If It Fits - 7. Chapter 7

May 2, 1995

I woke up with JP and Erik, just as I had the past two mornings. Erik looked over at me and kissed me. He was a great kisser. He was good at everything. He was perfect. He treated JP with respect and it was obvious that he cared about him a lot, but Erik was so good he pulled me into their relationship and made me feel welcome, made me feel like part of them. It was exciting, it was exhilarating, and it was depressing.

He turned me around gently and penetrated me. I felt him plunge into my ass, gauging my mood, my body perfectly, playing me like a flute, pushing all the right buttons. I felt his seven and a half inch cock force its way in and out of me, its thick presence stretching me wide, his skill directing his tool at my prostate. I felt my orgasm building, and then I shot my load into his hand as he stroked me gently, milking me dry.

“My turn,” JP said from the other side. Without missing a beat Erik pulled out of my ass, rolled over, and pushed into JP. I moved over and blew JP while Erik fucked him, wondering if my stimulation would short-circuit JP and make him cum before Erik did. It didn't. Erik managed to shoot his load at the same time JP did, perfectly coordinated. Of course.

“I have a meeting, so I have to go,” Erik said to us. “I'll see you tonight.”

“I need to go to Chicago,” I told him, “so you will have to make do with just JP.”

Erik smiled. “I'll miss having you here Stef. You are so much fun. But being with JP is never making do.” JP giggled, and I rolled my eyes. I watched Erik walk toward the shower, his muscular ass a work of art.

“You like him better than Benjamin?” JP asked.

“I like him a lot. He's perfect.” I hid my feelings, and JP was too giddy to pick up on them. “Thanks for including me.”

“You know I love it when you're with me, but it was actually Erik's idea. I told him all about you, how amazing you are, and he wanted to be with you.” JP was acting like a lovesick teenage girl.

“I am so glad you are happy, that you found someone to share your life with,” I said happily.

“I don't know if things are at that point yet, but I'm having an awful lot of fun,” he said. “Why are you going to Chicago?”

To get away from you and your new perfect boyfriend, I thought. “I need to see Marcel, I promised him I'd come visit him after that Mexican adventure. Plus I need to finish settling Greg's estate.” Erik came out, drying off his body, muscular but not too muscular, hairy, but not too hairy. Perfect. “What are you guys doing this weekend?”

“I don't have any plans,” Erik said. “You?” He directed the last word to JP.

“Nothing specific. Why?”

“How about you two take a cruise? My boat is here, in Redwood City. I will not need it for a while. You will have a nice time.”

Erik's eyes lit up, and I finally found some small chink in his armor. He liked the finer things in life. “What do you say JP? Wanna play sailor?” JP giggled, and I just shook my head.

“I will have them make sure there are handcuffs on board. You will enjoy yourselves. And now I must take a shower if I am to make it to Chicago before dark.” It was morning and I had plenty of time to make it to Chicago, but I needed to get out of there, and they seemed to buy into my excuse. I headed to the shower and took a remarkably fast one, managing to extricate myself from Escorial in a mere 45 minutes. A phone call to Skip, to tell him about my change of plans and tell him to throw out the red carpet for JP and Erik, and I was able to put them out of my thoughts.

That was a lie. I sat in the plane as it lifted off, thinking of how this was all supposed to play out. I was supposed to spend a few months getting a bunch of dicks in my ass while pulling my head out of there at the same time, and then JP was supposed to be there waiting for me. He'd dump Professor Nitwit, be with me, and we'd live happily ever after. But once again I'd blown it. I didn't have my shit together, and I'd lost my chance again.

I sighed, a sigh of exasperation. Erik was a great guy, and my love for JP went beyond my own selfish needs. We'd missed our big opportunity and I'd just have to deal with it. I'd just have to move on and enjoy my life alone or maybe with someone else. Someone besides JP.

The limousine pulled up to the familiar high-rise in Chicago, the place I'd called home for years, and was now home to Marcel and Max. It was a beautiful day, one of those gorgeous May days that Chicago tosses out to compensate for the miserable winters, and I'd made it here in the late afternoon. I had a good reason to be here, to settle Greg's estate, but that wasn't my prime motive. My primary motive, my goal, was to find a sanctuary. I called Marcel's line again and got no answer, so I headed up to the 20th floor and knocked on the door. No one answered, but when I turned the knob, it was open, so, being the rude pushy person that I am, I went in.

