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    Jack Scribe
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Other Avenues - 1. Chapter 1 Jerry's Choice

JERRY

7:30 a.m. Friday and the desk phone was ringing. Setting down the coffee, I reached for the receiver and answered before the third blast. “Jerry Franklin speaking.” I knew from caller I.D. that it was the New York home office and my old roommate from Wharton calling. Ben Martin was also my boss.

~~~ “Hey, Jer, how’s the week been?” He was always anxious to get positive numbers…fast. My Chicago operation generated good revenues for Martin Consulting. I was a partner in the company and thought that was not bad for a guy just turning 30 next month.

“Morning to you, Ben. You’re going to like the results.” Martin Consulting, privately owned by Ben’s family, was the third largest management-consulting firm in the United States.

~~~ “Dad and I always like the action from your office. I’ll wait for the email.”

“I think you’ll like the report,” I said. The senior associates had summary reports on my desk by end of business each Thursday. By 3:00 p.m. Friday, I would have an integrated report with my overview finalized and emailed to my boss and friend. Ben and I kept business and the friendship compartmentalized.

~~~ “Great. I always like good news to end the week. How’s your love life? I haven’t heard from Matt.” Matt Crosby was my partner for the past three years. Ben and his family were very supportive of us and considered Matt another family friend.

“Shit, Ben, I just don’t know. It seems like he’s always got something big going on in your town. I’ll see him in a couple of weeks.” A fast-rising star in the largest Chicago advertising agency, Matt was on special assignment for one year to the New York office to help in reorganization.

~~~ “I left Matt a message to call me. Beth and I want to get him up for the weekend.” Beth was Ben’s wife and mother of their two daughters.

Ben and I had been thick together from almost the moment we met. He was from old WASP New York money, and I from new Jewish Chicago money. My great granddad Frankelstein had founded a Chevy dealership before the Great Depression and changed the family name. Uncle Sid now ran Franklin Chevrolet, the largest in the Midwest. His younger brother, my father, took a different career path.

Dad went to medical school, where he met Mom. He also took a different personal path in marriage. Mom was part of the O’Reilly clan in Northbrook. Take one part passive Jewish father, mix it with two parts aggressive Irish Catholic mother, and I popped out.

“I’m sure that Matt has something big going on with the office, but I’m surprised that he hasn’t returned your call.” Matt usually would give his left nut to be invited to Beth and Ben’s place in Greenwich.

While Ben and I talked, my mind wandered, thinking about Matt. His being back East didn’t help the relationship and love life. Until Memorial Day, we had tried to get together every two weekends either in Chicago or New York. On the Sunday before Memorial Day at our home, two months ago, we had a nasty row concerning our relationship. At one point, he shouted that he didn’t know anymore how much love he had for me. That evening, we used separate bedrooms. And while he apologized the next morning as I drove him to O’Hare, there was a definite chill in the atmosphere between us.

