3 comments/ 27643 views/ 13 favorites Two Bottoms By: bjmichaels I looked at the time and said, "DAMN", and felt a slight panic. I hurriedly pulled on my gym shorts and shoes and dashed out the front door. How did it get so late? I wondered. One minute I'm reading gay stories on 'Literotica' and suddenly it is two-hours later! I walked quickly to 'Boner Park'. That wasn't the parks real name, I forget now what it is called, but after dark it was 'where-men-went-to-meet--men'. I lived three blocks away and I picked up my pace. I hoped it wasn't too late to 'hook-up' with someone. I crossed the street and walked on the high side of the park. It was almost shaped like a bowl and you could look down and see the park from above. I continued walking as I stared down at the walking path that went around the flower garden. I couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean much, men seemed to come out of nowhere when you walked around the path. I went down the hill and when I reached the path I slowed down to a casual stride. There were lamp posts and the path was lit up enough to see where you were going, but still dark enough for the 'tops' to hide in the shadows and watch the parade of 'bottoms' walking past them. It always amazed me that I never saw anyone until they were right beside me. My goal was the Pepsi machine outside the men's room on the other side of the flower garden. Someone usually approached me before I made it to the soda machine. Not tonight, though. I stood near the machine for a minute or two—the park was very quiet—I cursed myself for not paying closer attention to the time. I turned to walk back and a man was standing in front of me. It startled me. "I'm sorry," he said; he'd seen me flinch. "That's alright..." I answered. "Would you like some company?" he asked. "Sure," I eagerly said. He walked a couple steps to the side and ahead of me. I followed him. I quickly checked him out: he was pretty old, maybe fifty, but he had a nice head of grey hair, and he still had a handsome face. I had done a lot worse here than him. We sat in the dark behind a tree. Our hands went to each others' crotch and he said, "I want to suck you", and I immediately blurted out "I would rather suck you". We stopped pawing one another and broke out in laughter. Just my luck, I thought, the only other guy left in the park and he was a bottom, too. We sat quietly looking around the park then I said, "Well...I guess it's too late...think I'll head home." "Yeah," he agreed. "...the trouser-trout aren't biting tonight." I laughed, "Trouser-trout? Haven't heard that one before..." We stood and brushed the grass off our clothes. We began walking in the same direction. When we reached an area that had light we looked at each other and smiled and continued walking in the same direction. "I should have looked at your outfit a little closer, how old are you?" he asked with a chuckle. "Twenty-two..." I answered. "Twenty-two and cute as a button..." he shook his head, "...and I have to compete with you?" "Well, there's plenty of trout in the river..." I said. He smiled, "I'm Vernon," he said. "Nice to meet you," I said, "I'm John." We shook hands. "How long have you been doing this?" I asked. "Too long..." he answered softly, shaking his head; then he continued, "...I came to this park thirty-years ago...I was married with two young daughters at home...something in my head said, 'go ahead and try it'...I tried it...I'm still here." "You still married?" I asked. "No...that ended when my wife caught me with a guy...." "Oh, too bad...that must have been tough." "It was intensely miserable for all concerned...my wife and oldest daughter saw me bending over for some guy...I don't know how long they were there watching...." My God! I shuddered at the thought of it. "I'm sorry..." "Well, that was another lifetime ago...." We crossed the street and he said, "Well...here's my building...." We stood for a second and I reached out to shake his hand then he said, "I'm not tired yet—you want to come up for a beer or wine?" I wasn't tired either. "Sure—sounds good," I said. We walked up a flight of stairs and went into his apartment. It was bigger than mine, he had actual rooms: living room, kitchen, bathroom and a bedroom. My place was just a small efficiency. He pointed at the couch and told me to make myself at home. He asked me what I wanted to drink. "What are you having?" "I'm going to open a bottle of Pinot Noir." "Oh, good—I like that, too." He disappeared then came back with two very full glasses of wine. We each sat on an end of the couch. "How about you?" he asked, "How come a nice looking boy like you goes to the park? I'd think the guys would be falling all over you at a bar, or somewhere a little safer than this park." "Well..." I wasn't sure how to say this, "...sometimes I go to a bar out on old highway 91, but that's kind of far away—especially after you've been drinking..." "There are quite a few gay bars around here—why not one of those?" That was the question I didn't want to answer. Oh well, I'll probably never see this guy after tonight—may as well be honest with him. "I'm afraid I might run into somebody I know at one of those bars..." A slight smile crossed his lips, "Ah...yes, I understand." "You know...I mean, I'm not ashamed of what I do, but...well..." "You have a 'reputation' to protect," he finished it for me. I blushed then softly said, "Yeah...nobody knows that I like to have sex with guys..." "Your family? Your friends? No one?" he asked. I shook my head. "No—no one!" "You haven't been doing this very long then? Can I ask you what your first experience was?" "I was seventeen...a friend of mine's relative was visiting his family...the three of us got drunk one night...the relative volunteered to drive me home on the way back to his motel...in the car he said how it was still early—how he had some whiskey in his room...he asked if I wanted to 'party' with him...I said, 'sure'...now I don't know if this was real or just in my head, but I thought I felt a spark between us...I liked this guy...I'd really never thought about making it with another guy before, but suddenly I had these strange feelings for him, and I think he knew...I think he knew I was submissive...anyway, we're on his bed drinking whiskey and he suddenly offers me a pill...I watched him swallow one so I said, 'what the hell', and downed it with a shot of whiskey...in a little while I could tell the pill was affecting him—the pill never did anything for me, but it was working on him...he starts taking his clothes off...when he's down to his boxers I see he has a huge bulge...he saw me staring at it so he pulled off his boxers and he had the biggest cock I'd ever seen—I mean even to this day it was the biggest cock I've ever seen...I couldn't take my eyes off it...he started stroking it then he crawled over to me on the bed and started kissing my neck and face...he took my head in his hands and kissed me on the lips—I didn't resist so we kept kissing while he undressed me...he got on top of me and kept saying how pretty I was and kept kissing me—I liked it...then he goes, 'you wanna feel my cock?' and I shake my head 'yes'...he lay on his back and I sat up and looked at it—it was so big it was almost grotesque...my hand didn't even come close to going all the way around it...I stroked it for him...I looked at his scrotum—it was huge, too...I wanted to feel how heavy his balls were so I held them in my other hand...he just lay back smiling while I masturbated him and rubbed his balls...suddenly he stops me—pulls me down next to him and whispers how much he wants to fuck me—'I'd love to fuck your tight asshole', he said...'Let me stick it in you, okay?'