Geoff and Chet Ch. 07

Chapter 07 The morning after; regrets?

Author's Note: This is a work of fiction, part of a multi-chapter, two part novella. Copyright, 2023. All characters portrayed in sexual situations are over 18. Thanks for staying with me. I wrote this several months ago—and then when I reread it, I realized it started a bit too slow, but I did want the characters to have a life—so I added Prologue 00—so we'd have some action at the beginning. I promise that there is action in almost every chapter going forward. Geoff and Chet now feel like friends I've known for years—I only wish one of them had been mine. BD

I awoke first, I think. Even though it's Sunday, those early shifts at the ER had accustomed me to early rising. My left arm was around Chet, pulling his butt securely into my hollow as my fingers traced the deep ridges in his abs. My morning wood was nestled between his legs, splitting his balls, knocking on the door, so to speak. We were sweaty and slippery. So I pushed a little and slid my dick easily between his balls nudging the base of his hard penis which I stroked a few times. Chet squeezed with his powerful thighs and I was trapped in heaven's canyon. Maybe he wasn't sleeping after all. He reached down to fist both of our knobs in one hand. I could feel the smile on his entire body.

"Can Geoffy come in to play?"

"Let me relieve myself and we'll see. Has he been a good boy?"

"I think a very good boy, fine and upstanding."

"But, I'm not sure I can walk in a straight line to the loo. I feel like I was riding out on the range all day yesterday—or riding that mechanical bull. I used very different muscles from when I cycle. I guess I am a real bow-legged Texas cowboy now."

Chet unwrapped and headed for the bath walking with an exaggerated bow- legged gate, led by a long hard pole. I followed right behind, reaching out to grab his butt. He slipped away and headed for the toilet. I stood behind him, resting junior in his crevice as I stroked his butt. "If you keep doing that, I won't perform—and you won't get to play."

Back in bed, we embraced and played tongue-tag for a long while. It felt good to hold and caress such a muscular young stud in my arms as our dicks tangled. Far superior to a teddy bear or a security blanket. Finally, I pulled him on top and began to massage some anesthetized cream into his butt and back as he squirmed around on my chest, pinning me to the mattress. "This should help some. How do you want it this beautiful morning?"

"Since I'm in training to be a cowboy, I think I'll ride." Chet reached over for the lube pulling us both toward the edge of the bed, spread some on my penis and liberally anointed his hole. Then he rose up and positioned my knob at his entrance. "Wow. It is a bit sore." He lifted on his knees and arms and began to descend—very slowly. He was really tight and hot and obviously sore. What did I do to deserve this? He slipped back slowly until his balls and cock were bouncing on my abs. It took a few minutes before I was fully in and his ass muscles rested completely on me. He reached forward, and placed his arms on my pecs and pinched my nibs. I bucked and he moved his arms to either side of my chest. I reached around and grabbed his cheeks, preparing to help him stay in the saddle. He rocked a bit, obviously searching for the P-spot, but my girth didn't give him much maneuvering room. Then he hit it and his eyes opened wide. "Oh! Let me do that again. And again." Chet had amazing anal muscles and he repeatedly squeezed and rose up, stroking me with each rise and using my corona to scrape his prostate. I think I have wakened the sleeping dragon—he's not fire breathing, but he does love to have his p-spot stroked. And the soreness had given way to pleasure.

Using my legs and shoulders, I pushed my hips up off the bed arching and resting on my powerful shoulders, duplicating the familiar buck of a horse, deepening my thrust, and moved quickly up, down, and to the side. He held on tight. "Fuck, a bucking bronco. No, a fucking bronco." He rose again, holding on by pinning my hips with his thighs. After a few bucks, I rose from the pillow so we were chest to chest and slid toward the side of the bed. When my feet touched the floor, I stood with him in my lap, my hands firmly holding his ass. His arms went to my neck and his lips met mine. Then, he dropped his butt just a little. Geoffy went still deeper. I loved this position. I gripped his ass and squeezed. He moaned and shivered gripping my neck in a near stranglehold as he bounced on my pole.

