Anson and Jorge in Japan - a Sequel

This story is a sequel to Anson Seeks a Travel Companion, previously published on Literotica. It is entirely fictional—all persons and places are figments of the authors imagination. All characters engaged in male on male sexual intercourse are over 18. Readers may wish to read the first installment to learn how Anson and Jorge met, although this story is mostly stand alone. Copyright 2023, all rights reserved. BD

Jorge left Anson's apartment, bed, and arms on a high, ready for Monday of the last two weeks of his job at the hospital before his "decompression" LWOP months off began. He was a physician's assistant and registered nurse, and had concentrated on respiratory issues for a few years during the COVID crisis. Jorge was, as the name suggests, Latino, 32, from a one parent family (mother). During the pandemic, he had worked crazy hours, seen many of his patients pass away, and maintained his sanity with frequent visits to the gym. Now, he needed a break and the hospital had reluctantly agreed.

Jorge was 5-11, with a light dusky complexion, black curly hair, dark brown eyes, a square face and gym-rat muscles. He was a sharp dresser (when not in the ubiquitous scrubs), sensuous and touchy-feely. He was the epitome of the Latin lover—and gay.

Jorge had originally planned to take his break at Yellowstone, working a few hours per day in the rangers' "cut and bruise" center while taking in the natural scenery of the famous national park. But, he had responded to a curious hook-up request on an upscale dating site, spent a few nights with Anson—and Anson had invited him to join a two month long grand Asian vacation—as travel companion "with benefits."

Anson Powell is a 52 year old widower, a lawyer, and in mourning for his long-diseased, but recently deceased, spouse. He is ready to explore his bi side. He is lively, intelligent, and social and is frequently taken for someone 15 years younger. He is 6-2, with dark curly hair (no salt in his pepper yet), in shape, lightly cut, and very well-endowed. He assumed he was a confirmed top—although he had had no male on male experience during his marriage. If Anson tanned enough, Jorge could pass for his younger brother, but probably not his son—Anson looked too young.

As Jorge had been dressing (in Anson's apartment) before leaving for work, after their second date and first full night together—which had convinced Anson to invite him on the trip, Anson had invited Jorge to spend a night during the week and the following three-day weekend. Jorge had smiled in response. The night had been wonderful. Never before had he fallen so hard for a hook (lover?) in just a week.

With the pandemic drifting down in fits and starts, Jorge now found that he had a little more time to spend with patients. And he realized, of course, that most were no longer terminal. He was beginning to look forward to each day. He loved the health industry which he had joined after a stint in an Army medical unit and formal education. He greeted his colleagues with a ready smile and picked up his schedule for the day, planning to confer with the night staff who were "handing over" their charges. Sarah, one of his good friends, had had the night shift and was off for home. She began her review of the evening's issues, but stopped and stared at Jorge. "Something's different. You look like someone that Santa has just visited. Did you find someone this weekend?"

"As usual, I can't keep anything from you. I did meet this guy and we've had two dates already. I'm hoping he is a keeper—and that he feels the same way."

"I don't have time now. Dan is working today and I need to relieve my mother who is watching our baby. But, tomorrow I want all the details, Jorge."

"I promise. But here is the teaser. He's asked me to take a vacation with him in two weeks."

"I thought you were off to Yellowstone, alone. If you're considering this, I can't wait. See you tomorrow morning."

The day went quickly. He was busy but not frantic. After work he called Anson. "Wednesday night, I'm free. I get off around 7 and could be at your place around 8."

"Great. I'll make some dinner. Plan to spend the night."

Wednesday afternoon, Anson prepared his version of boeuf bourguignon—something that would keep if he and Jorge wanted to play before dining. He set out the plates and serving utensils. Then he set up drink stuff and a small plate of shrimp. He had no idea how much Jorge ate—or what he ate. The security concierge called to announce Jorge's arrival and he was sent up. Anson met him at the elevator. Jorge had changed. He wasn't in scrubs, but instead wore tight black jeans and a white button-down fitted shirt. The shirt contrasted nicely with his complexion and showcased Jorge's brilliant white teeth and wide smile. He dropped the small duffel and wrapped Anson into a tight squeeze. "I can't believe we have been apart for two days already. I think I've got it bad. I've been daydreaming about you and what you do to me. I had to keep pinching myself to reassure that I wasn't dreaming all of this."