...well, I got scared...I looked at that huge monstrosity of his and it scared the hell out of me...he'd kill me with that thing...he pushed me down and held me...I tried getting away from him but he was too strong...he put his hand over my mouth and I felt his cock at my back door...then all of a sudden he passes out on top of me...it was all I could do to get out from beneath him...when I left the room he was snoring and holding that big cock of his." "So, what you're saying is that if he'd had a smaller cock—you would have let him fuck you?" "Well...yeah—yeah, I would have let him fuck me." "How did you get home?" I blushed. "Well...I took some money out of his wallet and flagged down a taxi...funny thing is, after all these years he still asks my friend about me—my friend doesn't know what happened, but his cousin still asks about me." "More wine?" "Sure," I said, and when Vernon stood I could see he had an erection. He brought the bottle to me and as he filled my glass, I said, "If you want any help with that just let me know." He looked at me and saw where I was staring and laughed, "Ohhh, you are a wicked little boy, aren't you? Well, the night's still young—never-say-never!" We laughed. I really liked this guy. "How about you?" I asked, "What was your first time like with a guy?" "Not as exciting as yours, I'm afraid...I was in college...my roommate and I had been to a party and we were drunk when we got back to the dorm...we took off our clothes and went to bed...it was dark and I heard him come across the room and he climbed into bed with me—I didn't say anything...he began stroking and kissing my chest—I didn't stop him...I felt his hand rubbing my thighs—I got an erection...he took hold of my erection and squeezed it...when I didn't stop him he took it in his mouth...it was very thrilling...actually it was the first blow-job I'd ever gotten...well, I guess because of all the booze I'd had, it took a long time for me to cum...but, oh-my-God—when I came it was the greatest feeling in my life...Eddie, that was his name, Eddie swallowed my load and was leaving my bed when I pulled him back down...I just had to repay his kindness...I started playing with his cock and balls--it surprised the hell out of him—he didn't think I was 'that way'...hell, I didn't know it myself...I pushed him onto his back and knelt between his legs...it took a long time for him to cum, too—I didn't care—I loved having his cock in my mouth...my own cock began to get hard again—I couldn't believe how turned-on I was getting by sucking his cock...when he came I swallowed it all...he went back to his bed—we never said a word...when I heard him snoring—I jerked-off while thinking about his cock...he and I got together every Saturday night...I discovered that I liked sucking his cock more than I liked him sucking mine...one night I stopped him from sucking me and just had him lay down while I did him...afterwards, I kept him in my bed...I sucked his balls then I got my first taste of his bottomhole...my tongue in his ass had him moaning and squirming on the bed...when his cock got hard again—I begged him to fuck me...Eddie took my virginity that night and for the rest of the school year we slept together every night...my best orgasms came when I was bending over while he fucked me in the ass and he'd stroke my cock—it was super-delicious!" "Maybe I'll be the one helping you out tonight!" he laughed, pointing at the erection in my shorts. He opened another bottle of wine and filled our glasses. This time, when he sat down on the couch he was next to me. "I'm going to assume you're not a virgin—so how did you lose your cherry?" he asked. I smiled. "Well, funny thing is--it was right under your nose...I thought I recognized this building...a couple years ago I hooked-up with a guy in the park...he asked if I wanted to go to his van, I said, 'Sure'...he was parked on the street just below your window...I was a little scared at first, but when we got in the back it was nice—it had carpeting, and it didn't smell funky or anything...so we're laying on the carpet and I'm on top kissing him—I open his shirt and kiss my way down his chest then I open his pants and he helps me get them off...for whatever reason, I really liked this guy—maybe because he was clean and he smelled good—I don't know...but I did something I normally don't when I hook-up—I took all my clothes off, too...anyway, his cock wasn't very big—it was about the same size as mine, so while I'm sucking him it occurs to me that this would be a nice cock to have in my ass...so after I swallow his load, I go to work on his balls and asshole...he probably thought he'd just pop his nuts and we'd be done, but I had a mission that night—I wanted to lose my cherry...when his cock got hard I asked him if he wanted to fuck me—'OH GOD YES' he yelled...well, we scrambled around in that van looking for something to lube my hole with but we couldn't find anything...he said, "I'll be very careful—I'll be gentle"—I was so excited about losing my virginity it didn't matter to me—I just wanted to feel his cock inside me...now, if someone had been walking down the street in our direction, they would have seen me bending over with my hands on the front seats...anyway, he used his finger first...he rubbed my anus then pushed the tip of his finger into me...he slowly fed me his finger, stopping along the way to let me get used to the feel of it...when it was all the way inside me he slowly finger-fucked me...I felt his hard cock against my bottomcheeks—I was ecstatic knowing it would soon be inside me...he removed his finger and I felt his cockhead pushing against my anus...I pushed my hips back to help him and his cockhead broke through my anus—my own cock stiffened the second I'd felt his cock inside me...just like with his finger, he slowly pushed it into me...it was a whole new sensation...it wasn't very painful, it was more of a matter of just feeling filled-up back there...I did have to concentrate on keeping my sphincter loose...anyway, I feel his pubic hair on my asscheeks and I know he's in me to the hilt...he fucks me real slow with long strokes—it's driving me crazy—my cock is throbbing...he fucks me faster-and-faster—I'm pushing my hips back at him and suddenly his cockhead bumps my prostate—"OOOHHHHHGGGGOOODDDDD" I cry out...this makes him fuck me harder and he's holding my hips and plowing back-and-forth...I'm dizzy from the pleasure...suddenly he reaches around and grabs my cock...he strokes it maybe four-five times and my balls explode and then I feel him filling my ass with his cum...we were both screaming and our bodies were convulsing...when I felt his soft cock slide out of my hole, I felt his cum running down the backs of my legs...I remember feeling absolutely thrilled that my first fuck was even better than I had hoped it would be." Vernon put his arm around my shoulder and asked me, "What's wrong?" My eyes had welled with tears and I was suddenly feeling very sad, "It's silly..." I said. "What is it?" "He and I stayed in his van for an hour—his name was Kevin...we held each other—we kissed...we talked—he was a great guy...he wanted to see me again—he wanted us to go out—to be together...he asked for my phone number...I gave him a phony number..." "Why? He sounds like the ideal man—what? You didn't want to be with just one guy?" "No...I couldn't admit to myself that I could possibly be in love with a man—that was not acceptable to me...my family and friends would never