As the afterglow faded, Joe and I talked a little more about life in general. He told me he had never really connected with any of his sex partners, that he just had what he wanted and quickly got up and left.
I told him it’s not that unusual for young guys to feel that way. It probably goes back to the cavemen who only wanted to make a baby and then move on to another mate.
I offered him another beer, and he drank it while we showered together. Both of us got hard again while soaping each other’s cocks, but we’d had enough of the real thing that jacking just wasn’t going to cut it.
As we dressed, Joe suddenly froze and quickly turned to me. “Wait a fuckin minute! Bruce, you didn’t get off! I’m so sorry. I was only thinking about myself. Fuck!”
I came over to him and put both arms over his shoulders, looking deeply into his youthful face. “Joe, I had a good time. I don’t have to cum every time I have sex, and today was just about as much fun as I’ve ever had.”
I kissed his lips and then said, “I hope this was just the first of many times, and I assure you, I will get off if we keep on this way.”
“Oh, you can bet it will, Bruce!”
I saw him out the door of my suite and then sat on the couch, taking it all in. I had been celibate, not even jacking off, from the day Winston died until today. Hell, I wasn’t even interested in sex. It was like a part of me had died, along with my lover. Then this beautiful man-child showed up and something inside me was reborn. The sex had been unusual, but it actually made me feel really good that he had enjoyed it, and had learned a lot about himself and pleasing others.
Later that night, as I climbed into the giant-sized bed, I could smell the scent of our sex on the rumpled sheets, and I jacked off, remembering how good it felt to have him inside me.
The next morning, I ate breakfast quickly and headed for the outdoor pool. I fully expected to see Joe there again, and I was looking forward to spending the day in his company—sex was an option, but nothing necessary to my happiness.
But Joe wasn’t there, and he didn’t show up all day. I swam a bit, ogled other good-looking guys, even had too many glasses of Chablis—all in the hope that if I hung around long enough, Joe would turn up. But it didn’t happen.
I decided to return to my suite, clean up and get dressed for dinner. The Del Coronado’s main dining room required a coat and tie, so I went all the way and wore my best suit.
The maître d’ looked at my oddly when I said “dinner for one.” His look implied either that I wasn’t the kind of man who usually dined along, or that he had seen me with Joe the day before and had expected us to be together.
“Just one,” I repeated. “Maybe out of the way a bit.”
“Of course, monsieur.” He led me to a table in the back by a large window facing the Pacific. The table was immaculately appointed, with crystal glassware and sterling silver flatware. There was a single white rose in a thin vase, alongside silver salt and pepper shakers. The menu was large enough to hide behind, which I was certain was the intent of the management. The most expensive items were listed prominently, but, conscious of my dwindling budget, I quickly turned to the daily specials on a back page.
I enjoyed a steak and all the accompaniments and was sipping a glass of Courvoisier when my eye caught the reflection in the window of a well-dressed trio entering the dining room. I turned to look and nearly choked on my drink.
It was Joe, in a blue suit and red tie, with two people in their mid-50s who were apparently his parents. As he stood while the maître d’ held out the chair for his mother to be seated, he glanced in my direction. He stiffened and, even from that distance, I could see that he blushed. He quickly turned away and sat with his back to me.
At least that explained his absence at the pool, but I wondered what he was thinking, and whether he was ashamed of what the two of us had done yesterday. It was pretty plain that his parents had no inkling of his sex life or activities when out of their sight. And that was no surprise. I thought for a moment how shocked my own family would be if they knew about my private shenanigans.
After ordering, the three seemed to settle into light conversation. Suddenly, Joe rose and walked in the direction of the restrooms. At the last possible moment, he flashed a quick peek in my direction. The look in his eyes said it all: “I need to talk to you—now!”
Casually, I signaled my waiter that I would be back in a moment and strolled past his parents’ table toward the restroom, just to get a better look at them.
Joe’s mother wore diamonds and a white fur made out of some unfortunate little animal. Her blond hair and pink nails were done perfectly, which reminded me that they had been deep-sea fishing the day before. Apparently, she could get an appointment at the expensive beauty salon in the hotel with little notice. She didn’t bother to look up as I walked by. “Your son fucked me in the ass yesterday,” I said to her in my mind. “And he is going to get a lot better at it!”
