Coming to Love - 1. Just Joe

Driving was hypnotic and therapeutic, so I kept going on and on, not sure—or giving a shit—where I would end up. Behind the wheel of Winston’s—my—red Mustang convertible, I felt close to him, and I savored memories of the joy we shared, in the car and in bed. I lost count of the times I turned to say something to him, only to see the empty seat.

The first few times, tears came to my eyes, but as the scenery passed, the memory of my lover mellowed into peaceful tranquility.

Not only was I putting distance between myself and Palo Alto, where I spent the past seven years—three of them with Winston, but I was also heading away from my chosen future in the Pacific Northwest. I wondered what the fuck that meant, but I didn’t want to think about it.

After eight hours, I arrived in San Diego, at the bottom of Southern California. I received a shitload of money as graduation gifts, so I treated myself to a stay at the Del Coronado, a luxury hotel on the island across the bay from the city proper.

Splurging on a suite with a stunning view of the Pacific from my balcony, I saw fighter jets taking off and landing at the Naval Air Station nearby. It reminded me of the movie Top Gun from a few years earlier and how hot and sexy Tom Cruise looked before everyone heard about his involvement with Scientology. Beginning with his first appearance in Risky Business, he starred in many of my jack-off fantasies.

********

Exhausted and dusty, I crashed in my suite the first night and ordered dinner from the room service menu. The bill came as a shock: $25 for a salad and $15 for a glass of uninspired wine, plus a tip and delivery charge. I would have to watch my budget if those were typical prices here.

To my surprise, I woke up in the morning with a hard-on. It was like accidentally meeting an old friend. Conscious of the costly sheets in my bed, I stepped into the shower and happily rubbed one out.

Maybe this new environment is gonna help me straighten out my fucked-up life!

I decided to head down to the pool. As I squeezed into my bright yellow Speedo, my mind wandered back to my career as a swim team captain. I checked myself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

I saw a decent tan, six-pack abs, and a sexy package bulging in the tight suit. I wasn’t what you would call muscular or hairy, but I was trim, the right weight for my height, and proud of my new, light brown mustache. My upper chest sported a soft crop of the same color hair, and a darker line began below my navel, disappearing into the waistband of the Speedo. I chuckled at the memory of how I was required to shave it all off when I was a competitive swimmer.

Damn, Bruce! You’re one sexy son of a bitch!

I hadn’t spent much time at the apartment pool over the last few months of defending my thesis and completing my degree. All I wanted to do today was soak up some rays, sip something cold and alcoholic, and lust after some hot young studs parading around all but naked. I was beginning to get my sex drive back and relieved as hell that it was still there.

This doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten Winston, just that I’m a man who has needs. I’ll probably think of him every time I jack off, possibly even when I’m with someone else—if that ever happens.

Down at the poolside bar, I took a chance and ordered a glass of Chablis I had in my room, hoping for the best. Eager to take a sip, I was more than disappointed. It was overpriced and unimpressive, but what the hell, it was cold and wet, and much to be preferred over the silly umbrella drinks most other people were drinking.

First chance I get, I’m gonna drive into the city, find a decent wine store, and stock up. If the hotel has a problem with that, fuck ‘em!

On the sunny patio, I searched for a chair to relax in. To my delight, I found one with an added benefit—in the next chair was a cute guy in plaid board shorts stretched out his back, lying on a towel.

He was the typical surfer dude, about six feet tall with a deep tan. Such ruffians wouldn’t usually be allowed around the pool at this luxury hotel, so there must be more to his story.

“This chair taken?” I asked, mustering my friendliest grin.

“Huh? Oh, no. Help yourself.” The kid—because that’s what he looked like to me at the ripe old age of twenty-seven—squinted up at me, shielding his eyes with his hand. He must have liked what he saw because he gave me a shit-eating grin.

“Thanks.” I smiled back and stretched out full-length, making sure my crotch was front and center. I was beginning to notice a little stirring down below, and I didn’t try to hide it. The young man—I’ll respect him by not calling him a kid anymore—saw the glass in my hand. “Is that wine or something?”

I smiled and spoke with what I hoped was a hint of mystery and seduction in my voice. “Or something is right...It’s called Chablis, and it’s usually a decent wine.”

