SEA CHANGE
CHAPTER 43 — Job Interview
Dan answered my knock, opening the motel room door for me to step through. When I did, I found him wearing absolutely nothing but a black ribbon around his neck.
“Oh, shit,” I said, and with an arm around his waist, I pulled his body to mine.
“You like my gift for our date?” he asked, brushing his lips on mine.
I ran my fingers lightly down the skin of his taut back and onto his butt, feeling his fine body hairs along the way, and I nodded. “Oh, hell yes,” I whispered. Dropping my bag, I took his tight, narrow hips in both hands and pulled them to mine.
Our noses brushed, and his warm breath washed down the opening of my shirt. My cock stiffened. “Umm,” I murmured, sipping his lips like I would sip from a wine glass. Then I drank more deeply as Dan wrapped his arms around my shoulders and ran his fingers up into the back of my hair.
Pausing for a breath, Dan rested his forehead on mine. “Oh, damn,” he whispered. “I miss you so much when we’re apart.”
I nodded, my forehead nodding his. “A week lasts forever and two weeks lasts a lifetime,” I said.
For me, missing Dan meant missing his body too. I spread my fingers over his firm butt and squeezed it. I kissed along the ribbon on his neck and took a deep breath of his scent. And I moaned with desire for him.
“We have time,” he quietly said. “We don’t have to be there for an hour.”
“What I had in mind,” I said, tonguing his ear, “could take all night.”
His cock had come up hard between us, and mine was cramped in my underwear. I pushed down my pants, wanting to feel his skin with my skin. I pulled his belly to mine, and our cocks jutted off to the sides.
Dan pulled my shirt up and off, and I backed him to the bed, kicking off shoes and pants along the way.
He scooted back onto the bed and, knees wide apart, extended his arms to me. The black ribbon on his neck, and the flush of his genitals contrasted with his white skin and I’d never seen anything, anyone, more desirable.
There is a special moment, when I lay my body down onto his and the weight of my balls settles onto his soft scrotum, and the sensitive undersides of our cocks press together -- that moment with Daniel had always caught my breath. But somewhere in the last year or so, that special moment had become even more special. Now, that first pressing of balls and cocks after being apart, spawned a soul-deep, coming-home contentment that rose up through my spirit, warm and rich.
That moment, and the one right after, when I lay my belly and chest down onto his and we wrap each other up in arms and legs; those were the moments I longed for when we were apart. They were moments when the world was perfect.
. . . . .
“Two weeks,” I said afterward, as we lay facing each other with long legs entwined up to our balls, “is a long time.”
Dan frowned. “It’s about to become even longer. Marco has the hots for another guy, and I may be minus a fuck buddy.”
“Marco’s stupid,” I said, smoothing back Dan’s pale blonde hair with my hand.
“No,” Dan said, running his hand down my side. “He knows we’d never be more than fuck buddies.” Dan’s eyes became serious. “I may have found someone else.”
I frowned; I couldn’t help it. “Who?”
Dan shrugged. “Two guys; boyfriends. They’re both seniors. I met them at the party last weekend and they invited me over sometime.”
Slipping my arms around Daniel’s shoulders, I pulled him close and laid my cheek on his. “I don’t know,” I said quietly. “Just one guy, or a couple of guys our age would be better.”
With a soft moan, Dan nuzzled into my neck. “Maybe so,” he said. Then he squeezed me tightly. “I’m ready for us to live together, Seany.”
“Maybe I won’t go to any more dive meets,” I said. “We need to be together every weekend.”
Dan laughed. “Oh yeah, sure. I know your problem -- too many lovers,” he said. “What are you going to do next meet? Ken’s out now, he’ll probably want to room with you. And it doesn’t sound like Caitlyn is willing to let you off the hook.”
With Dan’s naked body in my arms and one of his long legs between mine, Ken and Caitlyn were far from my mind. I moved my hips, rubbing myself against him. “Maybe I really won’t go to any more meets,” I said.