Joe’s father was well over six feet tall. He wore a dark suit, light blue shirt and some kind of old school tie. His hair was medium length and graying. He also ignored my passing. “Joe has a very nice dick, daddy-boy. Did he inherit that from you?” I smiled to myself at these naughty thoughts, but headed for my rendezvous in the men’s room.
When I entered, it was empty, except for Joe standing at the urinal furthest from the door. I moved at an even, unsuspicious pace to stand next to him and pulled out my dick. He was holding his, and as I looked down I saw that it was rock hard. I giggled softly.
“Very fucking funny.” Joe said sarcastically, wiggling it at me. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Joe, when it comes to you, I’ll come anytime, anywhere, and I mean ‘come’ and ‘cum’!”
He chuckled. “I guess you can see who I’m with.”
“Fairly obvious, unless you’re into threesomes with older people.”
“Well, then, do I get to meet your parents?”
He looked stunned. “Hell no! Why would you even want to?”
“Joe, unless I’m mistaken, they don’t know anything about your hijinks, and they would have no reason to suspect anything is going on between us.” I let that sink in. “But seriously, I was just fucking with you. I have no desire to meet them, and I can’t think of a single logical reason why you and I would know each other, or why you would be expected to introduce me.”
He sighed with relief. “I am glad to see you, though.”
Reaching over and tweaking his dick, I said, “That much is obvious.”
Pulling back and tucking his pecker into his pants, Joe joked, “If you keep that up, I’m gonna have a mess down my front.”
Turning serious, I said quietly, “I missed you today, Joe. I couldn’t figure out where you might be, although now it’s completely obvious. Still, I was a little worried. . .”
“Well, I thought I might have been a one-night stand to you.”
“Fuck, no! I want more of you, and I want you to show me more ways to give you pleasure.”
“Well, when is the next time you’ll have the time off for us to play?”
He smiled mischievously. “Tonight. They’re going to a ball or some shit like that.” He continued, “They want me to come with them—I think they hope I’ll meet some perfect debutante and fall in love and make them proud of me. . .”
“And they’re not proud of you now?” I looked him up and down approvingly, which just made him blush again.
“Cut that out.” He straightened his clothes and walked over the sinks. I followed. “They think I’m just a bum, living off their money, who will never settle down and never amount to anything.”
“And is that accurate?”
He looked at me sternly, then broke into a grin. “Probably.”
“So you were saying about tonight. . .” I reminded him.
“After they leave, is it OK if I come down to your room?”
“Down?” I said with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah. We’re in the fuckin penthouse.”
“Well, if you don’t think it will be too degrading to come ‘down’ to my pitifully threadbare suite, then what time should I expect you?”
We both had a good laugh, and Joe said, “I think around 9:30 or 10:00.”
We kissed quickly and were just separating when the door opened and someone came into the restroom. I turned back to the sink and began to wash my hands again as Joe left quickly. After a couple of minutes, I returned to my table by a different route, finished my brandy, signed the check and went outdoors. I made my way back to the suite through the garden.
“When they go to one of those things, it’s a stay-over, so they won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then I’ll see you when they leave. Bring your pajamas.”
He guffawed, “like I wear pajamas—or anything—to bed!”
More or less on time, the doorbell of my suite rang pleasantly. I opened the door and let Joe in. He had shed the suit and tie, and was again wearing board shorts, this time with a tank top and sandals.
“Well, you look a lot more comfortable. It was nice seeing you all dressed up with no place to go, though.”
“Fuck that shit. I hate having to prance around like some goddamn little prince, just because my mother is trying to marry me off to some fuckin rich bitch.”
“Careful there. You could be describing your future wife.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!”
“And do you?” I asked coyly.
He sighed and smiled, “probably not, but I can indulge my fantasy for a while longer, can’t I?”
Once again, his vocabulary gave away his breeding. “So, what’re you having? A beer?”
He looked at me curiously, thinking about something. “Well. . . I was thinking we might try something a little different.” He was either being mysteriously sexy or hesitant to reveal what he was really talking about.
“Different? In what way?” I had a hunch I knew where this was leading.
“Um. Well, have you ever. . . I mean, do you. . .?”
“Smoke weed?” I filled in for him.
He exhaled with relief. “Yeah! Do you?”
“It’s not my favorite thing to do any more, but I was very fond of it in my younger days.”
“Younger? Shit, you’re not that old now!” We both had a good laugh.