I wandered through the condo, checking the bedroom first, then the bathrooms, then the guest room and the study, but no one was there. I was starting to get a little nervous when I looked out on to the balcony and smiled. There, on the side facing the lake, were Marcel and Max. They were both stark naked, with Max on all fours facing the Lake, with Marcel behind him, fucking his brains out while they looked at the water. I stood there watching, giggling to myself as Marcel's cute little ass squeezed with each thrust.

Ignoring my own erection and stifling my laughter, I just sat on the couch and watched them. It was incredibly erotic, the way Marcel increased then slowed his pace to keep from cumming too soon, and the way he finally pulled Max upright onto his knees as Marcel pushed into him and stroked his cock at the same time. I watched as Marcel's face contorted as he came, then Max's face, looking similar, as stream after stream of cum rocketed out of his cock.

Then the most tender, the sweetest part, was the way they caressed each other, kissed each other, telling each other that their love went way beyond just passionate sex. I felt myself smile wistfully, not out of envy over them, but as I remembered partners I'd been with that made me feel like that. I thought sadly of Greg, then of Roger, Jeff, and Peter, all of them gone. And then of JP, who was basically gone as well.

The door slid open as Max walked back in, his nice cock still not completely soft. I just sat on the couch, letting them enjoy their interlude, waiting for them to notice me. “Ahh!” Max screamed as he jumped, seeing me there and not recognizing me right away. “Christ Stefan. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Then that will serve as a good lesson to lock your door,” I said grinning. I walked up to him and gave him a big hug, then squeezed his dick playfully, making him yelp again.

Marcel started cracking up, and then he gave me a hug. “A good lesson to learn. So you watched us?” I nodded, raising an eyebrow. Max was blushing now. “How did we do?”

“Well,” I said, pretending to be in scientific mode, “I give you an eight for the way you alternated your pace to make it last. And the way you pulled Max up and made him cum, that was really erotic, pushing it up into the nine range.” Max was as red as a firetruck now. “But the way you touch each other afterward, the way you show each other how much in love with each other you are, that vaults you right up to a perfect ten.”

Marcel grinned and so did Max, his blush starting to fade. “That's pretty good Marcel, coming from a slut like Stef, don't you think?” Max teased.

“A slut?” I asked. “Yes, but I am a good slut.” They laughed with me.

“I heard you spent some time with Lou,” Marcel said. I saw Max tense up.

“I did. He was good for me. Personally, I would much rather have stolen Max, but I made do with what was available.” Max gave me his adorable little grin. God, he was cute.

“And he deserted you in Mexico?” Marcel asked, irritated. Max's demeanor changed to match Marcel's.

I got irritated. “He did not. He left with my blessing. I took him with me and told him to try and figure out what he should do with his life. In between fucking me, that is.” I giggled. “He decided that he wanted to be a newscaster. And now he's up in Montreal doing just that, on a local station. It is a start, and it is so much better than just being on the circuit.”

They mellowed. “That's great,” Marcel said, the voice of someone who was once in love with Lou and still cared about him. “It would really be great if he found something he liked, and could settle down.” Max looked concerned.

“It would be. I am so glad to see that you have shed your feelings for him,” I told Marcel, more for Max's benefit. “I hope you both can try to forgive him for his past transgressions if he pulls his life together. The guilt he carries is debilitating.” They nodded.

“So what brings you here?” Max asked.

“I am not welcome to just come visit?” I teased, and pretended to be offended. I sounded like Tonto, and that really made me laugh.

“I didn't mean that. You are always welcome,” Max said nervously.

“He is teasing you. Ignore him,” Marcel said. “What the fuck do you want Stef?” We both cracked up.

“I am here for two reasons. The first is to see you two, and I was lucky to get to see an awful lot of you already.” Max blushed again. “The second is to settle Greg's estate.”

“Didn't you already do that?” Max asked. “Marcel said you went over everything when we were in Malibu.” Then he seemed to worry that he was making me unwelcome again. “Not that we're not here for you regardless, one hundred percent.”

