Aroused (33 page)

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Authors: Sean Wolfe

BOOK: Aroused
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Micky stood and lifted Walter to his feet and led him to the bedroom. “There are more ways of being intimate and making love than fucking, Walter. Take off your clothes and lay down with me.”
The two men undressed and lay down next to each other in bed. Walter shivered uncontrollably as Micky leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him. He couldn't stop thinking about the wrinkles and folds of skin and age spots that defined his body. But Micky's body was so warm and soft and comfortable that Walter soon stopped shivering.
“You okay, now?” Walter asked.
“I think so.”
“Good.”
Micky scooted up and kissed Walter. At first Walter took a deep breath and refused to open his mouth. But Micky's tongue was persistent, and soon Walter opened his mouth and allowed the warm, wet tongue inside. He let it lay there for a moment, and then he began to suck on it lightly. It tasted slightly of peppermint, and felt better than anything he could remember feeling or tasting in years.
Micky slid his tongue in and out of Walter's mouth then sucked on Walter's tongue too. As he did this, he held Walter's face in his hands for a while, and then let them travel down his neck and chest.
“Don't,” Walter said, as he broke the kiss. “This can't be exciting for you. I'm as wrinkled and dried up as a prune.”
“This is the most exciting thing I've experienced in I don't know how long. Your mouth, your skin, your body all feel so incredible.”
“Please,” Walter said.
“You don't believe me?” Micky asked, and moved Walter's hand down to his fully hard cock.
“Micky!” Walter gasped. “How the hell did you do that? Are you taking that Viagra?”
Micky laughed. “No. It's all you. You do things to me and make me feel things I thought I'd never experience again.”
“I'm not sure what to say,” Walter said. “I love what we've been doing, but I'm not hard at all.”
“Leave that to me,” Micky said, and lowered himself down the bed.
“Micky! Don't be ridiculous. We're seventy-five years old. Men our age don't ...”
Suddenly Walter's cock was surrounded by a wet warmth he only vaguely remembered. Micky was patient, and licked and sucked on it slowly for several minutes. Walter was embarrassed that he wasn't responding, and was about to tell Micky to give up, when he suddenly felt a little lightheaded. His cock tingled, and when he looked down at it, it was fully hard and sliding in and out of Micky's talented mouth.
“Oh, my god, Micky,” Walter gasped. “I'm hard.”
“Yes, you are. And I never would have guessed you were quite that well endowed,” he said as he came up for air and wiped his mouth.
“Me neither. I forgot.”
Micky laughed.
“So now what?” Walter asked. “I really don't think I can get fucked.”
“And I'm certainly not letting that thing up my ass, either. They really would have to carry me out of here in a sheet-covered gurney.”
“So ... ?”
“So who needs anal intercourse? I've had it already in my life. Have you?”
“Yes.”
“Completely overrated. Let's take it to the next level.”
“There's a next level?”
“Lie on your side facing me.”
Walter did, and Micky did the same. Micky leaned in to kiss Walter again, and this time he pulled his body so that both naked bodies were pressed against each other. At this point, Walter did not need to be told what to do, and both men rubbed their cocks against each other as they kissed and caressed the other's face.
“You are the most amazing man I've met in years, Walter,” Micky said as they broke from a kiss. “You feel incredible.”
“You too,” Walter said, a little breathless.
Micky could tell Walter was getting close, and so was he. He reached down with one hand and tugged on Walter's balls as his other hand pulled Walter's face closer for another kiss. His own cock was throbbing and he knew it would only be a few more seconds before he shot.
He thrust his tongue deeper into Walter's throat and squeezed harder on his balls. When Walter moaned, Micky's body tensed and he felt himself release years of pent-up cum all over Walter's legs and stomach.
Walter bit down lightly on Micky's tongue and his body tensed as well. A second later, he sprayed his load all over Micky's hand and crotch. It wasn't that much, but it felt like the latest NASA launch had just occurred between his legs.
“Oh, my god, I had no idea I could still do that,” Walter said.
“You just needed a reason to.”
Walter gazed into Micky's eyes.
“What?” Micky asked.
“Will I have a reason to again?”
Micky smiled. “As much as you'd like.”
“I don't know how often I'll be able to do that ...”
