Geoff and Chet Ch. 25

Chapter 25 New Orleans Race and the Riverboat Party.

Author's note: All characters are over 18. All persons, places and events are fictional. Comments are always welcome. Copyright, 2023, All rights reserved.

Chet's POV

We arrived about an hour before dinner and busied ourselves sorting through gear and checking our bikes. We had asked for a special room for the team dinner although we did use the hotel all-you-can-ear Cajun buffet which featured a variety of New Orleans specialties. The guys really loaded on carbs, possibly putting the hotel in the red for the weekend! As we finished, I provided details on the morning's departure time and place. The bus will return here to the hotel after the meet—and you can load luggage into the bus that you don't need here for the return to Houston on Sunday. The managers will get our gear and bikes into the vans. You're free after that. The bus will leave the hotel for the riverboat at 6—but I have details available for anyone who wants to get there by other means. The boat "sails" at seven. It'll return at around midnight, but the riverboat will be available for a shore side party for anyone who wishes to stay until 2 a.m.

"Every team member and our support staff will be given chits for the buffet dinner on board and drink tickets on the riverboat. They do accept credit cards beyond that. We are not responsible for gambling losses and the casino is not part of our charter. We strongly recommend using uber, taxi or walking. Please don't plan to drive. Be careful. You're on your own after we dock. The bus will leave from the hotel parking lot at 4 sharp Sunday. For those of you who have signed up to return here tomorrow night, you've been given a room number as we will be doing some consolidating. I know at least half of you have other plans." There was a ripple of laughter and some remarks about dates. "The team manager will have room keys after the meet for those coming back here. You guys are great. Have a great race. It's been a terrific year. Let's make it worth celebrating. And thanks to Amazon for their support. And to my room mate, Geoff Peters for making the contacts with the river boat for us. He's going to join us at the meet tomorrow morning."

We left the dining room in high spirits. Most of us headed for our rooms. Curfew was only an hour away. But, a few met dates before turning in and I do think there may have been some room shuffling. Geoff was due to arrive around 11, but he was staying at a different hotel. He texted me when the flight arrived.

Meet day, the first Saturday in November, was bright, hot and humid. The course was historic—mostly a long ride along the Mississippi bayou, flat and pastoral with a start and finish on the Loyola campus and following city streets to the river above New Orleans—avoiding the busier Garden District and the French Quarter—even though at such an early time, most partiers would still be sleeping. Many streets were going to be shut temporarily and New Orleans police and Louisiana Highway Patrol would escort along the 104 mile course. Start time was scheduled for 8 a.m.—and the race would be over around lunch time. It was a very tough race for us. I couldn't be sure how Pete and Reg would act as members of the team and I had premonitions of a loss. We drew first position and again employed the fast break strategy that had become our hallmark. In many ways, the conditions were typical to those we had experienced so often in Houston. And we did prevail. My time was once again the best I had posted for the year. Reg and Chet were predictably within tenths of the second. Apparently Reg was more concerned about his future than punishing Chet in any way. But the UMiami captain edged out Chet for third place. We took overall team time honors and two of the three spots on the winners' podium. We were jubilant. My fears were unwarranted. We remained undefeated for the season for the first time in club history. It was time to party.

Most of us decided to change at the hotel to maximize our free time and thus skipped the gym lockers at Loyola. And so, right around lunch time, Geoff drove up in a yellow antique Cadillac convertible—from his cousin's collection. He was in shorts and a polo. And there were two very hot young blondes in the car with him. I jumped into the back seat with Tiffany. She pushed her dark glasses up and hugged and congratulated me—acting for all as a long term girlfriend. Kimberley introduced herself from the front seat. Both were dressed in light sundresses, were deeply tanned, and had Louisiana drawls that made me feel like a northerner! I sure hope a team mate or two witnessed the pickup. And so we drove off to lunch.

We had a great afternoon touring and shopping in the French Quarter after a delicious "crawdaddy" lunch accompanied by champagne followed by a chilled chablis. Later we returned to Geoff's suite at the Windsor. The ladies headed to the hotel spa for their Geoff-financed makeover while Geoff provided my personalized spa services. As usual my services included his meticulous massage of my sore gluteus muscles and my inner and front thigh muscles, followed by his massive insertion into my shaft and the expert massage of my prostate "muscle" as my cock squirmed in his tight lubed fist. We both reached satisfaction. We had checked another state off our sex list. Then, we showered and changed.

