Splash On The Screen - 27. Chapter 27 Holidays and More Friends

MIKE

Sleeping arrangements were complicated this 1998 Christmas holiday, even with the new guest cottage. Mom was assigned to our master, Brent and Doug occupied Justin’s room, and Justin and Bryan shared the smaller spare bedroom. Dave and I camped out on the sleeper in the den, leaving the new guest cottage for Uncle Trey and Aunt Betty.

With Christmas falling on a Friday, most of the corporate holiday partying finished at the restaurant the previous weekend. While I handled the arrangements for the final three parties at El Padre that Sunday, Dave and Justin drove to the airport to pick up mom on an early afternoon arrival from Chicago.

Dave told me that Justin wasn’t prepared for the bundle of energetic emotions that was wrapped around mom as she deplaned. Upon spotting Dave and her new grandson standing away from the gate, she literally trotted across the concourse terrazzo floor, darting through and dodging the other passengers. Mom arrived and slid into Dave’s arms. “Oh, boys,” was all she could say.

After a momentary hug she became aware of additional arms around her. Justin quietly said, “Hi, Grams,” and mom’s maternal instincts kicked in.

“Justin, welcome to our family…you handsome young man,” Mom uttered as she pulled back to inspect him in the flesh.

Dave related that a flood of tears emoted from the duo as they stood in the middle of the airport concourse. Calmer moments prevailed later as Justin got to know his new grandmother on the way to the baggage area. By the time everyone returned home he had given grams a capsule rundown on his earlier life in Duluth and his school days at Shattuck-St. Mary’s. It was easy on mom’s part to open her heart and life to Jus as a newly minted family member. Justin went with the flow and relished the acceptance…and mom relished being called grams.

The Swensons, coming in from Minneapolis, rented a car and found their way to the house an hour later. Uncle Trey and Aunt Betty were planning to take some side trips while they vacationed in the Southland and wanted the flexibility of getaway wheels. Although more reserved than my mom, they nevertheless were just as eager to meet Justin. Our son basked in the experience of being the momentary center of attention by his new relatives on both sides of the family and thought it was neat to meet more Minnesota relatives. Noticing that his grandnephew was approaching Dave’s height and a swimmer’s lanky build, Uncle Trev announced that Justin was, indeed, a chip off the old Swenson block. Justin’s grin radiated the room with love as he walked up to his uncle and gave Uncle Trey a strong hug.

The L.A. guys braved the 405 and arrived around 5:00 p.m. – just in time for a batch of Dave’s blender-magic margaritas, guacamole and chicken quesadillas. Dave chided Justin and Bryan when he caught them pouring a glass of the tequila-fortified cocktail for themselves in the kitchen. It was Diet Cokes for the young brood for the rest of the evening although Doug and Brent joined Dave in secret amusement at their sons’ mischievousness. Mom and the Swensons enjoyed getting to know our best friends and were pretty loose after the second drink. They regaled the group by telling harmless childhood stories about Dave and me, I was told later.

Reservations for the entire group were made for 7:30 p.m. at El Padre. While the private parties were running at capacity, the dining room was very slow…typical for restaurants during the holiday season. Between parties at restaurants, clubs and private homes, dining out ground to a halt during Christmas. My management discount was welcomed revenue – even with the discount – and the family table helped the restaurant look busy. And it didn’t hurt that our restaurant patrons recognized Brent. They would be telling everyone who would listen how they’d seen Brad Williams at El Padre.

During dinner, Justin was wedged between Bryan and Mom. She couldn’t get over that she had a grandson, albeit a strapping, 6’ 1” teen. Uncle Trey and Aunt Betty shared Dave, while Brent and Doug sat at opposite sides of the table. Mom approved of the Swensons as in-laws and was charmed by Bryan. I joined the group for dessert, squeezing in next to Mom. At one point she quietly said to me that she sensed something more than a friendship between Jus and Bry. I smiled, winked and nodded. She understood that nothing more needed to be said. The conversation flowed until the restaurant closed and we returned to Casa Swenson-Cole.