Since then, he had a series of excuses why we couldn’t rendezvous. I was a very unhappy camper and sensed our personal lives were out of synch when we spoke on the telephone in the evenings. Although Matt would be returning to our home in four months, just before Thanksgiving, waiting for his return made me curious about the effects of this long separation. Under closer review, I really wondered if the relationship would survive.

~~~ “Gotta run, Jerry. Have a good weekend. I’ll review the report and talk with you on Monday.”

“Ben, have a good one. Bye.”

The office culture was to close down for the week at 2:00 p.m. Nice little perk that my staff of 20 enjoyed. The married troops got a chance to get on the expressways and head home before the heavy commute hours. The singles and unattached had time to go home and change before hitting the Rush Street bars for happy hour.

I was wrapping things up around 4:00 p.m. ‘Nothing really to go home to except the cat,’ I thought wistfully. Mr. Charley was a playful Abyssinian and part of our family for the past two years. ‘Maybe I’ll hit the bars with Steve and Allen?’ I thought, knowing that I was safe when moving in the company of good friends. I hadn’t strayed since Matt and I became a couple. But, with the partnership “going south,” the temptation to play might prove too much to resist.

Deciding to call it a day, I exited my paneled, windowless office, leaving only the nightlight on, passed through the cubicle office area, and departed out the main reception entrance. Today, the warm, late afternoon sun was blazing and bright as I exited the office building. Pausing momentarily, I put on and adjusted my Ray-Bans.

Coming onto Michigan Avenue, I marveled at the sights up and down the “Magnificent Mile” on this July summer day. A teeming population of pedestrians crowded the sidewalks, offsetting the sleek skyscrapers and the dowager Drake Hotel. In addition to worker bees coming out of the office buildings and the “ladies who lunch” clutching shopping bags, there was a herd of some of the hottest-looking young men in all sorts of beachwear and flip-flops strolling to and from the popular Oak Street beach. My gaydar was being set off constantly. Occasionally looks were traded.

Waiting for the light to change, I noticed a young man standing next to me. ‘Hmm. Cute guy,’ I thought, looking over at the short blond standing about five inches below my six-foot height.

He turned to meet my stare and said with a grin, “Hi, my name’s Sammy. What’s yours?”

“Ahhh, Jerry. Hi yourself,” I replied while looking at him inquisitively.

“Is this a great day, or what?” the blond said, with a wink.

I smiled and nodded. ‘This little fart is fast on the draw,’ I judged. We were a complete contrast. Me in the requisite gray pinstripe business ensemble – Sammy in a tight tank top, board shorts, gym bag, and Nikes. My dark, tanned features – his fair skin, blue eyes and freckles. I looked back at the traffic signal.

“I’m walking up Lake Shore Drive. How about you?”

Turning back to him, I hesitated before replying, “Yeah. Just going home.”

“Want some company?” he blurted out with urgency.

“Ummm, Sure. I turn off at Schiller.” Seemed harmless. ‘And the eye candy certainly was okay,’ I reasoned.

“Cool.” The light changed and we crossed Oak Street, dodging oncoming foot traffic. “Funny how a kid’s name has stuck with me. My friends at Loyola even call me Sammy.”

“That’s a nice name. You’re in college, Sammy?” I guessed he was younger. “How old are you?”

“Just turned 21. I’ll be going back as a senior in September.”

I looked around to see if I was getting any strange looks from other pedestrians. ‘Naw. Just my paranoia,’ I reasoned. I was acquainted with many Near North residents, and I knew their tongues would wag if I were seen with a strange guy. As if I really cared any more, I didn’t need little rumors getting back to Matt. “You live around here?”

“No. I live with my folks up in Evanston. I love to come down here and mess around on the beach and meet people. Like you.” When I turned to look at him, he just laughed.

“Like me?”

“Yeah. I think you’re hot!”

“What? You think I’m…”

“A really good-looking dude. And, I bet you look great out of that suit,” he tossed out.

“Why would I be interested in you?” What had just happened was the fastest, smoothest come-on I had experienced in quite a while. Crafty.

“Cuzz, I can tell.” We had just made it to Division Street.

“Sammy, you’re a good-looking guy. I’m kinda old for you, aren’t I?” With the uncertain feelings I had for Matt, being cruised aggressively by this sexy young stud and what he was saying began to tempt me.

Laughing, he tapped my shoulder lightly with his fist and said, “I like older guys. Hey, you’re not that old. What are you, 28 or so?” He must have seen my reaction.

