Marco in the Park - 20. Chapter 20

Marco in the Park - Part 20

Copyright 2015 by Nick Brady, all rights reserved.

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Marco was right as he usually was. New Year's Eve had rolled into the new year and it was a good time to make a fresh start. I had let myself slip back into some inappropriate behavior and Marco had been offended. He was justly angry and hurt and had let me know that in no uncertain terms. It made me realize that despite our age difference, Marco was really the stronger person and my respect for him could only grow. Now, having spoken his mind and received my apology, he was suggesting a nice shower. Nothing could please me more.

We undressed and Marco went in to start the water in the big Jacuzzi. We stepped in and pulled the shower curtain around us, creating the lovely private space we had come to enjoy so much. He stood under the water until he was thoroughly wet and handed the gel to me, turning his back so that I could wash his hair. We began our shower dance. I undid his braid and lathered his long hair, then used the suds to wash his slender body. The feel of my hands sliding over his back and shoulders, up the crack of his ass then down his legs was very pleasant to us both.

When he turned to face me he was already erect. I rubbed the soap suds over his chest and stomach then knelt and washed his genitals. When he was hard, his cock stood up flat against his belly and I had to slip my hand around it to pull it forward. His foreskin still covered most of the corona even when he was erect, and I slowly pulled it down to wash him completely. I had been circumcised as an infant and was fine with that, but loved to play with his skin. It was natural for him, just like his long mane of hair and untrimmed pubes. He was just as God had made him, beautiful and complete.

I stood and let the water rinse him, rubbing my hands over his smooth body and wiping away any traces of soap. He turned under my touch and raised his arms to assist me. He stood for a moment with his head back, allowing the water to flow over his face and through his hair. Then he turned and took the bath gel to give me my turn.

Marco soaped up my head and chest. He enjoyed the hair on my chest as a contrast to his own smooth body. I kept my hair fairly short, long enough to pull into a loose part but not over my ears. I had been a towhead when I was a young boy, a 'cotton top' my mother called me, but now it was a light brown color with streaks of blond when I managed to be out in the sun a bit. The hair on my chest and over my pubes was still almost blond, and Marco liked to run his hands over it.

We contrasted with each other very nicely I thought. While I am fair, he has the lovely permanent tan of his Seminole heritage. I am 6 foot tall and Marco is about 6 inches shorter. I was fit, solidly built and probably outweighed Marco by a good 40 pounds, although our not infrequent wrestling matches were by no means one-sided. He was surprisingly strong for his size. It was a fortunate thing that each of us found the other to be very attractive.

Of course, by now I was also very erect and Marco took care to see that all of me was washed clean and carefully rinsed. Our showers were an essential part of the foreplay that preceded sex. When he was satisfied with my state of hygiene, he turned off the water but we passed on the bubbling water of the Jacuzzi. It was time to dry ourselves off, taking turns and passing the towel back and forth as was our custom.

We walked back to the bed where I sat down expecting Marco to crawl in beside me, however he went to the little clock radio that sat on the nightstand and turned it to a station of light rock music. He turned and stood before me, spread out his arms and began to dance in a slow sensual way, imitating very nicely the gentleman in the bikini from earlier in the evening. The message was clear. If this was something that turned me on, he would do it for me.

Marco began to dance, slowly and gracefully, undulating his hips and passing his hands over his beautiful body. He pulled his stiff prick away from his belly and let it slap back against himself. He lifted his loose testicles and let them flop back down, then swing from side to side as he moved his hips. He turned around, bent over and spread the cheeks of his ass, making his asshole wink at me. He moved in time with the music, never stopping until he stood directly in front of me and pushed himself close to my face.

“Suck it,” he commanded with a lustful look on his face. “If you want to suck somebody's cock, suck mine.”

I looked up at him from where I sat on the edge of the bed, put my hands on his hips then ran them up his sides and across his stomach. He had succeeded in turning me on big time. My cock was rock hard and I could feel the precum dripping down the shaft and over my balls. I slid my fingers between his cock and his belly and tipped it to my lips. I pulled his foreskin back tight and slurped him into my mouth, circling his slender prick with my tongue, cupping his loose balls in my hand and squeezing gently. He responded by shoving himself down my throat until my nose was flattened against his pubic hair.

