A Summer Love - 7. Chapter 7

September 8, 1991

“So do you want to join the mile high club?” I asked him with a leer.

“I'm already a member,” Max said confidently.

“Really? Who did you fuck?” I knew his type. He was a private kind of guy, the kind of guy who wouldn't open up to strangers. So I was using my time-honored method to get info from him: bugging the shit out of him.

“None of your business.”

“Was it Lark?” I teased, and got a glare telling me that was still sensitive.

“No,” he said, glaring at me, wanting me to shut up.

“Let's see...Stefan?” I knew he hadn't, I was just teasing him.

“No fucking way.”

“Why? You do not find him attractive?” I was getting under his skin now.

“No, he's cute. But he's practically married. I don't believe in breaking up couples.”

That opening was too big to resist. “Are you mad at me for flirting with you because you and Lark are a couple?”

“We are not a couple,” he said firmly.

“So I can flirt with you? Do you find me attractive?” I gave him my slutty leer.

“I find you annoying,” he said flatly.

“That is too bad since you are stuck with me. There are no parachutes on board.” I saw him force himself to glare at me. “Was it Brad?”

“Was what Brad?” he asked, now really pissed.

“Was he the one you fucked on the plane?”

“Who I do or don't fuck is really none of your business.”

“Ah, so it was Brad. And you are wrong; it is my business, because I am involved.”

“How are you involved?” he asked, exasperated.

“You said who you do or do not fuck is not my business. Well, you are either going to fuck me, or not, so that is my business, no?” That actually got a slight smile, and he shook his head slightly. “Do me a favor,” I asked.

“What?” he asked suspiciously.

“I'm really horny. Blow me.” I kept my face straight, deadpan serious, even though I was cracking up inside. He looked up at me and the look surprised me. He'd do it if I really wanted him to. “I'm teasing Max.” He looked a little disappointed. “But my back is really dry. Will you put some of this lotion on it?” I handed him a bottle of skin lotion.

“This sounds like the beginning of a really bad porno,” he said, joking.

I laughed and stood up, taking my shirt off slowly enough to be sexy, but not so slowly that I was doing a strip tease. His eyes were feasting on my body, which made me smile, and made me hard. I'd worked out a lot lately, and it was showing. I'd never have ripped abs – I had a thin layer of fat under my skin that seemed to make that impossible without me becoming anorexic – but my pecs were well defined and my biceps bulged a lot bigger now. I made sure to flex them a little bit. I turned away from him and saw him swallow hard.

I heard him squirt the lotion on his hand and then felt the contact on my skin. “Ah,” I cried. “That's cold!”

“Don't be a pussy. You want me to do this or not?” He began to rub it in lightly.

“You must think I'm really ugly,” I said.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You are barely touching me. Are you afraid I will bite?” I turned my head to look at him. “I will, but only if you want me to.”

He shook his head and smiled lightly. “Just turn around.” Now he worked the lotion in, his strong hands massaging it into my skin, and loosening up my muscles. I was putty in his hands, and he seemed to know it, and he seemed to like it. He made it last a long time, and then finally stopped.

I turned around and knelt on the carpet of the plane, in between his legs as he sat in his seat. I was right in front of him now, our faces less than a foot apart. “Go sit down,” he said.

I moved in and kissed him. He didn't respond at first, but then he did, just a simple kiss, lips only, no tongue, that hid the passion buried inside him. He tried to break it off, but I wouldn't let him, and he finally gave in, moving his hands across my lotioned back, pulling me in tighter. His mouth parted slightly, giving me an opening, so I shot my tongue out, in between his teeth, challenging him to either bite it or let me in. He relented and let me in. Our tongues wrestled then, fighting a battle that our bodies longed to do. Then he stopped and pushed me away.

“Marcel, I can't do this. I'm not into fast hook ups.” He looked so conflicted.

“You do not like me?” I asked, genuinely confused. By the time I got a guy to this point, he was usually mine.