understand." There was a moment of awkward silence then he said, "Well, you'll never know what would have happened—he might have turned out to be another typical man...men can be such bastards..." "Yeah I know...most of them--once they shoot their wad they can't get away from you fast enough." We laughed. We drank our wine. He still had his arm around over my shoulder and his hand was absentmindedly stroking my arm and neck. He had a gentle touch—the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I shivered. "Are you cold?" He asked. I smiled and said, "No...your hand feels good..." We looked at each other and our faces came together and we kissed. His lips were warm and pliant. It was a long, lingering kiss. It was nice. He took the wine glass from my hand and set them both on the coffee table. I opened his pants; he pulled my tiny shorts down to my knees; he lifted his hips and I pushed his pants and boxers down his thighs. Our lips met again as our hands gently grasped each others' cock; we slowly, unhurriedly and very sweetly, stroked each other—gave each other pleasure. Our tongues meshed together; our lips were one. We stroked faster. We moaned into one another's mouth. I was the first to cum—I pressed my lips tightly to his and groaned—my balls emptied and his hand was thick with my semen. I felt his cock expand in my hand. I kept stroking him long after his body quit convulsing; he had to take my hand away from his cock. My hand was covered with his cum. I brought my hand to my lips and tasted his cum—it was delicious—a faint salty flavor. He smiled and did the same. "Mmmmmm..." he exclaimed, "...tastes like a fresh, summer evening breeze." "No—that's just the douche I use." We laughed and walked bare bottom to his bathroom. He had two washcloths and we gently washed each other's penis and balls. We went back to his living room and put on our pants. He said, "I love your tiny gym shorts--very sexy!" I smiled. "Well...I really like the feel of the nylon rubbing against my penis." "You ever wear women's panties?" he asked. "That's a whole, different story," I blushed. "I'd like to hear it sometime," he said. He asked for my phone number and I gave it to him. "When I call this number, a guy in a Pakistani call center won't answer—will he?" I laughed, "No—this is my real number." At the front door I kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for the wine. "No," he smiled. "Thank you!" The sun was rising when I walked out of his building. Two days later my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but answered it anyway. "Hello." "Hi, John—this is Vernon. I was wondering if you wanted to play golf tomorrow—if you're busy—I'll understand." "No-no—I'd like that." The other night when I asked about his hobbies he said he played golf three-four days a week. I'd told him I liked to play golf, too. The next morning he drove the one block to my building; I was waiting in front with my clubs. We had a good time. He had me drive the golf cart and our conversation came freely and easy. He was fun to be with. He was also a very good golfer—I was impressed. Afterwards, he bought me lunch at the course and then we drove home. I had to get ready for work that night. "You know, John," he said, as I was about to get out of his car, "...I know you work late, but if you ever see my light on when you get home—that means I'm still awake, and you're always welcome to come upstairs." I smiled and said, "I wouldn't want to interrupt you if you're in the middle of someone." He laughed, "No...I've never brought a 'date' home with me...I wouldn't want most of them to know where I live." I smiled and said, "I know what you mean." I was a bartender on the north side of town in a neighborhood bar. During the day, we had a working-class clientele, but after dark, the crowd changed over to younger people, many of them the son's and daughter's of our daytime crowd. I had a pretty good following, mostly girls in their twenty's. They thought I was a little cutie. From time-to-time I went home with one of them. Yeah, I was bisexual, but I preferred the company of men over girls. I didn't want them to know that, though. They tipped me very well so I considered eating pussy a small price to pay. Besides, I couldn't blow my cover as a cute, studly kind-of-guy. Mid-way through my shift, Janice walked in and sat in my section. I had gone home with her the week before—my jaw was still sore from going-down on her—it had taken me forever to get her off. Two Bottoms "Hi, baby," she cooed. I smiled at her and made her usual rum and coke. When I brought her the drink I thought to myself what a beautiful girl she was—with a great body, as well. I felt sad and guilty at the same time—I never got a hard-on the entire time I was with her. There were times when I wished my cock would get as hard with women as it did with men. As the night wore on it became obvious that she wanted me to go home with her again. My mind busied itself thinking about excuses I could use. When closing time finally arrived, I told her I was playing golf the next morning, and I had to get up real early. "Oh, pooh..." she pouted. I drove by the park on my way home. It was late so most of the hook-ups had already happened and there were plenty of parking spaces. I parked in front of Vernon's building. I got out of the car, saw that his light was on; then looked at the park. I froze. I looked at the park then at his window. I chose to walk into his building. He was genuinely happy to see me. He asked about work while he opened a bottle of wine. I said it went fine, but it was a little slow. He sat next to me on the couch. After some small talk, I told him about Janice. "Oh," he said. "Did you enjoy it?" I hesitated, but told him about my erection problems when I was with women. He smiled and asked, "So what does that tell you?" I knew what he was getting at, and I couldn't deny that he may be right. He saw my uneasiness over discussing this and he changed the subject. "So," he said. "You never got around to telling me your 'panty story'..." I blushed. "Well, it's nothing really...one day when I was fourteen or fifteen; I was in the basement of the house I grew up in...I walked by the dirty laundry basket and just happened to see a pair of my mother's panties on top...I was alone in the house so I picked them up and felt the material...they were nylon yellow panties with a white lace waistband and they felt sooo good in my hand that I instantly became aroused...I felt a fever building within me...I thought about it then hurried upstairs to the attic...we only used the attic for storage, but there was a bed up there in case my father's wandering brother ever came to town...I pulled down my pants and underwear and pressed the panties against my hard-on—oh God what a feeling it was!...I started to stroke my cock with the panties then I had another idea—I completely took off my pants and underwear and stepped into the panties and pulled them up—Jesus, it felt incredible...I lay down on my stomach and began grinding my erection onto the mattress...I had never felt anything so good as the material against my throbbing cock...I used the friction of my rubbing the mattress against the panties to masturbate...when I came it was the best ever...when I returned the panties to the laundry basket I hid them under a pile of clothes...well, anyway, about a week later I was home alone again and thought about the panties...I didn't find them in the laundry basket—I was crushed...there were cotton panties there, but when I felt them they didn't do anything for me...now I was a stupid kid in heat so you can probably guess what I did next." Vernon smiled and said, "You didn't take the yellow ones out of her dresser drawer, did you?" I smiled and shook my head with embarrassment, "Yeah, that's how dumb I was"...I took them to the attic and this time I took off all of my clothes...God how I loved those panties...for the next week I couldn't wait to go to the attic and put them on...and every time after I was done...instead of putting them in the laundry basket—I hid them under the mattress...I figured my mother wouldn't miss one lousy pair of panties...one day I was sitting at the desk in my bedroom doing my homework...my mother came in my room—she had the panties in her hand—my face had never turned that shade of red before...she wasn't mad—she even had a little smile on her face...she said, "Sweetheart, please leave my underpants alone, okay?"