A vision of fantasy awaited us when we arrived homearound 11:00 p.m. Dave and I had purposely set all the Christmas lights on a timer so that no one was aware of the impact at night until we all returned together. As our cars rounded the corner, the passengers were taken back by the beauty of the front trees glistening with thousands of small, white lights. The open drapes revealed the giant Christmas tree, decked out in multi-colored glory. The only missing effect was the sidewalk that would be lit by the flickering light of farolitos tomorrow night. The family and best friends privately welcomed the holidays as we entered our home.

After a kickback, hang-around-the-house Monday, everyone was encouraged to disappear on Tuesday so we could get organized for our evening Christmas party. Mom and the guys decided to be mall rats for the day, while the Swensons’ drove over to the coast and checked out La Jolla. The florist was due around noon to arrange the rest of the Christmas decorations. To respect our Jewish guests invited to the party, the decorator also brought a beautiful silver menorah and candles.

Months earlier Dave and I had decided that it was time to officially have a housewarming in the form of a holiday cocktail party. It was also the first time, as a couple, that we would entertain a broad spectrum of acquaintances and friends. Although somewhere in the subconscious there was pride in showing off our remarkable home, we wanted to present ourselves as the cohesive, stable family we were. Because of the special occasion, I hired a photographer for the evening so that we could send candid pictures to the guests as gifts in January.

Dave had handled the invitations and followed up on the RSVP’s. With Tom Feldman and Mark Connelly staying in San Diego for Christmas and Hanukkah, the senior Connellys decided to escape the wet Seattle winter and reserved a suite at the Del Coronado to see their son and his friend for the holidays. That set the pace for Tom’s parents. Mr. And Mrs. TJ Feldman also arranged for a suite at the ‘Del’. A convergence of in-laws – and all were coming to our party with their sons. I smiled when I considered how busy the hotel’s business center and concierge department would be with the two moguls in residence. ‘The fax lines between the Del and L.A., plus Seattle, will be sizzling,’ I thought.

Justin’s two best school friends – Alan Estes and Kevin McCarthy – and their folks accepted the invitation, along with four other teammates and parents. The low RSVP from the Bishop’s School classmates was because most of the school crowd traveled to second homes in Palm Springs, Hawaii or Aspen for the holidays with their families. Dave called all the parents and made sure that there were no surprises at the party. He told them that he and I were Justin’s guardians and also a committed couple. None registered surprise and looked forward to meeting us.

Dave spent the most time on the phone with Justin’s best friends’ dads. Mr. Estes, Alan’s father, a senior executive with a large, north county computer software firm, told Dave that his company had been a pioneer in domestic partner benefits. Kevin McCarthy’s dad was a partner in a progressive, downtown law firm with solid ties to the Clinton White House. We suspected that the parents were more in-tune with their sons’ friendship than they let on and I was pleased that they enthusiastically looked forward to meeting us…Justin’s parents.

Brent asked if he could invite an actress friend, Karen Divine, and her special friend. Obviously, the next Julia Roberts would be welcomed at any party, but we would never refuse any request from our buddy. He explained that Karen and Tamara Borden, her partner and a medical student at UCLA, were visiting family in San Diego and they would love an opportunity to escape for a fun party. ‘Okay,’ I thought, ‘let the good times roll.’ Brent agreed that he and Doug would be their official escorts for public consumption.

Before we knew it, the small, intimate gathering had mushroomed to a heady 75 guests, with a list that would be the envy of any host. I contacted a valet service to handle the auto traffic and added two bartenders to the catering crew. The costs were mushrooming, but Dave assured me that we could afford the party.

Politically, the party was a good investment for our rainbow family. In addition to some classmates of Dave’s, I was amazed that he succeeded in getting several favorite UCSD professors to attend. I had invited the Connor family, senior and junior, as well as some Navy friends who were still stationed at North Island. Two of my favorite retired admirals and their wives were delighted to be included.