I pivoted and pulled him down hard on my dick while his legs gripped my waist. I fell forward and had him on his back on the bed. I pounded a few more times and then I felt the familiar contractions that would push my seed up from my swollen, now free-swinging balls into his bowels. His penis lengthened and expanded, the head colored dark, and, as my hands stroked his stiff snake, he began to pump long spurts that reached my chest, neck and even my lips. (I had a momentary image of Moses staff that becomes a snake in that Biblical epic.) He yelled with pleasure and spanked my ass, hard. I was covered in his semen. I must have shot a gallon into his gut. He would leak all day. And, I'm sure my little swimmers are searching for little uphill streams, beginning to permeate every part of his being, making him mine and making him crave me again. I fell onto his chest, both of us breathless from yet another great piece of sex play. I licked his lips and gave him a kiss with just a taste of that now familiar seed. We lay there embracing as my cock deflated and slipped out with a loud plop. I reached down to cup the fluid which followed and brought it to his lips. He smiled and licked my fingers clean. They say the Irish have addictive personalities. I sure hope so. I'm doing my best feeding him my potions.

"I hope your Dad is a sound sleeper. Either that or he is going to think you are hurting me. I was a little loud. We need to open the sliders. It smells like an over-used bathhouse in here."

"But you love it, don't you?"

"No more for you today. It's a good thing that I can still claim injury. I am definitely going to walk funny. I'm up for a long hot shower—alone, if you please. Then we can talk about what's on for later."

An hour or so later, we walked into the kitchen in tees and swim shorts, fresh from showers and smelling of a very presentable shower gel. Dad had prepared another huge ranch breakfast. He looked over at me and winked. "I presume you guys slept well. Chet, you seem to be recovering nicely from the accident. I hadn't realized that you also hurt your inner thighs." He laughed a little and winked at me.

"Yes. Geoff is a going to make a good doc. His bedside manner is great and he sure knows how to take care of a patient."

"I've heard that. In fact, I think I heard it this morning, just a little while ago."

Chet reddened just a bit and said, "But, I'm still just a bit stiff. I think I'll be fine by tomorrow and ready to start training again." Dad raised those tell-tale incredulous eyebrows. He definitely caught the double entendre.

"Well, do what you must to work out that stiffness. I have work to do. Be careful guys. I know guys your age consider yourselves to be immortal, but, believe me, that's not true." Looking directly at me, he added, "If you go at it too hard, someone will get hurt." He really was being clever and subtle this morning, but the message was clear. Then he looked at Chet, "Chet, you still are technically a recovering accident victim."

We cleaned up and headed out to the chaises by the pool. "I think your Dad is right. It's time for us to talk. It's definitely not too soon. I'm a victim all right, but not just from the accident."

Under most circumstances, those words—it's time for us to talk--would strike terror in my heart. But, we had just had two days—well two nights and one morning--of phenomenal sex. I was getting into him, really into him. What could possibly be wrong? "I'm listening. What's on your mind?"

"These last two days have been a wild ride--literally. I've never had better sex. Until yesterday, I had never bottomed. Those orgasms rank in my top ten list. Geoff, you are one of the best partners I've ever had. I want this to last a long time, but I do have to get a few things out—and off my chest."

"My life is built on the cycling world. I know that I'll have a valuable degree and probably an easy job next spring, but that is not what I've been working for. I'll be captain of the Rice team in a few days. My cycling times this summer have been really great. I've trained with a single-minded purpose—to be one of the top riders in the world. If my summer times continue, when I turn pro next year, I will be world-ranked—possibly in the top ten for my rookie year. That will mean lots of endorsements and world travel. I will be leaving the Rice Cycle Club and competing for a spot on one of the top teams in the world. I want to compete in next year's Tour de France. This is my life. I've even been taking French lessons. I can't let anything distract me from this. I am sure you realize that I've just taken two days off training. That can't continue."

Boy, this guy is really intense. "Sure, you took a few days off. But, God, you had a serious accident and your bike was badly damaged. Give yourself a break. I don't know what your schedule is and will be, but I do think we can make that work—certainly this week and when we both are in Houston."

"Not if I spend 24/7 in bed in your arms and with you inside me. Right now I am so sore that I probably couldn't stay in the bike saddle for 20 miles, let alone the 50 minimum I need to ride every day."

"That'll get better as we continue to get to know each other."