“One thing, though,” I reminded Joe. “This suite is probably not the best place to smoke it.”
“I kind of thought that, too. Why don’t we go down to the beach?”
“Great idea!” I said, as I quickly put on my own sandals and picked up the room keycard.
We took the elevator down to the pool area and then went through a tall gate, down a short path, and were quickly walking through cool sand toward the gently rolling waves. Taking our sandals off, we walked through an inch or so of warm water. The moon shimmered on the water as a soft breeze came onshore with the smell of salt water and sea creatures. A couple of buildings down from the hotel, I took Joe’s hand and we walked together in silence.
Reaching the end of the built-up hotel area, we crossed the short expanse of sand and sat down among some large black boulders. Joe reached into his pocket and drew out a clear baggie with the marijuana in it, along with a miniature pipe and a lighter. He skillfully packed the weed into the pipe, held it to his lips, and lit it, drawing the first drag deep into his lungs. He didn’t gag or cough, which told me that he was well-habituated to smoking pot. He handed the pipe to me.
I had been among the best pot-smokers in high school and the first few years of college, but I had not indulged for five years or more, so I chocked on the smoke, which made Joe laugh.
“I thought you said you did this shit!”
“Did—past tense—is the correct word. It’s been a while.”
“How come? Did you move up to something stronger?”
“Not necessarily stronger, but different—wine and brandy and single-malt Scotch.”
“Shit, you sound like my father,” He said with distastes.
“Well, I’m not your father—obviously. Maybe some day your tastes will be. . . different.” I said coyly.
“You were going to say ‘mature’ weren’t you?” Joe accused.
“I was searching for a neutral term. We all have different tastes at different times in our lives.”
“Like you’ve lived so fuckin long!” We both laughed.
We toked on the pipe until it went dead. Then we sat in silence for a while, not really stoned, but fully relaxed, watching the moonlight on the waves.
Without a word, Joe turned to me, pulled me into his arms, and kissed my deeply. Our tongues met and then rested on each other. Our breathing somehow synchronized, and we adjusted our positions to embrace more tightly.
Joe broke the kiss and smiled at me. “You’re not the oldest guy I’ve been with. . .”
“Oh, shit, you were molested as a child!” I said half-joking.
“Not as a child—I was eighteen and still a virgin. But, after the first time, I took over and became the one doing the molesting.” He smiled proudly.
“Who was it?”
“A teacher at my school. He was very handsome and I was kind of proud that I was his boyfriend.”
“And you say you took over. . . how?”
“He just wanted to suck my dick, but the second time he tried it, I turned him over and fucked his ass—hard!”
“I know what that feels like!” I said, laughing. “But still, what you both did could have gotten him fired and you expelled from school.”
“It’s a long time ago, and nobody got hurt. I wanted what he had to give, and he was glad to take what I wanted to do with him.”
I thought back to my own prep school days. I’m sure there was shit going on between students and faculty (not to mention students and students, like me and Craig), but if anyone had gotten caught, the shit would have hit the fan big time.
“So, I’m not your oldest, and I’m definitely not your first. Is there anything special about us now?”
Joe kissed me again. “You know there is. You’ve started my education on how to really please a man—and I can’t wait for the next lesson.”
“Then come here,” I said, lying back on the sand.
We kissed for a while, then easily shed our shorts and shirts. Joe lay on top of my, his cock hard and ready, and he began to rub it against my own hard-on, resting on my belly.
“What’s lesson two?” he asked eagerly.
“Well, you fucked the shit out of me yesterday, so how about I return the favor?”
His whole body stiffened. Clearly he wasn’t expecting this. It occurred to me that his ass was cherry.
Intending to head off anything he might say, I quickly added, “Of course, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s perfectly fine with me if we do the same thing we did yesterday.”
“It’s not that, Bruce. I really do want to do that. . . but I’m a. . . that is, I’ve never. . .”
“Never been fucked before.” I said matter-of-factly.
“Right. I’m kind of afraid it’s going to hurt.”
I looked up into his eyes, which reminded me of a deer caught in headlights. “Well, it doesn’t have to hurt. If we take things slowly and only go as far as you are comfortable with, we can at least start down that road tonight.”
“You mean, don’t go all the way?”
“That’s up to you—to us. We are here for each other’s pleasure. Anything that contributes to that is fair game. Anything that hinders that is off limits, at least until we work up to it.”