“Usually?”

“Well, this tastes like ice-cold piss, if you ask me.” We both laughed.

I gestured at the table beside his chair. “And what are you drinking?”

“It’s called a Margarita.”

“Mexican?”

“Yeah, made with tequila. You wanna try it?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

This scintillating conversation was beneath me, but I needed to get into the rhythm of seduction again because the idea of getting laid tonight by this cute, sexy guy stirred something in me. I sipped the drink, getting salt from the rim on my mustache.

He giggled. “That salt shit gets all over you.” I nodded and joined in the chuckle.

“It’s not bad—in fact, I prefer it to the crappy wine.” I held out my hand. “I’m Bruce Hutton.”

“I’m Joe—” He blushed and tilted his head with a little shrug. “Actually, it’s Joseph Patrick Warren Van Stuyven, of the fuckin Dutchess County Van Stuyvens.”

I chuckled sympathetically. “Hmm. Quite a distinguished-sounding name.”

“No shit. I’m Dutch on my father’s side and my mother is a Warren from Virginia, but you can call me just Joe.” He sounded embarrassed.

“Well, hello there, Just Joe.” I grinned and gave his hand a warm squeeze, holding it a second longer than necessary. He glanced down at his hand, then up at the suggestive grin on my face, and squeezed back.

Message sent and received!

We shot the shit for a while—mostly about his love of surfing. He bitched about his rich parents who dragged him around wherever they went, whether he wanted to go or not, and so on. The three of them were in San Diego awaiting the arrival of a cruise ship, the itinerary going to Hong Kong, Macau, Tahiti, then back.

Joe looked and sounded like a typical beach bum, but his mannerisms bespoke a privileged upbringing—not unlike mine. His sun-bleached hair and bright green eyes sparkled with intensity. His ripped body was hairless, and a tiny tattoo of a heart adorned his left shoulder, which I imagined raised some eyebrows with the parents.

I wished he were wearing a Speedo like most of the other men around this pool, giving me a better measure of his manhood, but I thought the chances were promising that I’d see it in its full glory before this day was over.

A second glass of Chablis revealed that the shit tasted better the more I drank. Joe downed two more Margaritas and opened up about himself. He had recently turned 21, had done two years of college before deciding he didn’t need it, and was currently between boyfriends at the moment. When he mentioned the boyfriends, he side-eyed me to check my reaction. I gave him a nod and a knowing smile and said they must have been lucky guys to go out with him.

Again, message sent and received!

I took a couple of long swims in the pool, practicing the strokes that had made me Colorado State Champion in my senior year so long ago. Joe kept a close eye on me, which pleased and encouraged me. Once I returned to the chair and picked up my towel, he said, “You swim like a pro.”

“Well, not a pro, but I was captain of my team in high school, and state champion.” I hadn’t given that part of my life much thought for years, but it seemed the right topic to keep this younger man talking. Soon we were discussing Joe’s school days and what a shitty idea college was for him.

He reminded me of those dudes I called ‘a waste of space’ at Stanford. I was busting my ass to earn a top GPA, and they were out surfing, getting high, or fucking babes. However, this handsome man possessed other attributes I hoped to examine up close and personal.

Joe downed his fourth Margarita, and I decided to try to lure him into my lair.

“So, where’s your family today?”

“Oh, they’re out on some fishing boat, trying to hook a blue fuckin marlin.” He grimaced, and I mirrored his expression.

I went on, careful to keep my tone casual. “Well, I’m about ready to head up to my room for a quick shower and have another drink or two—”

The expression on his face showed he was interested.

I tried a suggestive smile. “Would you care to join me?”

“For the drinks or in the shower?” He leered at me.

“Either,” I replied, giving him a naughty grin before adding a playful wink, “or both.”

He laughed. “You’re not too subtle, are you?” I was amazed he knew the word, but I smiled and winked at him again. “OK. Let’s fuckin do it!” he said with enthusiasm.

Message sent and received—hook, line, and sinker!

We gathered our towels, put on our sandals, and left the pool area, neither of us wanting to appear too eager for what was about to happen.