Dan pulled his head back and with gentle smile, searched my eyes. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I said, and then kissed him. “Do we have time to go again?” I asked, pressing my growing erection against him.
“No,” he said, patting my butt. “We’re going to be a little late as it is.”
“Oh! I almost forgot,” I said. “I have a gift.”
Dan chuckled and squeezed my hip. “Oh, you have a gift alright.”
“No,” I said. “I meant that I brought you a present. Actually, it’s a present from Lisa, Trevor’s mom. She baked me a bunch of chocolate chip cookies last night when I took Trevor bowling. I hid a half dozen from Ferg and Eric to bring to you.”
Dan smiled. “You just took Trevor? You didn’t take his brother?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “They get jealous of each other. Lisa says she’ll get Russell his own big brother.” If I kept rubbing myself on Dan, it would be hard to quit. I rolled from his arms onto my back.
“I don’t know,” Dan said with a frown as he traced a finger down my belly. “That’ll make it easier for Trevor to try to get you alone.”
“We did OK,” I said, putting my hands behind my head and spreading my legs for Dan to fondle me. “We just had fun together.” Then I chuckled. “He did try to talk me into teaching him how to kiss when we headed back to his house.”
“Did you?” Dan asked, lifting my balls with his hand. “Did you teach him?”
“Hell no. I told him to forget it. I told him about you being the first guy I ever kissed and how I fell in love with you, and I said he better save his first kiss for someone he can fall in love with.”
“Yeah, right. Did he buy it?”
“No,” I answered with a shake of my head and another chuckle. “I’m afraid he wants me to teach him a lot more than kissing. I told him to forget it. We’re just going to be friends.”
“Oh, sure,” Dan said. “Tell a fifteen year old to forget about sex. That’ll work.”
“I told him to quit thinking about me that way. I told him to find a kid his own age.”
“What did he say to that?” Dan asked.
“He asked me how he was supposed to find one. So I told him what to look for.”
Dan smiled. “Besides hard-ons in the school showers, what else did you tell him to look for?”
“A really cute guy,” I said, “who’s always looking at other guys.”
. . . . .
We adjusted our matching jade necklaces in the mirror. Dan combed his long, smooth hair back, and I did what I could with my thick shag. “You need a haircut,” he said.
“I was thinking of growing it longer,” I told him.
Dan shook his head. “I like it the length you normally keep it. I like the way it feathers out over your ears.”
“You sure? I thought about letting it get down to my shoulders.”
Dan studied me a moment, and then shrugged. “You’ll cut it if I don’t like it?”
“You know I will; servant for life thing remember?”
Dan smiled. “Just don’t grow anything else longer. I don’t think I could handle it.”
It wasn’t that cold out, but I wore a black sweater vest that Dan liked. We both
wore shirts with high, peaked collars. Mine was cream-colored cotton. His was a
red silk print. Both of us wore pants that the other liked; snug, with a pouch
that lifted everything right up front.
I whistled low as Dan parked the Jeep in front of the large, mission style home. “He does pretty well for a college professor,” I observed.
The house was on a low rise in a city block that held only four homes. The grounds were densely landscaped and had a park-like look in a small amount of space.
“He’s published,” Dan explained as he took my hand and we walked up the front sidewalk. “He’s won a couple of awards. And early on, he did a lot of research on workplace psychology. So he does a lot of speaking and consulting for government and businesses.”
“But now he’s interested in hereditary behavior? Isn’t that a change in direction?”
Dan shrugged. “Not as much as you’d think. He believes he’s really on to something and he loves research.”
We paused at the door. “By the way,” he said, slipping his hand behind the small of my back. “Have I told you that I’m madly in love with you?”
. . . . .
Dr. Armstrong was a rotund little guy with a wreath of wispy, gray hair around an otherwise bald pate. His gray eyes had an intelligent twinkle and he wore the amused smile of a man who found delight in life.
“So this is Sean,” he said, welcoming me in. He looked me over approvingly. “You two make a handsome pair, Daniel.”