"Your 'getting to know each other' seems to require us to be in bed—all the time with me under you. And that leads me to the second thing that is beginning to nudge at me. I thought it was strange that you told me you weren't a dom when you described yourself even before our very first date. I am not so sure about that. But, I can definitely tell you I'm not a sub."

"We are both strong personalities and athletes and have led that alpha male life pretty successfully until now. You're taller and stronger than I am. When I walk into a room, I like being one of the tallest; but you are even taller by a few inches. I'm cut, but slim while you're massive. Your vee is legendary. Since high school, after I learned to overcome my initial modesty, I have become really proud of my dick. It's long, much longer than any other I've seen and pretty big. I like that I'm a shower. I am sort of an exhibitionist, as I think you have noticed. I like those stares I get in the locker room. And I like the glances I get from guys and girls when I've got my spandex uniform on. The few times I went clubbing, I was a hit—and hit on. I got to choose and to top. I like being the alpha, the biggest dick, in the room. And, I'm just getting used to it."

"But you're even taller and bigger—longer and much wider. And you are a terrific specimen of a man—better looking than me, certainly more of the movie star or model. So maybe I don't get to enjoy my natural gifts when we're together. I like being first, top dog, the magnet in the room. I had begun to picture my partner as someone smaller and cuter—maybe even a lap boy. If we walk into a room together, there would be the natural assumption that I'm your bottom and maybe your sub."

"You're beautiful. You're rich. You have a supportive family. And you know where you are going—and don't have to work too hard to get there. You can have any guy—or girl—or any combination that you want. I am not going to be important to you when the novelty of our fucking wears off. Right now, I'm a needy, poor, semi-invalid and you are the dominant care-giver—and your bottom."

"I don't need a Daddy—you're too young and too good looking anyway—and especially not a Daddy Warbucks. I'm trying to decide whether we can continue to have sex this good without you hypnotizing me into becoming your sub or until your web is so secure, Then, I'm finished as an alpha."

I needed to be careful here. There was truth to some of what he was saying. I don't want to belittle it. But, it really doesn't matter to me. I can deal with the difference in wealth and opportunity, but he was looking into my soul and had already detected my inner dom. "I really don't think any of that must hurt our future. We met by accident. I am programmed to help. And I did so. You were vulnerable because of the accident, NOT because of who you are. So we started with my giving to you. I hope you are not one of those people who can't accept gifts. I have way more than I need and I'd love to share it with someone—care, material goods, and sex."

"I'm attracted to you...big time. And who would not be attracted to you? You are without doubt the handsomest guy I know. I love the blond curly hair, the deep blue eyes, your perpetual dimpled smile, and your ass is Oscar-worthy. Your dick is what they use to model those expensive dildos. You're special to me, more special than I could ever have imagined when I stopped to help a few days ago. Don't sell yourself short. You're committed and intense about your goals and how to get there. I love that. And unless I'm absolutely off base, I can't see that we are going to be walking around naked so that folks can see I'm a little bigger than you are down there. You are the real deal, way bigger than average, way sexier than anyone has a right to be. And I'll take that deal any day. I want you in my life—not just to fuck, but as a friend and maybe a life partner."

"But wait, I'm not done. We've had two fantastic days. We fit very well. And your fucking is fantastic."

"No, OUR fucking."

"It's obvious to me that we are much more than fucking. I'm not going to use the "L" word or the "R" word after only this short time, but clearly more is going on. And you definitely are—or at least have the potential to be controlling, maybe even a dom. Look at the way we interact. I have been in your bed with your arms around me for most of the last two days. You have been the top—but more than a top. You utterly possess me when we fuck—and I'm eating it up. You decide how and for how long—even when I get to pop. You cover me, wrap your gorilla-arms and legs around me, immobilize me, and ultimately you release my orgasm. Last night after we fucked, you held my balls in your hands and fondled me while we relaxed. What do you think that means? Even this morning, you didn't let me ride—you flipped me so you were in control. The sex is wonderful. How many times do I need to say that? But, I can't afford to become your sub, completely dependent on your pleasuring me—and thinking about it when you are not."