Alone in the elevator up to my suite, I moved in close and kissed him on the lips. He didn’t back away. Instead, he returned the kiss and was all set to do more when the doors opened. Lucky thing no one was waiting to get on.

“Hold that thought,” I told him with a grin as we started down the hall. Holding my key card, I led the way to my suite.

“You know, I’ve been admiring your ass all day,” he said as I opened the door.

“I do know. I hope you enjoyed the show.” I turned and raised one eyebrow at him. “And I’ve been admiring how you flaunt the delicious bulge in your shorts whenever you think I’m looking.”

Joe responded with a nervous chuckle. He knew he’d been busted.

I led him into the living room, spun around, and pulled him to me. Our mouths met and opened, and our tongues were battling in seconds.

He kissed hungrily, like he needed it and couldn’t contain his desire. I cupped his face and pushed back an inch.

I gave him a little peck on the lips and asked, “You ready for some fun?”

“What, uh, what do you like to do?” he asked hesitantly.

A chill ran down my spine. Only a little over a three months since the love of my life was murdered, and here I was putting the moves on a hot young stud. What the fuck was the matter with me?

Taking a moment to reflect, I realized that I have needs. Joe seemed like he was ready, willing, and able to meet them. I also reminded myself that Winston told me to move on when I was ready.

“Well, like I said, I need a shower. The chlorine from the pool is making my skin dry out.” I turned my back, crossed the room to the bedroom, and walked toward the bath.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I added, “You coming or not?”

“You bet your cute ass!” He caught up with me and we started a shoving contest, racing into the bathroom. We tore off our swimwear and shouldered our way into the expansive shower. Standard heads were located at each end with a round rain-maker over the center. With a bit of fiddling, we managed to get all three running at a comfortable temperature.

We stopped and turned to face each other. To my pleasant surprise, Joe was already hard. His six thick inches pointed right at me.

The invitation was irresistible. I dropped to my knees and kissed his cock right on the head, then wrapped my lips around it, showcasing my deep-throating talent.

“Oh, shit!” Joe bucked and moaned. “That’s fuckin fantastic, dude!”

He placed both hands on my head, guiding it forward and back on his erection.

He was gentle but insistent, careful not to choke me and spoil the rhythm and sensation.

I gave him my best game, honed by years of sucking cocks and sending shivers up and down men’s spines. The hot young stud was experiencing something overpowering and was getting close to coming. I wanted him to really want it, so I leaned back, releasing his throbbing cock.

“Don’t wanna take my cum in your mouth?” he asked guardedly.

“Not at all. I’m fine with that, but I want to catch up with you.” I grinned, “How about showing me what you can do?”

I stood up, and he knelt and took my hard-on in his hand.

Joe wrapped his lips around the head and massaged the underside of my cock with his tongue. He took about two inches into his mouth, before reaching his limit. Rocking his head up and down with almost no pressure made me question his tales of adventures with men. I wondered if he was as experienced as he bragged.

Careful—this is your first sex in months, so for shit’s sake, don’t blow it by criticizing his ability.

I gently withdrew my cock from his mouth, and he stared up at me in surprise. I lifted him to his feet and kissed him on the lips.

Turning the water off, I faced him. “Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“How many guys have you blown?”

He hesitated, unsure what I was getting at. “A lot.” My expression must have unnerved him. “Why? What’s the matter? Didn’t you like it?”

Cautious not to drive him away with the wrong word or tone, I explained patiently, “Oh, I like it a lot—at least most of the time—” Studying his face, I proceeded with delicacy, “But this isn’t quite what I was expecting.” I reached for my towel and handed him his.

His expression clouded, and I could see a defensive wall start to go up. “Well, what the fuck were you expecting?”

Walking on eggshells, I said, “Well, to start with, did you enjoy the way I sucked your cock?”

“Hell, yeah. I almost came.”

“I’m glad to hear you say so. I kind of thought you were going to do something like that to me.”

He stared back at me. “What do you mean? I always do it that way. Nobody has ever complained.”

“Oh, I’m not complaining.”

“Well what the fuck are you doing?”

“I guess what I’m saying is, uh, I’m glad you liked what I did, because I wanted to please you and make you feel good—” I took a breath, “And so I suppose I assumed you would also want to make me feel the same.”