...I couldn't look at her...I answered in a real small voice and said, "Okay"...and I've never touched any panties since that day...it turned out for the best, I guess." "How do you figure?" he asked. I smiled, "Well, those yellow panties were getting so crusted with my cum they didn't feel as good to wear anymore." "OH MY GOD," he exclaimed, and we both broke down in fits of laughter. "Do you have a panty-fetish?" I asked. "Not really...I mean I use to love the sexy ones my wife wore...those would be the last thing I pulled off her when we made love...I liked to feel and kiss her between the legs when she wore them, but I never tried masturbating with them...no, I have a different fetish." "What?" I asked eagerly, "what is it?" "Well..." he began, "I like to masturbate using vibrators...my wife actually got me started doing that...after a few years of marriage I had difficulty getting hard when we were in bed...one night she pulled her vibrator out of our bedside table...I thought she was going to use it on herself...we lay side-by-side..."Open your legs," she told me...I raised one leg so my foot was resting on the bed...she switched it on and I heard a soft humming sound...we began kissing and then I felt it against my anus—I almost jumped out of my skin—my cock got stiffer than it had been in years...that first time I didn't last very long...she used her hands—I shot maybe my biggest load ever...after that we used it every time we made love...she took control of me in the bedroom...she knew I was passive but she didn't understand how submissive I really was...she learned quickly—and very well...she'd use the vibrator to get my cock hard as a rock then she'd climb on board and give herself a couple orgasms before she began fucking me with it—yeah, she had taken to pushing it in-and-out of my ass while she played with my cock—she was incredible..." "Sounds like you really loved her...." I said softly. "I did—more than anyone before her or since...after our divorce she said she only went through with it because my oldest daughter insisted she do it...my daughter has never forgiven me—she hasn't spoken to me since the incident..." "I'm sorry...." "The ironic thing is my wife knew how I felt about men—one time she even suggested a three-some with another guy...I don't know why I brought that guy to our house behind her back...." "How did she know? A woman's 'instinct'?" He smiled, "No—like your story—just another example of how dumb we men can be...I began buying magazines that showed men's erections—I love looking at firm, stiff pricks—almost as much as I love caressing them...I thought I had the perfect hiding place for the magazines in the basement—well, my wife is an excellent homemaker—she found them when she was cleaning one day—that's when she began to take charge in the bedroom...." We both had bulges in our pants but we didn't care. Vernon poured more wine, sat next to me and gave me a kiss on my cheek. He changed the subject. "You have many bad hook-ups in the park?" he asked. I liked the way he used the word 'many' and not 'any'. Those of us who lived this life ALWAYS had a bad hook-up from time-to-time. "Yeah...not too many—and I only got punched in the face once, thank God. It's mainly been verbal abuse and threats...it still amazes me how quickly a guy's attitude can change once you swallow his load." He smiled knowingly. "Jekyll and Hyde..." "Yeah, I mean—what is that about? I don't think I'm that naïve, but why do seemingly sane men—actively pursue—sometimes go completely out of their way—maybe drive many miles to get to the park--all for what? A ten-fifteen minute encounter with another guy? Then he turns into a crazed lunatic right after he's gotten what he wanted in the first place? Amazing!" "They're the saddest ones—and the most dangerous," Vernon answered. "AND, they're not that different from you and me...we are all just looking for a moment of happiness in a cruel world." He saw the puzzled look on my face then continued. "Let's be honest here...I don't know your motivation for going to the park, but for me, a large part of it is 'the thrill of the hunt'—and then the morbid curiosity of what kind of guy am I going into the shadows with? Is he a decent man, or does he have bad intentions? Will he whisper sweet-nothings in my ear, or call me vile names? Will he tenderly caress my head and face as I suck him, or will he grab my ears and crudely shove his dick in-and-out of my mouth? Afterwards, will he 'thank' me and pat me on the head, or is he going to call me a whore and punch me in the face? It all comes down to this: nowadays, on my way to the park I wonder, am I going to meet Mr. Right—who'll treat me good OR a sexually-repressed gay-basher who might kill me? I'm tired of thinking this way...I guess that's why I don't go to the park as often as I used to...the night we met—that was the first time in four months I'd been there." I didn't say anything. I hated to admit it, but he was right. Over the last year even I felt the park had become less thrilling, and more nerve-wracking, but what could I do? "Why did you go there that night?" I asked. "It was past closing time—'The Hideaway' was closed...have you ever been there?—oh, I forgot—silly question—when I go out now I usually go there—it's clean, convenient and I've met some very nice men—AND the men who go there WANT to be there—they're not driven just by some primal sexual urge—they like men and want to meet men—no hidden agendas....guys in gay bars are generally not repressed homosexuals who hate who they are. " 'The Hideaway' was a gay bar around the corner from where I live. I always thought about going inside, but never did. "I guess I better get going—it's getting late," I said. He smiled, "Sure...how about I pick you up at 9:30 on Monday? We can have breakfast on the way to the course." My days-off from work were Monday and Tuesday and we had arranged a golf 'date'. "Yeah, that sounds good." He walked me to the door—he had his arm around me. "John, I didn't mean to scare you or make you depressed." "I know..." "It's just that...well... you're a sweet boy--I would never want anything bad to happen to you..." "I know..." Before I walked out the door, he said with a huge grin on his face, "Who knows? Maybe I can talk you into going to 'The Hideaway' Monday night!" His smile was infectious—I smiled back at him, and said, "Stranger things have happened..." Monday was one of those rare and magical days when everything you did or said seemed perfect, and the person you were with was having as much fun as you were. We were comfortable with one another, and our conversation came easy and it was interesting. Vernon gave me a couple golf tips, and when his tips worked, I