The Surprise Party

"What do you think? Give me some of what you were giving those guys, and we give you some clothes to get home in, and forget that any of this ever happened."

"And if I don't, you'll call the police? Is that what you're saying?"

Benny looked pained. "Oh, hell no. What kind of person do you take me for? I wouldn't do that. You seem like a nice enough guy, and you haven't hurt anyone or anything that I know about." He looked sheepishly down at his penis. "I guess I just got caught up in the excitement a bit."

He looked so contrite, like a child caught sneaking up on the cookie jar, that I almost laughed out loud. He was not unattractive: a couple of years either side of fifty, maybe; short, chunky, curly pepper-and-salt hair, built like somebody who was athletic for a long time but had recently started to let himself go. What the hell. I'm on a roll anyway.

"Can I trust you to hold up your end if I hold up mine? So to speak."

He grinned. "Yeah. A nice piece of ass and we get to skip all the paperwork? It's a win/win for me." He stroked his dick like a pet.

"Okay, then. I guess one good turn deserves another," I said.

Benny's grin widened. "Then how about you turn and lean against that wall, there. Let's see what it is about that skinny rump of yours that had those two fellas in such a state."

10:40 PM

Benny had learned a few things during his fifty years of life (give or take a couple of years). He knew what he wanted and he knew how to get there, and he knew how to bring me along. After five minutes I felt as though I was channeling a continuous low-level electrical current through the length of my body.

"Damn, Benny ... that's incredible." I arched my back and Benny's thrusts picked up intensity.

"This is not my first rodeo, and you're not the first bronco I've ridden," he murmured into the back of my neck.

Benny's hands were remarkably soft. Somehow I had expected callused workman's hands, to go with the graying hair and the lines on his face, but his hands were smooth, well-cared-for. He used those hands to grip my hips at times, pulling me back onto his dick, and at times he let go to slap my ass, just hard enough to sting, or to reach under and tweak my nipples, or to simply stroke my back, from shoulder blades all the way down to where his cock was shoved into me.

After fifteen minutes, I couldn't stand it any more, and I reached down to jerk myself off, but Benny caught my wrist and pulled my hand away.

"Not yet. You'll get your turn, but not yet. You'll know when the time is right."

When Benny came there was no fanfare, no animal noises or frantic convulsions, just a long, tight intake of breath, then a final thrust that shoved me into the wall, as if he were trying to touch something with the tip of his dick, something that was inside my body, just out of reach.

When his climax was over, Benny let out his breath, sighing against my back, easing his dick back and forth, pulling out a little more with each stroke, going in a little less deep, until finally he eased out altogether. Tugging on my shoulders, he turned me around and patted my cheek.

"Well, that brightened up my evening considerably," he said. "You're a damn good sport." He wrestled his dick back into his pants and tucked in his shirt. "Maybe we can get you safely home now without further mishap, right Mel?"

I turned to see Melaku standing off to one side, grinning. He was holding up a pair of faded uniform pants. I looked a question at him, and he grinned.

"Maybe just one or two mishaps," Melaku corrected him. He slipped out of his shirt, revealing a lean torso, with hairless pecs but a wooly belly, then took off his shoes, his pants, and his boxers, to stand naked and aroused. "My truck is right over here."

"Holy mother of pearl," I said.

11:03 PM

I directed Melaku to my apartment building and into one of the three spaces marked "Guest". He parked the truck, then sat back and grinned at me.

"How do you want to do this?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

He didn't answer, but merely reached down between my knees and pulled the latch, allowing the seat to slide back all the way. He then reached across me and let the seat-back fall. As his chest pressed against mine, my erection returned with a vengeance.

Melaku pulled a small tube of lubricant from the console storage box, and squirted a blob of it into his hand. To my surprise, however, he didn't grease up his own dick, but reached over and grasped mine.

After a couple of strokes I was liberally lubed up and panting.

Like a great dark spider, Melaku turned himself around and climbed over the console to squat straddling my hips.

"What?" he said, in answer to my expression. "You think you're the only one who likes cock?"

Holding my penis with one hand, he slowly lowered himself until I could feel the resistance of his sphincter. A moment later my dick pushed through, and Melaku sucked in a big breath, his head back and his eyes closed.

The available space was limited, so Melaku hunched over me, sweat dripping down off his nose onto my face, my lips, and running in rivulets down between his pecs as he slid himself up and down, up and down. His ass felt like a soft, tight glove gripping my dick, hot and muscular.

I didn't want to disappoint, but I knew that I couldn't take much of this. I had already gone three rounds with Eli, Tony, and Benny, so I was close to an explosion even before Melaku took over.

Letting his weight settle, Melaku gyrated his hips, bending down to kiss me, our tongues grappling and sliding, the salt of his sweat in my mouth, then he sat up and lifted himself free of me.

Again he spidered over the console, this time to fling himself back into his seat. "I want to watch you jack yourself off," he said, stroking his own dick as he looked over into my face.

I was more than ready.

The seat creaked as my legs stiffened and my feet pushed hard against the floorboards, lifting my ass off the seat. I was panting through clenched teeth, and when I looked at Melaku, at his hand pumping his cock, at his strained face, I guessed that he was close, too.

I don't know which of us came first: it just seemed as though all at once the cab of the pickup was full of animal grunts and groans and flying spunk as we both arched our backs, hips thrust up, legs shuddering.

11:34 AM

No longer caring who saw us, we stumbled out of the truck and stood facing each other. Melaku scooped cum off his belly and pushed his fingers into my mouth. I sucked them clean, and then he bent down and licked gluey semen off my chest. "Here you are at last," he said. "Home safe."

I glanced up at the building, suddenly reluctant to bring the evening to a close.

"It's been quite a trip," I observed.

Melaku stepped forward and kissed me, then grinned and climbed back into the pickup. Like the Cheshire cat, I could still see his smile even as he backed the truck up out of the parking lot lights.

Naked, sweaty, breathless, covered in spunk, with more juice dribbling down the insides of my thighs, I registered that Melaku had, in fact, not lent me the pants after all.

Laughing, I turned and headed upstairs.

11:43 PM

I blessed the invention of the keypad lock as I let myself into my apartment. I showered, rinsing away the evening's accumulation of bodily fluids, then toweled off and padded naked into the kitchen, where I fished a beer out of the fridge. I returned to the living room and flopped down on the sofa.

It hadn't been the party I had been hoping for, but it had definitely been a party. I saw the wall clock tick over to a minute past midnight and I raised my beer in salute.

"Happy Birthday to me!"

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

12:01 AM

I retrieved my damp towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around my waist, then went to the door and peered out through the spyhole. I couldn't see anyone.

I opened the door a crack, but there was nobody in the hall. At my feet, however, a package rested, wrapped in paper printed with blue and yellow and green balloons.

"The way things have been going, it'll be a bomb, or a live wolverine, or the British crown jewels," I muttered, giving the box a shake.

There was no address label, so it had been hand-delivered. I fetched a pair of scissors from the kitchen junk drawer and opened the box.

There was a note inside the box, on top of the other contents: "Hope your birthday party was a bit more exciting this time around. I think I know what tickles your pickle, and I aimed to get you some serious pickle-tickling." It was signed: "Your pal Harry, with those incredibly creative and talented gentlemen from Society Club Escorts."

Under the note were a pair of running shorts, blue; a tank-top, gray; a jockstrap, old; a pair of running shoes, expensive; and twenty dollars in ones and fives.