He grabbed my ears and pulled me tight against himself. “Suck me you son of a bitch, and don't ever think of sucking anybody else,” he growled. “You are mine and nobody else's.”

I moaned with him deep in my throat and swallowed hard. He began to pull out and thrust forward, fucking my face. I reached down and started to stroke myself and he pulled my hand away. I thought for a moment that he was going to slap me.

“Don't touch that,” he barked. “That's mine!”

I put my hands back on his hips and held on as he pounded himself into my face. His belly hit my face so hard that it made my eyes water and he grunted each time it was fully inside my throat.

It only took a few minutes before he cried out loudly and shot his load down my throat. When he pulled out a little I could taste his cum then he pushed in hard and sprayed it directly into my gullet. When he was spent he remained as deep inside me as he was able, almost cutting off my supply of air and making me gag.

Finally he stopped and let me catch my breath. He looked down at me with tears in his eyes, then stood and climbed astride me, settling his hole over my dripping cock.

He reached behind himself and guided my dick into his waiting asshole. “That's yours Marty, and nobody else's. I belong to you and you belong to me,” he said forcefully. “Don't you understand that?”

He sat down hard and impaled himself on my rigid cock, rising and falling back down violently, fucking himself on my cock and crying out each time I plunged deep inside him.

“Oh, fuck me Marty, fuck me, fuck me!” he was crying now, great tears streaming from his eyes as he rode me hard.

I gripped his ass cheeks and thrust deep up his ass, gasping for breath, afraid I would hurt him but unable to hold back.

I could only hang on and cry out, “Marco, oh my God, Marco, oh yes, oh God!”

I shot inside him, cum pouring out his ass and down over my balls as he pounded up and down and side to side, then collapsed onto my chest and sobbed.

Finally he lay still, the only movement was from our labored breathing. I held him so tight that I was afraid the I would break him. I pressed my tear streaked face into his neck and kissed his shoulders, sucked at the flesh in the crook of his neck, totally exhausted and totally spent. I lifted his head by the hair and kissed him, pushing my tongue in his mouth. We kissed with mouths open trying to breath, until we went limp.

It took several minutes before we could recover enough to be able to move. Marco raised himself up from my chest and looked at me with a face contorted by anger and pain, he was biting his lower lip. He rolled off and stumbled into the bathroom where he sat on the toilet and shit my cum out into the water, then washed his face and sat down on the edge of the tub.

When he did not immediately return I went in to him and knelt down to where he sat.

I lifted his face and kissed him gently on the lips. “I love you Marco. I love only you. Please believe me. I don't want anybody else but you, ever, ever.”

He looked at me with a face filled with love. “I love you too Marty. But I can't share you with anybody.”

He was spent. The anger was gone. My beautiful Marco was back in my arms.

After a few minutes he pulled away from me and stepped into the Jacuzzi and started running the water. He sat down to stopper the tub then held out his arms to me. I sat down with our legs wrapped over each other, and we held each other close as the water began to fill.

Finally he leaned back and pushed the button to start the flow of bubbles. He sighed and smiled wanly. “Happy New Year Marty,” he said.

“Happy New Year, Marco, I love you more than I can say.”

He nodded his head. “I know,” he said softly. “This never happened. It's forgotten. I have to trust you and I'm sorry if I overreacted.”

I rubbed his chest with my feet. “Actually, it ended well,” I smiled.

“Yeah, that was pretty intense, wasn't it,” he chuckled.

We relaxed until the water was close to the top of the tub then reached over and turned off the tap. We lay there with our legs wrapped around each other and let the hot swirling water soothe us. We had just gone though our first real quarrel, a lover's quarrel to be sure. Relaxed, reassured, we rested until we almost fell asleep.

We pulled the plug to let the tub drain and dried each other with a bath towel. Nothing else needed to be said. We climbed into bed and held each other close as sleep came to us quickly.

    
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We woke up still in each other's arms. It was ten o'clock of a new day, a new year. We rolled apart and surveyed the crumpled sheets. The bed was a mess.

“How is your appetite?” I asked.