smiled broadly at him. I sensed that he liked me as much as I liked him. On the drive home he asked, "So, what about tonight? Do you want to go?" I knew what he was talking about and I didn't want to insult him by playing coy or dumb. "I've thought about it," I said truthfully, "...I don't know..." "John, I know you're worried about seeing someone you may know...but think about this: if you do know anyone there—wouldn't that mean they were gay? And wouldn't that mean they wouldn't give a rats-ass that you were there, too?" I burst out laughing, and said, "I have no idea what you just said--okay-okay—I'll go." He smiled and said, "If you can't dazzle'em with brilliance—baffle'em with bullshit." We arranged to meet at my place in a couple hours. I went across the street and bought a couple bottles of wine, and then the cigar section caught my eye. I bought him a long, fat one, and selected for me a shorter, narrower cigar. When I got home I cleaned-up the apartment and put fresh sheets on the bed. I had plenty of time for a long, hot shower. I decided to meet him outside my building. The sunset was gorgeous; birds were singing all around me, and I stood there with a silly grin on my face. My heart pounded as I watched him walking towards me. We greeted each other and he said, "I thought you were going to show me your apartment?" I smiled and answered, Well, Mister—you play your cards right and just maybe you will see it later." We laughed and walked around the corner to 'The Hideaway'. I felt my hands trembling as he opened the door for me and we went inside. I was very pleasantly surprised. It was larger than I imagined, and tastefully furnished. The lighting was bright enough to see people's faces, but not glaringly-bright. There were quite a few people, I thought, for a Monday night. We stepped up to the bar and Vernon ordered two glasses of wine then we found an empty booth and sat down opposite one another. "To a perfect Monday," I said, and we clinked glasses and sipped the wine. It was delicious. I looked around the room. People were milling about, quite a few going table-to-table greeting friends. I saw two women in business attire with two guys wearing suits and I figured they'd just come from work. There were no other women in the entire bar. Everyone was busy in their own world. Vernon was right—nobody stared at me—there was no reason to feel self-conscious—and most of all, nobody gave a 'rats-ass' that we were here. I breathed a sigh of relief and my whole body seemed to relax. I liked it here. "Look around," Vernon said, "Do these guys look like they cruise the park?" "No—they don't," I admitted. "No...they have enough self-confidence to come here and meet guys and have a good time..." I was aware I had issues with confidence and self-esteem, and I didn't resent Vernon for mentioning it—I knew he meant well. I changed the subject. While we were talking a couple guys came over to the table and said 'hi' to Vernon. We were on our second glass of wine when a gorgeous guy, probably in his thirties, walked by the table. "Hi Tom—how are you—haven't seen you in a while," Vernon said to the hunk. "Oh...hi..." he said, not very enthusiastically. "Yeah...I met someone—haven't been coming in..." He just walked away. It was awkward. I could tell Vernon liked the guy but the feeling wasn't mutual. A sad smile crossed his lips. I felt bad for him. "There's nothing more pathetic than an ageing queen..." he shook his head. "Hey," I said. "Let's play a game." "Huh? What kind of game?" "It's called 'Sweet N Sour'," I said. He smiled and asked, "Okay—I give up—how do you play it?" "Well...look around the room—pick out a guy—any guy you want—and you guess whether his cum tastes sweet or sour...and you have to give a reason to support your guess." The smile returned to his face. "You are incorrigible!" We laughed. "I'll go first," I said. I looked around the room and after a few seconds I pointed to a guy sitting with his friends at a nearby table. "He's 'sour'," I said. "Oh, really," Vernon laughed. "And how can you tell?" "Well, looks like he's drinking Martini's with olives AND onions...there's nachos on the table loaded with peppers...and he's not in very good shape—he's overweight—yeah, his cum is definitely 'sour'." Vernon laughed loudly, and his eyes came to life. "Okay...okay—I think you're right," he said. "Your turn," I said, "...and you can't point to anyone you've already 'tasted'." He laughed again then surveyed the room. "Okay...OKAY—the guy in the blue shirt—he's 'sweet'," he said, pointing at a good-looking man in his forties. "He has a nice haircut...tastefully dressed...looks to be in good shape...and he's drinking what appears to be plain soda water." "Yeah," I said, "I'll have to agree with you..." We had more wine and played a few more rounds of the game and talked and laughed. Vernon asked if I wanted to shoot pool and I said "Sure." I was feeling the wine and leaned over and whispered, "The winner gets a blowjob from the loser." He smiled and said, "That would be the world's longest pool game—we would both try to lose." We never did shoot pool. We talked and watched the people in the bar. I was having a good time—I really liked this place. Vernon was enjoying himself, too. When the time came, Vernon wanted to pay the bill but I insisted on splitting it with him. We left smiling and laughing. I asked if he wanted a nightcap at my place and since he wasn't driving he agreed. I was nervous and happy as we walked up the flight of stairs to my apartment. Once inside and we stood in the middle of the room I said I'd give him 'The Grand Tour', I motioned with my hand—"Here it is—and the bathroom is over there"—he laughed and I opened the wine and we sat on my loveseat. Now maybe I wasn't thinking clearly—maybe it had been so long since I'd been with a guy I liked as much as Vernon, but I really thought we could have a future together. When we were together the conversation was free and easy; we enjoyed many of the same things, and I was attracted to him and I thought he felt the same towards me. So when I put my hand on his thigh and leaned over to kiss him, and he pulled away from me, I was surprised and hurt. "Johnny..." he said softly. "This isn't going to work..." I looked at him with sad eyes and said, "But I like being with you." "Sweetie," he said, "...I enjoy being with you, too, but we both like the same things...we both receive pleasure from giving pleasure...we are submissive guys who like dominant men...we both love to kneel between a man's legs...we both love the thrill of bending over for a strong man—sweetie, two bottoms don't make a top." "But we could give each other pleasure..." I insisted. A forlorn smile appeared on his face. He said, "Johnny...you need to understand WHY we do what we do...it's not about the sex--the sex is secondary...it's about our 'feelings'—our emotions—it's about the very act of submitting yourself to another human beings will—it's about putting their pleasure above yours...think back to all the hook-ups you've had—how many times did you ever cum when you gave the man pleasure? Not many, I would guess. And did that matter to you? No, it doesn't matter because the whole reason you do it is to submit and give pleasure to someone else—the thrill you feel is giving pleasure to a dominant man, and we both live to feel that thrill. We didn't ask to feel this way—it's just who we are...Johnny, I love you as a friend—I hope we can continue that relationship." His words echoed in my mind over the next few days. I didn't call him and when I saw his number on my cell phone I