Both of us had brought appropriate party outfits—"big" white linen button up shirts, tight black jeans and straw boaters with Rice color ribbons. Minutes later the ladies emerged into the parlor of the suite with knockout sequined tops (one in lime green, the other in aqua) and white leather micro minis. They had spikey heels (which I guess they would lose within minutes of arrival on the river boat) and chunky Mardi Gras bracelets. Their long hair had been combed out and hung in long loose curls. The makeup was professional. Definitely head turners.

"We're going to leave the car here and uber to the boat. It's only a few blocks, but I can't imagine you beautiful young ladies maneuvering on those brick sidewalks with those shoes!" We looped our arms in theirs to provide some stability and headed for the lobby.

We arrived at the boat just as the bus arrived with most of the team. Beau had reserved one of the smaller floors of the boat which also had an open air terrace. He had been invited to join us and greeted Geoff like a brother. "A'm really pleased to be with y'all tonight—champs, kin, and beauties. Welcome to my little town and my little boat." Lights were already blazing and a Dixieland band greeted our arrival. Trays of champagne were at the ready. The guys and their dates had pulled out all the stops. Everyone was dressed and ready to party. In fact, it did appear that many had already started as several young ladies hung languidly on their proud dates. I hope the boat has some private spaces. I think we are going to need them.

Just as we were reaching the gangplank, a white stretch limo pulled up. The driver raced around to open the doors for Reg and his knockout date—later, we learned she was a former Miss Louisiana. She was gorgeous, of medium dark skin and with long straight black hair, large violet eyes, and a fashion model's willowy figure—and full-lipped pout. But he was even more of a spectacle, as we had come to expect. He was in a white suit with a short "Eisenhower" jacket that fell just at the top of his bankable ass and focused eyes on the outline of his famous dick through the shear tight white fabric of the jean-cut pants. It almost appeared that he was wearing a football cup and jock on the outside because of contrast stitching! Was this to be CK's next bombshell fashion must? (Not for me!) His translucent linen shirt was tied with a purple and yellow bow tie. He could have been the MC of a minstrel show.

Not to be outdone, she wore a long purple form-fitting mermaid gown that left no one wondering if she had anything under. It was cut to the navel in front and tied over double D's with a tiny silver chain and heart shaped padlock. I assume he had the key. He swept his arm around her narrow waist and guided her to the entrance as nearby tourists gaped at the display.

All of us were very pleased to be part of this scene. But where were the photographers?

The night was a great success. Terrific food. After the Dixieland performance, a DJ took over and the team and their dates began a contest of showing off dance moves, each more sensuous and suggestive than the last. Shoes and jackets were soon discarded. Wild gyrations were interspersed with quieter lap dances in the more shadowy secluded booths around the edge and on the terrace. Tiffany turned out to be a fun, lively dancer, and she and I put on one show after another. I even did a slightly less risqué version of my Gullah seduction dance. After, she whispered in my ear, "Are you sure you don't swing both ways? We could have some fun later." Geoff seemed to enjoy himself although he was often preoccupied with the arrangements. We'd have our fun later.

The boat docked just after midnight and couples began to drift off to various hotel rooms. The limo was waiting for Reg and his date and whisked them off. It was almost as if they had been the royals invited to a ball, condescending to mingle with commoners until the magic hour permitted them to make a graceful exit. We waited for some time to insure that most of the team had gone on—or planned to stay and dance on board. Then, Geoff noticed a hansom just as he was pulling up his uber app. He motioned to the driver and we all piled in for the short drive back to the hotel.

Beau was waiting with his date in the convertible—and with a driver, since he too had been drinking. We embraced and thanked the young ladies for a wonderful evening and they all departed. Geoff and I headed up to the suite for our own private party.

As we entered the suite, Geoff pulled me into one of his deep kisses as his tongue possessed me. His long arms curled around and he lifted me from the ground crashing my dick into his as I slid down his torso. "Get naked now," he growled as he reached for my buckle. I quickly stripped and posed before him, but he was still fully dressed. I started to complain, but realized he was in one of his dom moods. So I'd better play along. "Kneel and pull me out. No hands. Use your lips and teeth."

Okay, I'd be his sub. I followed his orders and soon his cock was dangling, semi-hard from the front of his trousers. He stepped forward, pushing it into my mouth. "Let's see how much you can take tonight." I throated him for a few minutes as he hardened. Then he reached down and pulled me up. He untied the purple sash from my boater and used it to blindfold me. Then he walked me to the bed, and pushed me into it, face and chest down.