We were both happily surprised when Justin’s headmaster from The Bishop’s School accepted his invitation. Additionally, the swimming coaches and his favorite science teacher would be there with their spouses or dates.

After reviewing the final guest list, Dave and I were both a little nervous that we had gotten too carried away with our first party. Scarier was a telephone call from TJ Feldman’s office Tuesday afternoon. His primary admin assistant apologized profusely for the request for a late additional RSVP. Mr. Feldman was en route to San Diego and had invited close friends from San Francisco, Mr. and Mrs. Blum, to attend our party. They had accepted but TJ had forgotten to pass that information along. She said that the Blum’s had decided to travel to San Diego for a small fund-raising luncheon event at the last minute. ‘What the hell,’ I thought, ‘how do you say no to TJ? What are two more guests at this point?’

I acknowledged the RSVP and assured TJ’s assistant that we would welcome the Blums. She thanked me and mentioned, in passing, that the Senator looked forward to meeting Dave Swenson. ‘Oh, fuck,’ I thought, ‘I just accepted the RSVP for Mr. and Mrs. Richard Blum: ‘Mrs.’ was also known as Senator Diane Feinstein.

~~~~~

“Okay, Dave. Are you ready for our debut?” I asked with a sly grin. It was just before 6:00 p.m. and I had finished conducting a final briefing with the catering supervisor before the first guests arrived.

“I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life, babe. What happened to the simple ho, ho, let’s have a cup of egg nog thing we originally planned?” Dave asked with his brow furrowed.

“Smile, we’re on candid camera…everything’s covered. Chalk it up to parent-teacher-community relations.”

“Might as well add ‘military-industrial complex’ to the list,” Dave said with a chuckle, quoting President Eisenhower’s words of warning from almost 40 years ago.

“That, too.” ‘Feinstein, Connelly, Estes, TJ and the admirals certainly added weight to Dave’s comment,’ I considered. “But we’re too low on the totem pole to worry about that…yet.” We had spoken about ambitions and dreams often when we were cuddling and nuzzling. My man was harboring some lofty ideas about a political future down the road, in San Diego and beyond.

“Then, I’m just going to enjoy the evening,” Dave replied. We walked over to the living room portable bar located next to the ceiling-height Christmas tree and accepted glasses of white wine from a polite, good-looking bartender. I silently thought the room looked very sharp as we stood admiring the holiday décor mixed with the Paul Klee above the fireplace and the Modigliani on the opposite wall.

“Hey, no early drinking,” Brent yelled from the hallway, “unless we can join you.”

We turned to see our buddies walk towards us. Tonight was a handshake public moment. We warmly greeted each other and walked back to the bar.

“The party officially begins in two minutes, Sir. The drinking lamp is lit,” I said, paraphrasing an old military term.

“Make it a Stoli and cranberry,” Brent said, grinning at the bartender. “And a white wine for the old guy.” He turned and winked at Doug.

“Old, my ass,” Doug replied.

“Well,” Brent said with a pregnant pause, “I’ll take your word for it.” The bartender couldn’t contain himself and started laughing. “This guy and I have been great friends since our Navy days,” Brent continued, speaking to the bartender. “I like to rub it in that he’ll be approaching 29 soon.”

Hearing the doorbell ring, I was alerted to our first guests.

“Guys, excuse me.” I smiled and walked to the front door to greet the arrivals. I noticed the servers placing finger food on the table in the Kandinsky-dominated dining room, as I passed by. I thought the red-lacquered walls really set off the green wreaths with large, gold bows.

“While you’re at the door, I’m going out to the patio and check out the food arrangements,” Dave said loudly. We had decided to serve most of the food outside to encourage the guests to flow through the house. Heat pods and Tiki torches created physical and visual warmth.

“Mike, Merry Christmas,” said my old Navy friend and boss’s son, Tom Connor. He and his wife walked through the opened door and we greeted each other.

“You may be first to arrive but don’t you two dare be the first to leave,” I said after giving her an air-kiss. “The bar’s in the living room and the eats are out back. The catering guys really did a bang-up job.”

“We plan on partying tonight, buddy. See ya later.”

As the Connor’s walked by, I smiled at the subtle presence of our security doorman. Dressed in a blazer, tie and white shirt ensemble, the handsome, chiseled man was an offensive lineman for San Diego State who earned extra bucks for events such as this. Although very friendly, articulate and reserved, his 6’ 6” solid, trim, 230-pound frame would cause anyone second thoughts about creating a problem.