“We don't have to do
that
every time. There's so much more to intimacy than having sex. We can just cuddle. We can spoon each other and fall asleep in one another's arms. We can take bubble baths with champagne and candlelight. We can kiss until we fall asleep with our tongues still inside the other's mouth and then wake up kissing again.”
“All of that sounds great,” Walter said, and hugged Micky tightly so that he couldn't see the tears.
“And we can make love like we did tonight too. As much as you'd like.”
“So it really is that easy? As easy as the kids say it is?”
“What is?”
“Finding this. Finding love. And intimacy”
“Don't be ridiculous. Those kids are sweet, but they don't know the first thing about love or intimacy. It's that easy for them to find the biggest dick or the tightest ass. Because that's all they know to look for.”
“I suppose you're right.”
“Do you think it was easy to find this? What we just had? Love and intimacy?”
“No.”
“You're damned right it wasn't. Took over twenty years for both of us. It'll take at least that long for many of those kids. And some of them will never find it. Some of them don't even want it.”
“That doesn't seem right or fair. What can we do to help?”
“Remember that kid Chandler tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“He wants it. And so do a few of the others. So we talk with them. Nothing too overbearing, just casual. Coffee or something. And we show them that it is possible to get what you want out of life, as long as you don't compromise along the way.”
“Those kids won't listen to us.”
“Not all of them, but some will. I think Chandler will. And if we get him to listen and get it, then he can pass it on to the others. We older gays have been educating and passing on empowerment to younger generations for centuries. It's what we do. That and making sure we still make enough time for loving ourselves. You and me.”
Walter looked at Micky for a couple of minutes without saying anything. Then his eyes filled with tears.
“I know,” Micky said. “Me too.”
Hot Hands on the High Seas
“
E
lizabeth,” I almost yelled into the intercom, “who the hell authorized a $3,000 expenditure with the Robinson Travel Agency?” I stared at the statement in disbelief, and leafed through the rest of the mail to try to find an explanation.
Instead of responding through the intercom, Elizabeth walked into my office and closed the door behind her. “I did.”
“What do you mean you did? You don't have the ...”
“Of course I do. I make your travel arrangements all the time. Cindy at Robinson is one of my closest friends. We do lunch at least once a week. She's arranged all your travel plans for the past three years, and I've ordered the trips and authorized the company's credit card payment for all of them.”
“But I'm not going anywhere. My next trip isn't until next month when I have that meeting with Harrison in London. This statement is for a cruise to the Mexican Riviera next week.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I'm not going to the Mexican Riviera next week, Elizabeth. What the hell is going on?”
“Yes, you are,” she said, and folded her arms across her ample breasts. “Next week is your fiftieth birthday, and you haven't been on a vacation in more than two years. You need to get away.”
“That's ridiculous. I travel someplace new at least once a month. It seems all I do is travel.”
“Yeah, for business meetings. Jim, it's your fiftieth birthday. That's a big deal. You need to take some time off work and take a real vacation and celebrate the magnificent life you've worked so damned hard to build for yourself.”
“Impossible,” I said. “I've got meetings all next week. Important meetings.”
“Not anymore you don't,” Elizabeth said, and walked around my desk and pulled up my Outlook calendar. It was blank, except for a very large “Bon Voyage” typed across the entire week. “I cleared all your meetings. Every single one. Rescheduled them for the following week, so you'll be busy as hell when you get back. You'll be giddy. But you're going on this trip and you're going to have a great time.”
“Elizabeth, you had no right to do this. I simply can't pack up and take a vacation right now. Those are important meetings you tampered with.”
She leaned in close to me and looked me right in the eyes. “How long have I worked for you, Jim?”
She was the only person in my company who had enough balls to call me by my first name. To everyone else I was Mr. Thomas. “Nineteen years,” I said softly.
“That's right. And I've taken good care of you for those nineteen years, haven't I?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, you are the best personal assistant anyone could hope for, but ...”
“No buts about it. You
will
be taking that trip next week, and you
will
have a wonderful time. Because if you don't, you'll be finding someone else to put up with all your bullshit for the
next
nineteen years. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma'am,” I said, and smiled. I knew she meant every word. Elizabeth wasn't one to say anything she didn't mean one hundred percent. I loved her like a sister, and couldn't imagine my business or my life without her.
