Since then, the town had grown to surround the university. A new world of coffeehouses, meditation centers, and bookstores was built alongside the fish markets and auto shops, and within a decade no one would ever remember that once it had been different. The town had settled into a cycle of seasons that easily became familiar to anyone who stayed there for more than a year. I noticed Gabriel precisely because he did not fit into Dunstable’s normal pattern of life. He appeared in my vision as something out of place, perhaps even out of time, breaking the ordinariness of my nightly walk home. Where usually I would see nothing but the smooth brick face of the wall next to the Black Sheep Pub, I saw instead a man leaning against the stone in a waterfall of electric light, watching me.
It surprises me now that I sensed no fear. If anyone told me a story that began with their chancing upon a stranger after midnight, I would immediately suspect some sinister motive behind it all. But it wasn’t like that. Maybe it was the spell of the first autumn night, or perhaps just that after almost a decade in Dunstable I was incapable of thinking in terms of imminent danger. Whatever the cause, I simply nodded and said, “Hello.”
Gabriel, although of course I didn’t yet know his name, responded with a nod of his own, but he remained silent, watching me as I walked past him. While I didn’t stare at him, I did glance long enough to take in his appearance. Tall and broad, he was wearing jeans and black boots. His upper body was wrapped in a leather jacket. He looked, in fact, like a lot of the boys who attended Farley, many of whom tried to adopt an aura of what I guessed they assumed was hypermasculine sexiness simply by putting on a motorcycle jacket plucked off the rack at James Dean’s Closet.
Sometimes I would go to these young men, waiting in bathroom stalls or under the trees in the park, and suck their dicks. As I moved over the lengths of their cocks, I let my hands play over their jackets, only to find the surfaces stiff with newness, the zippers stubborn with disuse. Then I would bring them off quickly, with no desire or pretense of need, and leave before they’d even finished coming. Their posing disgusted me, their attempts at taking on what they would never earn leaving me cold.
Only Gabriel was no pretender. He looked like he’d been born in his boots and jacket. I could tell by the way he stood that he wore them with the confidence of someone whose body demanded them, that every crease and fold had been put there by experience. And I knew instinctively that he wouldn’t look quite right in anything else. On his body, anything besides jeans and that jacket would always appear the wrong size, no matter how carefully it was tailored. It was he who made the leather come alive, and not the other way around. That, and not his strangeness, is what made him dangerous to me.
I hurried past him and made my way down the street. I knew he was watching me, and that he knew I was thinking about him. It was as though there was nothing else I could be doing, even if I wanted to. I tried to think of anything else—the night’s receipts, the author arriving for a signing the next day, the leftover roast beef in the refrigerator. But his presence filled up all of the empty air around me until, halfway down the block, I was forced to turn around.
He was waiting for me. Still leaning against the wall, he had hunted me down with his eyes as I’d tried to escape. Now, even in the dark, I knew they were focused on me. I moved slowly, as if in water, retracing my path until I was only a few feet from where he stood. As I approached, he smiled. “Come on,” he said, and I followed.
He led me to the alley that ran between the Black Sheep and my store. Stepping into it, he was swallowed by the darkness, and for a moment I thought about just running away, back to the safety of my well-lit home and the security of rooms filled with familiar things. But then I remembered the way his jacket moved around him, and I slipped into the night behind him.
The alley was narrow, flanked on either side by the high brick walls of the buildings. The moon overhead shone down between them, creating a thin river of golden light that ran between the brick banks. It was in this river that Gabriel and I moved. He turned to me and pressed me against the wall. I felt the coldness of the bricks against my hands and the weight of his body against my chest.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
I looked into his dark eyes. His face, I saw now, was almost boyish, with pale skin and full lips. But he was no boy. The strength in the hands that pinned me was that of a man, a man who knew what he was doing.
“I want to taste you,” I said at last.