didn't answer. Maybe I was being small and petty but I still thought it could work for us. It was a long week at work and I was relieved when my weekend arrived. I had no plans but the longer I sat around my apartment the more it weighed on mind. I decided to go out one night. I put on my 'trolling' clothes and walked to the park. Vernon's light was on in his apartment, but I went into the park instead. I only had to walk about 50 feet until someone approached me. He was a good-looking guy not much older than me. "Ah...hey, ah..." he stammered. Oh, a shy one, I thought. "You want to go over there with me?" he asked as he pointed to the shadows. "Sure," I said, and smiled at him trying to put him at ease. A lot of the 'newbies' didn't know how to ask for what they wanted. When we reached a dark area he felt more comfortable and opened up. "Do you suck cock?" he asked. I could smell alcohol on his breath—he had to drink to get his courage up, I thought. "Yeah, would you like that?" I replied. "Oh, yeah..." I got on my knees as he leaned against a tree. I opened his pants and took out a slender, not-too-big penis. First, I had to use all my skills just to get him hard. Alcohol has that effect on a lot of guys. Then it took a good fifteen minutes before he shot his load in my mouth. My own cock was throbbing and aching by that time. Two Bottoms He zipped himself and I was getting to my feet, not paying attention, when I felt his fist crash into my face. I collapsed on the ground. "You fucking faggot—you queer son-of-a-bitch!" Then his foot caught me square in the balls. "I oughta kill you--you fucking faggot!" He kicked me again. I lay in the fetal position trying to protect myself. He spat on me and stumbled away. I lay there watching him leave. When I figured it was safe I got up and walked as quickly as I could. Vernon's light was still on but I went home instead. I guess sometimes you have to hit the darkest abyss before you can see things clearly. I didn't miss any time from work—I couldn't afford it. When I went to the bar and wore sunglasses while I worked I expected the laughs and good-natured ribbing, but when the owner came in later that night and he saw me he shook his head. The glasses covered my black-eye, but the bruise on my cheek was visible. "Get drunk and fall down again, John?" he asked. That's when I almost lost it. I'd forgotten I had used that excuse a year earlier. That's when the shame and self-loathing hit me the hardest. When you have to tell people a horrible story because the truth is even worse—then you've hit rock bottom. The rest of the night I felt naked and exposed--like everyone knew my dirty little secret. When I drove home that night I went past Vernon's place, his light was on, but I decided I didn't want him to see me like this. Nights at work became progressively better: the jokes had subsided; the guys ignored me, and the girls wanted to take me home and make me feel better--everything was returning to normal. Even a new customer began coming in every night, sitting in my section, and we hit it off right away. His name was Mark; he was interesting and funny and when I wasn't busy we spent a lot of time talking. I was positive he wasn't gay, but I found myself attracted to him anyway. I found out he enjoyed playing golf and I was dying to ask him if he wanted to play some time, but of course, I was too scared to do it. After work I'd go home and fantasize about living in a world where my feelings were 'normal', and I wasn't afraid, and everyone knew my secret and accepted me for who I am. My bruises had healed and I had an overwhelming urge to see Vernon. After work one night I saw his lights on and gathered the strength to go upstairs. I could tell he was surprised to see me, but he quickly recovered and smiled and invited me inside. He poured some wine and we sat and made small talk for awhile. Then he suddenly asked me in all seriousness: "How are you—really?" I tried to remain calm—I wanted to be strong—but his piercing blue eyes seemed to be staring directly into my soul. I fought back the tears that were welling in my eyes. I had resolved never to tell anyone what happened that night, but my resolve was crumbling. I had to talk to someone about it, and Vernon was the only person in the world I could tell. "I, ah...a couple weeks ago I...well, I had a problem in the park," I said softly, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls—I'm sorry I didn't come here sooner—you're my best friend—I wished I'd come here right after it happened—I'm sorry—I'm sorry...." He put his arm around me as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I cried—I bawled my eyes out. He held me close to him and gently stroked my head and shoulders. It felt so good to be next to him--it felt so good to tell him the story of that night. And when I was done talking it felt so good to be with someone who understood—who had been there before--who wasn't the slightest bit judgmental. My eyes brightened and the weight of the world was off my shoulders. "Just one thing," he said, "...was he sweet or sour?" It felt so good to laugh again, too. The hours slipped by as he made sandwiches and we drank more wine and talked and laughed. It was sunrise when I finally said I'd better be going. "I'm playing golf with a friend of mine on Monday," he said as we stood at his door, "...I'd like for you to meet him." The cold reality of life washed over me. I had to make a decision about which way I needed to live my life. "I don't know..." I said, hesitantly, "...I may have been 'scared straight'." A sad smile spread across my lips. "Well, actually...you've already met him—his name is Mark." "M-Mark?" I stammered. "Yes...you met him at the bar...he use to be my assistant at the company I worked for...he's a lot like you...he's shy and uncomfortable about who he is, and has a hard time meeting people who he likes, and—he really likes you." "Are you talking about a guy who's about six-feet, hundred-and-seventy pounds, blue eyes and light brown hair? Maybe around thirty?" I began to tremble. He chuckled. "Don't be mad at me, okay? I had lunch with him one day and we were talking, and one thing led to another, and I thought about you...I told him where you work, and he likes you—a lot!" I didn't know what to say. "Johnny...he's a great guy, and I think you two would make a nice couple...look, he's nervous about this, too...he didn't think you were gay." It was the hardest decision of my life. To intentionally meet a man for the possibility of a real 'relationship'—not just sex—scared the hell out of me. I knew this could be a turning point—and a point of no return—a real commitment to a lifestyle that I hadn't fully embraced yet. "Ah...Vernon, I don't know...what if I really like him? What if—" "You love him? Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you're really looking for?" He had a way of cutting through the bull--he told it like it is. "Well, ah...sure, okay...yeah, I'd like to see him again," I said. And it was true. Mark hadn't been in the bar for a few days and I missed him. The closer it got to Monday my nervousness turned to excitement. I was looking forward to seeing Mark outside the bar—in a natural setting. I rode with Vernon to the golf course. When he pulled into the parking lot my heart was pounding. Mark was already there. When Vernon and I walked toward him I couldn't help but smile. Then I saw Mark smiling, as well. I became totally relaxed. Vernon suggested I ride in the golf cart with Mark. This is going to be fun, I thought to myself. Well, what can I say? The day was sunny and beautiful. Mark and I talked like we were old friends. Our conversations were natural and unforced. We shared our lives with each other; there was a natural ebb and flow when we spoke. We were both good listeners too—we paid attention to what the other was saying—it sounds easy enough, but think about the times when you've had conversations with someone, and you just know that they're listening to you only waiting for their turn to talk. Before we knew it, we were playing the eighteenth hole. We hadn't talked about where we might go from here. He hadn't asked me out, and I wasn't sure of the protocol—is it proper etiquette for a bottom to ask out a top? We were riding down the fairway when Mark said, "Ah, I...well, I was wondering if you'd like to maybe have dinner with me some night?" I smiled at him and said, "I'd love to—that would be nice." Vernon said he'd buy a round of drinks in the clubhouse so we put our golf bags at the bag drop and went inside. We ordered beers and sat down in a booth. Vernon subtly made sure I sat next to Mark. I felt a thrill shoot up my body at the touch of Mark's leg against mine. We had another beer then Vernon made a surprise announcement. "Okay, boys—it's time to hit the showers—I don't know about you guys, but I got a little sweaty out there—you're my guests here so you can use the facilities, too." Mark and I mumbled our "Yeah, sure" and "Okay" and followed Vernon into the locker room. Vernon chose three vacant lockers next to each other and we undressed, wrapped towels around us and headed for the showers. It was a large communal shower room. Mark and I showered next to each other. I couldn't help but sneak glances in his direction. He had a beautiful body—a sculpted chest with very little body hair. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him close. When I glanced down I received my second thrill of the day. His penis was erect—standing straight out—hard, firm and gorgeous; six inches long and an inch-and-a-half around. I wanted to drop to my knees right then and there. My own penis stiffened at the sight of his. "What are you boys doing over there?" Vernon called out. He was laughing and pointing at our hard-ons. Mark and I looked at each other and blushed—but we smiled, too. We gazed into each other's eyes and I felt my third thrill of that afternoon: I saw tenderness and caring in his eyes. It was at that moment I believed we bonded together. We felt a common need and desire. It was at that moment I just knew he and I would be together. After drying-off and dressing, Vernon had another surprise for us. "Oh my, look at the time," he said, "Mark, would you mind taking John home? Believe it or not boys—I have a date." We both chuckled. "Sure," Mark spoke up, "I'd love to." On the ride home I had to fight my desire to sit next to Mark—to feel his leg against mine again. We spoke very little—we both knew this was a critical time in our relationship, and neither one of us wanted to say something stupid to ruin it. When we neared my apartment Mark spoke. "Ah...what are you doing for dinner tonight?" "I was hoping we'd go somewhere," I smiled at him. He smiled, now he was sure of himself. "I know a great place with a good menu—want to try it?" "Sounds good to me," I said. We had two bottles of wine with an excellent meal. We were totally relaxed. We shared our secrets and bared our souls. Vernon was right: we were a lot alike. Mark had a difficult time accepting his sexuality. He said it took a long time before he wasn't embarrassed. He had only recently told his parents. He said they were disappointed but supportive. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he was tired of living a lie. I didn't mention my promiscuity in the park. Vernon once said to me: "You don't talk about your bowel movements with anyone, do you? You don't tell someone you work with that you despise them, do you? Some things are private and best left unsaid." When Mark started the car and pulled out of the restaurant parking lot I moved over next to him until our thighs were touching. "Oh my," he said with a chuckle. I resisted the urge to place my hand on the bulge I just knew I'd find in his slacks. By the time we reached my apartment my own penis was throbbing and leaking pre-cum. "Would you like to come inside for a glass of wine?" I asked; my heart pounding. "That would be nice," he said in a soft voice. He followed me upstairs and when we were inside I turned and looked into his eyes. What I saw gave me the biggest thrill of all that day—I could tell he felt the same way about me as I did for him. We put our arms around each other and kissed for the first time. It was sweet and magical—he was a good kisser. Our lips and tongues meshed together in perfect harmony. The fever inside us rose to the point where we frantically began to undress one another. We were hugging and kissing while we inched towards the bed. I lay down and he lay beside me. Our hands roamed freely over each others' body—I caressed his thighs and soon ran my hand between his legs. His ball sac and penis were smooth and hot. I thought I was going to cum just feeling his wonderfully hard penis. I guided him onto his back and kissed my way down his body. I paid close attention to his breasts and nipples. He groaned when my teeth lightly scraped his hardened nipples. I knelt between his legs and worshipped his magnificent cock. His manly aroma sent my head spinning. I kissed the tip of his penis and worked my way down to his balls. I kissed and licked his throbbing member until he couldn't take it anymore—that's when my lips slid over his cockhead and I took him into my mouth. My tongue never left the surface of his hot flesh. I stroked the shaft of his cock while my head bobbed up-and-down. I gently fondled and massaged his balls. His hips began moving involuntarily—thrusting upwards—burying more-and-more of his hard cock into my sucking mouth. I was lost in the sucking—all I could think of was how much I wanted to taste his cum. A steady moan escaped his parted lips. My own cock throbbed and my balls ached for release. My hand stroked him faster-and-faster and when I felt his balls contract in my hand I pressed my tongue flat on his cock-slit and awaited my reward. His cum was hot and delicious. When his first load filled my mouth I lost it completely—my cock exploded—I was delirious with excitement and pleasure. While stream-after-stream of his man-juice filled my mouth my cock unleashed a torrent of cum—spraying my chest and thighs and the sheets. I swallowed mouthfuls of jizz while his body jerked wildly out of control. When his penis began to soften I licked it clean. I couldn't get enough of his cum—he was definitely 'sweet'—like I knew he would be. I collapsed beside him; we were both panting for air. I rested my head on his chest and he stroked my hair. We both fell asleep. I guess the sun and excitement wore us both out. When I awoke he was still sleeping. He had a wonderfully stiff, morning hard-on. I stealthily kneeled between his legs and he came awake while I sucked and stroked him to another explosive orgasm. "Good morning," I said as I lazily smiled up at him. The look of wonderment and joy on his face was all I needed to feel warm and loved. Our jobs prevented us from seeing one another for a full five days. He worked days and I worked nights and he lived too far away. We were disappointed we couldn't be together. In the meantime, we were constantly on the phone like schoolgirls, talking about anything and everything. We made a 'date' for my last night of work that week. He would take a