Joe’s face reddened. “I thought that’s what I was fuckin doing.”

I put my hands on his shoulders. “I realize that Joe, and I appreciate it.”

“But?” He all but spat the word at me.

Tread carefully—if you piss him off, you’ll lose your chance with Just Joe. Make it about wanting him to enjoy it, too.

“You see, Joe, there are ways to pleasure a man, and I guess I figured every guy in the world who sucked cock knew all about them. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to, and I’m sorry.”

He relaxed. “Can we sit down?” he asked dejectedly. Something was off about him.

I nodded. We toweled off and went back into the living room bare-assed. He sat on the leather couch, his back as stiff as his cock was a few minutes earlier.

I eased down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He raised his head, and tears formed in his eyes. I kissed him on the lips while I tousled his hair.

“Joe—”

“Yeah?”

“I like you a hell of a lot. You’re a handsome, sexy guy, and I want to have sex with you more than I can say—”

“But?”

“No ‘but.’ I want it, and bad. It’s, well, there are a couple of things about sex with a man you might not have picked up on yet.”

“Like what? Do you have a fuckin list?” He was defensive.

“Hell, no! But think about it—I’m a few years older than you, and much more experienced. I’ve been with a lot of men and know what I like. Along the way, I’ve learned what other men like, too.”

The expression on his face was more concerned, but not angry.

“I want us to have dynamite sex together, so I’d like to show you some of the techniques I’ve picked up.”

“You mean, I’m so bad at it that I need you to fuckin teach me how to do it right?” He was pissed again.

“No, no. Not at all. Think of it as broadening your horizons a little. If there are certain things men like and you haven’t tried them yet, isn’t it possible the sex will be even better if I show one or two of them?”

“You mean, like, how to suck a cock?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Not specifically. We’ve barely gotten started. I want you to show me everything you like to do.”

“But?”

I was getting sick of him saying that. “No ‘but.’ I will do my best to make sure you enjoy this, and if you’ll let me, I’ll show you how to do things to help me enjoy it, too. Fair enough?”

“I guess so.” He pouted.

I sighed, debating whether I should kick his whiny ass out the fucking door. It was like trying to deal with a sulky, spoiled little boy—which, come to think of it, was probably what he’d been for most of his life. But I couldn’t get over how beautiful and fuckable he was, and I didn’t want to piss him off and have him leave until I had a chance to have a lot more fun with him.

When I didn’t answer, Joe’s tone changed. “OK. OK. I get it. To tell you the truth, I haven’t had much sex with guys. I’ve fucked a couple of ‘em, but that’s about it. Most times, I meet a hot dude, shoot the shit with him, and go home alone and jack off, wishing I was having sex with him.”

I gave him a bright smile and nodded. “I do the same thing all the time.”

“You do?”

“Well, lately, it’s the only sex I’ve been having.”

“How come?”

“It’s personal,” I replied, not wanting to bring Winston into the picture. “I recently came out of an intense relationship, and I haven’t met anyone until now who tempted me to get back into the water, so to speak.”

He grinned. “Well, come on in. The water’s fine!” He hugged and kissed me, and we were back on the right track.

“Come with me,” Leading him into the bedroom, I was pleased to note Joe’s erection was back.

“Let’s stretch out on the bed,” I invited.

Joe lay beside me and placed both hands behind his head in eager anticipation.

With a friendly smile, I began the lesson. “So how about we take this a little at a time, OK?”

He nodded. I began a careful but detailed demonstration of the various erogenous areas of the male body, along with a couple of techniques describing how to make each of them feel really good.

Over the next hour, I showed him how to suck and fuck a man so that he not only enjoys the experience, but also feels fulfilled when it finally ends.

Joe was a quick study. He let me suck him, and then repeated the whole process back to me. We moved into the 69 position for a while, and everything I did to him, he did to me.

When we finally moved to penetration, he started out like a house on fire, ramming me as hard and fast as he could. I had to stop him, which hurt his feeling again. This time, though, he was more comfortable admitting that he only knew one way to do it, and that it might not pleasurable for his partner.