“I'm starving,” he answered, stretching out like a long brown cat. “No breakfast in bed this morning.”

“No, Johnny has the day off,” I laughed. “I bet he has a hangover today.”

Marco grinned. “I hope he had a great time, he has it coming. He has been very nice to us.” He paused then asked. “When are we leaving?”

“The hotel is booked through tomorrow, but we can leave anytime. Why, are you getting homesick?”

Marco stretched again. “Unless there is something else you really want to do, I think I'm about ready to start back.”

“Actually, I am too. I think we have about done enough for one trip.”

Marco turned on his side and gave me a big hug. “I've had a nice week. This was a great honeymoon.”

“The best you ever had?” I smiled.

“Yes, this is the best ever,” he laughed. “I love you Marty,” he kissed me on the nipple. “Do you get tired of hearing me say that?”

“No, never,” I kissed him on the top of his head.

Marco got up and went to the bathroom to take care of his morning chores. I followed him in and we peed, brushed, and then dressed and began to sort out our things. Most of our clothes were ready for the laundry so we stuffed the dirty things in the larger of our two bags and combined what was still wearable into the smaller. We were ready to go.

We looked around one last time, both to be sure we had not left something behind and to take a last fond look at the site of our honeymoon adventure. Marco carefully repackaged his painting and we trooped down the stairs to check out. Johnny was nowhere in sight but the older gentleman was there reading a newspaper just as he had been when we arrived.

“We are going to check out a day early,” I said to him.

“Oh? Is everything alright?” he asked.

“Yes, everything is fine. We had a great week but are ready to get back home,” I assured him.

“Well now, I hope you'll come back and see us. We enjoyed having you,” he replied.

We went over to where the computer was perched behind the counter and figured up our bill. “Now, most of your meals are here on your tab,” he explained, printing off a copy and presenting it to me.

Marco pulled out his wallet and insisted. “I want to pay for the food part, that was our agreement.”

“That's too much trouble. Let me get this and you can leave Johnny a nice tip,” I countered.

Marco frowned a little. “That's not fair to you,” he argued.

“It is if I say it is. We are partners, right?”

While I paid for the room, Marco shrugged and asked the old gentleman for an envelope and a piece of paper. He wrote a little note and shoved it and some cash into the envelope and wrote 'Johnny' on the outside.

“Can you give this to Johnny?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” the old man replied. “You boys come back and see us, hear?”

We walked out to the car, both relieved to be going home. “Did you leave Johnny a nice tip?” I asked.

“I gave him $250 dollars,” Marco told me.

I laughed. “That should do it.”

Marco grinned. “We are in the same line of work. Besides, that's about all the cash I had left. I put my cell number on the note and told him to call us if he was ever in Tulsa.”

“Do you suppose we will ever hear from him?” I asked.

“If he shows up we can take him to Luigi's,” Marco grinned.

It was a fine clear winter's day and the drive back was uneventful. Marco drove and I enjoyed the scenery. As we wound around the hilly countryside we felt very fortunate to have had such a nice week. I thought of my indiscretion and resisted the urge to repeat my apology. What was done was done. Marco had made his feelings clear and we had put it behind us. I supposed that no real damage had been done and we had come to a better understanding of where our boundaries were.

“Your little Honda runs good,” I complimented him.

“Yeah, it does,” he agreed. “I think this is going to be a good car for me.”

“I'm glad you suggested leaving a day early. “I was ready to get back,” I said.

“Yep. Me too,” he agreed. “We will be back in time for church tomorrow.”

“That's important to you isn't it? Going to church I mean.”

“Yeah it's become something that's very important to me actually. Who would have thought, eh?”

I smiled. “Back to the old routine. Monday I have to go back to work and you will start classes.”

“Yep.”

“Do you have everything you need for school?” I wondered.

“I have all my books. I will need to get some things for that art class but the instructor will tell us what we need when we meet for the first time. That's what the girl in the book store told me.”

“I see.” I was getting sleepy.

When the car slowed down and made a turn I woke up. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“This is Springdale, and I need something to eat. Aren't you hungry?” Marco asked.

I yawned. “I am. I must have fallen asleep.”

“You slept about an hour or so. You want breakfast or lunch?”