I cracked up and hugged him. “I know Max. Do not let my teasing bother you. I have something for you.” I reached into my briefcase and pulled out the check from Greg's estate and handed it to him. Marcel looked over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows, but Max was speechless.

“I think you can pay the condo fee next month,” Marcel joked.

“I don't know what to say,” Max stammered. “Why did he leave me money? Not that I don't appreciate it. I mean, that's an amazingly nice thing to do.”

“This was Greg's way of telling you that you are part of the family. He was not always good at telling people that he loved them, so he sometimes did it with money. That is what this is. So enjoy it, and remember him.” I felt a tear in my eye and fought it back. I really was sick of crying. Max pulled me into a big hug and I hugged him back until he let go, then I dropped my hand down and grabbed his ass, making him squeal and Marcel laugh.

“So how long are you staying?” Marcel asked, pushing his naked boyfriend out of my playful reach.

“I thought I'd move in. You have a spare room,” I teased.

“Alright,” Marcel said, looking at Max.

“Fine with me,” he said.

“I was teasing, but you two are so sweet to welcome me. For a day or two, then I should get back to California.”

“Why?” Max asked.

“I do not really know,” I said honestly. “It is my home. I guess that is why.”

“I heard you met JP's new boyfriend,” Marcel said. I felt all of my shields going up, hoping I could keep him from seeing the internal agony that was causing me.

“I did, and he is perfect. He is gorgeous, smart, attentive, successful, a wonderful, skilled lover,” I said cheerfully.

“Then why does he bother you?” Max asked. I wasn't ready for that, I was girding for an assault by Marcel.

“Why would he bother me? I am happy for JP. They are lucky to have found each other,” I told them, trying to sound genuine. I changed the subject. “Either you two have to get dressed, or one of you is going to have to fuck me.”

“Go get settled in,” Marcel said. “Then get cleaned up and we will take you to J-Bar.”

I'd only been there a few times, but that was when I was with Greg, so I'd limited myself to the restaurant. Now though, I had no such constraints. This might really be fun, I thought to myself. I headed to the guest room and got all spiffed up for the bar. It was not easy to try and look young and hot, while not looking ridiculous. I found that the thought of being in a club, of being there with a crowd of amazing, beefy Chicago hunks, was intimidating. In the past, I'd always had Greg as an excuse and I could flirt with no fear. Now, I had no backstop, and if I flirted now, people would think it was for real. And I might actually end up getting rejected.

I stood in the mirror working on my hair, trying to decide why I was suddenly afraid of rejection when that fear had never really been an issue before. I knew why. It was because I was older. Almost 50. I wasn't the spry young thing I used to be, the guy who could wiggle his hips and even get straight guys to fuck him. I wasn't that guy. I was old. And undesirable.

I thought about making excuses to go somewhere else, to make it a quiet evening, but those two, Max and Marcel, were smart enough to figure me out. Having them see my insecurities, and maybe pity me for them, was even worse than being rejected. I swallowed hard and headed out to find them waiting for me.

“Wow Stef, you look great!” Max said. I shot him a grin, thanking him for stroking my ego now when I was most vulnerable.

“Why thank you Max. I had to do my best if I'm going to be seen with you guys.” Marcel rolled his eyes.

“I called for a car,” Marcel said. “I figured you would not want to cram into the back seat of Max's Honda.”

“I could have sat on your lap instead,” I teased.

“Neither one of us is that strong,” Max said. I eyed him carefully. He was a lot more perceptive than people gave him credit for. He was picking up on all of my moods and signals, my insecurities about going out, my conflicts over JP. It was actually a little unnerving, but I put that aside, convinced that I could trust him, and decided that it was OK.

The limo pulled up to the VIP entrance to the bar and dropped us off. Marcel led us into the restaurant and got us a table right away. He'd invested money in this place a few years ago, saved Bruno, the owner, from losing it, so he got the red-carpet treatment whenever he was here.

We sat down and I made sure I got the best seat, where I could check out the hunks heading into the bar. “Well Stef, you can probably have your pick of any guy in the bar,” Marcel teased. He stared meaningfully at my Rolex, and my huge diamond pinky ring. I suddenly felt gaudy.

“You mean they will only like me for my money?” I joked, sort of.