“I like you. You're a nice guy, you’re cute as hell, and you are one amazing kisser. But if I keep going, I'll end up with your dick up my ass, and that's not going to happen.” Max looked at me, so sincerely. So he was a bottom. Awesome.

“And if you let me fuck you, I would set you free, make you feel so good,” I cooed sluttily in his ear.

“I'm sure you would.” I pulled back and looked at him to make sure he wasn't kidding. He wasn't. “I just don't work that way. I can't just meet someone and fuck them right away.”

I reached down and grabbed his hard cock playfully. “Your body says you can.”

He slapped my hand away playfully. “Yeah, my body definitely can, and it definitely wants to, but I'm in control, not it.”

“You make me feel like a slut, and I am not,” I said a little defensively. “At least not lately.”

He smiled now, ran his hand gently across my cheek, then pulled me in again and gave me another nice kiss. “I didn't mean to imply that you were. You are just so, well, so sexy and so aggressive.”

“And you have been hurt before and you do not want to let someone like me in to hurt you again,” I said matter of factly.

I saw his expression, first angry, then philosophical. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think we should be friends Max. I do not have any friends in Chicago, and I like you.” My sincerity seemed to register with him.

“I think that's a great idea,” he said, and I leaned in to kiss him again. Then I moved my mouth down to his long neck, nuzzling below his ear, then working my way up to his Adam's apple. “I thought we were friends. I usually don't let friends give me hickeys.”

“Friends can show their affection, no?” He smiled and nodded. I moved lower, to his chest, kissing his nipples through his shirt, but he stopped me.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm going to suck your dick,” I said, staring him right in the eyes. “We are friends, so we will not fuck, but I can still help out a friend in need, no?” I put my hand back onto his rock hard cock, and he didn't object anymore. I saw him lean his head back, surrendering to his hormones, letting me take off his shirt.

He had such a nice chest, with a dusting of blond hair across his pecs and down his abdomen. I worked his nipples, sucking them, while I ran my hands up and down his back, encouraging him to arch it into me. God, he was sexy. Then I moved my mouth down to his belly button and licked his treasure trail while I moved my hand up his leg, slid into his pants and grabbed his dick. He moaned and blasted his load all over my hand, so I just went with it, stroking him gently while he came.

“I'm sorry. I'm, I’m really sorry,” he stammered. He looked like he was about to cry. I pulled my hand out of his pants carefully, trying not to get his spooge on his pants, and held it in front of my face, his cum dripping down my arm. I reached my tongue out and licked some of it off while smiling at him, and he actually giggled.

“You taste good,” I said, licking my lips. Then I wiped off my hands and sat next to him, sensing his nervousness and sadness. “What are you sorry for?”

“I came too soon.”

“No, you did not. That's bullshit. You cum when you cum. I like you Max. You were fun.” I leaned over and kissed him behind the ear. “You can cum more than once a day right?” He laughed this time.

Then he got serious. “I guess I'm just not used to being with guys who like to take their time.”

“That is because you are with the wrong guy,” I said. I saw his eyes narrow, his brows furrow as he got pissed. “You can get mad at me if you want to, but you know I am right.”

“You don't understand,” he said feebly.

“You are wrong. I understand completely. I have my own version of Lark, only his name is Lou.”

“Really? Are you two a couple?” Did he seem disappointed?

“No. He just comes into my life when he is down, or when he needs something, and as soon as he gets it, he is gone again.” I saw those words hit him like a rock, and then he nodded sadly. “Is that what Lark does to you?” He nodded again.

“Why do you do it?” he asked me.

“Because in my own way, I love him, I always will. We came to this country together, and even though we took different paths, I always knew he was there for me. I am not sure now if that was true or not, but I guess because I felt that way, I feel like I should be there for him.” I paused, thinking about the last time Lou had been to see me in Boston, and how I'd ended up having to beg Stef for some extra money because Lou had cleaned me out.

