If You Choose Not to Decide Ch. 02

Presently Brent reached over to the table on his side of the bed, where the wine was, and managed to pour himself a little without seriously disturbing Terry, who was still using his other arm for a headrest. He took a swallow, then gave Terry a kiss. He took two or three more drinks of the wine, leaving a little more of it in his mouth each time, so that he was transferring it from his mouth to Terry's. It was a very agreeable way to drink wine. He sucked luxuriously on Brent's tongue. He could feel the alcohol warming his system through his mouth tissues.

"You trying to get me drunk?"

Brent put his glass back on the table. "Maybe," he said. "I just want you to be relaxed, that's all."

"I am relaxed," Terry said. He turned toward Brent and poked a stiff cock between his thighs. "Well, mostly relaxed."

The other man grinned. "You know I'm gonna have your ass cherry before the night's over." Terry went still. Doing and being done to were two different things. "Terry, don't worry about it." Brent's voice slid lower on the scale. "We've got the night ahead of us." He wet his thumb and circled it tightly on the aureole of Terry's left nipple. "You're gon' be asking me for it before we're done."

"I will?"

"You will," Brent said. "Just lay back and let me do the work for now."

He kept Terry on tenterhooks for what seemed to be better than an hour, touching all parts of him with hands and mouth, always pulling back and stopping when he thought that Terry was too close to coming. Terry felt as if he were burning beneath his skin and as if he could scarcely draw a full breath into his lungs. At last, looking at Brent, who was down between his legs, sliding a heavily lubed finger (but only one) into his ass, he said, "Go ahead and do it. Please."

"Tell me what you want." Brent lifted his mouth off Terry's cock and smiled teasingly. "Go on. Say what you want me to do."

"Fuck me."

Brent rose over him. Terry gripped his arms; lifted his legs to wrap them around Brent's body. "Tell me," Brent repeated. "How do you want me to fuck you?"

"Up the ass," Terry half-whispered. His could feel his face flaming. "Bust my ass cherry like you said. Do—do something, you've got me so goddam hard it hurts—"

"Good," Brent said. He reinserted his finger in Terry, adding another. He had done this before, but now Terry knew he was being opened, being prepared. Instinctively, he clamped down. "Relax, Ter." Terry, breathing hard, tried to relax. Brent inserted a third finger and moved them around inside him. He felt as if the movement were gigantic, and tried to move up in the bed to get away from it. He couldn't. But then Brent withdrew his fingers and pushed Terry's legs back

"I feel fucking ridiculous like this," he complained.

"You look fucking hot," Brent said hoarsely. "You just don't know. I can't wait any longer." Terry felt Brent's cock, warm and blunt, against his newly opened and lubed hole. "Open for me. I'm coming in."

He'd had Brent's cock in his hands and in his mouth and he thought he was familiar with its dimensions; why did it feel as big as a flashlight—one of those big flashlights that security guards carried—now?

"Hold up a minute," he said, "I don't know if I can do this—"

"Too late for that, boo." Brent thrust again.

"I don't think I—oh, man, this hurts—"

"You're tightening up on me. Push down. It'll get easier."

"I'm—what if I—"

"Don't worry about it. Come on, one more push, I'm almost—oh, yeah. There." The other man's warm, muscular body curved against him, and the bristly ends of his trimmed body hair tickled his ass. Terry tried to concentrate on his breathing. He felt as if Brent's cock were halfway up the inside of his body. "There, I'm in. Can't go any further. That isn't so bad, is it?"

"N—no."

He rose over Terry and began to move, slowly and gently at first. It did not hurt, now; in fact, Terry could identify a streak of pleasure somewhere inside him which sharpened and deepened when Brent's cock rubbed against it. Brent smiled down at him. "You like this?"

"Um, yes—feels real good. But I don't know if I'll get there from that alone."