“Close. I’m turning 30 soon.”

“You are interested in me, aren’t you?” It was more a statement than a question.

“I’ve got someone in my life. We’ve been together for a while.”

“You two guys live together?”

“Why do you think it’s a guy?” He shrugged his shoulders. We continued. I looked across busy Outer Lake Shore Drive to the crowd on the beach and bicyclers on the wide walk trying not to hit the pedestrians.

“It is, isn’t it? A guy, I mean.”

I paused. “His name is Matt. We’re together when he’s in town.” Why was I opening up to him?

“He’s not in Chicago?” Sammy said enthusiastically.

“New York. I’ll see him there two weeks from now. My birthday party.” Ben and his Dad were hosting a dinner party at the “21” Club for me. A mixture of New York colleagues and friends.

“Well, I’m in Chicago. Let’s go to your place and mess around.”

I looked at him sternly and replied, “And why would I do that?”

“Because we’re both horny and I come with no emotional attachments.”

“Do you do this often. Hitting on strangers?” ‘Was this guy a hustler?’ I wondered.

“Only when I find someone that’s worth it. This is the way I meet people who are interesting. And you are very interesting.”

Well, there it was. All the cards out on the table, face up. Was I going to play? We were approaching Schiller. ‘Oh, fuck. My dick is telling me yes,’ I thought. Jerking off to Sean Cody’s website was a real drag and the fading presence of Matt in my heart didn’t help. I wasn’t sure that I had a reason to be faithful any more.

“Okay, bud. This is where we turn.” He switched on that infectious grin again, picking up on my choice the word ‘we’. ‘Was he just some sex-driven beach boy?’ I wondered. ‘Or, someone who aggressively sought out friends…or worse, clients?”

As we walked the short half-block and turned right on Astor, he pulled out his cell phone and punched the speed dial. “Hi, Mom. Listen. Go ahead with dinner. I ran into a friend and I’m staying downtown.” He winked again. “Yeah, love you too.” Sounded innocent enough.

“Why do you live at home with your family? I’d think that a young guy like you would want a place of your own.”

“Well, we’ve got a big house and I love my folks. The sisters are okay too.”

“Do they know you’re into tall, dark, Jewish guys?” I asked, more for a reaction than stating the obvious.

“Tall, dark and hot. Oh, intelligence has to be up there, too, but what your religious deal is doesn’t concern me.” Walking a little further, he continued, “My Mom is okay with me being gay. Dad just doesn’t talk about it.”

I was amazed that he anticipated my questions. “How about your sisters?”

“They were the first ones I told the summer after my high school graduation. They’re totally cool with it. Both flew the coop and live on the Near North side.”

Stopping at 1428, I opened the wrought iron gate and gestured for Sammy to walk through. “You mentioned to your Mom something about staying downtown? What do you have in mind?” I asked, as we took the path beside an old mansion that had been converted into condos a couple of years ago.

“Whew. This is all yours?”

“No. The main building is divided into three condo units. I bought the coach house in the rear. Now I’ve answered your question. How about answering mine?”

“Fair enough.”

“Now that you’ve run into this friend you told your mom about, what’s going to happen?”

“After I get you out of your suit and we play, I’m sure we’ll work up an appetite for some dinner.”

“You always this direct?” My cock was stirring, thinking of plowing this young stud.

“Yeah. Saves a lot of time.” He reached behind and goosed me.

Jumping a little in reaction, I removed his hand and said, “Sammy. Let’s wait until we get inside. I don’t want the neighbors to see anything.” Well, that did it. All my defenses were down. ‘What a pushover,’ I thought while opening the main door. As we entered, I proceeded with the nightly routine of closing the door, turning off the alarm system and flicking on the lights. Mr. Charley came bounding over from the living room and started purring as he rubbed his side on my pant leg.

Standing in the entry, Sammy immediately reached up and gave me a big sloppy kiss. I loved the eagerness. “Ya got a Coke or sumpin?” he asked, pulling away to remove my jacket.

I grinned and wiped my lips. “You are a wet dude. The ‘something’ is a Pepsi or Sprite? By the way, my friend here is Mr. Charley.”

Reaching down to let the cat smell his hand, he said, “Whatever you’re having.”

“Pepsi then. I’ll get us two. Come in and have a seat on the couch,” I said, as we walked into the living room. I continued through the dining area to the kitchen with Mr. Charley following. The first floor was where the carriages and autos had been stored years ago. The stables for the horses were now the den and office. A modern, spacious kitchen and patio had been added on later.