The party flowed without a hitch and Connor Catering hit a home run. The dynamics of the guest diversity were not lost on any of the invitees and Justin’s friends were a little overwhelmed at meeting Brent and Karen. Or, as one young wag said, “Wow, movie stars that aren’t computer-generated.” Brent promised to send each of Justin’s friends an autographed T-shirt that promoted his new film.

We briefed Jus to say that Brad and Doug were old friends of ours from the Navy days and Doug was Bryan’s guardian. While his buddies went gaga over Karen, Justin became mesmerized talking to her beautiful, mocha-skinned medical student friend. ‘The first steps to a solid mentoring relationship,’ I concluded.

Tom Feldman and Mark Connelly arrived with the senior Connellys. Mark winked at me while I greeted his parents, signaling that everything was solid with the four of them. After the introductions, Mrs. Connelly became attracted to Paul Klee. She stepped closer to the fireplace, raised her eyebrow and nodded several times as she studied the painting. In fact, Mrs. Connelly asked if she could return before they returned to Seattle to properly view all the art. She also suggested that we all get together for a lunch or dinner somewhere in San Diego.

Political and business networking overlapped with Mr. Connelly and Mr. Estes. At this point, the Connelly-owned ConSoft software company had reached a net worth well over two billion dollars. A drop in the bucket when you compared ConSoft’s value with their famous Seattle neighbor, but still impressive. The two computer-savvy men struck an immediate friendship and, while talking shop, decided that maybe ConSoft and the Estes’ firm could find some common ground for a joint venture. ‘Estes would be promoted beyond his senior vice president position if the deal comes about with ConSoft,’ I thought.

Kevin’s father was keenly aware of the unplanned political impact of the party when TJ Feldman entered the room with his statuesque, Donna Karan-clad wife. Mr. McCarthy and TJ were both members of the state Democrat committee. To have the behind-the-scenes L.A. powerhouse at a social gathering, hosted at his son’s friend’s house, was one thing…but when Mr. and Mrs. Blum swept into the living room a little after 7:30 p.m., I thought that I’d have to run out to buy a fresh supply of Depends for Mr. McCarthy. Spotting the McCarthys, she winked at them and worked the room as she made her way over. “Mac, you devil,” she said as she grasped the hands of the McCarthys, “what a pleasant surprise to see you and Gloria at Dave’s house.”

“Trust me, Diane, the surprise is ours,” Mr. McCarthy replied.

I would have loved to be a fly on the wall and have heard the McCarthy’s bedroom conversation after the party.

DAVE

I was out by the pool talking to a few of my UCSD classmates when I saw Mike coming out of the house, leading his mom, the Blums and the Feldmans over in my direction. As my group intently observed the entrance of our Senator, I excused myself and walked over to the patio to greet our newly arrived guests. I smiled at Uncle Trev and nodded for him to join me. I noted that Aunt Betty was enjoying a humorous, animated conversation with Justin’s headmaster.

“Senator, Mr. Blum, I know that Mike has already welcomed you to our home. I’m really delighted that you would take time from your busy schedule to visit us.”

“Dave, when TJ contacted me concerning the horrible, hateful treatment you encountered while you were in the Navy, I was determined to meet you someday and apologize for how our government abused your trust. Hopefully that now-retired captain is in the minority.”

I focused on her warm eyes and direct eye contact. Both of her hands held mine while she spoke. “I really appreciated your help, along with Senators Boxer and Wellstone. I plan on studying law at the University of San Diego after UCSD and the idea of becoming some sort of grass-roots advocate to work on civil rights issues has crossed my mind,” I said with a confident smile.

“My San Diego office could use a good man like you for some part-time work. Would you be interested?”

“Interested?” I asked with a big grin. “I’d love it.” ‘Jeez,’ I thought, ‘what a great opportunity.’

“Call the office down here after the first of the year. I’ll be sure they know to expect you,” she replied warmly.

“Thanks, very much, Ma’am,” I said, taking both of her hands in mine. “Oh, allow me to introduce my Uncle, Trey Swenson from Minneapolis.” He walked up to the group and immediately shook the Senator’s hand.

“Dave, the Minnesota Swensons are not exactly unknown in our circles. Trey, good to see you somewhere other than a smoky caucus room,” the Senator said, warmly.

After greeting the Senator and meeting Mr. Blum, Uncle Trey hugged TJ like an old friend. I knew they moved in the same political circles in party fund-raising but was a little taken back to learn they had known each other for ten years. While they all talked, I asked Senator Feinstein if she would come over and meet some of my classmates. She joked about never missing the opportunity to press the flesh with potential voters as we re-joined my friends.