"Unless you're starved, let's have a drink, then hit the bedroom before dinner. Or do I need to feed you before you put out?"

"Oh, I'm starved, but not for food."

Jorge had his now standard Cuba Libre (light on the rum) while Anson had his 16 year old Loch Gillebragh—a single malt made in his ancestral village. They sat together and were in each other's arms within minutes.

"I know the way. Let's do this before I embarrass myself."

Anson sipped the last of his scotch and rose to follow. Jorge was already disrobing by the time he reached the room. It didn't take long: jeans (commando), a shirt slipped over his head, and sockless shoes. Jorge was standing by the bed in all his naked glory, erect and ready. "Oh, here. I've brought my clean certificate."

"God, you're beautiful," said Anson, pulling off his slacks and polo.

Jorge stepped forward and lifted Anson from his feet and softly placed him on the bed. Then he stretched himself out in a full cover and took his lips. "I've been thinking about this most of the day—and all of the time it took me to get here after work. I'm gonna last only about 30 seconds!"

"You're lucky that this old man can still go two or three times a day." With these words, Anson pushed Jorge to his side and on his belly. He propped up the muscled ass with a pillow or two, spread the legs and reached over for the lube. "I'm going to start buying this by the case." He pulled the ass cheeks apart and began to slather the glide around the rim of Jorge's inviting entrance. Then he lubed himself.

"Just slam it in. I can take it. I'm so ready."

"But this is our first time skin to skin. I want this to be memorable."

"If you don't get in now, my only memory will be that you got me off without even fucking me."

"Those don't sound like the words of a sub."

"Maybe not, but they are the words of a hungry, famished, bottom. Put that pole in. Now, please, sir."

So Anson positioned to enter. He was rock hard, almost achingly so. But as soon as he touched, Jorge pushed himself up hard and impaled himself. Anson was amazed at the maneuver. No one had ever done that to him before. No one had ever taken his massive cock in one slide. He really had a sexual animal on his hands—as well as a sensuous bottom who was beginning to act more aggressively with each fuck. So Anson began to pump, demonstrating the strength of his tennis-toned thighs. After only a few strokes, Jorge called out his impending orgasm. "Fuck me with that big dick. Harder Anson. Deeper. I'm cumming." So Anson reached under, pulled his balls away and squeezed the root of the penis. Jorge gasped. "Jesu, Maria, y Jose! Don Anson, let me cum, por favor, por favor, senor."

So Anson released and Jorge exploded into Anson's fist, overflowing onto the clean white sheets. "Jorge, you're going to need to be hydrated, you just spilled so much." With those words, he lifted his fist to Jorge's mouth and Jorge's tongue quickly lapped up the cum.

"Will that satisfy you?"

But Jorge wasn't ready to relax. He stayed hard and he continued to milk Anson with his powerful ass muscles. He lifted one leg, flipped himself, and Anson landed on top—without even withdrawing—or missing a stroke. Jorge used his powerful legs to pull Anson deeper and Anson dropped onto Jorge's chest and their lips met. Within a minute or so, Anson stiffened every muscle and deposited his load into Jorge. "Now you are good and planted. I'm going to tend to this garden all over the East. By the time we get home, you'll be a fucking Iowa farm, harvesting little Ansons." Jorge took him into an embrace. His hands floated down to Anson's cheeks and Jorge squeezed.

"Dios meo, I love holding these. You can plant me anytime. I'll always be ready." Jorge pulled Anson into the familiar hug, wrapping his legs around Anson's while holding Anson's cock deep inside while his own scraped their conjoined cut abs. Seconds later, just as Anson was withdrawing, Jorge came again and coated their chests with his creamy semen. "Maybe we'll have a few Jorgito's running around your gorgeous chest by then as well."

A little later, they rose, toweled down, and went into the kitchen to enjoy the food Anson had prepared. Anson had given Jorge a short Japanese- style kimono and he donned one which almost matched. This would be their dress in the apartment—and perhaps often in the hotel rooms during the trip. The robes just covered the tops of their asses and thus were always inviting and always erotic. Their dicks swung like clock pendulums as they walked.