“Anything besides a hamburger,” I said.

“There is a fried chicken place up here. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great as a matter of fact. Go for it.”

Marco read a highway sign. “Here it is. The A&Q Chicken House. Famous fried chicken. I say let's do it.”

“You're driving,” I told him.

“Yeah, and I'm buying too,” he insisted.

“That works for me,” I replied.

It turned out that the A&Q Chicken House had been in business for a long time. Noon Saturday found it busy. “It smells good in here,” Marco said as we entered.

A perky middle aged lady handed us a pair of menus and asked, “Howdy boys, I'm Alice. What do you want to drink?”

“Unsweet ice tea,” we replied in unison.

“You got it honey,” she smiled and disappeared.

We looked at the menu. “I guess if we are in the famous chicken house we probably should try the fried chicken,” Marco observed.

“Sounds logical,” I agreed.

When Alice came back with our tea we ordered 2 fried chicken dinners. “Two or three piece dinners?” she asked.

Marco looked at me, “Three piece?”

“Sure, I'm hungry,” I told him.

“Be right back,” Alice said and hustled off with the menus.

We looked around at the collection of framed photographs of the notables who had eaten there. Most were probably locally famous but not familiar to us. We did notice that Lyndon Johnson was among them.

“I bet President Johnson liked his fried chicken,” I guessed.

“Yep,” Marco agreed.

In about 10 minutes Alice showed up with two plates of our chicken dinners balanced in one hand and a red plastic basket of dinner rolls in the other. “Here you go honey. Let me know if you need anything else,” she was off at a trot.

“Damn, this looks good,” Marco leaned over his plate and inhaled deeply.

Three big pieces of pan friend chicken, mashed potatoes with cream gravy and green beans cooked with bacon filled each plate. In the basket were 4 huge yeast rolls. If I had not been hungry to begin with, the sight of those plates would have gotten me that way.

We dispensed with conversation and got right to work.

In a few minutes Alice reappeared with a pitcher of ice tea to refill our glasses. “How you doin' boys?” she asked and left without waiting for an answer.

“This is good chicken,” Marco pronounced.

“Just like mama used to make,” I joked.

“Maybe your mama,” Marco said without looking up.

As soon as we had cleaned our plates Alice appeared to pick them up. “How about some pie? We got coconut cream pie today.”

Marco grinned and held up two fingers. “Please,” he said.

Alice came back in about a minute with two enormous pieces of pie and refilled our tea.

“Man, I am too full to eat this but it's too good to waste,” Marco exclaimed as he devoured his pie. It had toasted coconut on top of the meringue and was delicious.

Marco paid and we stumbled out to the car. “How would you like to drive my Honda,” he asked. “It's my turn for a nap.”

I drove us back on US412 and we went straight west to Tulsa. Marco leaned back, looked out the window for a minute then conked out like a light. We were both tired.

It took about 2 hours to get to Tulsa then another 20 minutes to reach our apartment. We walked in, dropped the bags and Marco carefully unwrapped his prized reproduction from the museum and leaned it against the wall.

“I'll figure out where to hang that later,” he said and headed for the bathroom. After a minute he came back out and flopped down on the sofa. “I had a great time, but it's nice to be back home.”

“There's no place like home,” I agreed and sat down next to him.

“So what was your favorite thing?” I asked him.

Marco hesitated for just a second and said, “The zipline, that was my favorite thing.”

“I guess I didn't need to ask that,” I laughed. “So now that we're home, what do you want to do?”

Marco looked around the living room. “Where do you want to hang my picture?”

I looked around at the room. We didn't have much on the walls so there were plenty of choices. “How about on the wall by the front door. That way we can sit on the sofa and admire it.”

Marco grinned. “I was just thinking that.” He got up and fished out a little hammer and some tacks from our junk drawer then studied for a moment before deciding on just the right spot.

He sat back down and looked at it. “What do you think?”

“I like it Marco. It will make a great reminder of our honeymoon.”

“Yeah,” he grinned.

“OK, now what?” I asked.

Marco thought a minute. “To tell you the truth, I'm kind of excited about classes starting on Monday, I think I'll look at my books and stuff.”