~~~~~

“Guys, this was some evening,” I said. Mike, Brent, Doug and I were sitting in a quiet, slightly disheveled living room. It was a little after midnight and the catering crew had done a great job cleaning up the mess throughout the house and patio area before leaving. Everyone else had gone to bed and we decided to finish the last of the Grand Marnier.

“I have a feeling that Justin will become a legend by the time his teammates embellish the stories about your party at school,” Brent added with a laugh.

The young swimmers enjoyed the party and meeting all of the L.A. guests. Bryan became a new instant friend and the guys ended the evening with competitive shoptalk, comparing swim times and techniques. I had given Justin permission to invite any of his friends to use the lap pool during the holidays and on weekends. ‘Our place is going to become a popular, jock hangout,’ I thought, ‘with the team.’ And Justin had already asked permission to plan a party for all of his high school friends in the spring.

“Don’t forget about the pictures that were taken. I’m sure that they will be a prized souvenir for all the boys,” Mike said.

“And a prize for a few magazines,” Brent said flippantly with a shrug.

At TJ’s request and with Brent’s reluctant permission, Mike promised that the photographer would e-mail several photographs of Brent, Karen and Senator Feinstein to TJ’s office. They would find their way into the next issue of People and Entertainment Weekly magazines. ‘Ahhh,’ I thought, smiling, ‘the wondrous webs of deceit and fantasy that Hollywood cranks out.’ I was assured that any release would not mention the location or the hosts’ names.

“Can you believe that it’s been only two and a half years since we were out on the patio toasting Dave’s birthday and I was helping with Brent’s play lines?” Doug asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “July 4^th, 1996, to be exact.” A slight surge of energy went through my body as I considered that milestone event at our new home.

“Two and a half years have produced several changes: some planned and others that came out of left field,” Mike added. “Who’d have thought that we’d be dads to two amazing boys?”

We all smiled and nodded.

“I’m not sure ‘boys’ is the right description for our growing, soon-to-be-adult, sons,” Brent remarked wistfully. “But I know that we’re all proud of those guys.”

“Absolutely. And we might be in-laws someday,” I said with a laugh. “Plus you guys are just starting on a dynamic film career.”

“Well, don’t be so sure about that,” Brent replied. He paused as we digested his comment and continued, “Doug is going to be the show biz guy in our family. I really do plan on retiring from acting once I get my legal degree and pass the bar.”

“Brent, with all due respect, won’t it be hard to turn down the big bucks that Sam and CAM will throw your way?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “Fuck, the way you’re going, you’ll be pulling down Tom Cruise money soon.”

“We’re going to have enough. The condo mortgage has been paid in full and we really don’t require exotic trappings that some of our contemporaries in Hollywood seem to need. Plus, we want a fairly normal environment for Bryan.”