Brent shifted his position and wrapped a lubed hand around Terry's cock. He jacked it as he moved, almost as well as Terry himself could have done it. The new angle was driving him wild. It was enough to offset the discomfort in his legs and the undignified position he found himself in. But after a few minutes Brent replaced his hand with Terry's own. "Take over, Ter. I've gotta move. This feels too good..." He settled over Terry and gave himself to his rhythm, his pleasure, his thrusts becoming sharp and concentrated, his breathing heavy and shivering. "Oh, Terry, you're so hot—I can't last much longer—"

"Don't leave me like this, man—"

"I won't. Keep up with me, cher, work it, babe—"

He felt himself tautening with every stroke Brent made inside him, and he felt it in his cock, too, as he gripped and pulled it. Suddenly everything came together, the clenching around Brent and the wild eruption out of his cock, the contractions almost hurtfully strong. "Ahh—ahh—oh, fuck, I'm—oh, God--" He heard himself shouting with every spasm that ripped through his body. He could feel dollops of semen hitting his belly and chest.

Brent managed a few more strokes and then he finished up in Terry, close and hard, holding him down, his cries mingled with Terry's. He settled inertly on top of Terry for a few minutes, warm and sweaty, while they got their breath back. Then he withdrew. Terry felt as if he were still wide open. He was glad to be able to lower his legs and straighten out.

Brent smiled at him. "I'll say this, you don't leave me in any doubt. You really, really liked that!"

Terry could feel little aftershocks of the climax he'd just had rolling through his body, like the low rumbles that went through the air after the main force of a storm. Outside, unnoticed by either of them, the rain had dimmed to a low drizzle. Brent rose to open the window a little, and let in some fresh air. It blew in damply, making the candles flicker.

"Man, I can't believe how noisy I've become. I couldn't help it. You think anyone heard us out there?"

"Probably not. It's been raining too hard. And it doesn't matter if they did. Nobody's gonna complain. I'll raise their rent if they do."

"Shit, you own all this property?"

"Yeah. I had a chance to get this land at a good price, a few years back, and then I threw up these buildings on it. As way the hell and gone as this town is, there's always someone who wants to live further out..."

Terry rubbed his face into the pillow he was lying on and looked up at Brent again. "Holy fuck, you're rich?"

Brent sat up and laughed. "Ha! That's a good one. Me? Rich? Not on your life, mon jeune ami. All I've got is this land and my business, both of which require constant maintenance and some of which is a pain in the ass. Sometimes I feel that all my money, what doesn't go back in the business, goes to support my little girl and my tax accountant."

Terry, who owned his car, his computer, and his stuff, felt abashed. "Hey, it doesn't matter to me."

Presently they got up and cleaned up in the tiny bathroom. Shortly thereafter, the power went back on. The sound of music and air conditioners kicking back on filled the house. Brent blew out the candles.

"Man, I hate it when the power goes out. All those clocks to reset."

"I know. It's why I don't have any out here. You noticed I don't have a clock radio in the room, didn't you?"

"You could have had a small nuclear device back here, and I don't think I'd have noticed."

"Time means nothing when I'm out here. If you didn't bring a watch with you, you'll just have to tell time by the sun." The array of electronic equipment in the étagère included a VCR. Its digital chronometer flashed 12:00. "Don't worry about resetting it," Brent said. "I never do. It's said that ever since the first time the power went out here. Like I said, it's always doing it." He opened the freezer. "Want some ice cream?"

"What kind is it?"

"Homemade vanilla."

"Sure."

Brent filled two bowls and they carried them back out into the living room. Brent sat down on the futon and Terry lowered himself gingerly to the floor. His ass felt sore, but not unpleasantly. He felt delicate about sitting naked on the furniture. "Come over here," Brent said, patting the space next to him. Terry moved over so he was sitting next to Brent's left knee. Brent ruffled his hair; then picked up the remote and flicked the television on. Terry had not noticed a dish attached to the house when he'd driven up, so he was not surprised to see that two of what they once had called the Big Three came in decently, and two UHF stations came in with confetti. The static and imperfect reception collided with the music coming out of the radio. "This is crappier than usual," Brent said. "Want to watch videos?"

"Whatcha got?"

"Oh, old movies, porn of various kinds."

Terry had read a few of those stories where two guys got into watching porn and then ended up doing each other. "I thought we skipped past that part," he said.

Brent laughed. "So we did," he said, clicking off the television. "Let's go back to bed and skip past it some more." They finished the ice cream and put the bowls in with the rest of the dishes. The switch to the overhead light was near the door of the bedroom, so they did not have to feel their way across the living room.

Brent switched on the light in the bedroom. Other than the candles, which they had put out, and a small reading lamp that attached to the headboard of the bed, there was only an overhead fixture. "You don't mind if I keep this on for a while, do you? I want to look at you..."

