Desperate Lovers, page 10
part #2 of Wonderland Series
Frankly, he was tired of dancing around the issues, and now that he and Paolo were captive to the curves of the PCH, there was no better time.
“You’ve been distant this week,” Aaron said as an opener.
“Hello pot, it’s kettle—you’re black.”
Aaron focused on the road, hurt by the sarcasm but knowing the words were true. “I saw you, with Parker St. John—coming up from the beach the other day.”
“Oh,” Paolo said. There was no emotion to his monosyllabic response.
“What’s the matter, no good comeback this time?”
“Aaron, what do you want me to say? Yeah, he fucked me, just like Rich did, and might I remind you, you wanted me to be with Rich, to use it against him and Marc if they thought about breaking from the group.
We’re all in this together, trying to stop Danvers Converse, and Parker was just my way of insinuating myself into their world.”
“Nice work if you can get it,” Aaron said dryly.
“You’re not exactly innocent in all this.”
“I didn’t say I was. But seriously, Paolo, what information do you think you’re going to glean from Parker? He’s not going to give you anything except maybe herpes; he’s so far up Converse’s butt, not to mention that sniveling idiot Russell Allen. God, I hate that guy, the way he sucks up to anyone around him—and not sucking in a good way.”
The levity allowed them both to laugh, and the happy sound filled the car.
“See, about Parker, I don’t think he’s on Converse’s side—I’m not sure he wants to see his house turned into the Wonderland Palaces. He just wants to be named its rightful owner, and he’s using Converse to get it.”
“He tell you that?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Pillow talk, eh?”
Paolo didn’t answer, instead he pressed the button to slide the roof of the car back, and in seconds the breeze whipped at both men’s faces as they were exposed to the lush countryside. Aaron gunned the engine, and as they took the next curve they both shouted with instant joy; this is how it was supposed to be between them, a day of fun in the sun, adventures on the open road.
“You know I love you,” Paolo said.
“And I love you,” Aaron said. “No more sneaking around, we work as a team. You and me against everyone else.”
“I like that,” Paolo said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aaron saw Paolo’s hand slide over to him, felt it settle onto his crotch. His cock immediately responded, pressing hard against his shorts. Fingers slid upwards, snaking inside his shirt, toying with the buttons. Aaron tried his best to concentrate on the winding road ahead of him, but Paolo’s attentions were hard to ignore.
Paolo undid a few buttons of Aaron’s shirt, fingers grazing the stubbly chest hair.
“Let it grow back,” Paolo said. “I want my sexy, hairy lover back in bed.”
“That’s the plan,” Aaron said. “Might take a couple of weeks.”
“Well, then I better get busy with other things,” he said, tossing Aaron a dirty leer.
Moments later Paolo had released Aaron’s cock; long and hard, it throbbed in his hand, practically sending out Morse code to be sucked.
Fortunately, Paolo could read the signs and he plunged his mouth down on the entire cock, taking it deep into his hungry mouth, then rubbing the tip against his thick goatee. Aaron gripped the steering wheel to steady himself, the sensations ripping through his body as his lover sucked him, fast, long, hard, hungry, urgently, threatening to make him come. But he held back, not wanting this moment to end. A perfect summer day, sun high in the sky and the breeze whipping at them, traveling along the highway as the ocean crashed against the nearby shore, all while he was getting a major league blowjob. With miles to go. What could be better?
A thundering orgasm, that’s what, and as Paolo’s tongue teased his pulsing tip, tracing a line around the eye, Aaron felt the pressure build deep within his loins. He cried out, just as the car took a curve, his body moving with the fluid motion of the car, and that’s when his cock burst with a heavy outpouring of come. Paolo sucked up every drop, his mouth still pumping up and down on the arched cock.
“Oh fuck, Paolo, oh wow,” he said, his breath coming back to him.
Paolo resumed his place in the passenger seat, sitting upright as he wiped at his mouth.
“On the way back,” he said, “I get to drive.”