nap then come over to my apartment when I got off work. We were both giddy with anticipation. I went to Vernon's apartment a couple times that week for wine and conversation. He actually was seeing someone—Mark and I thought he'd made up the story about having a date. He was as happy as I'd ever seen him. He said he might be in love. We hugged and laughed. At work that week, I was friendly, funny and flirted with the girls. It was a lot easier to flirt with them when I knew there was no chance for a sexual encounter. I made good money in tips that week. I hurried home when my shift was done and prepared myself for Mark. I poured two glasses of wine and placed them on the coffee table. I wore only my string bikini briefs and a robe. When I heard him knock on the door I couldn't believe how excited I was. As soon as he was inside he took me in his arms and gave me a long, passionate kiss. I ran my hands up-and-down his body. His penis was hard inside his slacks and I gave it a quick squeeze. To hell with the wine, I thought to myself. I slowly undressed him. When I got his shirt off I dropped to my knees and took off his shoes and socks. The bulge in his slacks was level with my face and I pressed my lips to it. I undid his slacks, and in one movement, pulled down his slacks and underwear. His beautiful cock sprang alive before my eyes and I kissed and licked it. A thick stream of pre-cum smeared his cockhead and I licked it clean. I took his glans into my mouth and lathered his cockhead. When I let it slide out of my mouth he groaned with disappointment. I stood and smiled then hooked my thumbs in my briefs and wriggled them down my hips and legs. I stood naked before him. He took me in his arms and we kissed—our tongues hungrily exploring each others' mouths. I whispered in his ear, "I want to feel you inside me." His eyes opened wide, and he asked, "Are you sure?" Without saying a word I took hold of his throbbing penis and guided him to the end of the bed. I whispered to him again, "I want to feel you inside me—please fuck me." I bent over and rested my head and shoulders against the mattress and spread my legs wide open for him. "W-What about a lube—" "It's been taken care of," I interrupted him. I felt his hands on my hips—he was trembling. Then he grasped his erection with one hand and placed it against my anus. I felt his beautiful, round cockhead pressing against my opening. I instinctively pushed my hips back and felt his cockhead firmly entering my anus. It took my breath away. He paused but I continued pushing back on his cock. Slowly he impaled me onto his magnificent weapon. When I felt his scrotum against my bottom-cheeks I took a deep breath. I felt some pressure, but absolutely no pain. "Fuck me, Mark—fuck me hard," I hissed through clenched teeth. His strong hands held my hips as he slowly withdrew his cock to the tip then plunged it back into me. I felt every vein and bump on his cock as he fucked me harder-and-harder. I figured he wouldn't last long after five days without sex and I was right. After nine or ten strokes he cried out—I felt his body stiffen—then he fucked me wildly as his cum filled my rectum. When he finished I was happy to feel his cock was still hard inside my asshole. While he caught his breath I began sliding my asshole back-and-forth on his magic cock. The feelings it gave me were exquisite. We fell into a steady rhythm. I loved feeling every inch of his wonderful cock inside me. My balls were churning, aching to cum; suddenly, I felt a renewed urgency within him. He fucked me harder-and-harder—faster-and-faster. When his cockhead bumped against my prostate I screamed out in joy. This spurred him on to fuck me even harder. My mind was lost in the fog of mindless pleasure. A steady moan came from both of us. Our sounds of lust filled the room. He grunted as he shoved his prick in-and-out of me with abandon. My own cock jerked and throbbed as he plowed into me. He began fucking me like a madman—with pure lust and desire he rammed his cock into me. His hands held my hips tightly as his magnificent cock battered my hole. Suddenly, we both screamed--our bodies contorted and shook with violent spasms as we climaxed. His scalding cum coated the walls of my asshole—filled me to the very brink. My own cock spurted and sprayed cum everywhere. It was the most satisfying orgasm of my life. I felt his cum already escaping my asshole and running down the backs of my thighs and legs. We stood motionless, his cock slowly softening inside my hole. I remained bent over for him—he was 'my man' and I was proud and overjoyed to be his bitch. Later that night, in the darkness and before we fell asleep, I lay in his arms and said, "I love you, Mark." He said, "I love you, too, Johnny." The next day, after I sucked him dry, we moved some of my things to his apartment. There was no way we were going to go five days again without seeing each other. Our plan was for me to totally move in with him when my rent was due. However, the best laid plans.... I was getting ready for work when he called. "Johnny," he said, "...guess what? They offered me a promotion...it's a huge raise—you wouldn't have to work anymore if you don't want to...." "My God, Mark—that would be great!" I exclaimed. "Yeah, ah...the thing is we'd have to move—they want me to run the Florida operation—we'd have to move to Florida." "Ah...okay, sure..." was all I could say. That night at work I thought about it long and hard. I'd never been out of the state much less to Florida. Everyone I knew was here. My family, my friends.... Mark was awake when I got home that night. "You didn't sound very enthusiastic on the phone," he said. Two Bottoms I smiled at him. "You know," I began, "...I wasn't at first...this is where I was born and raised—I'd be leaving everything that's familiar to me...but—it would be a fresh start—I'd be able to be 'me' in Florida—I wouldn't have to worry all the time about what people thought of me—I think we'd be happy there—hell, I'd be happy anywhere as long as I'm with you!" "What about you?" I asked. "Would you be happy there?" "I told my boss that I'm gay and have a boyfriend...he said he wasn't surprised...he said it didn't matter—that I was the best man for the job...." "That's wonderful," I cried out. We hugged and kissed and made love all night long. Mark went to Florida to set-up living arrangements. When he came back he said I'll love it—we're five minutes to the water, and it's a beautiful house. Vernon treated us to a goodbye dinner. We met his boyfriend Chuck—a very nice man. They promised to visit us soon. I said my goodbyes to my family and friends. I told them I was moving to Florida with a friend named Mark. There were a couple raised eyebrows, but for the most part they understood. My mother smiled and said she hoped I was finally happy. "All I've ever wanted for you is to be happy," she said. Mark and I packed both of our cars and began our journey; three-days-and-two nights later we'd arrive at our new home. Our second night in a motel Mark joined me in the shower after a long day on the road. We soaped each other and played around until we both had raging erections. When we dried ourselves in the bathroom Mark said, "I have a present for you—it's on the bed." I held his hard cock as we went into the bedroom. There, laid out on the bed was a pair of yellow nylon panties with a white lace waistband. "I hope you like them—the bedroom closet in our new home is filled with things I'd love to see you wear..." I smiled, pulled on the panties and dropped to my knees and gave him a proper 'Thank You'.