Over dinner they talked about the trip. Anson had bought the tickets. First stop would be Tokyo. Departure was 11 days away, on the Sunday after Jorge's leave became effective. Jorge reminded Anson that he had a three day weekend coming up. But Anson had remembered—and he had planned days of sex and shopping. He asked Jorge about his wardrobe and together they decided which items needed to be supplemented. "We can always get stuff in Hong Kong or Bangkok. Both have overnight tailors and great fabrics and workmanship." He copied Jorge's passport to forward to the airline.

Then Anson announced, "I'm ready. This is going to be our first real bareback love making. Earlier was just a warm-up. Leave the dishes. The maid comes tomorrow and she has little to do with almost everything packed. In fact, I think we're going to spend the last night here in San Francisco in a hotel since the movers are coming to take the remaining stuff the day before we leave."

"I'd invite you to my place. But, it is a garage apartment attached to my mother's house. And I'm not sure we are ready for family yet."

"I agree. We'll stay at the Hyatt Regency Embarcadero. It's only a block away from here, and they know me well. We can leave the luggage here and collect it on the way to the airport on Sunday. When I first thought of this idea—the interview of candidates for a vacation with benefits--I thought it was pretty off-the-wall, and that it probably would be a failure. I expected to be leaving alone. You have changed that—big time."

So the guys walked back to the owners' suite. "I think we need to change the sheets—and this time, we're using towels." Together they quickly remade the bed. Jorge stretched out, grabbed the metal bars of the headboard and split his legs—in complete surrender and complete invitation. Anson was ready. This time he was up for the banquet dinner. He sat on Jorge's chest and offered his dickhead. Jorge opened and sucked it in, swirling his tongue around the head as the hood slipped back and then along the sensitive back. Anson reached back and stroked Jorge's thick penis to full erection. It didn't take much. Jorge was ever-ready. Then he dropped down, lifted Jorge's ass and his tongue plunged into the cum-flavored cavern. Jorge sucked in his breath, raised his legs, and trapped Anson into the space, but soon began to writhe in passion. Anson lubed, placed Jorge's calves on his shoulders, rolled him up, and began the slow descent, being sure to scrape and crowd the prostate with each stroke in and out. Jorge drew his ab muscles tight, getting ready to shoot. Anson noticed and this time he was going to let Jorge do the work. He plunged deep while taking Jorge's shaft in his fist, and as Jorge began to spasm, his anal muscles stroked Anson to climax. This time it was simultaneous.

Once again Anson dropped to Jorge's chest and Jorge used arms and legs to cocoon his on-top lover. Both guys immediately fell into a deep sleep, which of course a few hours later was interrupted by Jorge's phone alarm. It was time to dress and leave for work. And he had promised to spill the beans to Sarah. He wondered how much he would disclose.

Jorge rose leaving Anson in the bed. Minutes later, showered and dressed, he brought coffee to Anson and kissed him awake. "See you Friday morning, babe. I'm going to work out and then have dinner with Mama on Thursday. I need to explain the change of plans."

"I'd like to be the proverbial fly during that conversation."

"She knows I'm gay. She knows I planned to go to Yellowstone. I don't think it will be a difficult talk. But, I think she is coming to the conclusion that when I returned from Yellowstone, I planned to move out. She understands that this is the beginning of the end. She is about to lose her baby boy. I need to have my own place and I planned to get one after the leave. Fortunately, two of my sisters live in the neighborhood, and she is the always-there babysitter for her grandchildren. She's not going to be alone."

"Are you going to tell her about us?"

"Probably not—although she will wonder where the money came from to do Asia instead of Yellowstone."

"I don't mind. You can talk about us. But, I don't insist. Do what comes naturally. I'm certainly not ashamed of you—and my friends all know that I'm bi."

The next weekend was one of the best that Anson had experienced in years. Jorge joined him late Friday morning and they planned "just to be together." There was shopping to be done, but Anson was not a shopper—he, like most men, was a buyer. He knew what he wanted and where to get it. He assumed Jorge felt the same way. Shopping took only a few hours. The most time consuming was the conversion of their cells for use in Asia—requiring three different chips. Almost everything they needed would be delivered to the condo within a few days—including luggage. Anson was pleased that Jorge was a light traveler—each would have one medium roller case and a backpack. Hotels had laundries and major Asian cities were equipped to outfit any clothing needs. Besides, Anson hoped they would be mostly nude and in each other's arms. They dined each day at a different one of Anson's San Francisco favorites, took long walks along the Embarcadero, worked out each day—in Jorge's gym since the condo did not have one, and spent most of the rest of the time in bed, making love, preparing for it, or coming down from it. They were like insatiable teenage honeymooners.

