dontravis.com blog post #652
Our
last episode ended with Bobolink Marco to his idol’s home with the clear intent
of having sex with him. Would it end well, or would shame and mortification set
in. Let’s find out.
****
NEVEREND
I parked alongside Marco’s Camaro
in the driveway and got out. My resolve—faltering until then—strengthened under
his brilliant smile. As I stood waiting for him to key the front door, I felt
as if the entire neighborhood watched from behind closed blinds and knew
exactly what we were up to.
Once the door closed behind
us, Marco turned and pulled me into his embrace. The kiss surprised me… I
didn’t know men kissed. But I liked it. Felt it… probably more than with my
last girl.
He pulled away, still clasping
me in his arms. “Any second thoughts?”
“After that?” I asked, panting
slightly.
He pulled out hips together.
“Guess not, from what I feel down there. What say we go to the bedroom and take
a good look at one another.”
Hip to hip, arms slung around
our shoulders, we made our way upstairs to his bedroom. As dazzled as I was, I
couldn’t help but notice the house, the place where he lived. His core, his
den… his lair.
Attractive overstuffed couch,
sleek, modern matching recliners. Good art on the walls, a blend of old
European figures, attractive landscapes, and not-too-far-out modern. But once
through the threshold of his bedroom, all that went away. To this day, I
couldn’t tell you the color of his duvet. He moved behind me, pressing himself
against my buns, and began a long, slow inventory of my parts with his
sensitive hands. Each touch was more erotic than the other until he reached my
crotch. When he held me in both hands, my legs went weak, and I was near to
fainting.
“Nice,” he murmured as he
nibbled at my ear. My ear loved it.
His fingers unbuttoned my
shirt, then explored my chest sensually. I thought he’d never get to my
trousers, but an eon later, he fumbled with my belt buckle. I was lost. No one
had ever touched me, explored me, measured me in such a manner.
After he pushed me naked onto
the bed, he performed his own strip tease, almost driving me wild. Finally he
settled on the bed beside me and spoke.
“You are one sexy man.”
God! I couldn’t possibly hold
a candle to him. No hint of hair on the chest, wisps peeking from his armpits
at times. A black thread beginning below the navel that wandered south before
blooming into a lush black bush. A throbbing—
He interrupted my inventory by
rolling atop me. “You ready for this?”
Unable to speak, I nodded.
“Then here we go.”
He took control. I was his
slave, his helot… his pin cushion to penetrate as he wished. I was lost to time
and space, existing only in sensations, some painful, some exquisite, some
painfully exquisite… and some merely overpowering. He achieved release and
continued without pause. I achieved my own volcanic detonation only once, when
he came deep inside me.
Never had I experienced
anything remotely close to the experience.
Still lying across my back, he
dropped his head onto the back of mine and fought for breath.
“Well? H-how was it?”
I clasp the arms enfolding my
neck. “Like nothing else.”
“How do you feel?”
“Exhaused, enervated. Like
coming off a high.”
“No regrets.”
“No! None. Well, maybe.”
“What?”
“I wish it would never end.”
“Doesn’t have to.”
I turned beneath his weight,
and we lay belly to belly. “Do you mean it?”
His grin almost cost me my
senses. “Absolutely. I’ve been watching you… wanting you all semester. I was
almost hundred percent sure you were who I wanted.” He planted a quick peck on
my nose and continued. “And after that demonstration, the almost went
away. I’m sure. I want you to move in with me.”
I thought my heart was
failing. My hearing gone. But he was sincere. I moved out of the dorm that very
afternoon and felt as if I were home. He was unstinting with his generosity and
unfailing with his attention. I had achieved Neverend.
****
The year passed rapidly… far
too quickly. The most glorious year of my young life. I graduated and took a
job in an art gallery where I learned about selling art, not just creating it.
As a part of the deal, the gallery featured my work, so I accumulated some
commercial success, as well.
But the most wonderful part
was Marco. Beautiful, sensual, athletic Marco. He was perfect for me, as I
hoped I was for him. Neither of us could go out in public without being hit on…
by members of either sex. But he was all I wanted; no other man nor woman held
any interest for me beyond merely social.
I think I sensed a change in
our thirteenth month. A young, sandy-haired engineering student from our alma
mater began showing up in too many of our social engagements then. A fortnight
later he—Glendon Marx was his name—frequently visited our home. At first with
others, and then alone. Soon, instead of Marco and Bobolink, it became the two
of us and Glendon. It was always Glendon, never Glen.
Frankly, I liked the kid, so I
didn’t become alarmed until too late. First, I came home from the gallery and
found them in the den having drinks together. Then it was in the pool where Glendon’s
fair skin played well against Marco’s Mediterranean tan. My lover did
free-lance advertising, and worked from an office in our home.
Of course, my suspicions rose,
but surely Marco, who was as attentive and athletic as ever in private, would
never jeopardize our Neverend. Still, as Glendon remained ever underfoot, I
couldn’t contain my jealousy. At work, I imagined all sorts of shenanigans
going on. Yet Marco was as attentive and energetic as ever, which undermined my
building doubts.
****
I fought my devils until I
could no longer fend them off. I feigned illness one day—only half false since
I was worrying myself sick—and left work early one afternoon. Glendon’s red
Ford coupe was in our driveway, alerting me to his presence. No surprise. That
was what I expected.
Entering the house as quietly
as possible, I found no one in the den… or in Marco’s office. No one in the
pool. I glanced upward. The bedrooms? Only place left.
I went up the stairs, avoiding
the squeaky step near the top of the flight and paused. Then I heard it.
Glendon’s sharp gasp and then a moan, then something that sounded suspiciously
like, “Oh, Marco!”
Walking down the hall, I
entered our bedroom’s open door to a sight I will never forget. A naked Marco
lay atop an equally naked Glendon, his strong legs wrapped around Marco’s trim
hips as my lover thrust against him.
Unobserved, I backed out of
the room and returned to Marco’s office where I took the pistol he customarily
kept in his right hand desk drawer and started back up the stairs, pausing only
when I heard shouts of exhilaration. They had climaxed. Glendon held semen that
was by rights mine alone. He had stolen from me.
When I entered the room, both
were startled, but neither seemed nonplussed. Marco gave one of his slow,
tremendously sexy smiles and spoke in his throaty baritone.
“Come join us, Bobolink. I’m
sure your presence will revive us. I’ll bet we make one hell of a sandwich.”
Had he not spoken, I’m not
sure what would have happened. If Glendon’s features hadn’t held such a look of
triumph, perhaps I’d have walked away. But I didn’t. I raised the pistol from
behind my legs and pointed it at Marco’s broad, sexy chest before pulling the
trigger. He merely looked astounded.
Glendon managed to get out of
bed and head for the bathroom before I shot him in the back of the head.
Then I put the barrel in my
mouth and pulled the trigger again. A click and a nothing. It either jammed or held
only two bullets. I sank to a sitting position on the floor and alternately studied
my hands and the little steel revolver until I heard the front door crash open
and heavy footsteps on the stairs. The nosy next-door neighbor must have heard
gunfire and called the cops. No matter. Neverend was gone now. Shattered.
Destroyed.
****
I turned from the gray
concrete wall and looked through the black, iron bars of my cell. Marveling at
the strange calmness that claimed me, I wondered if it would endure when they
finally came to deliver the final Neverend to my life. And would I still hold
the image of Marco’s broad back as he plunged into Glendon’s fair flesh and
eternally wrestle with the question of whether it was monstrous or erogenous
Looks as
though all of Bobolink’s supposed Neverends failed him. But this final one
might just be the one that holds. Not all stories end happily.