I returned the professor’s firm handshake, and we followed him into his living room where we met his wife, a rail-thin woman with dark hair and a thin smile. The professor wore slacks and a guayabera, and his wife wore a highly embroidered Mexican dress. Those passed for close to formal in South Texas.
On a couch sat an attractive brunette, wearing a simple frock. The professor introduced her as Veronica, his graduate assistant. Next to her on the couch sat her sandy-haired boyfriend who Veronica introduced as Ted, a law student. He looked Dan and me over with an openly critical eye.
In matching armchairs sat the last two guests -- a bearded, senior psych student, Richard, and his longhaired girlfriend, Gwen. Her smile was unabashedly friendly.
After introductions over hors d’oeuvres, the professor and his wife led us into the dining room. Dinner for eight had been set out on a large, mahogany table.
Mrs. Armstrong took her seat at one end of the table with the Ted, the law student, at her left and Richard to her right. The two girls sat beside their dates, facing each other across the middle of the table. Professor Armstrong sat at the other end of the table with Dan to his right and me to his left.
Two dark-skinned, young girls wearing crisp, white uniforms served the food. They flashed white-toothed smiles at Dan and me as they set salads, butter rolls, and dishes of creamed asparagus, new potatoes, and roast pork onto the table. They filled our glasses with iced tea and then returned to the kitchen.
Dr. Armstrong was a good host, spotlighting his guests, each guest in turn. He began with a brief introduction of Veronica as his able right arm. Then he explained that Richard would be a graduate assistant next year. Then he introduced Dan as a research assistant, and I wriggled my eyebrows at Dan over the high-sounding name Dr. Armstrong had given a lab assistant.
“Now let’s meet your dates,” Dr. Armstrong said. And he began with Veronica’s boyfriend, Ted who, it turned out, was interested in what he called the liberal side of the docket; plaintiff law and criminal defense.
Richard’s girlfriend, Gwen was studying early childhood education. She was a happy, outgoing girl, and struck me as probably being very good with children.
Interspersed among all the questions and answers, the professor interjected humorous remarks. And his wife dropped in a couple of one-line barbs that I particularly enjoyed.
I almost had the last bite of pork to my mouth when Professor Armstrong turned to me. “Daniel tells me that you have several interests, Sean.”
“Just which ones did he mention?” I asked, flashing a cocked eyebrow at Dan.
“Save the aberrant ones for work, dear,” Mrs. Armstrong said quietly from the end of the table.
Gwen spewed her drink and then turned scarlet.
Professor Armstrong’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “Daniel has told me of your interest in writing, music, and biology. That’s quite a combination.”
“I find a lot of things to be interesting,” I said. “I’ve always liked biology.”
“And genetics?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. I think genetics are fascinating.”
“Have you heard of gene mapping?”
“Yes, sir. That’s mapping physical traits to specific genes.”
The professor nodded, approvingly.
“But from what Daniel tells me,” I said, “it sounds like you’re hoping to map specific behavior to genes.”
The professor’s smile widened. “Exactly,” he said. After studying me a moment, he asked, “Do you know anything about computers?”
“Not much,” I said. “But I suppose you have to because computers are required for the work of gene mapping, right?”
He nodded, and the twinkle in his eye was replaced by a shrewd look. “No one really has yet, but they’re starting to. How are you at math?” he asked.
“OK,” I said.
“Sean tutors other students,” Dan pointed out. “He’s excellent at math.”
“Hmm,” the professor said. He pushed his chair back and crossed his legs without taking his eyes from mine. “Daniel told me that you’re in the honors program. Are you enjoying that?”
“I like the classes,” I said. “There’s lots of discussion. The classes aren’t boring, that’s for sure.”
“But you like writing?” he asked. “I understand that you want to be a writer.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Oh, I love writing. Don’t get me wrong. I just don’t know that I’ll be good enough to be successful. I’ve got a mentor; a novelist who’s a professor at Trinity. I’m not sure that he thinks I’m any good. He hasn’t had me write much. Instead, we mainly sit around on Wednesday night and drink scotch while we talk about writing.”