On the second floor, the former servants quarters had been converted into two master bedrooms with gigantic baths, and the laundry room. The smaller master was ideal for Mom and Dad when they were in town for a social event and didn’t want to drive back to Winnetka.

“Hey Charley, you been a good boy today?” I asked while opening a can of Iams Catfish Formula and mixing it with the dry food. This sleek, lithe, elegant cat dove right in as I retrieved the drinks.

With the sodas in hand, I returned to the living room and sat down on the couch next to young Sammy. He was flipping through the current issue of Vanity Fair with soccer-hunk David Beckham on the cover.

“I can’t believe this dude is straight,” said Sammy. “Every picture I’ve seen of Beckham is sexier than the next. And what’s with his pubes coming out of his jeans on the cover of a national magazine?” We both laughed as I examined the Vanity Fair again.

“I think the Spice Girl he married is getting more than oregano,” I replied.

“Sugar and spice…I bet everything is long and nice,” Sammy said with a chuckle as he took a sip of the Pepsi. “Ah, thanks, Jerry. This really hits the spot.”

“No problem. This is a pretty hot day.” I took a sip and thought about this stud puppy sitting beside me. It was curious to observe a sophistication-level that belied his young age.

“So, what about this Matt guy?”

“Meaning…?

“You’re here and he’s back east. I mean, he’s your lover, right? But, you don’t seem too happy,” Sammy said with a sincere look in his eyes.

“We’ve had several problems recently,” I mumbled as I looked over to sense his reaction.

“Jerry, I’m not a home-wrecker. Tell me to leave and I’m outta here.”

“I’m not asking you to leave. You’re stirring some coals deep inside me and I like it.”

“Then I’ll stay. But I must warn you, I get what I want,” Sammy said with a gleam.

“Consider, then, the RSVP accepted,” I replied with a wink and a nod. “If you can entertain yourself with Beckham, let me check my email messages in the other room. I’ll be right back.” I rose from the couch and walked back to the den.

“Okay, I’ll entertain myself. But I hope the pages have been laminated in plastic. It might get messy,” he said, laughing as I left the room.

Turning on the computer, I considered what I had innocently encountered on the avenue, and not so innocently invited home. ‘Was this a temptation to test my fidelity to Matt?’ I questioned. ‘Fuck the fidelity. Whatever we had may have gone out the back door the end of May.’ A point of redemption may have lapsed.

I checked Outlook Express and deleted some spam. The only message worth saving was one from my brother concerning the family outing that was planned the end of the month to celebrate my birthday. I’d respond later.

Walking back through the living room, I stopped and looked in amazement at a vision of perfect anatomy. Standing where I had left him, without a stitch of clothing, Sammy was one buffed-out lad. The body was a complete, proportionate specimen of a prototypical young athlete. The tan line accentuated his cute butt and groin area. With light brown trimmed pubic hair framing a normal-sized circumcised penis, his low-hanging balls looked very appetizing. “You in a hurry?” I asked.

“Naw. Just eager to know you better.” He reached down and stroked that cute dick as I joined him. Sammy quickly removed my tie and unbuttoned the shirt. I sat down the Pepsi and watched speechlessly as he removed my shirt, exposing my upper torso.

“You know I do have a room upstairs where we can go?” I remarked, as Sammy moved to his knees and removed my shoes and socks. I grabbed the couch for support to raise each foot.

“I love hairy chests,” he said, while loosening the belt, still on his knees. After unbuttoning the pants, he quickly unzipped the fly and eased the trouser legs down. Getting into the flow of the afternoon, I stepped out of them and pushed them aside. “And I love the way that dark hair of yours travels down there,” he added, running his fingers down my chest to the belly button. Sammy placed his hands around my waist and pulled down the boxers, exposing my half-hard cock. “Ummm,” he exclaimed.

I discarded the shorts with a kick and started massaging Sammy’s blond hair as he leaned in and licked my balls cupped in his hand. My cock was rapidly stirring to its full size. Looking down, I noticed that Sammy was now fully erect. While it appeared that we were both in the normal six plus inches range, I was a little thicker. “You like what you see?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, Jerry.” With that he took my hard cock in his mouth and slowly moved forward while his tongue danced around the organ and continued to play with my balls.