“No, they will like you because you're hot. And because you have a lot of money. What difference does it make?” Marcel asked. “All the guys here are trying to peacock. They're showing off their best features, hoping to attract other guys. Some have huge dicks, some have amazing bodies, but no one is as rich as God, except you.”

“So you are saying I should hold out for the guy with the biggest dick?” I teased.

“I'll help you find him,” Max said brazenly, a new thing for him. We were eating dinner when the owner, Bruno, came up and sat with us.

“Stefan, it's good to see you. You give this sleazy joint some class,” he said to me. He always treated me well, with a respect and kindness that was really endearing.

“This joint is not sleazy. The owner is a handsome man,” I said, flirting.

“Marcel told me about Greg. I'm sorry,” he said. I nodded. He only brought that up to let me know that he knew I was single now.

“So Marcel tells me that I have to dance, but I do not trust these young guys not to step on my toes. You think you could help me out?” I asked, flirting shamelessly.

“Consider your dance card filled,” he said, and meandered back to the bar.

Marcel and Max were giving me that stupid look, the look of friends who were trying to set a guy up with another guy. I glared at them petulantly. “He is a very nice guy, and I like him.” They said nothing. I headed into the bar and took it in, the technical look at its ultimate, with televisions everywhere and music blaring out. Bruno saw me and headed over to the DJ booth. The song that was playing ended and I heard the opening refrains of “Bad Girls” by Donna Summer.

He offered me his hand and then began to dance and boy could he dance. I'd become adept at disco in the late 70s; Greg and I had gotten into it when it was all the rage. But this guy knew all the moves. He had me all over the floor, flipping me, spinning me, and it was euphoric. It dawned on me that I hadn't really danced in years, and I'd forgotten how much fun it was. The DJ followed that song with the Disco anthem, “Stayin' Alive”. I was panting and sweating but didn't care. I was having a blast.

When that ended a twink came up and hung on Bruno's arm. “You're saving a song for me aren't you?” he asked, glaring at me.

“Yeah, maybe later,” Bruno said, blowing him off.

A slow song came on and I looked at Bruno and raised an eyebrow. “You want a drink?” he asked. I felt my world fall out from under me, but caught myself. I followed him back to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. He wouldn't let me pay.

“So you did not want to get that close to me?” I teased.

“I'm sorry Stef. I'm all hot and sweaty. It's gross.” His shirt was definitely wet from the sweat, but so was mine.

“I do not mind. It's a healthy sweat. You are a really good dancer,” I told him. He smiled and thanked me, then excused himself to go wander off behind the bar.

“You wanna dance?” I heard, and turned around to find a huge guy staring at me. This guy was an Adonis, a gym rat. The kind of guy who could break me in half if he wanted. The kind of guy who used steroids.

I smiled and let him lead me out onto the dance floor. He didn't talk; he just sucked on my neck and rubbed against my body. I felt his tongue flicking into my ear and nibbling on my lobe, then probing into my ear, making a wet squishy sound. I felt something hard probing at my groin, his cock, but small, like you'd expect from roids. His hand grabbed my ass firmly, pulling me in. I wrapped my arms around him, trying to enjoy myself, but I couldn't. The whole thing was actually pretty gross. But I made it through the song, thanked him nicely and headed back to the bar to look for Bruno. To find someone my own age.

“He's downstairs in his office,” the bartender said. I headed downstairs, wandering through the kitchen. “Can I help you?” a polite waiter asked.

“I'm looking for Bruno,” I told him. He pointed the way to Bruno’s office. I knocked softly then went in. There he was, with that young twink that had come up to us on the dance floor, fucking him, fucking the little shit's brains out. He looked over at me and I mouthed the word “Sorry” then headed back upstairs. I guess Bruno went for the young twinks. Guys like I used to be. I swallowed hard, trying not to let this become a massive ego blow.

Back at the bar I saw Max and Marcel dancing, looking so good together. “Nice watch,” I heard a guy say next to me.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at him. Now here was a nice looking guy. Muscular, but not in a steroid-driven way. Handsome face with a wry smile; long blond hair dangling around his face in a windblown kind of way; Bright blue eyes; and an attitude that said he was king shit around here, and he got what he wanted. “I'm Stefan.”