"I guess not," Terry said. He lay down, and Brent sat next to him. Looking down at Terry, he ran a hand lightly down the front of Terry's body. His fingers flickered over Terry's nipples. Terry's cock twitched and began to harden. He could feel his nipples hardening, too, pointing up under Brent's hands, sensation zipping from them down his body like electricity on fine gold wires. Brent grinned and bent down to flick his tongue over the tiny erectile points of flesh, now one, then the other. Terry ran his fingers through Brent's curly dark hair. He felt his cock leaping and thumping on his belly and heard an inarticulate sound coming out of his throat. His command of the English language was deserting him. He had no other language but the language of gesture. He pressed gently on the top of Brent's head, urging him downward. Brent didn't need much urging or direction, but he took his time, licking his leisurely way down Terry's belly as he had done earlier. Terry had no thought of interrupting him this time. Brent's mouth, slightly cooler than usual from the ice cream, enveloped his cock. The throat opening yielded and grasped; his tongue flicked and twirled. Terry groaned with pleasure and his hips flexed upward involuntarily. Brent was kneeling over him, facing away, his body at an angle from his. Terry pulled at Brent's near leg to get him to lift it, which he did, and Terry wiggled over and slid under him, looking up at Brent's lightly furred ass and hairy crack and balls. His hard cock slanted down and Terry reached up to take the end of it in his mouth. It swelled and twitched as he sucked the precum out of its sheath. As they had the previous day, they completed a circuit of sensation. He felt Brent's mouth making wet and lavish love to him; as he licked and pulled at Brent, he imagined what the other man must be feeling...the hard stalk of flesh in his mouth swelled and above it, the balls tensed in their sack. Brent released him suddenly, and turned around so that he was facing him.

"Aw, man, why'd you quit? I was having fun."

"I know. Don't worry, you're going to have fun all right. But there's something else I want to do."

"Yeah, what?"

"Just lay back, cher."

Brent straddled him. Terry's cock had snapped wetly back onto his belly as soon as Brent had released it. He took it in his hand and pointed it up. The other man positioned himself and softly, gently settled down on it. Terry chewed on his lower lip as he felt Brent's tight ring and blood-hot depths engulf him. He thrust upward, aware that Brent was heavier than he.

"Just let me show you what I like, Ter," Brent said, and he began to ride Terry's cock in long, slow strokes. He presented a piquant sight to the man underneath him, with his well-toned body, tanned but for sun shorts, muscular legs spread wide, vulnerable but shameless. His rigid cock lay back on his belly, obscuring part of the trail of fur that had first entranced Terry the previous day. Below his scrotum, Terry could see the other man's anus stretched and gripping his dick. Brent occasionally grimaced and emitted quick little gasps of pleasure. "Jack me," he ordered.

Terry fished around for the lube and found it. He anointed his hand and wrapped it around Brent's cock, enjoying the way it pistoned up and down in his fist. He handled it as he would have his own, but his own was buried in Brent's tight hold. It didn't matter; it felt good.

"Let me," he grunted. He meant: let me move, let me thrust, let me speed up.

"A little bit longer—" The other man's breaths became heavier, deepening into vocalizations. "So good, this feels so good—oh, now—"

Terry dug his heels into the mattress and started thrusting upward, joyously oblivious to everything except the pleasure he was getting from the primal movements he was making and the tight hot slide of Brent's asshole enveloping his cock. He could feel the climax approaching, uncoiling in cock and balls and all the muscles he was using to form this perfect machine of sexual energy. "Now, now, Ter, I'm—" His grip on Terry's cock became fantastically tight. Little spurts of warm liquid came streaming down over Terry's fist, and then Terry's Unhhhh and Oh! and Ahhhh and oh, fuck! rose up to the ceiling, tangled with Brent's long, shuddering cry of ecstasy.

The machine had shaken itself to pieces. They stayed in that position a few seconds longer, feeling the aftershocks running through their bodies, letting their breathing get back to normal.

"You're heavy," Terry said.

"I'm dead, is what I am," Brent said, raising himself off Terry's lap. The air seemed cold where he had been. "You know they call this le petit mort, don't you?"

"Yeah. I can believe it." He felt too heavy to move.

