All My Dreams Pass Before My Eyes - 12. Chapter 12 A Funeral and a Birthday

Spring semester. He wasn’t even two weeks into classes when he received a text message from his mother to call home right away. When he reached her, he found out his grandfather, her father, had passed away.

Sad, not tragic. He had suffered from Alzheimer’s disease for several years. Carey hadn’t even seen him in over five years. His mother told him the funeral would be in three days. Out of respect for him and as a favor to her, she asked him to attend.

Two days later, he jumped in his car with an overnight bag and drove five hours to the city where his grandfather had lived and would be buried. When he arrived at the hotel where he’d been told to report, he was surprised to find it was a five-star luxury hotel. This was definitely out of character with his parents’ frugal spending habits and the modest way he had been raised. Thinking he would be rooming with one of his relatives, he was surprised when he was assigned to his own beautifully appointed accommodations.

A small hospitality room was reserved for the family to get together that night. When he arrived, he found more of a party atmosphere than a wake. His parents greeted him warmly as did relatives he rarely saw. He got reacquainted with his three cousins, all of whom were younger than him. Sixteen, twelve, and eight.

The funeral service was the next morning. Because his grandmother had died several years ago from cancer, his grandfather’s primary mourners consisted of his mother, an aunt, and his uncle. Remarks, including the eulogy, were brief and respectful. Burial at the cemetery was equally so. Almost perfunctory.

As the crowd began to disperse, his father came up to him.

“We’re all going to go for lunch and then we’ll meet with the attorney.”

“What for?”

“To read the will, of course.”

Carey looked at him with surprise.

“Well, everyone is here. We might as well get it done.”

After a brief lunch at a nearby restaurant, they all drove to the attorney’s office in a caravan.

When they arrived, a legal assistant escorted all of them into a large wood paneled conference room. Ten family members were in attendance.

His grandfather’s attorney came in. A distinguished looking man. After the legal assistant escorted him around the room to introduce him to each person, he beckoned them to all sit down for the reading of the will.

The first part of it sounded like any other will. When it came to the part where his grandfather’s assets were to be awarded to his heirs, everyone sat up straight. Carey didn’t understand all of the language but it was pretty easy to get that a trust had been created for the benefit of his mother, aunt, and uncle.

A summary of the assets to be placed in the trust was read. Carey’s mouth opened and his jaw dropped in surprise. His grandfather’s holdings included a vast array of commercial property, office buildings, technology parks, and a thirty-story office tower that dominated the city’s skyline. In addition, each one of them was to receive a bequest in the amount of five million dollars in cash. Several people in the room let out long sighs.

“And then we come to the grandchildren,” the attorney said.

Carey was already reeling but his attention was riveted on what followed.

Naming each grandchild, the attorney said that each one of them would receive an account in trust for them that would fund their entire college education. If they chose to go on for post graduate work, this would be fully paid for, too. In addition, each one of them would have unrestricted access to one million dollars in cash once they attained the age of twenty-one.

Carey could hardly feel his face.

Everyone in the room seemed to relax. After a few other bequests and charitable donations were announced, things wrapped up quickly.

With lots of back slapping and hugs, the family broke up into groups to commiserate. It was almost too much for Carey to absorb. The idea that his student loans were gone was amazing. His first thought was to buy a new car with his new found wealth.

He’s not sure why he did it. Perhaps it was habit. But, amidst all the chatter he decided to check his email. Amongst the spam and cursory emails about course assignments, one message stuck out.

The title in the message line was, “Photo Shoot.” When he opened it, the email read: “I attended the meeting last semester where you were interviewed. I’m working on a project and am wondering if you would let me take a few pictures of you. Please respond at your earliest convenience.” It was signed, Miranda Hathaway, BFA, MFA, College of Fine Arts. An office address and telephone numbers followed.

In spite of everything that had just happened, he felt his pulse quicken and a line of sweat form along his hairline. Part of his mind said, “No Way!” Another part…? Jerking himself back into the present, he quickly stuck the phone back into his pocket.

Next stop for the family was his grandfather’s house. They were all invited to take whatever they wanted before the house and its contents were auctioned off or sold. Carey vaguely remembered the house from past visits. He’d never paid much attention. But, standing before it now and knowing what he now knew, the house surprised him. It was a simple one story Mid-Century style ranch house in a middle income neighborhood.

