday, I knew I had to see you again. I only hoped you felt the same way.” He stuck his tongue in Jeff's mouth and they both groaned.
The kiss seemed to last forever. Jeff vaguely realized his shirt was being unbuttoned and dragged off, and that was fine with him. Between kisses he yanked Kurt's t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
"Come on.” Kurt fumbled with the button on Jeff's jeans as he led him into the other room.
He saw a bed, messy and unmade, but it looked good to him. He glanced at Kurt, and they locked gazes as each tugged off his own jeans and briefs. He got a good look at Kurt naked for the first time, and licked his lips. The darker haired man had a lightly furred chest, with a thin line of hair—which he'd heard called affectionately the ‘happy trail'—leading from his navel to his pubic hair. It was an appropriate name. Looking at it certainly made him happy, and he grinned.
Kurt reached for him and they tumbled onto the bed laughing. “I can't believe you're here. I've dreamed about this moment."
"What happened in your dream?” Jeff faced him, kneeling.
"First I laid you back and tasted every inch of you."
"Sounds good.” Jeff held his hands up on either side of him, and they lightly touched palms. He leaned in for a kiss, and they pressed back and forth for a few moments, only mouths and hands touching. It was erotic and arousing; both their cocks were stiff and waving as they moved.
"Then I laid you back,” Kurt continued, “greased your ass, and stuck my fingers in, one at a time."
"How many did you get in?” He stared in the man's eyes as they tormented each other.
"Three, before I couldn't stand it anymore and I had to fuck you. I greased my cock and pressed it in to you, a slow inch at a time."
Pressing his palms harder, he caught Kurt off balance, and they almost fell. Smiling as they righted themselves, Jeff replied, “That sounds perfect. I had a few dreams of my own, too."
"Tell me.” Kurt's face was inches away from his.
"How about I show you?” He grabbed him, tossing him on his stomach, face down on the bed. He covered the tanned body with his own, cupping one hand over Kurt's firm ass. He spoke dir
ectly into his ear, murmuring, “I want you on all fours, kneeling before me. I'm going to open your hole with my tongue and then my fingers. When you're gaping open, I'm going to grab your hips with my hands and force my cock inside you. Not slow and easy, but hard and fast. I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
Kurt groaned, writhing beneath him, as if trying to break free.
"Got anything to say about that?” Jeff asked, still speaking firmly into his ear.
"Yeah,” the other man spouted back, struggling.
"And that would be—?"
Kurt froze, acquiescing. “Please,” he gasped. “Do it."
Jeff grinned and rolled him over so they faced each other. “We'll do it all. We have all afternoon, and I want to spend every minute of it in your arms.” He pressed a kiss on Kurt's mouth, forcing his lips open so tongues could meet. It was becoming normal again, kissing someone with a scratchier beard than his. He loved the feeling of Kurt's beard growth, and raked his hands over it and through the head of dark, shaggy hair.
"Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmured into his mouth. “I want you so bad. I need to touch you, explore you everywhere."
"Be my guest.” Jeff sighed and dropped back into the pillow.
Kurt leaned over him, touching gingerly, starting at the top of his head. Hands feathered through his short hair, across his temples, and cradled his face tenderly. “You're so gorgeous,” the man whispered, looking into his eyes.
"Sweet talker.” He thrust out his chest, desiring more contact. “Tell me more."
With a lusty grin, Kurt continued running hands over his body, stopping every so often to plant tiny kisses in various spots. “Your eyes are like clear blue marbles. I could gaze into them all day.” He kneaded Jeff's shoulders and continued, “Your body is perfect. Strong pecs, tight abs..."
"Not as perfect as yours.” He squirmed as his nipples were plucked and sucked. He loved the attention that Kurt laved there. Lana never seemed to think his nipples were erogenous, but damn! They were. It felt heavenly as the other man sucked them into tight pearls. “Ooh, that's good!"
Phaze Fantasies, Vol. III Page 15