“That our son doesn’t get swept up in this whole Hollywood thing is very important,” Doug added. “So far, he seems to take everything in stride. But I’m not sure what the result would be if we bought some multi-million dollar estate in Beverly Hills.”

“And we’re not going to find out. The condo is just fine. Of bigger concern is this public lie I have to live to make movies. I know that Doug’s going to receive acclaim as a terrific director very soon. By that point, no one will bat an eye that a hot movie director’s partner is a former actor and lawyer.”

“That’s quite a game plan,” Mike said.

“But I’m not completely naive. I’ll probably join one of the big entertainment law firms and whore out my name,” Brent said, smiling, with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “And don’t be surprised if Tom Feldman and I team up with our own firm someday.”

“And I thought I had some lofty dreams,” I answered with a smile, as I conjured up the image of Brent’s Batman and Tom’s Robin in their barrister Batmobile…rocketing down Sunset Boulevard to settle some actor’s contractual dispute with a producer.

“Buddy, if you ever would consider living in L.A., I’d love to include you in that future,” Brent said, looking into my eyes with an intensity that told me he was serious.

“Let me get out of law school first,” I replied, “plus Mike’s restaurant career is here in San Diego.”

“For right now. But I wouldn’t mind keeping our options open, babe,” Mike said.

“Sounds like we’ve got plan B to consider down the road.” We had both thought that the faster pace of life two hours north was something to consider after I received my law degree.

“By the way,” Doug added, “in two weeks Bryan will officially have a new name.” Both Brent and Doug were beaming. “Bryan asked for a family meeting and suggested it.”

“And?” Mike and I asked at the same time.

“We are going to announce it at breakfast tomorrow, so act surprised. We all agreed that he would be known as Bryan Williams DiMarco.”

“Williams-DiMarco…a hyphenated name?” I had remembered my mom telling me years ago about how the 60’s hippie generation would sometimes use both names for their kid’s last name.

“No, it’ll be Bryan DiMarco – The Williams will be his middle name,” Brent replied, “and everything legally takes place after the first of the year.”

“Wow, that is something,” I said as I hoisted my snifter. “Here’s to Bryan Williams DiMarco and his great parents.” Everyone reached over and clinked the snifters before the congratulatory sip.

“I wonder if this is going to put ideas into Justin’s head?” Mike asked. “Not that I would complain if Cole became his middle name.” He tenderly grabbed my hand and squeezed lightly.

“Or, Swenson?” I added with a smile. “But if he wants to keep Palmer, it’s fine with me. Let’s see how it plays out.”

“Speaking of Swenson, it looks like you’ve got some good shit happening with Senator Feinstein,” Brent said.

“Yes, I still can’t believe she offered something that I’ve been dreaming of,” I answered. “My priorities, after Mike and Justin, are to become the best lawyer I can be, and see if politics will be a part of my life.” I squeezed Mike’s hand in return.

“Guys, it will be interesting to get together in five years and compare notes on tonight’s conversation,” Doug said. “Let’s all put down on paper our thoughts and predictions, and let Dave have them for safekeeping.”

“And we’ll open them Christmas 2003 in this room?” I asked.