No one had actually lived in it for years since his grandfather had entered memory care. But, the lawn, the paint on the exterior, and the inside of the house were in perfect condition. It was as if someone was actually living there. Everything was spotless. The furniture was dusted and polished. Everything looked old and outdated but very well maintained.

A free for all ensued. Family members went about the task of raping the house of any and everything that could be valuable. Carey watched as dishes, silver, lamps, furniture, and art work was carried out of the house by the gleeful survivors.

Carey wandered around aimlessly. He found his grandfather’s bedroom at the end of one hallway. After scanning the room, he entered the large walk-in closet. A long row of expensive looking suits on one side, shelves of starched and folded dressed shirts on the other side. There must have been twenty-five pairs of shoes, all shined to a high gloss, lined up neatly on shelves below the dress shirts.

When he opened one of the accessory drawers he found a beautiful pair of onyx cuff links with a matching tie clasp he somehow remembered his grandfather wearing. Along with selecting the cuff link set as a keepsake, he picked several beautiful silk hankies. When he brought one of them to his nose, it still smelled like his grandfather’s after shave. A clear plastic dry cleaning bag sat on one of the shelves so he used it for the jewelry and hankies.

After leaving the bedroom, Carey dodged his aunt and uncle as they struggled to carry a large painting through the hallway out to their mini-van. Strolling to the opposite side of the house, he decided to check out his grandfather’s study.

The room was as he’d remembered it from visits as a little kid. Mahogany bookcases lined three of the four walls from ceiling to floor. A big overstuffed armchair sat in front of a large television that pre-dated flat screen technology. Carey ran his fingers across the spines of the books as he walked around the room. His grandfather must have been a voracious reader. Many of the books were on economics and politics. There was a wide variety of fiction with what seemed like the entire collections of several authors. One section held rows of art and art history books.

Randomly, Carey discovered a narrow volume stuck between two books on investing. The title on the spine shocked Carey: Faggots.

He pulled it off the shelf and stared at the provocative cover of a naked man, shot from the side, as he bent over. When he opened it up, he found the title page autographed. “To Sanford, Cheers! Larry Kramer.” Sanford was his grandfather’s first name. Carey checked the spine of the book. Kramer was the book’s author.

Quickly thumbing through the book, he stopped for a moment on a random page. Scanning down the narrative, his eyes stopped on one passage. “Dinky Adams’s ass was the first ass Fred had ever rimmed.”

“Holy crap!” Carey blurted out without thinking. Embarrassed, he looked up but no one else was within earshot. Was his grandfather Gay? Or, was he just more broad minded than anyone could have imagined?

He continued to thumb through the book until a small piece of paper slipped out of it and fell to the floor. Picking it up, he saw that it had a set of three numbers on it: 24, 68, and 13. What could that mean? Some kind of riddle? The secret code needed to find buried treasure on a map? Carey shrugged his shoulders, closed the book, and jammed it back into the bookshelf.

Turning away, he saw his grandfather’s desk. Carey sat down in the plush but worn dark brown leather desk chair. Absentmindedly, he opened and closed the drawers. He reminisced to himself about how he used to raid his grandfather’s small stash of butterscotch candy. No candy in the top drawer now; just stuff. Pens, pencils, letter openers, a couple of two cent stamps, and some assorted papers. Opening and closing the other drawers, he just found a bunch of old files and other assorted junk.

When Carey opened the deeper bottom right hand drawer, he was surprised to find a safe that had been custom built into the desk. It was a combination safe. He doublechecked the top drawers to see if there was anything resembling the safe’s combination. Nothing.

“Huh,” he said out loud.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. He jumped up, went to the bookcase, and grabbed the thin volume off the shelf. Returning to the desk, he opened the book up, shaking the pages until the slip of paper fell out.

Carey twirled the dial on the combination lock entering 24 right, 68 left, and returning to 13. The safe handle wouldn’t budge. He tried it again. Same result.

He sat for a moment and thought. Was it some movie he’d seen or a book he’d read where they figured out the combination to a safe by advancing the numbers by one? So, he tried it. 25 right, 69 left, and returning to 14. He grabbed the handle, it turned, and he lifted the door open.