“Lark and I have had this relationship for years now. I know in his own way he loves me, but he just can't allow himself to be in love with another man. And that means I only get a piece of him. But he gets all of me, and leaves me high and dry like Lou leaves you.”

“You know that he is toxic for you, right?” I asked. He started to get pissed again but I put my hand on his leg. “Just like Lou is toxic to me.”

“I know. I know I should just lock him out of my life, but I can't. My parents are so pissed off at me they can barely stand to be around me, and they refuse to be around Lark. And I make all of these resolutions, but when he shows up, with those puppy dog eyes, and says he needs me, I melt. God, I feel like such an idiot.” He hung his head in shame and sadness.

“I do the same thing. It says a lot about you as a person, that you love so much. That you are so loyal. It will be a lucky man who finally snags you,” I said, and found that I meant it. He leaned in and kissed me, the first time he'd shown any initiative at all.

“Thanks Marcel. You will be a great catch too.”

“I seem to be unable to attract the right kind of guy. I'm into smart guys, and that usually means older guys. But I guess they're too smart to want a relationship with me.” It sounded more pathetic than I meant it to.

“They must not be as smart as you think they are. I don't know, as for me, I'm pretty excited about making a new friend.” He turned his smile on me and it was radiant. Wow. The plane descended into LAX after that, curtailing our conversation, but leaving me with something, or someone new to think about.

Max's parents were waiting for us. He introduced me, and they seemed like nice people, but they were anxious to grab their son and whisk him off, presumably to deprogram him into not liking Lark. Stef was there to greet me alone, which was great. It gave us time to gossip.

“So let me guess,” I told him. “I'm here for two reasons. One, to get Max back home to see his parents, and two, to get Greg away from work and out on his boat.”

“You underestimate your own charm and my desire to spend time with you,” he said with a smile. I was onto him.

“So when do we leave?” I asked, referring to the boat.

“Tomorrow. It looks like it is to be just the three of us. I hope that is OK with you?” He seemed nervous about that.

“You are not responsible for providing me with boyfriends Stef. I will be just fine. It will be a good opportunity to spend time with you and Greg, and to spend some time on my own too. I brought reading material,” I said, patting my backpack stuffed full of books I'd need to read for classes next semester.

We drove up to the house and the first person I saw was Robbie. All of my workouts had bulked me up, so other than him being a little older and taller, we could be twins. “Damn Marcel, you're looking good!”

“Look who's talking. You dump that slug of a boyfriend yet?” I teased.

“Nah. Never. Besides, having sex with you would be like masturbating.”

I laughed. “What's wrong with that? I like masturbating.”

“Who doesn't,” said Brad, coming into the room and giving me a big hug. “I heard you saw Lark.”

“I did. I flirted with Max and it really pissed him off.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You hit on Max? That makes sense.”

I looked at him carefully, at his cold exterior that was almost as hard as JP's, but the mention of Max's name had caused his eyes to flicker a bit, showing me that there was more there than he was willing to let on. “You do not think it is a good idea?”

“No, I think you would be perfect together. He's a great guy and so are you.” He was trying to flatter me and change the subject. Whatever. I followed him through the door that connected his house with Stefan's.

Brad and Robbie lived with Jeanine, a lesbian, and three kids. The first two kids, Darius and JJ, were Brad's sister's kids. The last one, Will, was his kid, a kid he'd had with Jeanine. They were pretty cute. Will and JJ were about five years old, while Darius was about eight. I always went over and said hi and played with them for a bit when I was around. They were fun, but I guess I just didn't have paternal instincts. Hanging out with the kids for me was almost a chore. I spent the obligatory half hour and then headed back to Stef's house.

“Is Greg around?” I asked.

“He just got home. He is upstairs changing,” Stef said, looking worried.

“What's wrong?”

“He works too much; it is bad for him, bad for his health. He does not take care of himself, does nothing for himself. It is as if I am watching him work to death before my very eyes.” The sadness in his voice was apparent.