Gabriel smiled. “That’s what I thought,” he said, and kissed me. His tongue slammed against mine, pushing its way inside. His hands were in my hair, pulling my head back as he ground against my body. I felt his knee move between my legs and press up into my groin.
My hands freed, I reached out and touched the skin of his jacket. The leather was cool with night and as soft as Gabriel’s kisses were rough. My hands moved over his arms and back slowly, searching out every curve of the body beneath the second skin. They traced the edge of his collar, treading the line between flesh and leather, between the warmth of blood and the smoothness of the jacket.
I moved my mouth away from Gabriel’s and down his throat, my tongue running over unshaven skin until it reached the top of his jacket. When I tasted the rich sensation of leather, I put my hands on his waist and began to lick the edges of the zipper holding the jacket closed. The metal scraped lightly on my teeth as I moved down, sinking until I was on my knees, looking up at Gabriel. My hands rested on his boots.
“Please,” I said.
Gabriel looked down at me, then reached for his zipper. He pulled it down, opening his jacket. Underneath he wore just a plain white T-shirt. I reached up and undid the buckle of his wide leather belt, then pulled at the buttons holding his jeans closed. They slid open easily, sliding down his muscular legs to his knees. He was wearing a jockstrap. The thin bands crossed the mounds of his ass, stretched tightly. The pouch hung down, weighted with his cock and balls.
Leaning forward, I ran my hands up under his T-shirt, feeling a thick cover of hair on his belly. My mouth worked on his pouch, sucking at the hidden prick. I could smell him in the material and breathed deeply. It was the smell of a man, heavy and rich, and it filled my nose as I licked hungrily at his balls.
Moving my hands around to Gabriel’s back, I slid the jockstrap down, feeling his ass fill my hands. Tugging it down in front, I freed his cock, which sprang up half-hard over a pair of juicy balls. I took it into my mouth, slipping the tip inside my lips and sucking softly. I could feel the blood beating in his shaft as his dick filled with heat and swelled to its full length.
Gabriel pushed against me, sliding deep into my throat. The heat of his skin, so different from the coolness of the air around us, surrounded me as I took him in. My lips moved over his shaft, sucking at his hard flesh while his swollen head filled my throat. His hands gripped my shoulders steadily as he pumped himself in and out of my mouth.
I sucked Gabriel for what seemed like an eternity, savoring the taste of his skin, the smell of him when I buried my nose in his thick bush. From time to time I ran my hands over his boots, sucking harder when I had the leather under my hands, as though drawing my need from it.
Then Gabriel pulled out. “Stand up,” he said, and I obeyed. “Now strip.”
Oblivious to the cold, I pulled my clothes off, dropping them to the ground. In a minute I was standing naked in front of Gabriel, the wind raising a chill up and down my exposed skin as I waited.
Gabriel stepped forward and grabbed my cock in his hand. He squeezed hard, making me gasp. Until that moment, I hadn’t even realized how hard I was. Gabriel’s fingers on my prick almost made me shoot. Even more beautiful was the feeling of his jacket against my naked skin.
“Turn around.”
I turned, and Gabriel pushed me forward so that I was leaning against the wall. He moved in behind me, putting his arms around my chest. I could feel his cock pressed against my ass. I bent my head forward and felt leather beneath my ch
eek. Gabriel began to thrust, rubbing his dick up and down the crack of my ass. The small metal teeth of his zipper scraped against my sides as he moved, drawing forth tiny fingers of pleasure.
I ran my tongue over the sleeve of his jacket. His hands held me tightly, and the touch of leather pressed against my naked skin made me want him more than I’d ever wanted anything. The fact that he was teasing me with his cock was almost too much.
“Please,” I whispered. “Please fuck me.”
But he didn’t. He just pushed against me ever harder, until I was almost shaking from his touch. I was sucking at the sleeve of his jacket, licking the surface, biting at the small snaps at the cuffs. Behind me, the head of his dick taunted me with every push.