The safe was filled to the top with something. Whatever it was, it was concealed by a heavy piece of brown packing paper. When he lifted it off, he was greeted with a magazine depicting a naked man on the cover. He sat on the kind of chair you might see around a swimming pool, a bright orange beach towel partially covering it. The man had an enormous erection. The title of the magazine was Mister. The sub-heading said, “Male Review.” A black oval with white lettering promised, “A graphic portfolio of male beauty in the springtime and seedtime of their lives.”

His pulse quickening, Carey lifted the magazine out of the box. Quickly paging through it, he immediately saw that it was filled with black and white pictures of older men and some who looked like teenagers. Most were naked, many with erections, some making out with each other. Turning back to the title page, he took note of the magazine’s issue date: May, 1971, issue No.5.

His grandfather?!?! Carey could hardly breathe. He glanced around to see if anyone else was around. Dropping the magazine like a hot potato back into the safe, he threw the book in after it. He shut the door and twirled the dial. There! He thought. Locked up with the secret combination inside. With luck, no one would ever be able to get it open again.

Carey’s instinct was to flee. Grabbing the bag of cuff links and hankies, he headed directly out toward the front door. The front hallway was a beehive of activity. Family members busily boxed, wrapped, and carried their new found treasures out the front door.

Just as he got to the door himself, Carey glanced down. An empty cardboard box lay right next to the threshold. Ironically, it was the perfect size to hold the contents of the safe. He paused for a moment. Acting purely on impulse, he picked the box up and did an about face, returning to the study. Remembering the safe’s combination, Carey quickly opened it. Reaching down, he dug his hands down along the sides of the stack of magazines, lifted them all out, and dumped them into the box. There must have been twenty-five or thirty magazines. After throwing the book on top, he locked the box top by grabbing two adjacent flaps and folding them together, repeating the motion with the other two flaps.

No one gave him a second look when he marched the box and his dry cleaner bag out the front door. After packing it all into the trunk of his car, he bade farewell to his parents and other relatives. Having checked out of the hotel before the funeral, he hit the road for the return to campus.

***

Wearing a wool plaid sport coat over a cranberry red and white striped rugby shirt, Bell strode through the dining room of the Derbyshire Club. He was a few minutes late for dinner with his parents.

Gee jerked up a bit in his chair. Marti appeared not to notice. She had a way of doing that, looking bored but still having an uncanny ability to take in everything all at once. An Old Fashioned on the table in front of him, a G&T in her hand.

“Isn’t that Campbell Maine?” Gee wanted to know.

“Yes, darlin.’ I guess he’s…um…grown up.”

George and Martha Custis or Marti and Gee, if you will. Gee as in the letter, “G.” He had always hated that name George. It became something of a joke when he courted and finally married Martha Hammond. What made it especially ridiculous? He was actually a descendant of George Washington. Incredibly, so was she.

Childless, at first because they couldn’t have any, and then because they were really too self-absorbed to give up their lives for children anyway.

Even still, both of them had a well developed appreciation for the younger set. Both boys and girls. Any age as long as they were legal and cute. No linebackers or girls with big tits for Marti and Gee.

Bell checked a lot of boxes for both of them.

About 5’8,” slender build. Tan or olive colored skin, take your pick. Medium brown hair, naturally streaked with some blond. Long and straight, past his shoulders, parted in the middle. Thick eyebrows, narrow almond shaped brown eyes. A long nose, narrow chin. A cute butt, mostly hidden by his sport coat. Ripped jeans and penny loafers.

“You know, boys like him seem to have an ‘it’ factor,” Marti said, as she watched him join his parents at a table on the opposite side of the dining room.

Gee chuckled, “And, in his case, factor in a fairly strong dose of arrogance. Doesn’t he act a bit stuck up?”

“Yeah,” Marti smiled. “I bet he’s turned into a little shit ass.”

“Yes, lovely.”

As they were leaving, they stopped at the Maine table to say, hello. After all, they were next door neighbors.

After some hi’s and howdy do’s, Wheezie announced their reason for dinner at the club.

“It’s Ding Ding’s birthday!”

She smiled at Bell as she wound her arm around his shoulder. He looked down, a bit embarrassed at the moment. He loved having his mother call him by her pet name for him, but not in public. All of a sudden, it seemed a bit juvenile.

“Our baby just turned eighteen,” Tucker announced.

“Well happy birthday, young man!” Gee exclaimed, smiling at Bell, and shaking his hand.

Marti was smiling, too. Inside, she was cheering. Yes! Eighteen! Perfect! And legal!