With patience and restraint, I told him what I liked, and he soon mastered all of it. He slowed down, took his time, varied the depth and speed of his thrusting, and both of us had quite pleasant ejaculations. We cuddled and kissed afterward.

I think he learned a lot from this. I hope he remembers it with his next lover.

Then it was time to exchange places. As I let him know I was ready to top him, he blanched.

“Uh—” He looked like a deer in the headlights.

“Let me guess, you’ve always been a top,” I kept my voice flat and non-judgmental.

“Afraid so. I like being in control, and to tell you the truth, I’m afraid it’ll hurt like hell to have somebody’s cock rammed up my ass.”

“That probably would hurt, as I think I made clear when you tried it on me.” I regarded him with growing affection. “Joe, there’s a couple of things I could show you that would address your concerns, if you’re willing to trust me.”

I looked at him, and to my shock and amazement, for a split second I saw another man’s face.

Holy shit! This is like a rerun of what I did with Pete. What the fuck am I doing? Is it my mission in life to teach young gay men all about sex?

I cleared my head and looked into his eyes, trying to fathom what was going on in his mind. I added, “But you don’t have to do any of this. I would just like to say, though, that in most instances, it’s the bottom who is in control. I can show you how to do that.”

“You mean you were in control with what we just did?”

I chuckled, “I was, but in a way that didn’t make you feel any the less for it.”

“I’d fuckin like to know how to do that!”

He submitted reluctantly, so I went very slowly, gradually introducing the basics about bottoming and making sure to check on how he felt at each juncture. Before long, he was riding my cock like a cowboy in a rodeo—and doing it well, I might add.

We built to a climax together until I felt his sphincter squeeze the cum out of my cock. Once again, we collapsed, cuddling and kissing. The afterglow was worth all the effort I had put into taking him down the path gradually, and I enjoyed the sense of having shown a young man what he had been missing.

After bottoming for me, Joe surprised me by topping me again. I was even more surprised to realize that he had taken to heart everything I had taught him. The way he made love to me spoke volumes about his determination to apply all the tricks and techniques for the purpose of making my experience the best it could be.

When he finished, he asked cautiously, "Were you the one in control this time?"

I laughed. "It's pretty clear that we shared that responsibility, which is exactly how it should be." We lay in silence a while, luxuriating in the knowledge that the sex had been great for both of us.

Finally, he broke the mood. “Fuck! I never did it like that before—and it lasted so long! It was fuckin awesome!”

Lying beneath him, I smiled and said, “I’m glad, Joe. I enjoyed it, too.”

He rested his body on mine a bit longer and became aware of what he was doing. “I’m sorry. Am I hurting you?”

“Not at all, but if you’re ready, you can pull out. There’s no rush, though. I’m enjoying the afterglow.”

“Afterglow?”

“You know, the lingering satisfaction and pleasure after the sex is over.”

Confusion clouded his face. “I can’t say I do know that. It’s always been over fast.” He withdrew his softened penis, tossed the condom into the wastebasket, rolled onto his back, and put his arms behind his head again.

I inched up on my elbows and kissed him. “Well, Joe, I don’t need to ask if you enjoyed what we did, because the answer is obvious.”

“Bruce, thank you. You’ve shown me something I never imagined could exist. I think I’m in love with you!” He was smiling from ear to ear.

“Well, I hope you’re in love with sex and with all you’ve learned to do today. It’s way too soon to fall in love with someone you’ve fucked for the first time. Take my word for it. What you’re feeling is real, it’s wonderful, but trust me Joey, it ain’t love!”

We both laughed and kissed. No matter how little time we would have together, sex with Just Joe was going to be a hell of a lot of fun!

As the warm feeling faded, we talked a little more about life in general—and sex, specifically.

“Bruce, I’ve never connected with any of the guys I’ve fucked. I always take what I want and get the hell out fast.”

“Hmm. Well, Joe, there’s nothing unusual about a young guy feeling that way. Think about the cavemen who only wanted to make a baby and hunt for their next mate.”

I roared with laughter at the mental picture of Joe in a Fred Rubble loincloth and me leaning over at the river to take a drink of water, while he crept up behind me and nailed my ass. He snorted when I told him what I was picturing

I offered him another beer, and we showered together after he downed it. We got hard again while soaping each other’s cocks, but we’d had enough of the real thing, and jacking off held no attraction for us.