“What does he say when you nag him about it?”

He sighed. “I gave up on that. It just pisses him off, and we fight. It is really unpleasant. So instead, I try to make his life easier, to relax him when I can.” We sat there, both of us thinking about Greg and the alternatives. There were none. He was pig-headed, stubborn, and there was no way to convince him to change his habits. “Robbie put his foot down on his own hours a couple of years ago, and Greg was so mad he could not see straight. Then he thought about it, and was OK with it. But it did not seem to dawn on him that he should ease up himself.”

As if on cue, Greg came strolling into the room. He looked tired, weary. I got up and gave him a hug, a huge hug. “It's so good to see you!” he said.

“It's good to see you too! When do we go sailing?” I loved his boat, and sailing, but I wanted to push the issue a little harder since he looked so tired.

“Tomorrow morning. That gives me a chance to pack up.”

September 9, 1991

Mornings when we were going on the boat were always hectic, and Greg was always in a pissed off mood. He was mad because things weren't as organized as he wanted them to be, and even more irritated because the things that weren't organized were his fault. Stef and I knew the drill by now. We just got all of our stuff ready and packed and sat back and had our morning tea while Greg ran around like a crazy man and got his stuff together.

We got in the car and headed toward the marina, and as soon as we passed through the gates it was like his stress level dropped dramatically. “So where do you guys want to go?” he asked.

“The City,” I said.

“You have an ulterior motive,” Stef said, smiling.

“I do, but it is a beautiful place, and it's great this time of year. Cruising under the Golden Gate Bridge, past Alcatraz, with the panoramic view of the most beautiful city in America. You do not see the appeal?” Plus I'd get to see JP.

“San Francisco it is,” Greg said, indulging me. We boarded the boat and there was the crew, three really hot guys in tight uniforms.

“Do you make them wear their clothes so tight?” I teased Stef.

“I do not make them wear anything. They are nice boys. The brunette and the blond are a couple, so the poor redhead is left to his own devices.” I stared over at him. This guy was hot. Redhead was a stretch. His hair could either be brown with red tints, or red with brown tints. He was really short, probably only about 5’5” and pretty slim. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on him. He had a thin face to go with his slim body.

“I am Marcel,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Pete,” he said, shaking it. He had a gorgeous smile with cute dimples, and bright green eyes that sparkled when he turned on the charm, like right now.

“So what do you do on the boat Pete?”

“I help serve dinner, help keep things clean, get drinks, or do whatever you guys need.” He was being professional, but slightly flirtatious. “Um, if you want, I also give pretty good massages.”

“That would be awesome!” I said genuinely. “Maybe this evening?”

“As soon as we finish up after dinner and before you go to bed, OK?” I nodded. Damn, this might be fun.

We sailed almost immediately, the yacht nosing out into the Pacific. It was a windy day, and the waves were pretty high to go along with it. I loved it when the sea was like this, where you could feel the surge of the yacht against the power of the waves. We had a really relaxing day, just sitting around and smoking weed, drinking, and enjoying the exhilarating sea air.

“You are doing alright now?” Stef asked, with Greg pretending not to listen.

“I am, thanks to you.” I reached over and grabbed his hand. “I think that things will be alright now. I just could not handle the way he guillotined our relationship, but I think in the end it worked out for the best.”

“For the best? You think that pain was for the best?” Stef was exasperated.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, I thought I’d lost him completely, that he was totally gone, so when he came back and we basically redefined our relationship as friends with benefits, it was great. If we would have tried that in the beginning, I probably would have been disappointed.” How did you tell someone that the agonizing short term pain was better than the long slow ache that would have happened? And was it?

“So you say,” Stef said, unconvinced.

“You have not let this damage your friendship with him have you?” I asked, concerned.

“It has damaged it, but nothing that we cannot repair after he grovels,” Stef said, cracking me up.