They arrived in Carmel by two that afternoon and stopped for lunch before making their way to their ultimate destination: the mansion of Danvers Converse. Aaron had finally admitted to his lover where they were headed during the final stretch of the long drive. As part of their assignment to help protect Eldon Court, it was their job to dig up any dirt on the old baldy, and while it wouldn’t be easy, the man being so powerful and restrained, Aaron was convinced there had to be something.
“You really think we’ll find something?”
“Beats me,” Aaron said with a shrug, finishing off his salad, “but with Danvers away on business in New York, this was our one chance to gain access to his residence.”
“We planning a break in?”
“Of course not, a guy like Danvers probably has an expensive security system. No, we’ll knock and take it from there.”
“Bold,” Paolo said.
Aaron stared at his lover, cupped his fuzzy chin with his hand.
“Beautiful.”
“Aww, Aaron, that’s sweet. So unlike you.”
“Hey, fuck you,” Aaron said with a laugh.
“Later. Plow me later, and all night long.”
“That’s a promise I know I can keep,” Aaron said. “It’s good we did this, had this talk. Now, let’s get down to business, get it over with so we can get back down to pleasure.”
Aaron pulled the car onto a side road, his GPS giving him perfect directions. Along the winding drive, they could smell the brine of the Pacific, not unlike their own home on Eldon Court, but of course where Danvers Converse called home there weren’t any other homes, and certainly not any nosy neighbors. And there was definitely not a group of homos here to bring down property values, as he no doubt saw it.
Surprised there was no gate to impede their progress, they emerged through a copse of trees, and there, standing proud on a bluff looking over the cliff, was Danvers Converse’s large, brick mansion, as classic as they came, built to the demanding man’s exacting standards. A car was parked under the portico, and Aaron thought there was something familiar about it. He remarked on it, but Paolo just shrugged.
“It’s a car,” he said.
“Said a man who drove down the PCH in a Sebring convertible. You’re no help.”
Parking behind the silver Porsche, Aaron again gave the car a look; these cars were a dime a dozen in California, so why it caught his interest he wasn’t sure. But his pondering would have to wait, as he and Paolo steeled themselves for whatever was to happen next. They came to the front door, saw an old-fashioned brass knocker in the center—like any neighbor could just knock and ask for a cup of sugar. Paolo reached up and used it, the sound echoing in the wind off the ocean.
They waited, knocked again, waited, and finally were rewarded with someone coming to the door. Rewarded was the right word, as the occupant was a young guy, probably no more than twenty-three or four, and he was dressed in a tight pair of Speedos; his body was dripping wet, so clearly he’d just come from the pool, despite the fact he held a camera in his hand. Aaron and Paolo just stood there looking at this hot stud, at his wiry, muscular frame, the package stuffed into the thin bathing suit, at the covering of curly brown hair on his chest, the three-day stubble on his face. But it was his eyes that really caught their attention: blue like the ocean, sparkling with life, and also, staring back at them with curiosity.
“Can I help you? Surely you’re not lost. This is private property.”
“Oh, sorry, we were looking for a bed and breakfast,” Aaron said, having rehearsed this scenario in his mind earlier. “This was just too beautiful…uh, and large,” he said, eyeing the guy’s crotch, “you know, to be someone’s home.”
“Well, it is a home, mine,” the guy answered. “And I’m kind of busy.”
Aaron wasn’t sure how he was going to gain access to the house, but he wouldn’t have to. Paolo suddenly spoke up, saying, “Are you a relative of Mr. Converse’s?”
The guy’s expression wavered. “Thought you were looking for a B&B? What’s going on here?”
“Nothing untoward,” Aaron said, “we work for Mr. Converse, he’s spoken so much about his home in Carmel and we were near, so we thought we’d check it out. Are you his…what, his grandson?”
“It’s none of your business who I am, and you guys are trespassing. So I suggest you get back in your car. Do it now and I won’t tell my uncle you were here.”
Uncle, Aaron noted.
Before he could answer, another voice, deep and male, entered their conversation, from the back of the house.
“Troy, what the fuck?” the other man said, “Get rid of whoever it is, I don’t have all day.”
“Sorry, gentleman, I’m working.”