Then he was inside me. Pulling back, he found the opening of my hole and drove home. My head flew back as he entered, and I felt his arm around my throat, blocking my cries. I bit the sleeve of his jacket where it pressed against my mouth.
Then he began to fuck me, in long, slow strokes. As his rhythm filled my body, I began to shake. The pressure of his cock as it slid in and out of my ass brought everything into sharper focus. I felt the coldness of the air and the softness of his jacket. I drew the night air into my lungs and smelled mixed within it the scent of leather and desire.
I pushed back against Gabriel, asking him to ride me harder. He answered by building to a fierce rhythm, slapping against my ass roughly. His arms remained around my chest, pulling me back against his thrusts and driving him deep inside me. When he came, he tightened his grip on my chest, pushing up into me in short jabs as his load spurted into me.
When he was done, he pulled out and turned me around. “Come on me,” he ordered. He stood close to me, his hand on my shoulder, his booted foot pressed against my leg.
For the first time, I touched my own cock. Looking into Gabriel’s face and feeling the leather against me, I didn’t take long to bring myself off. With a few tugs on my dick, I watched as a heavy load splattered over the surface of Gabriel’s jacket and dripped onto his boots. The cum lay pale and white against the darkness of the leather. Gabriel ran his finger through the stains, rubbing my cum into the leather. He was smiling.
I saw Gabriel many other nights after that one, until I knew the feeling of his body against mine as well as I did that of a familiar shirt. Even now the smell of him lingers in the jacket, left on my bed the morning he had to leave for good. I take it from the closet and pull it over my bare skin. My cock stiffens, and as my hand begins to slide up and down my shaft, I remember everything.
Danger: Fast-Rising Water
This was the second story I ever wrote. I remember sitting at my desk thinking, “The way to do this is to come up with a place for the characters to have sex that no one has done yet.” Apart from the setting, this is really just a basic jerk-off story. But sometimes that’s good enough.
Standing on the riverbank looking down into the black rushing water, I started to think that maybe a daylong rafting trip wasn’t as good an idea as it had seemed when I was reading the Whitewater Adventures brochure I’d picked up at the station while planning what to do on my weekend off. In the pictures, smiling people had bobbed along down a peaceful river without so much as a drop of water on them. It seemed like the perfect way to relax and forget the pressures of having to whip thirty new recruits into shape.
But the pictures in the brochure were nothing like what I was looking at now. Although I got a lot of swimming practice in the police academy, these rapids looked rougher than anything I had experienced, crashing in white sheets over the stones that rose out of the river like the mossy teeth of some underwater monster.
I was about to turn around and head straight back to my Jeep and the safety of the crime-riddled city when my guide showed up. About thirty, he stood over six feet tall. He was wearing a white tank top and had the lean, well-muscled body of a man who spends most of his time out of doors. His dark hair was cut short, as if it had been shaved close at the beginning of the summer and was just starting to grow back in, and he had a day’s growth of beard shading his wide jaw.
But what I noticed most was the bulge hanging between his legs. He had on blue nylon running shorts, and although they hung loosely around his legs, there was no hiding the equipment stashed beneath the soft ocean of material. I decided maybe the water might not be so rough after all, at least not if I could look at this guy all day.
“Hey,” he said pleasantly, walking over and extending his hand. “You must be Tom. I’m Brad.” His grip was firm and confident, and he smiled easily. “Looks like we’re going to have a good day for rafting.”
“I hope it isn’t too rough,” I said, trying to keep my eyes on his face. “I don’t have much experience with white water.”
“Don’t worry,” Brad reassured me. “I’ve been down this river a hundred times, and I haven’t lost a customer yet.” He laughed. “Besides, the action’s always best when it’s a little rough.”
As I was thinking of what to reply to that, and trying not to stare at Brad’s bulging shorts, another man came down the path to the river. Shorter and stockier than Brad, he looked to be in his early twenties. He was wearing shorts, too, but was shirtless. His beefy chest was covered with thick fur a shade darker than his light brown hair, and his skin was tanned golden. He looked like a jock, and I guessed he was one of the many college kids that spent their summers earning tuition money before heading back to play ball for another semester.