“Good,” she said, and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. “I ordered you a bunch of new beach and cruise-type clothes from the Internet. They'll arrive tomorrow. I suggest you get busy.”
“Busy doing what? You've cleared my calendar for the rest of this week as well.”
“Planning your vacation. I planned the dates and the venue, but you and I both know there's no way in hell you're taking a vacation without having every minute scheduled. Your itinerary is there with the statement from the travel agency. Look it over, get on the Internet and get busy planning your vacation.”
I laughed and watched her close the door quietly behind her, and thanked the Universe for sending Elizabeth my way so many years ago.
 
The ship was huge and elaborate and gaudy and everything I hated about overpriced vacation packages. Not that I knew that much about them, since I hadn't really ever taken one. But the
idea
of them made me sick. The floors were obviously fake or very cheap marble; the wood was obviously fake or very cheap mahogany; and the uniformed staff was obviously fake
and
very cheap people. But there was nothing I could do about it now. I'd promised Elizabeth I'd go on this trip, and now that I'd checked in and boarded, I was stuck. Five whole days on this tacky
Love Boat
reject.
My cabin was a decent size, and clean, if not tastefully furnished. I unpacked my luggage and stared out the port hole as we pulled away from the loading dock. No turning back now, I thought. I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. There was nothing of interest on. There rarely is for me. So I pulled out my laptop case, and opened it up, anxious to log into my workspace remotely and get some work done.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. I wanted to fire Elizabeth. But of course, I didn't do any of those. Instead, I laughed out loud. My laptop wasn't inside its case; in its place were several travel books and magazines about Mexico. There was the
Damron North American Gay Travel Guide
. The
Ferrari Guide to Gay Mexico
. The
Fodor's Gay Guide to the USA and Mexico
. And a handful of magazines of a more erotic nature, all of which prominently featured hunky Latino men. I'd always been careful not to mix my private life with my professional life, and I am as discreet as they come. Still, it didn't surprise me to know that Elizabeth knew I was gay. But that she knew my preference for Latino men did throw me for a loop.
I flipped through a couple of the magazines, and then fell asleep as I adjusted to the floating sensation of the big boat as we drifted away from the San Diego shores.
 
In my dream, I was younger. At my age, I'm almost always younger in my dreams. At least in my dreams that involve sex with other hot and younger men, as this one did.
His name was José, and he was the centerfold in one of the mags Elizabeth had put in my laptop case. But in this dream he was a concierge on the ship. He was nineteen, and built like a Greek god with the face of a Latin angel. I was twenty, and horny as hell for José. I made up any excuse to talk with him, and feigned ignorance of the city and the Spanish language when we pulled into port in Acapulco. He was a very dedicated concierge, and offered to give me a personal tour of all the hot spots.
The hottest spot in Acapulco, apparently, was at the end of a long alley. At dusk no one could see us from the street. José pushed me up against a fence post, and stripped me in no time at all. He dropped to his knees and sucked my dick deep into his throat. I tried to hold back, to make it last a little longer, but I was helpless against his talented tongue and throat. I blasted my load deep into his gullet and collapsed against the fence, exhausted.
But José wasn't finished with me yet. He stood up and lowered his slacks to his ankles. His massive, thick, uncut cock sprung up and slapped against his belly. Precum was already dripping from the head.
“Suck me, papi,” he said, and gently put his hand behind my head and guided me to my knees in front of his hard cock.
I was only twenty, remember, and wasn't that skilled at cocksucking, so I stuck my tongue out and tentatively licked at his cock head. José moaned and slid another couple of inches of his fat dick into my mouth. I tightened my lips around his hard member, and sucked as if my life depended on it. José begged me not to stop and fucked my face deeper and harder.
“I'm gonna shoot, baby,” he said in his thick Mexican accent. And then he did. His cock thickened to unbelievable proportions, and squirted a dozen or more thick streams of warm cum into my mouth and deep down my throat.
I'd never tasted cum before, and was surprised how warm and sweet it was. When he'd finished pouring his load into me, I licked my lips to make sure none of his cum was wasted. He lifted me up and kissed me on the lips.
“I love you, papi,” José said.
“I love you, too, José.”
A knock on the door woke me up. My cock was fully hard, and showed a long line down the legs of my jeans. I pulled my T-shirt out to cover the bulge, and answered the door.