I took this opportunity to pull him up. If I were going to screw around, it would be on my schedule. This was an experience that I wanted to enjoy for a while. ‘If I was going to cheat,’ I thought, ‘might as well make the most of it.’ As we stood together, I looked down and noticed the contrast of pubic hair color and shading of our skin. I wrapped my hand around his pre-cum glistening dick and started a jacking motion. “I suppose that I should formally introduce myself. I’m Jerry Franklin.”

“And I’m Sammy McDonald.” He leaned up and kissed me again. I opened my mouth and our tongues met. After playfully flicking both tongues back and forth, I received his deep probe. At the same time, he was grinding his crotch into my thigh while I kneaded his firm buttocks. He pulled back and asked, “You mentioned something about a room upstairs?”

“Follow me.” We left the clothes clustered in the pile and walked upstairs. Sammy playfully used his finger to tickle my ball sac and perineum from behind. Chuckling, I responded, “Just for the record, I’m a top.”

Arriving at the second floor hallway, he said, ”Cool. You’ve got condoms?”

I placed my arm around him as we walked into the bedroom and said, “I’ve got everything. Anything we do will be done safely.”

“Great. Just checking. I’m negative and plan on staying that way.”

“Me too,” I responded while turning him around to face me. Looking into his eyes, I stated, “You’re pretty cocksure about yourself. Have you always been this aggressive?”

“I go after what I want, Jerry. Always have. School, wrestling and friends. I take nothing for granted. As far as being ‘cocksure,’ I know two cocks that sure are ready.” He laughed as he stroked my dripping dick. We kissed again as I copied his hand motions. He continued, “If you don’t mind, I want to shower first. I’ve got some sand in my crotch and a lot of sweat from volleyball.”

“I’ll join you.” Sammy squeezed me tightly around the waist as I led him into the bathroom.

“Wow, what a large shower,” Sammy observed, as I turned on the four-headed walk-in green marble shower with a clear glass panel at the entrance. Adjusting the temperature on the electronic controls, I let him enter first and get under the water flow when the LED readout hit a comfortable 105 degrees. He proceeded to soap himself in the front and pube area. Entering the shower, I took some soap gel and gently rubbed up and down his ass cleft and around the puckered anus. My efforts did not go unnoticed. “Mmmm, I like.”

“Might as well get all the sand out,” I suggested as my finger gently started short movements in and out of his hole. He slowly relaxed his sphincter and moved into my finger while slowly rotating his butt. I hit his prostate almost immediately. “Bulls eye,” I said while kissing his neck as he slightly convulsed. He eased himself away from my digital impalement and turned around.

Taking his soapy hands, he started massaging my scrotum, rolling one orb at a time. I was washing his pecs and armpits. For the next ten minutes it was a combination washing and body groping session. “Jerry, let’s rinse off and dry. I think that you took care of the sand.” He rose up and kissed me lightly.

With all the soap rinsed, I grabbed an over-sized towel and dried my young companion. He laughed as I purposely tickled him on his sides. “Looks like I’ve found some spots to attack later on.”

He playfully pulled on my dick and replied, “I think I know all kinds of spots I want to attack on you.”

Both dried and the towel tossed aside, we returned to the bed. He had his arm wrapped around me. I had his right glute ass cheek in my right paw.

Pulling away, I stripped the king bed of the decorative pillows and bed covers, leaving just the bottom sheet. I scooted on the bed and said, “Come over here, Tiger.” On my back, I leaned up and supported myself by my elbows. Sammy crawled in between my spread legs and eased himself up so that we were face to face, his tight body on top of me. I could feel his heart beating rapidly and his breath on my face. Because of the height difference, his balls were resting in my navel, and my dickhead was touching his perineum. We were both hard as rocks.

While kissing my eyes and probing my nostrils with his tongue, his fingers and thumbs were tenderly rolling my nipples around. “Take me for a ride. I want you in me,” he said before straddling my thigh and bringing his tongue down to my pits. Lapping away, he was inhaling me at the same time. Sammy was a busy man. With this going on, his free hand started slowly jacking me. I was getting close to sensuous overload. Talk about multi-tasking.

“How do you like to get fucked?”

“Woof, woof,” was the reply, accompanied with a sly grin. With that, he got up and sat next to me on the bed. “Where’s the stuff?”

Copyright © 2011 Jack Scribe; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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