Brent bent down over him and kissed his forehead before flopping down next to him. "And you say you're new at this," he murmured. "Well, you're a natural." He turned and snuggled close to Terry.

"Who's gonna get the light?"

"You are," Brent said. "I'm dead, remember?"

Terry rose up and snapped off the light. In the small room, the switch wasn't too hard to reach. He dropped back down into the bed with Brent and was as out as the light in minutes.

Terry was an early riser by inclination and habit. He woke up in the grayish light of predawn, not knowing where he was. This happened to him every time he moved and every time he spent the night with someone. With someone... There wasn't much room for him in the bed. Any less and he would have been wedged into the crack between bed and wall. He opened his eyes. Brent was lying on his side, smack in the middle of the bed, and Terry could not see much over the landscaper's tanned and well-muscled back. Now he knew. His face warmed (what, he wondered, did he have left to blush over?) as he remembered the way he had bucked and hollered beneath the older man's weight. His dick was starting to remember, too, which was unfortunate, because he needed to pee.

He eased himself out of the bed without waking up his host and went into the bathroom. He felt sour-mouthed and fuzzy-toothed from the mild wine hangover and not having brushed his teeth the previous night. After he managed to piss he brushed his teeth and stepped into the small shower, turning the water to as hot as he could stand. He stood under the stream and let the water pound the top of his head, opening his mouth and drinking it as well. He smelled sweat and leftover sex as the water woke it up, and then it was gone. He had just lathered himself up with the soap (the water was soft in this region) when the water became suddenly hotter. He was not surprised to hear the toilet flush. He had not even heard Brent come in. The other man stepped into the shower with him.

"Sorry about that," he said, indicating the toilet.

"That's OK."

Brent stood under the shower and got wet, the smell of his natural body scent and last night's sex coming alive and sluicing off in the flow of water. His body brushed against Terry's. When he felt Terry's fattening cock graze his belly, he smiled.

"You done with the soap?"

"Yeah." Instead of handing the soap to Brent, he took the bar and started lathering him up. When he had thoroughly soaped up the front of Brent's body, Brent turned around and he began attending to the back. He reached around Brent and caressed his nipples and cock. Both were hard beneath his hands. He rubbed his cock into Brent's crack, but when he bent a little and probed around with the tip to enter him, his friend moved away and turned around.

"If you don't mind, I'd like some time to recuperate before we do that again," he said. "Last night about blew me apart, and right now I feel that way." He pressed his slippery body against Terry's. Even though he was somewhat shorter, they could still rub their cocks together. Terry bundled them in one soapy hand and began to slide it back and forth. "Good idea," murmured Brent. "I love me a man with big hands..." He placed his own over Terry's. Terry maneuvered the two of them out of the direct fire of the shower and grabbed the back of Brent's head with his other hand. They kissed. He felt a flush beginning over his whole body; even as he became conscious that the hot water running next to them was beginning to wane, he felt Brent's breathing quicken. He pressed the other man's mouth further open, tightened his grip on the two cocks in his hand and pushed urgently. The two men moved together; their tongues twined and danced. "Nnnh," Brent said, and they grunted their pleasure into each other's mouths. The distinctive smell of cum rose, filled the shower stall and slipped away down the drain.

They rinsed and dried themselves off and stepped into a bedroom that was now filled with sunlight. As Terry crawled over the bed to fish his shirt from where he had dropped it last night, he noticed a few spots and streaks of blood on the sheets. "Yikes," he said. "Who made who bleed?" His anus tightened reflexively. He felt all right.

"Probably you," Brent said. "Don't worry. It happens. Comes with the territory. It's not like you cracked my maidenhead. (But you did crack mine, Terry thought.) I'll mend. And then..." he leered at Terry, "I'll want you to do it again."

Terry started to put his clothes on, noting the small crusts of yesterday's precum on the front of his jockeys and wondering why he hadn't brought a spare pair. But he figured that if he didn't get a handle on his thoughts, there would probably be more where those came from. Brent had dressed and was now out in the kitchen, making short work of last night's dishes; Terry could hear them clinking and clashing in the sink. When he had trimmed his beard and came out into the living room, Brent was frying bacon. The smell of bacon competed with that of fresh coffee. When the bacon was done, Brent laid it all on a plate with a paper towel to absorb the excess grease. Then he opened the fridge and took something out.