Just before they left the club, Gee excused himself to use the men’s room. Standing at the urinal, he heard the door open behind him. A moment later, he sensed that someone was now standing next to him, at the next urinal. Glancing over, he was surprised to see Bell.

The situation felt a bit odd all of a sudden. There were five urinals along the wall. It was sort of unspoken male protocol to leave one or two piss pots between guys if no one else was using them. But, here he was, standing right next to him.

Bell turned to Gee. “Mr. Custis,” he nodded. With that, he unzipped and took out one of the most gorgeous pieces of meat Gee had ever seen. Giving it one shake, he proceeded to begin emptying himself.

Still in mid-piss, Gee turned his head trying to remain nonchalant. Shit! He looked hot!

Bell liked being checked out and he hoped he could nail Mr. Custis in the act. Dang! Not quite.

Bell had known Mr. and Mrs. Custis for as long as he could remember. He looked at Gee now through the lens of his newly eighteen-year-old eyes. Almost 6 feet tall, in decent shape for a guy who was probably in his 40’s. Maybe almost 50. Full head of dark brown hair, a few strands of gray here and there. He reminded Bell of that actor who played the coach in the TV series, “Friday Night Lights.” Come to think of it. His wife, Marti, was a dead ringer for the coach’s wife.

Bantering a bit nervously, Gee washed his hands, looking at Bell’s reflection in the mirror over the sink. Fuck me! That kid is cute!

“You should come!” Gee exclaimed.

He was talking about the annual fundraiser for Smythe Friends Marti and he hosted. Gee was a loyal alum of the prestigious private school that Bell also attended.

“I dunno, maybe. I think we might have plans,” Bell replied, looking in the distance and sounding bored and nonchalant.

“C’mon, Tucker!” Gee chided Bell’s dad over the phone the next day.

“Christ almighty! I’m already spending almost forty G’s a year to send that kid to Smythe Friends. I’m gonna be into his education for a cool mill by the time he’s done with college and grad school!”

“So, what’s another five grand?”

Raising money for Smythe Friends was one of the few jobs Gee actually enjoyed. Making all of these rich entitled people part with their hardly earned trust fund money was a kick. Once a year, they threw the elegant soirée, opening their home to a select group of a hundred or so major donors. Price of entry: $5,000 minimum. Annually, they raised around $300,000 for the school’s endowment.

“Aw right.” Tucker gave in, breathing a deep sigh.

“And bring your beautiful family.”

“Sure thing. Harper’s away at school but Wheezie and I will ask Bell to join us.”

“Sounds good!”

Bell followed his mom and dad as they wound their way through Sherwood Forest. It wasn’t the real Sherwood Forest. It was just their own name for it. Thickly forested with white pine, spruce, and oak trees, divided only by a couple of narrow paths, it occupied several acres between their house and the Custis home.

Memories flooded Bell’s consciousness. Sherwood Forest was a special place. When he was twelve, he watched from behind a tree as his sister Harper gave a guy a hand job. She had just turned fifteen. The next year, he talked one of his buddies, Artie, into taking his clothes off. They ran around naked for awhile until they got tired. Then they stood watching each other jerk off.

They called their house the Maine Manse. It was big enough but the nickname was really just a private family nickname. Marti and Gee lived in an honest to God mansion.

Georgian style, made of granite and trimmed in marble, it looked kind of like a library. Inside, a large hall and a grand staircase. In a quirky tribute to the board game Clue, the house also boasted a conservatory, billiard room, lounge, library, study, and even a ballroom.

Gee’s parents built it. His father, a middling investment banker, stumbled into ownership of a firm that had the rights to the board game. After a merger that included another board game, Monopoly, Hasbro ended up with it. A boatload of Hasbro stock landed in his father’s lap, making him a multi-millionaire and insuring a perpetual stream of dividend and royalty income.

Flush with cash and in a flash of inspiration, they built the house as a tribute to the source of their good fortune. It even included secret passages between some of the rooms.

Marti and Gee ended up with the house after his parents passed away. It was perfect for them. It meant they could stay in Derbyshire, Gee’s home town. Work for him was a short drive to the train station followed by a pleasant forty-five minute ride on the rails into the city. It wasn’t really work either. He reported in at the investment firm where he was employed two or three days a week. Gee didn’t have to actually sell anything. Managing his family’s money alone commanded a corner office and a Vice President’s title.