And with that, Danvers Converse’s nephew, who happened to be named Troy, slammed the door shut. The turn of the lock was loud, making a point. Aaron and Paolo retreated to their car, and hastily left the stately grounds. As they zoomed back onto the PCH, heading toward Wonderland, they discussed what they had learned, what they hadn’t, and whether they were missing some important point there.
“What a bust of a trip,” Paolo said.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Aaron said, his mind working overtime to figure things out. Did Danvers have a gay relative, is that what made him so angry? Is that what set him to destroy the lifestyle of those in Wonderland because they were so comfortable in their own skin, like Troy was, while Danvers had to settle for private, hidden sexual encounters?
Think about it: a hot photographer dressed in a Speedo, a guy calling out to him from the pool, his subject anxious to get to work, a Porsche parked out front, the voice from the back naming Troy. There was something familiar about the name Troy, and also something far too familiar about the man’s voice. Like he knew him…but damned if he could come up with anything.
Business, though, could wait until later. Paolo was behind the wheel of the car, which meant Aaron had some pleasuring to do. He quickly plunged down onto Paolo’s cock, already rock hard in anticipation, and while he sucked him, his mind ventured back to the sexy guy at the door, at that impressive bulge in his crotch and his scruffy face, his nice hairy chest. He sucked his lover with deep passion, and Paolo cried out and soon came and came with eager grunts. Aaron, happily sucking down each drop, had to wonder if Paolo had been thinking of sexy Troy too during the blowjob.
Sunset had settled over Wonderland when they returned home to
Eldon Court, and as they pulled the car into the driveway, they noticed a visitor waiting on their front porch. Aaron was surprised to see his wayward brother.
“Hey, Dane, where ya been?” Aaron asked, approaching the porch steps.
Dane, his blonde hair sticking up in all sorts of directions, no doubt intentionally, stood from the wicker chair he’d clearly been sitting in for awhile, fear written across his face. His wiry frame was a bundle of nervous energy. He embraced his brother, then Paolo.
“Thank God you’re back. I called your cell, but there was no answer.”
“Oh, yeah, we turned them off during the drive.”
“Fewer distractions,” Paolo said with a grin.
“Yeah, good for you two, what, mutual blow jobs in the car?
Nice,” Dane said. “But, really, I’m serious. Aaron, I need your help.”
“Is it Sawyer?”
He nodded. “Yeah, but not just him. It’s me…I’ve gotten into some trouble, and it could affect all of us here on Eldon Court. If what I think will happen does happen, the Wonderland Palaces will become a reality, and we’ll all have to move.”
Aaron glanced at Paolo, and then both of them stared back at Dane.
“Start from the beginning,” said the older brother. “And don’t leave out any detail.”
As night settled over Eldon Court, and the moon bathed
Wonderland in its glow, Aaron thought about his brother and his lover, Sawyer, a model, and then pieces began to fall into place. As Dane told his story, he left out one thing, and maybe that’s because he didn’t know anything about it. But Aaron did, because now he knew why that Porsche had looked familiar, why that voice had rung in his ears. The man with Troy Converse or whatever his name was, had been none other than Sawyer himself. Shit, shit, shit, Aaron thought, something was terribly, dreadfully wrong.
What next?
PART FOUR
Enemies and Allies
by Jeff Wilcox
Dane watched himself trace his tongue along the length of his lover’s chiseled body, from neck to nether regions. There he stopped, as though considering Sawyer’s engorged member and how exactly to tease him further. The model’s dick quivered, beckoning him to continue.
“That is so hot,” he sighed, motioning to the television screen and the video of him and Sawyer going at it. They’d shot it a few days ago so Dane could practice filming and editing clips for Straight To Bed, his new porn venture with his business partner Mario Grande. Of course, Grande wasn’t Mario’s real name, but it sounded good for the industry in question.
Dane, simply, went by “Dane.” One word. Like Madonna, Moby, Eminem... Or Lassie. Onscreen, he bent his love over and prepared to take him doggie-style.
Sawyer lazily rolled over on the bed to face Dane, who sat cross legged on the duvet in tented briefs. He was completely engrossed in the video. “It’s good. But I’d rather do than watch.”