As we dressed, Joe turned to me with a grateful smile. “Bruce, I’m sorry I had so much to learn. I was only thinking about myself. Fuck!”

I approached him, put my arms around his neck, and gazed into his youthful face. “Joe, I had a great time. Tonight was as much fun as I’ve ever had.” Kissing his lips, I added, “I hope you’ll think kindly of me when you’re with other men in the future.”

“Oh, you can bet I will, Bruce!”

We kissed goodbye at the door, and I watched him saunter to the elevator with his sexy surfer gait. Returning to my couch, I pondered the evening’s surprises. I was celibate, not even jacking off, from the day Winston died until tonight. Hell, I wasn’t interested in sex at all—like a part of me died along with my lover.

Then this beautiful man-child showed up, and something inside me switched back on. Sex with Joe sure turned out a bit unusual for me, but I was glad he enjoyed what we did. I hoped he learned something about himself and pleasing others.

It dawned on me that I was repeating all my mistakes with men my whole life—confusing sex with love and only thinking of myself.

Climbing into the giant-sized bed, I smelled the aroma of our love-making on the rumpled sheets, and I jacked off, reliving the pleasure of having his cock inside me.

********

In the morning, I ate a hurried breakfast and hauled ass out to the pool. I expected to find Joe there again, and I ached to simply spend the day in his company. I was surprised to recognize that sex with him was an option, but it wasn’t necessary to my happiness. I could be content just to get to know him better and share the day with him.

But Joe didn’t show up all day. I swam a bit, ogled the cute guys, and drank too many glasses of the bar’s inferior Chablis in the hope that if I hung around long enough, he would turn up. But it didn’t happen.

I decided to return to my suite, clean up, and dress for dinner. The Del Coronado’s grand dining room required a coat and tie, so I went all out and put on my best gray suit.

The maître d’s expression was doubtful when I said “One, please.” His demeanor implied that either I wasn’t the sort of man who dined alone, or he had noticed Joe and me yesterday and had expected us to be together.

“One,” I repeated, slipping him a ten-dollar bill. “Maybe out of the way a bit.”

He smiled complacently, an obvious by-product of stellar customer service training. “Of course, Monsieur.” Leading me to a spot beside a picture window facing the Pacific, he pulled out the chair. The immaculately-appointed table was set with crystal glassware and sterling flatware. A single white rose in a thin vase stood alongside silver salt and pepper shakers.

The oversized menu allowed me to hide from the other diners. The most expensive items were listed first, but, conscious of my budget, I turned to the daily specials on the back page.

I enjoyed my 8-ounce steak and loaded baked potato and was sipping Courvoisier when my eye caught the reflection in the window of a well-dressed trio entering the dining room. I turned to see who they were and fucking choked on my drink.

Joe, in a dark blue suit, crisp white shirt, and perfectly-knotted red tie, stood with a man and a woman in their mid-50s—his parents, I concluded immediately.

Standing while the maître d’ held out the chair and seated his mother, Joe glanced in my direction. He stiffened and blushed, turned away, and sat with his back to me.

At least I now understood his absence from the pool, but I wondered what he was thinking, and whether he was ashamed of what the two of us did yesterday. Doubtless, his parents had no inkling of his sex life or activities when out of their sight, which came as no surprise. I can imagine how shocked my family would be if they ever learned about my private shenanigans.

The waiter took their order, and the three settled into light conversation. A few minutes later, Joe rose and headed toward the restrooms. At the last possible moment, he flashed me a plaintive look. The message in his eyes screamed, “We need to talk—now!”

Signaling my waiter that I would be back in a moment, I strolled past his parents’ table toward the restroom to check them out.

Joe’s mother wore diamonds and a white fur stole made out of some unfortunate little animal. Her blond hair and pink nails were perfectly done, which reminded me they had gone deep-sea fishing the previous day. Apparently, she could demand an appointment at the expensive beauty salon in the hotel whenever she wanted one.

She didn’t bother to notice me walking by. I was nobody important to her.

Your son fucked me in the ass yesterday, and I fucked him back, my mind yelled, and mentally added as I passed, and he is going to do a lot more!