I left him to his books and went into the bedroom, kicked off my shoes and stretched out. Between the last night's activity, the chicken dinner and the long drive, I was ready for a nap. When Marco got in bed with me a couple of hours later it woke me up.

“Sorry. I was trying not to wake you.”

“That's OK. If I sleep too long I won't want to go to sleep tonight,” I told him.

Marco put his hands behind his head and stretched. “I think we had a really nice honeymoon.”

“Well, I don't have much to compare it to, but I would have to agree.”

Marco seemed to be thoughtful. “Do you suppose we will always be this happy?”

Before really thinking about it I said, “Well, if we can make it through last night, I think we can make it a long time.”

Marco only hesitated for a second. “What about last night? That's all forgotten now.”

I sighed. “I really do love you Marco.”

“I know. I love you too,” he said quietly. “Stuff happens.”

“I thought he had fallen asleep when he asked, “Do we have anything to eat in the apartment?”

I had to laugh. “Are you hungry again?”

“Well not really, but I was thinking about tomorrow and next week. Don't we need to sort of restock?”

“That's right. Do you want to go to the market to buy provisions?” I asked.

“Well, we might.”

I got up to pee and when I got back in the living room Marco was sitting on the sofa look at his Indian. “I really like that.”

“So do I. It will do until we replace it with some of your watercolors.”

“Oh, I could never do anything like that,” he said.

“We'll see. You ready?”

I pushed the cart around the market while Marco filled it with what he thought would get us through the next week. We laid in quite a few sandwich makings, figuring that we might be too busy to do much cooking. When we left the market we decided that we should stop for some supper. It was cold enough not to worry about leaving food in the car while we ate.

“We didn't do anything Asian all week,” Marco observed. “You want to go to the Viet Houng? I really like their soup.”

“Sure, I always like to go there.”

It was fairly busy there on a Saturday night. It was always a good sign to see a lot of ethnic customers eating in an ethnic restaurant. I would have guessed that the clientèle was about 80% Vietnamese on any given night. The food was authentic and the prices were reasonable. We sat and talked about the events of the last week.

“You know Marco, one of the things that kind of surprised me was how much you seemed to enjoy the kids we ran across. Those boys on the zipline took a real shine to you.”

Marco shrugged. “I like kids. I don't mind being around them. Maybe I'm not that far from being a kid myself. Why do you mention that?”

“I don't know. It made me remember what Father Hoover said about parenting. You know, that he thought we would make good parents?”

Marco grinned. “Are you afraid you're going to get me pregnant?”

I laughed. “Not really, but gay couples do adopt sometimes. Did you ever think about that?”

Marco looked down at his plate. “I don't know. I guess that is a thought. Do you think you would like to raise another kid, besides me, I mean?”

“You are no child, Marco. You are at least as mature as I am, and would probably get along with kids better than I could. I just wondered if you had given it any thought.”

Marco looked away at a table with a Vietnamese family with three small children. “I remember Father Hoover saying that, but I guess I haven't really thought much about it. I do like kids though, and I guess it would make us more like a real family.”

He looked back at me with a serious expression. “I can see doing that someday, but how would we manage? I mean with me going to school and not all that much money. We would need a bigger place, and when would we find the time to be decent parents? That's a serious decision.”

“But is your hesitation based on our present circumstances or the idea of trying to raise children?” I pressed him.

Marco looked back at the small children at the other table and smiled. “I don't think I would mind having some kids if we could manage it. I mean, someday.”

“That would have to happen later rather than now, but I have been thinking about it too,” I admitted.

Marco got up and paid for our supper then we drove back to the apartment and put away our groceries. We sat around and talked a little while then decided on an early bedtime. Our own bed felt really good.

Sunday morning we slept too late for the early service but made it to the next. We were almost surprised to see David and Wayne come in and sit in their usual spot.

They turned and greeted us. “How was the honeymoon?” Wayne wanted to know.

“We had a great time. We need to tell you about all the cool stuff we did,” Marco said with quiet enthusiasm.

“Well, it is our turn to treat you. Can we take you out for lunch after the services?” David asked.

Marco and I exchanged glances. “Sure, why not?” I answered.