Dr. Armstrong laughed. “Is this for a grade?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Sounds like an ‘A’ to me,” his wife said from the end of the table.
With a grin, Dr. Armstrong leaned back in his chair. Then he looked from me to Daniel and back. “Daniel tells me that you two have been lovers since you were sixteen.”
I nodded.
“And that you plan to stay together.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that you hope to transfer to UT next year.”
I nodded again.
Dr. Armstrong’s eyes were watching me closely. “Daniel thinks,” he said, “that you would like to join him in being a research assistant for our project.”
I glanced at Dan, who smiled encouragingly. “So is this like, a job interview?” I asked surprised.
Dr. Armstrong laughed. “A year is a long way off,” he said. “I just wanted to meet you after all that Daniel has said about you. And I’ve owed a dinner to hard-working Veronica and Richard for a long time.”
“Oh,” I said, nodding. And it occurred to me that this dinner might have been planned as an opportunity for them all -- the professor, Veronica, Richard, and maybe even Mrs. Armstrong -- to get an impression of me. I glanced at each of them.
And then I caught a quick exchange of looks between Dr. Armstrong and his wife; her look said, “He knows what you’re up to.” His look was amused.
Veronica was watching me. With her fork, she pushed idly at her food and took a breath. “So Sean, how do you feel about free will? Are you a behaviorist like Daniel?”
“Ha!” Dr. Armstrong exclaimed. “Be careful Sean. It’s her hot button these days.”
“I’m not really a behaviorist,” Daniel protested with a frown toward Veronica.
“What do you mean?” I asked her.
“I mean,” Veronica explained, “do you believe that a man or woman has a free will? Do you believe that people are actually free to make choices? Or do you believe that people don’t really make choices at all -- that they are locked into behavior that’s predetermined by their conditioning, or,” she said with a nod toward the professor, “by their heredity.”
Dr. Armstrong leaned toward me. “Veronica has a very high view of man,” he said. “She’s convinced that behaviorism is a crock. She’s even skeptical that heredity plays much of a factor in behavior.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “I never said that behaviorism is a crock.”
“Yeah, you’ve never been that nice about it,” Richard said.
Veronica frowned. “It’s just that behaviorists are myopic. To them, conditioning is the one and only explanation for all human behavior. And that, at the very least, is stupidly simplistic.”
“Veronica likes to phrase things gently,” Richard said with a disapproving frown.
The professor and his wife exchanged amused glances.
I certainly knew about behaviorism. Roger was steeped in it. And despite his protest to the contrary, I knew that Daniel went along with most of it. I knew that to a behaviorist, the actions of an individual could always be explained as the result of his or her conditioning – by what that individual had been rewarded or punished for as they grew up. A person behaved according to what he believed would bring him either benefit or the avoidance of pain.
“So,” I asked. “If conditioning alone doesn’t explain why people behave like they do, what does?”
“Many things,” Veronica answered immediately. “Many, many things. The human brain is the most complex structure in the universe, by orders of magnitude. And the human psyche is more than simple brain structure. There is the brain, of course; but there’s also body chemistry and the whole endocrine system… and don’t forget the spine. A lot goes on there. And what if there is a soul. What if the human persona does include a spiritual element? What if the whole of the individual is more than the sum of his physical parts?”
Before anyone could answer, she went on. “Oh, I’m sure that heredity plays a part. The professor has convinced me of that. But humans also have emotions, beliefs, ideals, needs, laws, relationships… I could go on and on, listing the things that affect how we behave; how we make our choices. Dr. Armstrong here likes Maslow and his hierarchy of needs. Just look at that alone; all the needs people have and how those needs affect behavior. When you’re through adding everything into the mix, there is no way you can explain even one conscious, human choice, simply in terms of conditioning.”
“But you could, and you know it,” Richard said with a sigh, and I could tell that this conversation had taken place before.