Dinner was fantastic, but I had a hard time focusing on eating with Pete there serving us. Every once in a while the yacht would give a lurch, and he would brush against me. I was hard as a rock through dinner. After dinner, Greg yawned a little too obviously.

“You will not think we are rude if we retire early?” Stef asked.

“No, go to bed. I'm tired too,” I said.

They headed off to bed while I sat there, watching Pete clean up, watching his cute little butt, his lithe movements, and the occasional sexy smile he flashed at me.

“I have to finish cleaning up. I should be done in about half an hour. Why don't you go take a shower and relax,” he said. I smiled and nodded, then went down to let the warm water pour over my body, washing off the salt that had caked on my body during the day. I came out in my towel, wondering if I should put on boxers, but decided against it. Just because he was cute and short didn't mean he was gay, but if he was a masseur, he was used to naked guys.

There was a gentle knock on the door. I opened it and he came in, grinning, holding some lotions in his hands. “You need to lie on the bed on your stomach,” he said. “I'm sorry I don't have a table on board.” He arranged the pillows to relax me.

“Is this OK?” I said, gesturing at my towel.

“You can wear whatever you want, but it's smart to undress. The oils might stain clothes.”

“What about you? Will they not stain your clothes?” I asked.

“Don't worry about me,” he said, smiling sweetly.

“Well, I will make you a deal. I will keep my clothes off if you do too.” He looked at me, smiling slightly but a little nervous.

“Alright,” he said. I dropped my towel, giving him a good look at my half hard cock, and then lay down on the bed, looking sideways away from him, but catching a glimpse of him in the mirrors. He had no body fat at all, almost bony, with a nice dick, starting to plump. He turned away and I got a view of his skinny little ass. God, it was cute. I was glad I was on my stomach.

He straddled me and began rubbing lotion into my back and shoulders. It was heaven, sheer heaven. This kid had some amazing hands. I felt something soft and furry brush against my ass while he was working on my neck. It had to be his balls. I lifted my ass up slightly and felt something hard there too. He was boning big time. I lay back down and let him do his work.

He got off the bed and began working on my legs from the side, with his torso next to my ass. My hand was right there. I pretended to rearrange myself and moved my hand so it was on the edge of the bed. When he moved down my leg to massage my calf, his body pressed against me, his groin against the back of my hand, his hard dick brushing over my knuckles. He recoiled at the contact, so I took that opportunity to turn my hand around so the palm was facing him. When he went back down to stroke my calf, his cock landed right in my palm. I closed my hand around it, all five inches of it. He tried to move away but I held him tight.

I rolled over onto my back, my dick sticking straight up, throbbing, begging for attention. His eyes met mine, looking at me lustfully while I gently stroked his dick. I felt his hand move up my thigh to my cock. I pulled him on top of me. He was so thin, so small that I could pick him up and move him. I sat him on my lap, his legs straddling me, with my cock sliding against his ass, and pulled his head to mine, his lips to mine. He was a great kisser, one of the best I'd ever encountered. We just lay there, making out, while he slid his ass crack up and down along my cock.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked, but he was almost begging.

“Yeah. I want to fuck you so bad,” I said. I tossed him off of me and onto his back, and then moved my mouth down to his dick. He stopped me.

“I haven't showered since this morning,” he said, embarrassed.

I ignored him, and moved down to his crotch, inhaling his tangy scent. There's a smell redheads have, an odor that has a flavor that is at once slightly sweet and bitter, and I loved it. “I'm glad you did not, I love the way you smell,” I said, and got a big smile from him. I dived into his sweaty crack, licking my way to his hole. He moaned and grabbed my head, pulling me to him. I drove him nuts, rimming him, probing him, until I had to have him.

I reached over and grabbed a condom and slipped it on, getting a grateful look from him. It can't be easy to be a servant to the wealthy. If they decided to bareback him, he'd have a tough choice to make. I grabbed the lube next, making sure it was spread on his ass and my dick, and then I lined myself up to him and pushed.