“Cody,” he said, and shook my hand. “Wanna go upstairs and fuck?”

I smiled at him. Raw, unhinged sex with someone I'd just met, now that's a world I understood. “Yes,” I said, and followed him to the VIP entrance. He didn't have a card and neither did I, but the guy on the stairs recognized me and let us pass. Cody led me up to an area with its own small dance floor and a bunch of small, private cubicles off to the side. I looked in them as we passed, full of guys fucking, sometimes a couple, sometimes more than two people. Cody led me into a room and closed and locked the door.

“I wanted to be with just you,” he said. He was adorable. He moved up and kissed me, a nice kiss, a great kiss. I recognized that I was immediately in the hands of a guy who was a good lover, or at least he thought he was. A skilled top. He pulled my clothes off as he kissed me, his hands moving seamlessly in a perfectly choreographed maneuver. Then he undid his own pants and gave me the slightest nudge, telling me he wanted me to blow him. I dropped to my knees and took out his cock and sucked it until it was hard. He was a big boy, about eight inches and nice and thick.

He pulled me up to his lips again. “Nice,” he said. He probably said that to all the guys. He slid on a condom and pulled some lube out of his pocket, then turned me around. “You want my big cock?” he asked in a slutty voice. It wasn't sexy, it was funny.

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to giggle. He moved up and entered me slowly. He was a big boy, but after Skip and Erik, he was no problem.

“You were ready for me baby,” he cooed. “You want me bad don't you baby?”

I tried not to giggle, but I felt it coming out, so I turned it into a moan. Then I did that thing I did all those years ago in Paris when I'd been a hustler. I put my mind away and let my body enjoy it. It was as if I clicked. I could tell from his reaction that he was surprised. He was used to guys who just let him fuck them, let him take charge. I didn't do that. I pumped my ass back into him, taking him as greedily as he took me. I pulled out and lay on the cushions on the floor of the room, pulling him down onto me, back into me. I let myself go, enjoying his hot young body, his talented mouth, and his big cock.

His eyes had that look that men get when they're really worked up, the look that says they don't care what they have to do to get off; by God they're going to do it. He pulled up and grabbed my legs and started slamming into me, really going for it. I rubbed my calves against his chest, against his nipples, and saw his face scrunch up in ecstasy. He was getting close, and like a good lover, he wanted to make me cum too, so he reached down and began stroking my cock, nice long strokes, and that pulled me up with him. I squeezed my ass, using it to grip then release his cock in quick movements. That trick almost always worked to make the other guy cum, I thought with a smile, then I gave myself over to my own orgasm, letting myself blast my pent up load all over myself. The load that had been building since I'd seen Marcel fuck Max, that had been building when I was dancing with Bruno and steroid boy, and the load that Cody had finally milked out of me.

He looked down at me, my cum splattered body, a confused look on his face. “You were incredible,” he said.

“You are surprised? It was all you. You brought out the animal in me,” I said, stroking his cheek. He kissed me again.

“I didn't expect that,” he said, shaking his head.

“Why did you hit on me then?” I asked. He got really nervous. “Cody, do not bullshit me. I have been around a lot longer than you have, I know the game,” I lied.

“You're hot, you have a smooth body, and you have such fluid moves. And you have a big fucking Rolex on, and a big pinky ring, and my rent is due. I figured maybe if I fucked you, you'd help me out.” He was trying to salvage my ego, but he was just desperate.

“So you just wanted me for my money?” I teased, playing with him. He took a towel and wiped my cum off my body, taking a glop or two and eating it, making me laugh.

“I wouldn't have hit on you if I didn't like you, or think you looked hot. There are a lot of sugar daddies here. You just seemed like you'd be fun.” He kissed me again. “And you were.”

“How much is your rent?” I asked.

“$500,” he said sadly.

I pulled out my wallet and handed him $1000. “An extra month.”

“You must think I'm a whore,” he said sadly.

“What do you care what I think?” I asked him.

He looked at the money and then at me, and handed it back to me. “I can't take your money. I'm sorry. I'm not into this.” For the first time I believed him when he said I was fun. His conscience wouldn't let him shake me down for money after he had so much fun.