Richard glanced at me from down the table. “When a person chooses to obey a law, for example, it is either to avoid punishment for breaking the law, or to earn reward in keeping it. When a person makes a choice, based on a belief, ultimately, it is because that person’s real belief is that the he or she will be rewarded.”
“What about love?” I asked. “It doesn’t seem to me that you have considered love at all. People sometimes sacrifice themselves for others. That can’t be from conditioning.”
“I mentioned love,” Veronica said, correcting me. “Or at least, I mentioned emotions and needs; however you define love. But you have a point, Sean. There are behaviors that are completely altruistic. Like when a soldier throws his body over a grenade to save his friends. That packs a powerful reward, but not for him!” Veronica said.
“I know you believe in the nobility of man and all that crap, Veronica,” Richard said. “But you know the answer to an example like that. For one thing, in cases like the one you mention there is little ‘choice’ at all; it’s all reflex. But even if a soldier did think about it before giving his life to save his friends, he still would be doing it for a reward -- a huge reward; saving his friends.”
“Criminally simplistic,” murmured Veronica. “We are not unreasoning animals.”
“The greatest scientific truths are simple – Occam’s Razor,” Richard replied.
“That’s just it,” Veronica protested. “Human thought is not simple. You cannot reduce the human mind to a linear equation. It is decidedly nonlinear; non-… solvable.”
“Human thought is still a natural phenomena,” Richard started to say.
“And virtually no natural phenomena is fully predictable,” she said. “How well has anyone done pinning down all the factors that go into making the weather? Well, the human mind is far more complicated than the weather.”
“There are many complex behaviors,” Dr. Armstrong said from our end of the table, “the construction of a cocoon… migratory patterns… elaborate mating rituals – all of which appear to be hereditary.”
“And if mating behavior is hereditary,” Veronica quickly answered, “people choose over heredity every day; every time they choose to not have sex with an attractive member of the opposite sex. People can choose over conditioning and over heredity.”
“Are you sure?” Dr. Armstrong asked with an amused expression.
“Yes,” she said. “And I know you agree. When a reformed thief chooses not to steal anymore. Or a liar chooses to quit lying. Or an alcoholic swears off drink…”
“But do people really change? Or do they get new conditioning?” Richard asked.
“Why are you smiling, Sean?” Dr. Armstrong asked.
I shrugged. “I was just thinking about what my dad would say. It’s funny. He’s really religious, but I think he’d agree with all of you… to an extent.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Well, as far as behaviorism goes, he and I have had that conversation because of Dan’s dad. My dad’s convinced that most behavior is a result of what we have become habituated to; you know, habits. But he also believes that we inherit all sorts of behavior, or to put it the way he does; we inherit a sin nature. He thinks that we inherit the ability to do just about anything… except anything good, that is.”
I smiled apologetically. “My dad isn’t a big believer in the goodness of man,” I said. “And he doesn’t believe people change either. Well, unless God changes them. And yet I know he believes we can make our own choices.”
“What do you believe?” Dr. Armstrong asked.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. I could see myself being in trouble with at least one of the people at the table, no matter how I answered. But I needed to say something.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I guess I’ve always believed that we make our own choices.”
“So,” asked the law student. “Does that mean that you could choose not be a homosexual?”
The table hushed, and everyone waited for my answer.
“That would depend,” Dan said, “on whether it’s hereditary or not.”
“No it doesn’t,” Veronica said.
“Come on, Veronica,” Dan said. “If it’s hereditary, trying to choose not to be gay would be like trying to choose a different skin color.”
“We’re talking about behavior,” she answered. “Not physical traits.”
“We’re talking about heredity,” he said.
“Or conditioning,” Richard said.
“Either way,” Veronica said, “we’re talking about choices.”
“Or not having them,” Richard said.
“It seems to me,” Mrs. Armstrong said, “that if something is hereditary, you’re stuck with it.”
“Well this is a good example of our dilemma,” Veronica said. “Is homosexuality hereditary? Or is it a result of conditioning?”
“Or could it be,” Ted, her date, asked, “simply the result of choices that boys or girls make early in life; choices that become habits of thought and behavior.”