It was nice to be back in church. We had not missed the last Sunday before we started our trip, but it was still a part of being back home and in familiar surroundings. Father Hoover gave us a big hug at the coffee hour, probably not even realizing that we had been away. That made his hug no less welcome, however.

We went light on the doughnuts in view of our invitation to lunch.

“Where would you like to go?” David asked. “Do you have a favorite place?”

Marco and I looked at each other. “Do you like Mexican food? I mean real Mexican food?” Marco asked.

“Oh yes, we love it. Do you know a good place?” David wondered.

“We like the Rio Verde,” I told him. It is sort of a hole in the wall, but the food is really good.”

I have heard about it, but we have never been there,” Wayne said, looking at David.

“That sounds wonderful,” David gushed. “Let's try it.”

We told them where it was and then suggested they follow us. We drove over, watching for them in our rear view mirror.

“Keep an eye on them,” Marco told me. “David is driving and he kind of sucks at it.”

“How do you know?” I laughed. “Have you ever been anywhere with him?”

“No, but he has a hard time paying attention to things,”

Sure enough, they failed to make a turn and we had to pull over and wait for them to catch up with us.

“Told you,” Marco said.

We waited for them in the gravel parking lot. As we walked in David looked at the little place. “Oh, what an interesting mural on the outside wall,” he exclaimed.

“I laughed. “It is kind of an interesting place.”

We had to stand and wait for a few minutes before some people noticed that a crowd was gathering and gave up a table. We sat down while one of the daughters cleared it off and wiped it down, then handed us menus and took our drink order.

“Wayne looked at the menu then said. “This is not Taco Bell. Can you recommend something?”

“We usually get the 'wet burrito'. You can get it with beef, pork, chicken even shrimp. But I imagine that most everything is good,” I told them.

Marco leaned forward and said quietly. “When we come in here during the week, we are about the only gringos in the place. That's a good sign.”

David seemed mildly surprised. Marco looked at him and explained. “I identify as white, OK? I'm Seminole, not Hispanic.”

“Oh, of course,” David said quickly.

“Not that there's anything wrong with being Hispanic,” Marco added.

I tapped Marco's knee under the table. “The food is really great here. What would you like?” I asked.

We made our choices and placed our order with the waitress when she brought us our drinks. “So tell us about your trip,” Wayne inquired.

“Yes, tell them about our trip Marco,” I nudged him.

“We really did a lot of different things,” Marco agreed, remembering his manners. He began a brief recitation of the places we visited and tried to remember on which day they all occurred. They laughed at the lack of cutlery at the Stampede and were surprised to hear about the zipline.

“Oh, that sounds terrifying!” David exclaimed.

“That's what I thought,” I agreed.

“Marty did great and we both enjoyed it,” Marco pointed out, unwilling that I might look like a wimp.

Our friends were genuinely interested in our trip. They had been in the area but had not made as many attractions as we managed to crowd into our week. It was a nice lunch and we thanked them cordially for treating us. As we checked out Marco bought 4 pieces of the candied sweet potatoes and passed them around as a gesture of good will.

“Try these. You will like them,” He encouraged.

On the way back to our apartment I asked. “Does David get under your skin a little?”

“Yeah he does sometimes. He can be kind of a jerk.”

“Just because he's gay doesn't keep him from being prejudiced about other things,” I remarked. “I don't think he is a bad guy, he's just thoughtless sometimes.”

Marco shrugged. “I'm sorry. I am just kind of touchy about being brown I guess. It's no insult to be Hispanic.” Then as way of justifying himself, pointed out. “I bought them a candied sweet potato.”

“Yes you did Marco. That was very nice.”

Marco thought for a moment and then snorted. “I guess jerks can come in all colors, huh?”

We took a little drive to enjoy the sunny day, then went home and did laundry. It was back to the usual grind for us, and tomorrow was the start of our routines – a new routine for Marco and the usual one for me. But I was OK with my job, and Marco was OK with his classes. I was anxious to hear about how it went when he got home the next day.

We returned to the apartment and talked about our plans for the week, took a leisurely shower and did an abbreviated version of our usual mambo. It was good to be home.

TO BE CONTINUED

    
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