Millstone - Novel 01 Ch. 13

"Either will do," he said. "James learned pretty quickly that if he ever wanted to have sex, it would help if the guy enjoyed pain, because, until they grew accustomed to him, it would hurt, but no one has ever gotten that far. James liked Tommy, but they had only a collection of negative experiences in common, and he felt no physical attraction to him. It seems that James has a high sex drive and few opportunities to satisfy it. It came down to a beggars-can't-be-choosers problem, and he agreed to fuck him when Tommy asked."

"So, Max was right; he told me James wasn't a real sadist. So, what's your problem?"

"I like him, and I want to see him."

"But you're afraid of the 10-inch, blunt-nosed, artillery shell he keeps hidden in his pants behind those long shirts he wears."

"Aah...yeah."

"I don't know how much experience you have with dating, but if you want my advice, refrain from that sort of sex until you know that taking the time and effort to grow accustomed to him will be worth it. Have you seen it?"

He shook his head. "No."

"If you drive us to the tailor's, I guarantee you will have the opportunity to, at least, see it flaccid."

Legally and technically, the police held James in custody, so releasing him required some paperwork. Edgerton had Albert write up the report on Malor's release while he drove James, Max, and me to the tailor in The Village.

He owned a black Mercedes G-wagon only a few years old. I recall seeing them on the lot at the Mercedes dealer, but as we had a used vehicle in mind at the time, I hadn't considered it. Neither of us had ridden in one before; it had an impressive ride, and we both liked it. Max suggested that we go to the dealer one day to see the newest model, and I had thought that it would probably suit our needs better than the two-seater, which already was proving itself inadequate.

I would occasionally see James's eyes linger on Edgerton behind the wheel, and his interest was more than casual. If Max could grow accustomed to someone my size, I saw no reason to think Edgerton couldn't grow accustomed to James. I stared at the side of his head and tried to see what Max saw in him. He needed it cut, but he had a beautiful head-full of auburn hair, and his pale skin had few freckles. Facially speaking, I supposed he had a devilish appeal, in a bad-boy sort of way. He certainly contrasted Edgerton's more clean-cut and uptight appearance, which I knew belied the far more liberal nature of his sexual interests. If he tended toward the same direction as Albert, he could enjoy all sorts of things, so, for all I knew, James suited him perfectly.

For myself, he had none of the appeal characterized by my beautiful Golden Bear, and from what I knew, James was strictly a top. Which made me question whether I would ever consider asking Max to fuck the hell out of me, just to understand why he loved it. If I gave it a try, I would only ever trust Max.

It's amazing the difference a few days can make. When Edgerton parked his SUV in a nearby parking garage (on the opposite end from where Max and I had parked), the first thing I did was take Max's hand when we exited the vehicle. He looked at me with those adoring eyes of his, gave me a knowing smile, and gripped my hand with both of his for a moment.

He kissed me and said, "I love you."

I cupped his cheek, feeling his soft golden blonde beard. "And I love you, my Honey Bear."

"You two are plum cute together," said James.

"Oh, you haven't seen cute yet," said Max.

"What do you mean?" Edgerton asked as he rounded the vehicle to the passenger side.

"Have either of you ever shopped at Wilson's Tailoring?" I asked them.

James shook his head. "It's too rich for my blood."

"I've not needed a tailor," said the detective, "I'm an easy fit."

"Oh...well, you're in for an experience."

As the holiday occurred the next day, many stores had Fourth of July sales, which had many shoppers out, even on a Wednesday afternoon. James and Edgerton walked ahead of us, and I held Max's hand as we strolled the cobblestone streets of the pedestrian zone, feeling none of the fear and uncertainty that I had before, and Max seemed relaxed.

When we reached Taylor's shop, we noticed the "closed" sign was hanging on the door. However, the instant we came into view, the tailor unlocked and opened the shop allowing us entry, but he relocked it behind us.

Taylor smiled. That day he wore the pants and vest of a cranberry-colored suit with a white shirt. I noted he left the jacket behind the counter draped on a mahogany valet stand, a nifty item he carried in the shop, and something we had yet to obtain. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said, "I am so please you called for my assistance. This is just marvelous." He gazed upon James and Edgerton. "Now, which of you is the gentleman in need?"

James raised a finger. "That's me."

Mr. Santiago stood naked and unnoticed in a corner, and we joined him at the back of the store to greet him as Taylor helped James.

"Hello again," he said and shook our hands. "I appreciate this opportunity you're giving me."

"You know what we need, right?" I asked him.

"Yep. And I want you to know that, as a community member, I would help you catch a killer without the scoop, but I appreciate it all the same."

We heard James sounding a little upset. "You want me to remove my clothes?"

"It's part of my creative process," said Taylor.