“Whatever it is,” Veronica continued, “the real question is whether a homosexual can choose to be a heterosexual?”
“He can be reconditioned,” Richard said.
Veronica snorted. “Reconditioning only displaces behavior and you know it.”
I was feeling hot under the collar. “What if I don’t want to be reconditioned?” I asked. Look, maybe it’s different for different people. I know guys who knew they were gay for as long as they can remember. They never made any ‘choices.’ In my case, I didn’t always know I was gay. Maybe I could have gone either way. Whether I could or not, I chose to be gay and no one can judge that choice.”
“Why would anyone choose to be gay?” Ted asked, surprised.
“Why, given the choice, would anyone choose to be straight?” I asked. “I mean, strictly speaking, why not be both; have your cake and eat it to.”
The law student frowned, shaking his head. “Behavior has to be judged,” he said. “Society has to make judgments as to which behaviors it will allow and which it will not. Murder is not allowed. Stealing is not allowed. Behavior that is harmful or threatens the fabric of society must be prohibited, for the good of all.”
“How does my relationship with Daniel hurt anyone?” I asked.
“It hurts society,” he said, “because you don’t procreate. And because your behavior is a perversion of the natural, sexual behavior that bonds couples together for the raising of children.”
“Let’s avoid inflammatory language,” Dr. Armstrong cautioned. “You call the behavior a perversion, but the truth is that homosexual behavior is common in many, many species.”
“OK,” the law student said. “Putting that aside, homosexual behavior cannot be good for the individual. I mean, a guy is built for having a sex with a girl, not with another guy? The parts don’t fit. I mean, look what que… gays do to each other. It’s humiliating.”
“Now wait a moment,” Dr. Armstrong started to say.
“I don’t know,” I said, “what you think gay lovemaking is like. But I can tell you that the way guys and girls sometimes use each other for sex can be humiliating. Whenever one person uses another person, simply for sex, that’s demeaning, debasing -- even if one person is a guy and the other is a girl.”
“And I can tell you,” I said, continuing on before the law student could interrupt, “that being in love makes everything different. Whether your lover is a guy or a girl, when you’re in love and making love, it is the most incredible experience in the world. And things do fit. Sometimes,” I said, my voice growing softer as I looked at Dan “Sometimes he comes over me as gently as a summer breeze. Sometimes he comes over me like a sexual storm. But every time he comes over me and he fills me… our bodies and our spirits become one; as tightly one as any male and female ever become.”
“My greatest pleasure,” I said, “is giving myself to him. In fact, I plan to spend my life doing just that.” I glanced back down the table at the law student. “If I had the choice to be gay and be with Daniel, or be happily straight without him. I would choose to be gay every time.”
The law student opened his mouth to respond, but Veronica put a hand on his forearm, and he closed his mouth again.
I leaned back in my seat to find Dr. Armstrong studying me.
“I’m not accustomed to hearing such… romantic talk,” he said, “in a homosexual context. I haven’t seen but maybe one, long-term gay couple and that was more a matter of convenience. Most gay guys are highly promiscuous.”
I felt my face flush and struggled with how to respond. I was ready to fiercely defend gay romance, but wondered how believable I would be if the professor found out how ‘promiscuous’ Dan and I were.
Dr. Armstrong cocked an eyebrow. It was as if he read my thoughts. “Do you two have an… open relationship?” he asked.
“Only until we’re living together,” Dan said quickly.
Dr. Armstrong rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, studying me.
“Who would like coffee with their dessert?” Mrs. Armstrong asked.
. . . . .
Daniel turned on the TV while I hit the bathroom to prepare for bed. When he took his turn in the bathroom, I decided to leave the channel on HBO; Caddyshack was about to start. I stripped and crawled into bed.
Dan returned and I watched him undress. He smiled as he climbed in beside me. “You tired, Seany?”
“A little? You.”
He nodded and stroked my hair. “Yeah. Tonight was a little tense. How early do we need to get up?”
I rubbed the side of his neck. “Seven or eight. We might need some time to find the place.”