“Yes,” was the unanimous reply as we clinked the snifters again and drained the contents.

~~~~~

While Mike took his turn cleaning, brushing and peeing in our small restroom by the kitchen, I crawled into the den sleeper couch. What had transpired tonight at the party and discussed later with our best friends posed challenges and goals that I had only vaguely considered. ‘Wow,’ I considered, ‘five years is not that far off.’

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mike said when he padded back into the den. Re-starting his swimming regimen in our pool had brought back the tone to his beautiful body and the outline of his packagelooked tempting beneath the white cotton of his CK’s.

“Hop in…I’ve got more than a penny for you,” I said as I scooted over.

“Yeah, about eight inches the last time I measured.” He winked, pulled off his briefs, pulled back the covers and lay down next to my nude body.

“I’m not sure how you can measure with your mouth, but I’m not complaining,” I replied with a laugh. We were on our sides, mirroring each other. Gently he leaned in and we engaged in a kiss. Our cocks, pressed closely together, became aroused to the slow, sultry, grinding action of our groins.

“I’ve got another way of measuring,” Mike said, reaching down to squeeze the tip of my wet, hard penis.

“Sounds like you’re itching for a…?” I asked with a lustful grin.

“You got it. Get that dipstick going ’cuz I got an itch,” Mike replied as he rolled over on his back.

‘Wow,’ I judged, ‘I count my blessings every day that this wonderful, sexy, hunk is part of my life.’ I rose and repositioned myself on my knees between his legs. It was my mission to tongue-love Mike’s nether region as a preamble. Leaning down, I tenderly kissed his dick and let my tongue trail down to his balls. After sucking each for a few moments, my tongue continued to the perineum.

“Oh, fuck, man,” Mike groaned.

I paused and gently chewed at the skin while moving closer to the objective. Finally, my tongue reached its destination and I started tentative swipes around his hole before starting a shallow stabbing action with my dart-shaped tongue. “Urghh,” was all I could utter…a lustful grunt while breathing Mike’s maleness.

“Dave…yeah, shove that tongue up my butt, eat me, man. Get in there…ahhh…” I raised his spread legs back so I could dig deeper.

“Mmmm,” I hummed, knowing that Mike felt the vibration from my lips and tongue as I increased the volume.

“Go for it, bastard. I want your hard dick up there. Push my button. Ohhh…do it…”

I withdrew my tongue and kissed his nuts. Mike looked up at me and winked as I rose to open the cap of the lube. “Let’s take care of this first,” I said while squirting a generous amount of lube on my fingers and our dicks.

He smoothed the cool lube around my hard cock as I reached down and started vigorously massaging his saliva-moistened hole. I was confident from experience that two fingers could immediately enter with no resistance. They twirled and twisted inside his sensitive interior, stretching Mike’s ring. At the same time, I sought out his love nut and brushed by it playfully. He wiggled with the electric pleasure. By the time I added a third digit, he was ready to be taken.

“Fuck me…put it in,” Mike said as he raised his legs up around my shoulders.

I scooted a pillow under his raised bum and leaned down for a musk-tainted kiss. He reached down and positioned my dick head at his entrance. “Something to take care of that itch coming right up,” I said with a determined grin as I slowly moved my rock-hard penis into him. Mike pushed out as I slipped in past his relaxed sphincter.

“Oh, man…uhhh…urghh,” moaned Mike.

I moved the entire length in and parked for a few moments. He started lightly rubbing his slick piss slit with his thumb. When I started a long-dicking action, he slid his legs down and wrapped them around my waist. “You hot, gorgeous…man, I love you,” I said, stopping for a moment while our eyes made contact.

“Dave, hit my button…oh, fucker…jeez…slam that big…ahhh...”

He was mesmerized as I started introducing short jabs, engaging his prostate, and then going back to long action. Occasionally I’d pause when one of us was ready to go over the top. We both wanted our lovemaking to last for a while.

“You feel so tight and good,” I said loudly. “You like it, don’t you?” I saw beads of perspiration falling from my forehead as I sped up the action.

Mike started to jack in synch with my movements. “Man, I’m almost there…oh, shit,” he yelled.

“Me, too – ready to blast. Let’s do it together,” I commanded.

“I’m cumming…oh, fuuuck…” His ass muscle started tightened as the first volley shot out of his slit and landed on his chest.

When Mike shot his second batch, I started trembling as my warm wetness blasted out and filled his chute. “Ohhh, Christ…ah…Mike…ah, shit,” was all I could utter as we released together.

We lay there motionlessly for a few moments. Our hearts were beating as the hearts of two racehorses would after crossing the finish line. After completing the cleaning and tidying duties, I lay back down next to my lover and pulled up the covers. We kissed before he rolled over on his side so that I could spoon up against his back.

“Whatever happens in our lives, I know that in 2003 we’re going to be stronger than ever.”

“No doubt in my mind, whatsoever.” I replied, “Night, Hon.”