I must have looked like a building had collapsed on me for that's how I felt. It was even worse than I had imagined. He thinks I am a dom. Is he right? I dropped back on the chaise and whispered, "I think you're wrong about the dom-sub shit. Both of us have had experience with one night hookups and mostly we were the alpha in those cases. I don't think I am a dom—and believe me I have met some. But, you volunteered to bottom if I recall. The sex is terrific. When I screw, I push all the buttons to max out my partner's pleasure. That is something I do subconsciously now. I think it makes me a really good partner. I'm trying to make sure you know that you are not just a hookup for me. I am programmed to care, to care how much you enjoy our sex—and over the years I've learned how to do that, fairly well I think. I don't see you as a sub in any way. I do think it is possible for two alphas to enjoy great sex at the same time."

"I also feel there is something more going on. I hate to use the word relationship, but no other word better describes what seems to be happening. Sure, you've been vulnerable since the accident. But don't confuse that with dom/sub feelings. I don't think anyone has ever participated more actively in fucking than you have these last few days—those are not the signs of a sub. You are a willing receiver, but I can feel more. I think you can pitch pretty well. I think you have a strong sense of the need to be personally independent. That is one of the things that attracts me to you. We are both going to be pursuing demanding careers. Wouldn't it be nice if we were not competitors, but comforters of each other at the end of the day? Our sex doesn't need to be a competition for dominance."

"Please, let's try. Where do you want to take this?"

"Geoff, I'm willing to try to do a double alpha dance. But, it's going to take conscious commitment from both of us. There is a very fine line between a partner using every one of his talents to pleasure his mate, and a dom. You need to keep that in mind. But, there are two sides to this. The receiving partner has to give it up, submit, to experience the most pleasure that is possible. I think the line divides individual experiences, individual bouts of sex, from lifestyle—but that line is really blurred. The pitcher can be the dom in a given sex act. In fact he should be. But he can't be the dom in a healthy relationship—at least not one that I will be part of."

"Meanwhile, I need a little space. For one, I need to go home to my apartment at Rebecca's house tonight. I need to return to my training sessions tomorrow, six hours every day—2 hours of weight training and 4 hours of riding. We need to make "us" a little less intense—or maybe keep up the intensity by remaining individual personalities. My ass needs a bit of healing; it hurts more than my shoulder. And you need to begin thinking about me as a partner, an equal, someone who can give back. I hope we can make this work for both of us."

"That's a lot to think about. I've always been a bit intense. But I do want this to be long term. So, I can handle it. But wouldn't you rather like to be in my bed for the next week? Really? Seriously? It's only a few days before the world will take over, big time. We have more time now than will be possible during the next year. I'm ready for as much sex as you'll give me or let me take. I'd like to arrive in Houston totally drained."

I paused and then added, "Let me repeat. I can live with this. I want to live with this. May I make two suggestions? First, you let me drive you to Houston on Saturday when we both need to begin prep for classes. I've got the truck and can handle your bikes. I'll need to help you pick up the repair on Friday anyway. I want to think that the trip will mean that we are going to try to transition into a life in Houston—this is not a one week stand. Second, we date every night between now and then.....with benefits. And you top me before the end of the week, hopefully more than once. Show me what you've got."

"That's three, but ok. Deal. Incidentally, the jock dorm doesn't open until noon Monday."

"You forgot—or maybe you didn't—I have a two bedroom condo."

"Of course. How convenient. See what I mean? You are just so much to take. I'm going to go in and pack. It'll only take a few minutes. I don't have much here. I do have a backup cycle at Rebecca's place and I have access to one of their cars, so I won't be marooned. I'll be able to set my own pace riding and fit in workouts at LA Fitness. Maybe something will come of my Amazon meeting on Thursday. We can try to get together every day, but it's not going to be all day."

"Oh. There is a third, fourth, condition. No riding in the dark."

"Definitely agreed."

Have we just agreed? "Have a swim first and then I'll drive you over."

I got up, slipped off my shorts, and dove into the pool, seeing him sliding in more gingerly as I surfaced. He too was nude. So I guess the world did not end. We swam laps. Then I reached for him—careful not to "trap" him against the pool side and pulled him into me. I noticed that he too reached around, gripped my waist with his legs, and drew me in. His hands were fondling my ass. I think this is the beginning of the next chapter for us. Let's hope I don't screw it up. We're going to be a dynamite team. But, one brief conversation, as intense as it was, doesn't change lives. I will need to work on this. BD