The path ended when the trees fell away revealing the main property. Vehicles filled the circular drive, a line of cars waiting for valets to take them over. The Maine’s followed another group of people through the open front door. A guy dressed like a butler, white gloves, morning coat, and all, stood at the door holding a silver tray piled with envelopes. Pledge cards and checks, Bell guessed.

The atmosphere in the Hall could only be described as bright. High pitched chatter, laughter, lots of people, smells of expensive perfume and good food. Tucker and Wheezie were quickly swallowed up in the crowd. Bell went his own way.

He lazily strolled past a waiter holding a tray of bacon wrapped scallops. Not even waiting to be served, he scooped a couple of them off the tray and gobbled them down. Nodding to a couple of classmates, he spied a bar.

“Johnny Walker Red neat.”

“ID.” The bartender responded, expressionless. He leaned his hand on top of the bar.

Bell shrugged and smirked. It didn’t hurt to try. Once in awhile, he actually got served.

“Or a Ginger Ale.”

The bartender shoved the drink at him, a derisive look on his face.

Bell wandered down the Hall peeking into the various rooms.

The Ballroom bustled with a large crowd. The school had set up easels holding display boards celebrating their outstanding programs, prestigious faculty, and celebrated alumni. Girls he knew from school waved at him when he strolled past the Lounge. They were selling $500 raffle tickets for a chance to win the grand prize, a Florida vacation on a super yacht. He knew it was the Lounge because it actually had a gold metal name plate on the wall next to the door. So did most of the other rooms that were adjacent to the Hall. Arms crossed, Bell leaned on the doorway to the glass covered Conservatory and listened to the boys from the school’s a capella group, the Smythe Sound, blast away at “Stand By Me.” An enthusiastic crowd swayed and clapped to the music.

The moment that skunky smell hit his nostrils, he knew what it was. Having turned the handle to the door of the Library, Bell eased his way into the crowded room.

It was hard to see who was in there and what was going on. A blue haze made his eyes burn a little and people were crowded in, pretty much shoulder to shoulder. The Library was lined with books on all sides from floor to ceiling. Razor thin opera lights illuminated the shelves of books. Other than that, the room was pretty much dark.

The crowd parted momentarily. Marti caught Bell’s eye. Nudging her way past a couple of people, she shuffled her way to stand in front of him.

“Well…!”

Bell started to blush. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in here. But, Marti had this odd, quirky smile on her face. She looked really…pretty! Of course, his eyes dropped to her chest.

Holy shit!

She wore some kind of flowy white silk blouse that hung loose well below her waist. It didn’t seem to have any buttons. Instead, it sort of gaped open from her neck to just below her navel, the sides finally joined together at the bottom. Clearly, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her luscious full breasts were fully on display, barely concealing large nipples that were clearly outlined by the silk fabric.

“Well…!” She said again.

Taking the joint she had been holding between her two fingers, she pushed it against Bell’s lips until he accepted it. Taking hold of it between his thumb and middle finger, he took a long drag.

Marti watched him as he sucked on the joint. What a…what was the word…specimen! That’s what her uncle called boys like him. That gorgeous face of his, thick eyebrows, long eyelashes, and long nose. The look he always seemed to have in his muddy brown eyes. Sort of a fuck you look. She felt her love canal open with a small thunk. Bell’s slender frame. She mentally undressed him. From what Gee had told her, that set of equipment between his legs was something to behold.

He couldn’t really hold it in. After a moment, Bell blew the smoke out of his lungs and coughed a couple of times, almost gagging once.

Grabbing his arm, with a deep chuckle, she said, “C’mon. Let me show you around.”

First stop. An old man sitting in a chair. Bald on top, he had a dramatic shock of pure white hair on the back and sides complemented by a matching thick English mustache. Black suit, pearl gray vest, white shirt, and a dark bow tie.

“This is Professor Day,” Marti smiled.

He reached up to shake Bell’s hand.

“Uncle Winnie, this is our neighbor boy, Campbell Maine.”

“Lovely to meet you, young man.”

Bell immediately felt creepy. The way he looked at him. Evaluating, judging, and sort of leering.

“My uncle is a professor of history. Big time,” she said proudly as they strolled away. “A Smythe alum, of course.”

A couple more tokes, a couple more introductions, and they came across Gee. He had been standing in the corner of the room, his shoulder leaning against one of the bookcases.