I kissed him again and pushed the money back into his hand. “I've got an idea. It is early. Let's go get dinner. You are hungry?” I wasn't hungry at all, I'd already had dinner, but it seemed like a nice way to get him into a more relaxed environment.

“I'm always hungry,” he said grinning. He certainly was charming. We headed back downstairs and found Marcel and Max almost fucking on the dance floor.

“I am stealing the car and taking Cody to dinner,” I told them.

“Sure,” Marcel said. Then he pulled me off to the side. “Stef, be careful, he's a heartbreaker. And a gold digger.”

“Well Marcel, my heart is already broken, so there is not much more damage he can do there. And gold is something that I do have. He is cute, and he is fun.” Marcel smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

The limo was waiting and Cody climbed in, sitting there like he belonged in a stretched out Cadillac. “So what is your favorite food?” I asked him.

“Barbecue,” he said.

“Where's the best barbecue?” I asked him.

“Carson's Ribs,” he said. I told the driver to take us there and leaned back into him. He put his arm around me, an affectionate gesture.

“So what do you do for a living, to make enough money not to pay the rent,” I teased.

“I sell cell phones for Sprint,” he told me. “It's all commission based, so it depends on whether or not I can get customers.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty three,” he said. “How old are you?”

“Forty eight,” I said sadly.

“Well, from what I can tell, those extra years haven't done anything to erode your body, but they sure have given you a lot of experience.” We pulled up to Carson's, got a table, and ordered. It was great barbecue, but I'd almost forgotten how a young man could pack away the food.

“Um, do you live in Chicago?” he asked.

“No, I live in California,” I said smiling. “It's warmer there in the winter.”

“I, uh, I have a place up in Boystown. It's nothing special, but I was wondering if you'd like to come home with me.” He was really cute now, a little nervous now that his bar act was over.

“You asking me to spend the night?” I teased.

“Yeah, I am. And I guess that would be forward except I already fucked you at the bar.” I laughed at that.

“I'd love to spend the night with you,” I said. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Nope. Got the next two days off,” he said.

The limo took us up to his place in an OK neighborhood. “You have a roommate?” I asked.

“Nope. Would be cheaper, but I'm not a good roommate. I bring too many guys home, and if I have a roommate, I tend to fuck the guys they bring home too.” He was too funny. I found that I spent most of my time with him laughing.

I called Marcel and told him I was spending the night with Cody. He grumbled a bit but I cut him off. “They give you shit about me? Tell you I'm a loser? That I fuck everyone? That I'm a gold digger?” I recognized his bitterness. It was like Lou's.

“That's pretty much it,” I told him.

“So you leaving?” he asked sadly.

“Not a chance.”

He stared at me confused, and then smiled. Then he led me into his apartment, a nice place with shitty furniture, and led me to his bedroom. We both took off our clothes and slid into his bed. His place was remarkably neat and clean, and the sheets were crisp, like he'd just changed them. This guy was an operator.

Only this time he didn't do that mechanical shit he'd done at the bar, this time he started out by laying me out on his bed, lying on top of me, thrusting against me, firing me up with his body. I rolled him over onto his back and explored his body; beautifully muscled and almost completely hairless except for a small patch above his dick and under his arms. I hadn't been with a guy who'd done that, who'd shaved his balls and most of his pubic hair. It was awesome. I sucked on his balls, and without the hair, they were so smooth. I moved down to his taint, also shaved, and buried my nose in him. He smelled so good, and then lower, to his shaved ass, and bathed his hole with my tongue. He pulled me up and did the same thing. Then he fucked me, only this time he put all his stupid ass moves to the side and just did what came naturally. He lay there afterward, pulling the condom off, while he sucked and wiped my cum off my chest.

“Stef, you're amazing, the most fun, I mean I've never had so much fun in bed.”

“You are sweet,” I told him. “And good for my ego. I have slept with some of the most amazing guys, and when you let yourself go, let yourself get into it, you are just as good as any of them.”

He smiled at me. “You make me so horny. I'm gonna fuck you all night.”

I laughed. “I like the way you shaved the hair off your balls, and your ass.”

“Yeah, I noticed some of the guys were doing it and I liked it when I was with them, so I did it myself.”

“You shave yourself?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he said with a grin. “Sometimes I find someone to shave me.”

“Shave me,” I said, more of an order.