“Tom, this is Craig,” Brad said, introducing the newcomer. “Craig plays lacrosse for Hanover,” he continued, confirming what I had suspected about Craig’s academic leanings. “He’s helping me out this summer.”
“Yeah,” Craig said, “Brad here’s showing me the ropes. I figure in another week I’ll be leading trips downriver by myself.” He had a low, smoky voice, and winked at me as he spoke, including me in his joke.
Brad slapped Craig on the back. “Don’t get too cocky, buddy. You’ve still got a lot to learn before you can go solo.”
Introductions over, the two of them set about preparing the raft for our trip, checking the knots that secured the nylon guy ropes and making sure there were no leaks in the yellow rubber raft. They worked with the easy grace of men who depended on one another, each doing his job quickly and smoothly, never getting in the other’s way. As a police officer, I appreciated good teamwork and enjoyed watching them go about their jobs. The fact that they were half-naked didn’t hurt, either, and I thought of a lot of other things I’d like to see them do together.
When Brad was satisfied that everything was in order, it was time to shove off. He handed me an orange life vest and showed me how to secure it around my chest and waist. When he put his arms around me, I could feel his cock pressing against my ass and had to work hard not to pop my own bone right on the spot. All I needed was for him to toss me overboard for getting too friendly.
“All right,” he said once I was strapped into my vest. “You set for the ride of your life?” I smiled weakly, looking at the water, which I was convinced was now rushing twice as quickly as it had been ten minutes before. “I guess so,” I said, trying to sound more excited than I felt, hoping he wouldn’t hear the apprehension in my voice.
He and Craig also put on life vests. Craig told me to climb onto the raft, which I did none too gracefully. It was an odd sensation feeling the water rising and falling beneath me, and it took me a minute to get the hang of letting my body move with the motion of the water instead of against it. Once I had it pretty much under control and could keep my balance, Brad handed me a paddle. Then he and Craig waded into the river up to their knees, guiding the raft out toward the faster water.
Craig heaved himself into the raft in front of me, taking up the lookout position. Then, after giving a final push from behind, Brad jumped in behind me. “Don’t use your paddle too much in the rapids,” he said. “Just let the water take us where it wants to go.”
I didn’t have to be told tw
ice. I was more concerned about staying in the raft than I was about showing off my paddling technique. As the raft moved out into the center of the river, the current grabbed hold, pulling us right into the rushing water. Pretty soon we were shooting in and out between the massive stones, riding the water like a leaf. Although I knew Brad wouldn’t intentionally put us in any danger, I still kept my eyes glued to Craig’s back, watching as he carefully used his paddle to push us away from the biggest stones.
After a few minutes, I actually started to enjoy the experience. Sandwiched in between two hunky studs, I was feeling the thrill of just letting go and letting the river take control. From behind me I occasionally heard Brad’s voice as he shouted instructions to me about when to use my paddle or which way to lean into a rapid. As we dipped into one wave and rode up the other side, spray splashed over into the raft. Soon all three of us were soaked through, our clothes clinging wetly against our skin. I especially noticed how Craig’s shorts wrapped tightly around his muscular ass, showing off the smooth curve of his cheeks as he knelt in front of me. A couple of times I almost lost my balance because I was deep in fantasy, thinking about giving his butt a good tongue washing.
Finally, the raft shot past the last rock, and we were out of the rapids. The river lay stretched out before us like glass, flowing smoothly and easily. “Well,” Craig asked, turning to look at me. “How’d you like that?”
“It was great,” I said, noticing for the first time how blue his eyes were. “I really felt like part of the water back there.”
“It is something else,” Brad said. “Now we have a good hour of smooth sailing ahead. It’ll give us a chance to rest up some. You can even swim if you want to. The current here is pretty calm.”
Tangled Sheets Page 33