I heard him walk over and pick up his small case and begin unloading some toys. He cuffed my wrists to the headboard. Then he pulled me down and slipped a large bolster under my gut raising me about a foot off the mattress. He then cuffed my ankles and attached them to a long spreader bar. I was splayed and helpless—and already leaking like a barnyard pump. "I like this picture. The ass of a champion is all mine," he said as he snapped a phone photo.

Soon he was rough handling my ass cheeks, tapping, slapping, then reaching down lotioning and caressing and kissing. Then repeating. He lubed the entrance and I felt a small soft dildo being pushed into place. He swept it around like a chef searching for my prostate and when he did, I involuntarily raised to meet it. "Good boy." Then he reached under and attached a silicon clamp around the base of my dick with a tongue that tickled the taint. He moved to an easy chair and sat. I knew immediately that the toys were remotely controlled and that I was going for a joy ride with Geoff at the wheel.

"You may not come without my permission. We're going to test your endurance. How long can my cyclist ride with me as ref?" I then felt the dildo inflate a little, just enough to make its presence known. Then I felt the low level vibration which felt okay although foreign. It was nothing like Geoff's powerful thrusting. Soon it was accompanied by a tightening around the base of my dick and more vibrations on the taint. Geoff moved behind me and re-aimed the dildo more precisely, but I could still handle it easily. He lightly massaged my ass—I knew he couldn't keep his hands off me for long. I pushed up into his touch.

The vibrations increased and the tip of the dildo began to stroke the magic button in a regular pattern. Nice. One more click and the device began an elliptical thrust which almost duplicated the "come hither" finger motion which is taught to all young gay tops. Now my interest was fully engaged and began to center myself, enjoying the deep anal sensations. Geoff approached again, held the dildo hard against my prostate. He stroked my back, nibbled on an ear lobe and whispered, "Good boy, very good boy." I couldn't take much more. So I started reciting a soliloquy from Shakespeare—silently of course to distract myself from the intensity. But I knew I was beginning to squirm within the confines of my restraints.

"This is fun Geoff. But, I'd rather have the real thing from a skilled swordsman."

"So you want me to stop?"

"Only if you sub in."

"I don't sub, but I think your wish can be met. But first I want you to cum for me. Tell me what you want."

"You. Strip and lay on top of me. I need to feel Geoffy in all his glory."

"We can do that." (When did he start referring to himself and his dick as "we"? I guess the little head was directing this show.) He quickly undressed, removed the stretcher bar, and stretched out on top of me, placing his steely dick right on top of the dildo handle. He began to slide up and down my crack using his dick to heighten the dildo sensations. "I can feel the vibrations too. Maybe we can both fit in there."

"You're way too big for a double. If you like the vibes, pull it out and put it in your own ass as you penetrate me. Or let me do it."

"I think we're going to try just that, but first I've got to uncuff you so you can work the remote. It wouldn't be the same if I did you while using the remote to self-stimulate. Too much like jerking off."

"You are a very complicated man, Mr. Peters. I'm looking forward to helping you to work out your issues—however long it takes, but for now I want you to fuck me—and if I must do it by remote control, so be it. Bring it on lover. Uncuff me and give me that device."

Geoff released me from all the toys and took me into a deep embrace in his arms. I removed the device, relubed it, and pushed him down on his back. "Get your pretty ass on that bed and lift'm high and wide. Grab your ankles."

"Pretty bold words for a sub." But he did as he was told. He automatically folded himself into a submissive invitation. I inserted the dildo deep inside, being sure to nestle it firmly on his prostate. Then, I pulled his legs to the bed and impaled myself on his cock. I felt his pubes and leaned forward waiving the remote in his face. Then I used it to bring the dildo alive. We could both now feel it. As the intensity slowly increased, he placed his feet flat on the bed and lifted, almost like he was trying to escape the stimulation. But doing so transferred the vibes to my ass. I was full; my prostate was trembling. And I could tell he was searching for even greater depth. "May I please cum now, sir?"

"Just a few seconds more cowboy. I gonna blast off hard. We're both going to be in another world in a few seconds."

So I maxed out the toy—vibes and thrusts. His eyes went wild. He leveraged us high with his strong legs, throwing me to his chest. And he exploded again and again, pushing me over the top, soaking his chest and chin in jism.

I reached up, kissed him and turned off the dildo. I fell listlessly on him covering him completely. And for once, we were both silent. No smart remarks. We were absolutely spent. Another epic encounter. New Orleans was going to be another great memory spot on our intimate discovery journey. And I really like those toys—particularly when used in a partnership.