“Yeah…” Dane glanced at Sawyer, and then did a double take as he realized what his partner was suggesting. With a mischievous smile, he shucked his form-fitting underwear, and Sawyer leaned in to kiss Dane’s hard dick. Sweet-tasting pre come was already flowing. He took the curved shaft in his mouth, prompting Dane to suck in a breath and then breathe out in a prolonged moan. Nobody could suck dick like Sawyer. But as he looked from his lover’s bobbing head to the action on the television, Dane found himself inspired. He pulled out of Sawyer’s wanting mouth and took a position behind his lover’s bubble butt.
“Life imitating art, huh?” Sawyer crouched on all fours, his ass high in the air. Dane’s answer was to poke his tongue in the crack of Sawyer’s asshole.
“Uhhhhhhh!” He prodded deeper. “Yeah, baby. Get me ready. Do me like you did the other night.”
Dane expertly slipped on a condom, and then kneeled behind Sawyer. It was exhilarating to watch himself on TV, penetrating the gorgeous man before him, as he actively went through the motions in real life. Kind of like playing Wii. Dane was also admittedly impressed by the size of his own prick on video. They say the TV adds ten pounds.
What he saw was additional masculinity. All of the Walters boys (Dane, Aaron, and Derek) possessed sizeable endowments, more in length than in girth. And while Dane had never seen Derek naked as an adult, he was now confident that he was the most gifted of his brothers. By a good inch or two. He threw himself into feeding those inches into one of the most beautiful men in the country, a blonde god adored by thousands around the world. The sight of his dick disappearing between Sawyer’s well-rounded globes was the ultimate turn-on. The the consummate challenge was to somehow make his lover feel the unbridled rapture he himself experienced when they were one. To that end, he followed the instructional visual aide before them and thrust even harder. In and out.
Soon, their real-time moans drowned out those from the video.
Dane reached beneath Sawyer and grabbed hold of his perfect dick. That was really the only way to describe Sawyer’s pole. Perfect. Just like the rest of his body. It wasn’t overly large. Wasn’t too small. It was perfect in size and shape, as though an artist has decided to render the ultimate man in flesh and blood. Much of Sawyer’s blood had clearly moved to engorge his dick, and Dane stroked it into a frenzy as he continued fucking.
“Yeah! Clench your butt.” The feeling was fantastic. And only made Dane want to drive his steely cock deeper. “Milk me. Make me cum.” He pushed Sawyer’s hips down for a better angle of entry and slammed his hips forward. That was when he hit home, against Sawyer’s prostate.
“Ahhh-oooohhh!” What escaped from the model’s lips was little more than a surprised howl of elation. Sawyer’s dick jerked loose from Dane’s grip and began spewing cum in every direction, soaking the bedspread. His entire body seized in ecstasy, locking Dane in his ass with a vice-like grip. Muscles squeezed until his lover could take it no longer.
Now both men cried out in delight as Dane came again and again, filling the condom.
“Oh God, Saws! Uh! Uh!”
Sawyer craned his neck to kiss Dane, and they stayed that way, tongues intertwined, as spasms wracked their bodies. When they finally uncoupled, the young lovers lay side-by-side on the bed, chests heaving.
They exchanged a look of pure bliss and something else. Something more profound.
Sawyer had never felt such a connection to one man before. What was it about Dane that pushed all of his buttons? Sure, he had been enamored by any number of men in the past, but this was something different entirely. Wonderfully fulfilling and yet, quietly disconcerting.
Always nagging him with possibility of losing everything. This moment. This relationship. This man.
Dane looked at him, mesmerized by the way the morning light streaming in from the window to illuminate beads of sweat on Sawyer’s forehead. He had no doubts whatsoever. This was “the guy.” Dane had known that from the moment they’d met. In a straight bar, of all places. At the time, Sawyer had been in a relationship with another man. That had ended quickly. Maybe Sawyer sensed that they were supposed to be together too. Now if only their respective careers—Sawyer’s in the flighty and sex-saturated fashion industry and his own in online porn—didn’t derail what they had together.