Anson began to revel in Jorge's hands-on affection. He had always been somewhat aloof, not preferring too much physical contact. But Jorge changed that. Anson soon began to anticipate and enjoy the fact that Jorge was a lover, not a hook or a passive bottom. He was falling under the spell. Their hands were often on each other.

The weekend was quickly over. Jorge left for the hospital early Monday—the first day of his last five days. He was going to spend family time most evenings and expected that the administrators would demand significant amounts of overtime before he departed. He wouldn't see Anson until the next weekend—and they were scheduled to depart mid-day on that Sunday.

Anson for his part concentrated on getting the remaining furniture moved to storage, selling or giving much of it, meeting the architect and general contractor, and hiring a "personal engineer" who would be his eyes, ears, and paymaster as the work progressed in his absence. He was hoping that only infrequent and inconsequential contacts would be necessary about the reno from Asia. Friday afternoon, he moved to the Hyatt. Jorge would join him on Saturday when they would spend their last full day in San Francisco before the trip began. (His family had insisted on a going-away celebration after work ended on Friday.)

Saturday was one of those rare cool, dry days—with no fog, no rain expected. So Anson had booked one of the courts on Pier 13A for several hours and he and Jorge went to play. Jorge was not a skilled player, but he had played some. He knew the way to hold a racket, how to serve, and he was athletic and indefatigable—and he hit hard and fast. He was obviously a fan of the two-handed, "grunt and smash" international players. Anson won, but realized that by the end of the Asian tour, Jorge would be his match. He was learning fast and was a natural. This was something they could enjoy together throughout the trip.

Sunday arrived. Hyatt did a famous Sunday brunch in the giant atrium and both guys decided to partake rather than use room service. Then they were off to the airport, detouring briefly at the condo to pick up luggage for the mid-afternoon non-stop departure for Narita. The trip was long, but they were in business class with reclining flat seats. (Anson had not sprung for the first class bedroom for two since he had been warned that the airline's policy that no sex was permitted was rigidly enforced.) They would need to wait until arrival. The plane arrived only a few hours after departure on the clock—but the next day (because of the International Date Line) and they took the fast train to downtown. Their hotel was the newly-renovated Imperial—the hotel that Frank Lloyd Wright had designed nearly a century before—old, distinguished, in a magnificently manicured park, but with large modern rooms and baths. So it was early Monday night when they finally checked in.

Anson had booked a small suite with two king beds. He wasn't at all sure whether he wanted to broadcast their relationship to hotel staff. Japan tended to be tolerant of various sexual practices, including gay relationships, but there was always an overlay of privacy and discretion. A society which lived so densely was very careful to protect the personal space and privacy of its people—and there were no religious taboos—only an intense desire not to embarrass a family member (including a spouse) with public sexual indiscretion. Even "fidelity" had its own meaning in Japan. The shower was huge—with two rain showers and wall sprayers. And that of course was the first place that attracted both of them. The grime and dehydration of the long trip needed to be cured. And it had been more than 24 hours since they had enjoyed each other. Both were rampant and ready. The shower was wonderful. Anson remarked that he had planned something similar for the condo reno—essentially a water proof room with potential for soaking, steam, or joint showers.

Then jet lag caught up and both of the guys headed for the king. Anson spooned Jorge and wrapped him in an embrace. Within minutes both were asleep.

Later Anson woke first and decided it was time to plan their days with the concierge. He allowed Jorge to sleep as he dressed and went down to the concierge. There he explained his desires: each day of the four they would have in Tokyo would have the same pattern: mornings at tennis or in the gym followed by a massage; lunch at a sushi establishment, then a car and driver for sightseeing (the Imperial Gardens, the shogun's castle, a Shinto shrine, the famous art museum—and it turned out that this was chrysanthemum week in Tokyo—so a visit to the garden club competition was a must. Sightseeing must end each day around five. After a few hours in the suite, they would have dinner at one or two of the famous restaurants of downtown—certainly including Nobu. The concierge suggested an evening of typical Japanese entertainment—at one or more of the famous geisha parlors.