I watched his face, watched him grimace at first, and watched his dick deflate. I pulled out and worked him with my fingers, loosening him up more. I'd kind of thought he'd be a slut, but he was pretty tight. Then I pushed in again, this time making it without hurting him, burying my dick in his ass.

His dick was limp, but when I started pumping his ass that changed soon enough. He reached up and stroked himself while I fucked him, getting himself hard and keeping himself on edge, stopping when he got close. He was so short, so small; I grabbed his legs and started pounding him, imagining that I could split him apart by ramming my big dick into his little ass.

He lay there, below me, moaning loudly, his eyes locked on mine, then glazed with lust, then locked again. His mouth made that sexy “o” shape that I loved, but he would lose that once in a while. His ass, so tight, so willing, felt so good, I knew I couldn't last much longer. “You're gonna make me cum Pete.”

“Oh yeah. Blast it Marcel,” he said, almost a yell. I felt my orgasm surge and felt my dick expand with the rush of blood, stretching him even wider as I came into the condom. He threw his head back and stopped stroking his cock, taking his hand off of it. I watched amazed as it started blasting stream after stream of cum across his chest. After he'd cum for a bit, he took his hand and stroked himself again, milking every last drop out of it.

I pulled out of him and pulled off the condom and threw it away. Then I grabbed my towel, still damp from my shower, and wiped him off lovingly. He looked at me, so nervous, so vulnerable, and my heart went out to him. I leaned in and kissed him.

“You were amazing Marcel. That was the most intense experience I think I've ever had.”

I felt my ego soar. “You are a terrific lover Pete. Terrific.” I pulled the covers back and got into bed, pulling him to me.

He fought against that and made to get up. “I have to go.”

“No you do not. You're staying right here tonight.”

“I'm not supposed to sleep with you Marcel. I could get in trouble.” He was worried.

“Trouble? From whom?”

“The Captain. He's my boss.”

I smiled and stroked his cheek. “No, he's not your boss. Greg is your boss. And you know what? He'd want you to stay here.”

“I can't afford to get fired.”

I laughed. “You are adorable Pete. You will not get fired. I promise.” He looked up at me and smiled, then molded his body to mine and stroked my chest, not unlike JP did.

“I've never been fucked like that before. I really didn't think it could be that good,” he said, with hero worship in his eyes.

“You are good for my ego,” I said. Then we drifted off to sleep.

September 10, 1991

I woke up in an aroused state, and it only took me a few seconds to realize why. Pete was blowing me, working my cock slowly and gently to coax me awake. I moved my hand to his head and stroked his hair. He pulled off and smiled at me, then slipped a condom on me and slid his lubed ass down on me.

“You liked this huh?” I teased. I let him set the pace, just lying there, enjoying the feel of his sweet ass as he worked my dick with it. I reached down and stroked his cock while he moved up and down, my other hand resting on his thigh, feeling his muscles tense as he used them to rise and fall. I could tell by his breathing and pace that he was getting close, so I tried to pick up my own pace to meet him, but he was too far gone. His first stream of cum flew across my chest and landed on my face. I took my hand off his leg and wiped it off my face and licked it off my hand while watching him blow more and more streams across my chest. That did it. I started to blow into him, grabbing his hips to take charge.

“What a great way to wake up,” I said.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he said, grinning. “I have to go though. I'm on duty in 20 minutes and I need to shower.”

“I will see you in a little bit,” I told him.

I got up, showered, and went up on deck, taking in the morning air. I strolled up to the bridge to find the Captain there, diligently checking our course and position and keeping us on track.

“Good morning Marcel,” he said in a friendly manner.

“Morning,” I said groggily.

“Are you having a good time so far?” he asked, making idle conversation.

“I am. Pete's taking really good care of me.” He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I hope that does not cause him any problems.”

The captain laughed. “Problems? Not likely. He's a good kid, just a little skittish. Maybe you can bring him out of his shell.”

I smiled at him. “Thanks. I hope so too.”