“Marti and Gee. It sounds like a radio show! Are you sure you two aren’t on the radio?” One of the new parents asked in a high giggle, drunk off his ass, trying too hard to suck up to Gee.

Clearly annoyed, he broke off the conversation as Bell and Marti approached.

“Hey!” Gee smiled blandly at Bell, eyes hooded and very blood shot. Stoned.

“How ya doin’ Mr. Custis?” Bell was beginning to feel light headed himself.

“Oh no, ya don’t! It’s Gee. Ok, buddy?” As he said it, he reached out and tweaked Bell’s chin.

“I just introduced Bell to my Uncle Winnie,” Marti giggled.

She wrapped her arm around Bell’s shoulder, pulling him closer as she pressed her tit into the side of his chest.

Gee smirked. He rubbed the sweat out of the lower half of his eye socket.

“Ya know, you’re one cute kid. How old are you again?”

“Eighteen. Remember? You saw me on my birthday.”

“Oh yeah.” Gee chuckled. He remembered, all right.

He placed his hand flat on Bell’s chest. At the same time, Marti swung her opposite arm up, pulled a button on Bell’s shirt open, and ran her hand across the other side of his chest, giving his nipple a squeeze.

“I think he’s very cute, honey. Almost too cute,” She purred, not letting go. She loved the feeling of Bell’s heart banging away under her hand.

The moment was ruined when another guest stumbled up to ask where the bathroom was located. Marti stepped back. They both dropped their hands from Bell’s chest.

Bell looked up. The ceiling looked like it went on forever. Those book shelves must have been a hundred or two hundred feet high, spinning around up there. He couldn’t even see the tops of them. Dizzier than ever, now.

The only thing that came to mind: fresh baked chocolate chip cookies.

“You serving any dessert?” He asked Marti.

Laughing, “Sure, honey. Out in the Hall.”

***

He woke up because his tongue was so stuck to the top of his mouth, it was almost impossible to breathe. Dried saliva caked the corner of his lips. Rolling off of his stomach and onto his side, Bell realized he was in his own bed.

He tried to remember how he got here. Nothing registered.

A long shower, a quick whip around with a razor to keep the stubble off of his pubes, teeth brushed. He ambled down the stairs to the kitchen, noting the angle of the sun probably made it late morning.

“Ding Ding!”

His mom greeted him in the high falsetto voice reserved just for him. She was dressed in her usual, a yoga outfit.

“Uh.”

“You cute thing! I’m off to Pilates. Do you need me to fix you breakfast?”

This was a highly rhetorical question. These days, there was no fixing. Bell wasn’t sure if she even remembered how to pour cereal into a bowl.

“Nah. That’s ok,” he rasped.

His hair still wet as it hung around his face, he chomped on an apple. Head down, he checked his social media apps for anything interesting.

A text message.

“Hey.”

“Is for horses.”

Bell’s standard response when he received a message from some unknown person. Where had he gotten that smart retort from? He couldn’t remember.

Laughing icon in response.

“How r u?

“Who is this?”

“Gee.”

Bell was stunned.

“How did u get my #?”

“U gave it 2 me.”

Bell tried to think. A pause.

“Wanna cum over?”

Why would Gee use that spelling?

“Dunno.”

“U said u wud.”

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“How about now?”

“No. I meant when did I say I wud?”

“Last night.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged his shoulders. What the heck? He didn’t have anything else to do. It was Saturday. Maybe hang around with some friends. This could be more fun.

“?”

“Yeah. I’ll be over.”

“K.”

Gee smirked, silently congratulating himself. What a multitasker he was! All the while he was texting, he’d tapped away on his laptop, locking in a trade to be executed first thing on Monday. He had managed to close out a T-Bill position, effectively making a few thousand dollars in profit. At the same time, he was also able to tickle the front of his sweat pants, keeping his swollen dick on edge. He leaned back in his chair, raised his arms over his head, and awarded himself with a satisfying stretch.

A quick message to Marti. “OTW.”

Getting up from the desk, a replica of the Resolute Desk in the White House, he crossed the length of the Study.

As he walked through Sherwood Forest on his way to Marti and Gee’s he tried to recall the events of last evening. Bell had been stoned a few times before but nothing like that. I wonder what else I promised, he asked himself. Long sleeved t-shirt, loose fitting shorts even though it was January, and canvas Skechers. Uh oh. He realized he’d forgotten to wear underwear.