He kissed my cheek. “You want to make love?” he asked.
“If you do, I’d like to.”
He smiled. “What would you like? You want me to come over you like a storm?”
I playfully bit his chin. Then I put my mouth at his ear. “What I really want… is to play with Little Danny.”
Dan chuckled, and with a kiss, he reversed positions and we moved into a sides-facing sixty-nine.
“Little Danny” lay thick and flush down onto the sheet, and Dan’s balls hung loose. I drew my finger up the incredibly soft skin of his shaft and kissed his base. I stretched him out by his crown, and worked my mouth down his underside. And then I buried my mouth in Dan’s scrotum and rubbed his smell over my face. I looped my arm under his bottom leg and slid it forward for my head to rest on his long, slender thigh, and Dan cocked his upper leg to give me access. I did the same for him. Then pulling his balls forward, I nuzzled in behind them.
I took a deep breath. His scent always made me rock hard and it felt like my cock grew another inch. I licked there, on his perineum. “Dan,” I said quietly.
“Um-hum.”
“Thanks for talking me up with Dr. Armstrong. I hope I didn’t spoil everything.”
He took a lick of my scrotum and my cock twitched. “He likes you, Seany,” he said. “He told me so – when you were getting a recipe from Mrs. Armstrong.” Dan rubbed his cheek on the underside of my cock. “He said you have fire.”
“Humph!” I said, his balls half-muffling my comment. “You sure he didn’t say I was fired.”
He laughed. “No. He said you have fire; that you aren’t afraid to have an opinion. I told him he had no idea,” Dan said with a chuckle. “I said you were a victim of your heredity; that you got an unbelievable stubborn streak from your mom.”
“Oh great,” I said. “He’s not going to want me around at all.”
“No, actually,” Dan said, “I told him I was grateful that you were so strong-willed because you wouldn’t have stuck with me if you weren’t.”
“What’d he say to that?” I asked, kissing inside his leg.
Dan paused. “It’s funny,” he said. “Dr. Armstrong got a far-away look and said something about wondering what it would be like, to be loved by someone the way you love me… He does like you, Seany. I think they all do, even if Veronica’s boyfriend, Ted, did get a little stinky.” He rubbed his face between my legs. “I was really proud of you.”
“We’re a good team,” I told him, then licked in the seams between his legs and scrotum.
“Next year’s going to be so cool,” he said, and then swallowed one of my balls.
I lifted my upper leg up higher while rubbing my face on the underside of his cock. “You’re beautiful down here,” I said. “I’ve always loved to be down here.”
“Me too, Seany; even if your cute red pubes are still short.” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger around the base of my cock and moved it around, causing my cock to circle. “Hello, Little Seany,” he said softly, and then licked my glans like an ice-cream cone.
I wrapped my hand around his shaft and slid back his foreskin, backing my body down his to line up mouths and cocks. “Little Danny is always so shy,” I said. “Always hiding in his foreskin.” I kissed Dan’s crown. “Hello Little Danny.”
I skinned him back farther and his little slit pulled slightly open. “Oh look, little Danny is smiling and laughing. I think he’s happy. Kissy, Little Danny?” I kissed his little mouth, and then slid my lips over his glans.
There was a hint of precum in his taste. I closed my lips tightly around his shaft and took him into my throat.
Dan moaned, and I felt his warm mouth close over my crown.
We were tired, and needed to sleep, but the mood was mellow and we took our time. And after we had coaxed quiet climaxes from each other, I fell asleep with my arms around Dan’s narrow waist, my head on his thigh, and my cock growing soft in his mouth.
A short while later, he shifted and woke me, and the two of us moved up beside each other on the pillows.
With a gentle smile, he kissed me. “You smell sexy,” he said, sleepily.
I nuzzled in under his cheek, wrapping my arms around him, and slid my top leg between his legs. “It’s your scent,” I whispered. “It’s the sexiest.”
He worked his arm under my neck and laid his other arm over my waist, and we snuggled in. “Beloved,” he whispered.