“Mr. Thomas, I'm Robert Clark. I'm the Assistant Steward on board. I just wanted to make sure everything is satisfactory so far.”
He was cute. Tall, blond hair and blue eyes, nicely muscled body and a movie-star smile. I thought for a moment about pulling him inside and having my way with him. But he was no José and I didn't feel like settling.
“Yes, everything is fine. Just fine. Thanks for asking.”
“If there's anything I can do to make your stay with us more comfortable, please don't hesitate to ask.”
“I won't. Thank you again.”
I watched his ass as he walked down the hall, and then shut my door and took a long, hot shower to get ready for dinner.
 
I spent the rest of that evening pretty much brooding. I couldn't get my mind off all the work I had ahead of me that had been pushed back to allow me this extravagant vacation. At dinner I was seated at a table with a bunch of strangers. And not just any strangers, but all straight and married strangers. It was all I could do to swallow my prime rib without vomiting it back up after listening to the excited chatter of their mundane lives.
I retired to my cabin right after dinner. I just didn't feel like being social. I lay in bed and read through some of the travel material Elizabeth had packed for me. Now that there was no turning back, I was actually kind of looking forward to visiting Mexico again. It'd been more than ten years since my last trip, and I'd never been to Acapulco. I made note of a few bars that sounded interesting, as well as a local bathhouse. Then I pulled out the magazine with José's centerfold, beat off, and fell asleep.
I woke up the next morning feeling like a new man. The sun was bright and the air warm, but not stifling hot. The sea was calm and brought in a nice, cool breeze. Even I couldn't stay in a bad mood on a day like this. I signed up for a little tennis, and in less than ten minutes, I had a partner. His name was Brian, he was thirty-two years old and on vacation with his wife and two kids. They were watching a movie, so Brian snuck off for a little tennis. He was “more of an outdoors kinda guy.” He was definitely hot, and just the kind of guy I'd normally go for, when I felt the need to deviate from my Latino fixation. Tall, thick wavy blond hair and beautiful blue eyes, muscles sculpted from a couple of days a week at the gym. But I'm not one of those gay men who chase after married straight men. So I concentrated on playing tennis, and was having a great time ... until I reached for a shot and pulled my hamstring.
“FUCK!” I yelled as I scrambled to the ground, and then looked around quickly to make sure there were no kids within earshot. Damned family-friendly cruises, anyway.
“Are you all right, buddy?” Brian asked as he jumped the net effortlessly and ran to my side.
“Yeah,” I said as I tried desperately not to wince, or worse yet, cry. “I think I pulled a muscle, though. I'm afraid I'm done for the day.”
“That's too bad, buddy,” he said, and helped me to my feet. “You were giving me a run for my money there for a while.”
If he called me buddy once more, I was gonna smack him with my racket. “Thanks.”
“Lemme help you get to the infirmary.”
I started to say no, but when he put his shoulder under my armpit and pulled me close to him, I decided I could do much worse. Every muscle on his body flexed as he helped me wobble to the infirmary. The sweat he'd worked up playing tennis mixed with his natural scent and made my cock swell. When we reached the doctor's office, I thanked Brian for the game and for the help, then watched his ass as he walked away. It's a habit I had not yet been able to break. I love a nice ass.
The doc confirmed the pulled hamstring, gave me a pain pill, and made an appointment for me with the massage therapist for later that afternoon. There wasn't much else I could do, so I grabbed a book and sat on one of the lounge chairs next to the pool. The book was good, the guys playing around the pool were for the most part hot—or at least worth a glance—and the Vicodin was wonderful. I was enjoying myself, and before I knew it, it was time for my massage.
I hobbled to the spa, and had to wait only a couple of minutes before I was seen. The receptionist was very sweet and said she was sorry I hurt my leg, but that she was sure Antonio would be able to get me better in no time, and then pointed to the last door down the hall on the right.
The moment I laid eyes on Antonio, I knew I was in trouble. He was tall and tanned and toned and quite possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on. He wore white shorts and a white muscle shirt with the ship's logo, and his dark skin contrasted with them wonderfully. His black hair, soul patch, and dark brown eyes mesmerized me. He had a wide smile with thin, pink lips, and his eyes sparkled when he spoke.

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