Arms crossed, leaning into the front door frame, Gee smiled at Bell as he walked up.

“Marti’s in the Billiard Room. Why don’t you head on back?”

“Where’s that?”

“Towards the end of the Hall. You’ll see the name plate next to the door.”

Much like you’d expect, the Billiard Room had dark green walls and lighting focused on the ornate pool table. In the dim light, he saw Marti seated on a long couch at the far end of the room.

It was hard to guess her age. Bell kind of lumped all middle aged women together. Forty something. She was a looker, though. Strawberry blonde hair that fell to the middle of her back. Pink, freckled skin, wide set blue eyes, a straight nose, thin lips, and a rounded chin.

She wasn’t skinny like his mom, but she wasn’t heavy either. Bell tried to put a word to it. I know, he thought! Rubenesque!

“How are you feeling, Bell?”

Marti spoke softly, almost in a whisper. She pointed to a chair just opposite to her.

“Yeah…aw right, I guess,” he replied as he flopped down. Truthfully, he felt a bit hungover.

They talked for a few minutes about the party.

With a long sigh she said, “Ya know, Bell. I love to relax sometimes when I’m at home.”

What the heck was she talking about? Was she going to bring out the weed again? Bell tried to play it cool, slumping back in the chair.

“Yeah, I can pick up what you’re layin’ down.”

“That’s nice, Bell. I’m glad to hear,” she purred. A pause. “You don’t mind if I relax a little, do you?”

Marti didn’t wait for Bell to answer. With a chuckle and a sigh, she stood up. She was wearing a loose flowy caftan. Untying the front of it, she shrugged one shoulder, then the other, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath, she was completely naked.

Pinkish brown skin. Full breasts. Full enough that they sagged a bit. Large, light brown nipples. A reasonably flat round stomach, luxuriously round hips, a completely shaved pussy, her vertical smile plainly in view.

Bell took it all in, his pulse suddenly racing, unable to divert his eyes.

She laughed and sat down, her legs falling open.

A hand snaked around Bell’s neck, dipping under his shirt to lightly caress his chest. Gee had magically appeared out of nowhere. Without a word, he came around to face Bell, grabbed his arms, and pulled him to his feet.

Bell and Gee just looked at each other.

“Bell, honey. Why don’t you relax, too?” Marti whispered. Her middle finger was already running lightly down her slit, the other hand cupping her breast.

Gee didn’t wait for him to answer. He grabbed the waist of Bell’s shorts, unbuttoned them, and nudged them down until they fell to his feet. Bell’s very erect cock bounced out. With a low chuckle, Gee wound his hand around to completely envelope Bell’s balls, his wrist rubbing against his dick. Bell groaned, eyes closing, his head thrown back.

Eyes still closed, he could hear Marti gasping. In the meantime, he let Gee pull his shirt over his head. When he opened his eyes, Bell realized that Gee had somehow gotten naked too. He had his hand wound around his own stiff member, grabbing Bell’s cock with the other, and pulling them together. Steadily, he jerked both of their cocks against each other.

Marti gazed at Bell. What a perfect boy-man! His lithe figure, slender smooth hips. The cock of a Roman god. Kind of brown, smooth and thick. The hole looked almost stretched open, like it was about to spew. Not like Gee’s weenie which was, in a way, kind of disappointing. But, most of all, it was that entitled arrogant look on Bell’s face that really juiced her. She felt an orgasm coming on.

Over Gee’s shoulder, Bell could see Marti writhing away on the couch. From her gasps and squeals, she appeared to be cumming over and over.

Bell wasn’t sure what got into him, but he had to have it. Pushing Gee aside, he went to Marti. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her forward and pushed her legs up. In one move, he was inside her.

“Oh, fuck!” Marti screamed, her arms thrown wide, her fists slamming into the sofa cushions.

Gee came over to watch. He rubbed his cock against the boy’s hip, his hand cupping Bell’s butt cheek, one of the most perfect asses he’d ever come across. He dug the tips of his fingers into Bell’s crack, feeling it clench against them as he thrust into Marti.

Invisible, because of the Billiard Room’s deep shadows, Professor Day watched from the open door to the secret passage. He took it all in, making a long list of mental notes. He always enjoyed watching his niece having sex. But, his attention was focused on the young man.

What can we do to further young Campbell’s education, he wondered? The professor looked on, a quiet smile on his face.