“Beloved,” I whispered back.
. . . . .
“What’s in that?” I asked as Dan tossed a small bag into the back of the Jeep. Since he had already loaded in his regular bag, I was curious.
“A surprise,” he said, “for you and Lenny.”
“Why is it?” I asked with a frown, “that I feel a sudden sense of dread?”
Dan smiled and leaned against the Jeep. “You’ve told me a dozen times that you want Lenny and me to be friends. I’m going to treat him like one.”
“Maybe I should warn Lenny,” I said, stepping close with a cocked eyebrow.
Dan laughed and laid the flat of his hand on my belly. “Look, Sean. You can’t blame me for being just a little jealous. I mean… Lenny gets more time with you than I do.”
“No he doesn’t,” I said, pressing my belly against Dan’s hand. “I see him Monday and Tuesday nights. Wednesday night, I usually get done too late at Tom’s. And now Thursday nights I’m going to be at Trevor’s… And I’m in school all day.”
I rubbed his upper arm. “But I know what you mean. I’ve been jealous of Marco a couple of times.”
Dan smiled. “You’ll like him when you meet him.”
“And you’ll like Lenny… please?”
“I said I would,” Dan said, flexing his fingers on my belly. “I’ll like him Seany.”
I squeezed his arm. “Will you rescue him with me?”
“We’ll see, OK? Let’s just go with the flow.”
I nodded. “Alright.” Then I frowned. “It’ll be a little awkward tonight if you and I make love and leave him out of it.”
“Maybe we don’t have to make love tonight,” Dan said.
“Yeah, right,” I said, then leaned closer, moving my face inches from his. “I’m already getting horny.”
He laughed and squeezed my belly hard. “I’ll do my best to hit it off with Lenny,” he promised.
“Cool,” I said. “He promised the same.”
Dan hugged me and pressed his cheek to mine, chuckling. “Just like you set Linda and me up. You just want everybody to get along.”
“Not everybody,” I said, feeling the warmth and softness of his cheek with mine.
“No,” Dan said with a nod. “Not everybody; I know Lenny’s important.”
. . . . .
Lenny’s directions were clear, and an hour after leaving Austin, we were winding our way up a back road to a hilltop that overlooked Smithson Valley. Dan followed my Bronco in his Jeep so that I wouldn’t have to drive him all the way back the next day. Lenny had left the gate unlocked, as he said we would, and we locked it before we proceeded on. Around the first curve, we passed a small pond, and I wondered whether it had fish.
The road leveled at the top and we came up on an open space that was clear all the way to the edge of a broad bluff that overlooked the Valley. To the right was a large swimming pool and hot tub, with flagstone coping and a broad sun deck that ran close to the edge of the bluff. On the other side of the pool was a small, two-story stone house, with a metal roof and a broad porch.
Lenny’s Pinto was straight ahead, beside the pool. I pulled the Bronco alongside, and Dan pulled the Jeep alongside the Bronco.
The materials that we would be using – flagstone, sand, gravel, dirt, and timbers had all been delivered and were in stacks and piles on the other side of the Pinto. Lenny came from behind them.
For the cool of the morning, he had worn a shirt along with his shorts and boots. His hair was back in a high ponytail. I thought he looked sexy as hell… as usual.
He gave me a wave and a hug, and then, while still in my arms, his eyes went to Daniel. I watched the two of them and held my breath; just because both were great looking and cool guys didn’t mean they would take a liking to each other. And I really, really wanted them to like each other.
They looked each other up and down.
“He’s much cuter in person,” Lenny said to me as he stepped from my arms and walked in a circle around Dan, sizing him up. He stopped in front of him and smiled. “Much cuter.” Then he extended his hand.
Dan took his hand. “Sean knew better than to tell me how striking you are,” he said with a quick frown for my benefit. He gave Lenny’s hand a shake. “Your eyes are amazing.”
“Hell, don’t just shake his hand; give him a squeeze,” I said. “You know you will before the weekend’s over.”