"Oh, I don't know..."

I excused myself and moved to the lit platform on which James stood. Edgerton stood nearby, finding the situation amusing, but said nothing. "What's the problem?" I asked.

The reflection off James's pale skin had further illuminated the well-lit space. He stood a stout, sturdy-looking muscular fellow and wore a long-tailed untucked button-up shirt, with its sleeves rolled just below the elbow, and a pair of loose-fit jeans that hadn't fit very loosely on him. When he heard me, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding beams of light until I reached the platform's edge. Viewing him with a bit of distance, I think I realized what gave him a difficult-to-explain attractiveness. He looked fine from what I could see, but his appearance wasn't the thing. He exuded a raw masculinity in his secondary and tertiary cues that, unless you're looking for them specifically, humans usually perceive in a subtle, almost subliminal manner, like his stance, his body language, his walk, the movement of his torso, his limbs, his facial expressions, and much more. I admit, I also found that attractive.

"He wants me to remove my clothes," he said.

"Is that an issue?" I asked. "You seem to have no problem the other day at the Alliance van."

"Yeah, but I feel that I can trust you," he said, then glanced at Taylor. "No offense."

"I took my clothes off when Taylor asked me," I said.

"Yeah, well...you've not got my problem, do ya?" he asked, apparently unaware to whom he was talking.

I made a deep sigh and mumbled to myself, "I may as well go all the way with this." I spoke up, "Mr. Santiago, please, come here for a moment."

He came forward and stood where he could see me as I faced James. I hadn't realized I would take things in that direction, and I admit that it made me a bit nervous. When I said I had no desire to live in fear, however, I meant it, but I still felt it. And yet, I couldn't help but feel a little excited too. The tingling sensation beneath the head of my cock started, and it wouldn't take much.

"Clearly, James, you've not seen Mr. Santiago's gossip column," I said. "I admit that it upset me, because like you, I wanted people to know on my terms." I turned to the reporter. "When you write this up, do it justice and make it a good one. Okay?"

Once I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, I shoved them down to my knees.

"Holy Fucking Shamoley," said James.

Santiago just stood speechless.

"He's magnificent, isn't he?" asked Taylor as he looked on.

"So, yeah, I do kinda have your problem." Max, who stood behind me, wrapped his arm around my torso and grabbed my cock a few inches from the base to jack me.

He whispered into my ear. "I'm proud of you."

In less than a minute, he had me at full erection, and James began removing his clothing.

"Okay, I get the picture," he said.

I glanced over at Mr. Santiago, whose uncut dick jutted upward, looking like a fat, 6-inch, Puerto Rican cigar. However, when James removed his pants, all eyes went right to his thick meat that, even flaccid, hung from his body like some prize-winning white wonder cucumber.

James had a great upper body, but apart from his hefty meat, the real showcase was his well-developed lower extremities, which looked like he'd never skipped leg-day in his life.

"I'll leave you to it then," I said, raising my pants enough to move out of the way and let Taylor do his job. No way would my cock fit back into my jeans without some assistance from Max.

I heard James ask Edgerton, "Have I scared you?" I never heard his reply, but I already knew what he would say. He had an attraction strong enough to feel the need to ask my opinion, so, in the end, I think he wouldn't have cared if it was the size of James's thigh.

Santiago followed us and asked questions as Max went down on me. I had a unique experience getting interviewed and blown simultaneously.

"Just how big are you?" he asked.

"That depends on who and when you ask. If you had asked me twenty years ago, I would have said too big, but Max has helped me to understand that my size isn't a problem."

"Has Max taken all of you?"

He began asking me seriously personal questions, but apparently, a blowjob works like truth serum on me, and I couldn't stop myself from telling him whatever he wanted to know. As the Q & A continued, Max began to work harder to get me off, and just before I came, Max pulled off me but jacked my cock. He had me right on the line, and I could do nothing but stand there as my brain felt like scrambled eggs.

He asked Santiago if he wanted a white shower, and the instant he said yes with great enthusiasm, Max aimed my hose, and I came, shot after shot, covering the reporter in a thick white coating. I had left his face, his torso, and his cock looking like a sugar-coated cinnamon bun.

"My god! When was the last time you came?"

I hadn't realized it at the time, but Max was angry. He lightly held Santiago by the arm. "You've asked him enough questions; I want a word with you in private." And he took him to Taylor's back room for a few minutes.

I held myself up by a table near the cashiers, and when the others, who stayed back to give us a bit of space, wondered what had happened, they came forward and helped me by giving me the stool from behind the counter.

"I'm not sure," I said. "Have you gotten the measurements and everything?"

"Oh, yes," said James. "All of them." He gave the tailor a contemptuous glance.

"It was not out of mere curiosity, I assure you."