Joe’s father was well over six feet tall. He wore a dark suit, a light blue shirt, and an old-school tie. His hair was medium-length and graying. He also ignored my passing.

Your baby boy has a big tasty cock, Daddy. Did he inherit it from you? I smiled inwardly at these naughty thoughts and headed for my rendezvous in the men’s room.

The spacious restroom stood empty, except for Joe standing at the urinal furthest from the door. I approached casually to stand beside him and pulled out my cock. He was holding his, and as I peeked down I realized he was rock-hard. I snickered.

“Very fuckin funny.” Joe said, wiggling his tempting erection at me. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Joe, for you, I’ll come anytime, anywhere”

He chuckled, then grew wary. “So...you can guess who that is with me.”

“Fairly obvious unless you’re into bi-threesomes with old couples.”

“Fuck that shit!”

“So, when do I meet your parents?”

His eyes went wide with panic. “Never, goddammit! Why the fuck would you want to?”

“Joe, unless I’m mistaken, they haven’t got a clue about your hijinks, so they would have no reason to suspect anything happening between us.” I let my words sink in. “But seriously, I’m fucking with you. I have no desire to meet them, and I would never expect you to introduce me.”

He sighed with relief. “I am glad to see you, though.”

Reaching over and tweaking his cock, I said, “Obviously.”

Scowling at me, he pulled back and jammed his pecker into his pants. He protested, “If you don’t fuckin stop, I’m gonna have a mess down my front.”

I frowned, then pushed my bottom lip out in a pout. “I missed you today, Joe. I couldn’t figure out where the hell you might be, although after running into you this evening it’s clear. Still, I was a little worried—”

“Why?”

“I thought maybe what we did was only a one-night stand for you. Are you a find ‘em fuck ‘em and forget ‘em kind of guy?”

“Fuck, no! I want more of you, and I need you to show me more ways to give you pleasure.”

“Well, when is the next time you’ll have the time for us to play?”

He smiled mischievously. “Tonight. They’re going to a party up in La Jolla, or some shit.” He rolled his eyes, “They want me to come with them. I think they hope I’ll meet some virgin debutante, fall in love, and make them proud of me.”

“They’re not proud of you now? With all your magnificent attributes?” I ran my eyes up and down him with lusty approval, which made him blush again.

“Shut the fuck up.” He straightened his clothes and stepped over to the sink. “To them, I’m nothing but a lazy bum, living off their fuckin money, who’ll never settle down and never amount to a goddamn thing.”

I followed him to the sink. “Are they right?”

He made a stern face, then broke into a grin. “Shit, I sure hope so!” We laughed.

“So you were saying about tonight—”

“As soon as they leave, can I come down to your room?”

“Down?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. We’re up in the goddamn penthouse.”

“Well, if you’re not too proud to come ‘down’ to my pitiful threadbare hovel, what time should I expect you?”

We shared a hearty laugh, and Joe said, “Around 9:30 or 10:00 oughta work. Every one of those things is a fuckin all-nighter. They won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

“OK. Come on down when they leave. Bring your pajamas.”

He guffawed, “Like I wear pajamas—or anything—to bed!”

We kissed in a rush. The door opened and someone came into the restroom. I turned back to the sink and began washing my hands while Joe hurried out.

I returned to my table by a different route, finished my brandy, signed the check, and stepped outdoors, heading back to my suite through the garden.

Back in my suite, I tried to distract myself as I waited for 9:30, but my mind was racing.

I wondered if this what Winston would have wanted for me. I had to admit I was playing around with a young guy that I had no intention of being serious about. In fact, we would both only be here for a day or two longer.

Am I now the kind of person who jumps the bones of every hot guy he sees?

Images of Pete and Joe flashed in and out of my mind, and I began to regret the fun we’d had and to dread his return later tonight.

And if that’s not who I am, then what the hell am I doing with Joe? Have I finally learned that without a relationship, sex is unfulfilling and actually seems wrong? And how unfair is it of me to lead him on?

More than once, I reached for the house phone to call the penthouse and tell him I had a headache, or some shit like that, but each time I hung up before the hotel operator came on.