Coming Home

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I was sitting in a rental car outside a large Queen Anne house. The rental was something small and economical, I hadn’t really had the inspiration to look for something I’d enjoy driving, so I picked one of the unfamiliar models with a nasally whine to it.

The house was very familiar though. Very little had changed about it since the first time I’d seen it, some thirty years ago. Fresher paint, new roof, landscaping had been updated. The most recent time I’d been here was over 15 years prior.

I remembered the first time, getting out of the van that had dropped me and my belongings here. Seeing the imposing structure, it’s pointed turret taller than any house I’d seen growing up. I’d stay here for the next two years through the first half of my undergraduate degree. My room was on the second floor at the northeast corner. It had a dainty yet functional balcony where you could take in the Virginian seasons as they changed in the nearby park.

In the room was a desk, a highboy dresser, and an uncomfortable twin bed. An old landscape painting on the wall, faded from years of being directly across from the large window.

I hadn’t spent much time in the bed though. It was only a week after I’d moved in that I first saw Dale, the owner of the house and my landlord, burying his healthy cock deep into the rectum of one of the neighbor men.

I confronted him less than a week later, not in any accusing manner, but rather in curiosity. I’d felt my own burgeoning sexuality not taking any particular pathways and just the vision of what they’d been doing was burnt in my brain.

At first, he was reticent. He had a few issues with the idea of doing anything with one of his tenants, much less a person over half his age. I said that it could remain perfectly clinical, I was just curious, and would he rather I bumbled through life without guidance?

It hadn’t remained clinical. There had been a great deal of study, make no mistake about it, but we’d gone from landlord/tenant to teacher/student to friends and finally to lovers. There was little two men could be involved in that I hadn’t learned from Dale. I learned how to please a man, how to please men, and how to please numerous men while enjoying myself all because of Dale’s tutelage.

But that had been 1990. It was 2020 now.

Dale had been 45 when we’d started our evolution of relationship. When my undergraduate led to a graduate program not offered at that college, I understood but was disappointed that I wouldn’t have Dale with me any longer. I left but came back a few months later to a ravenous week of debauchery that they probably still warn about.

The next trip was six months. Then a year, then three. By that time, Dale had found himself a partner, and while we still went through a list of sordid acts, sometimes with Gordon and sometimes without, I didn’t go back again for years.

I’d come up for his 65th birthday. It’d been a chaste weekend, men growing older and thinking of bygone days. I’d slept in the old twin bed, new mattress but still not where I’d remembered most of my nights.

Now here was Dale’s 75th birthday, but there wouldn’t be much in the way of celebration. A few weeks prior, he’d been diagnosed with a particularly malicious lung cancer.

…I remember a chilly February night. A long string of semen from my own six and a half inches stretched from my left nipple down to my groin. Part of another, larger load was cooling the right of my stomach with the rest on my balls, perineum and inside my rectum.

Dale walked naked to the window seat, his softening eight inches gleaming with slickness in the cool moonlight. He cracked the window and lit one of the Marlboros he kept there. “You know, those things are gonna kill you.” I said.

“Something’s got to.” He’d answered…

And now it came to pass.

I cut the Hyundai off and walked to the side door. The door had been recently replaced, I noticed as I knocked several times.

The man who opened the door was probably late 20’s, somewhat shorter and well built with a shaggy mop of light brown hair that reached down to the glasses over his brown eyes. “Oh, hey.” He started, his voice comfortable with unfamiliarity, “You’re Joe, right?” I answered in the affirmative, “Well, come on in, it’s cold out there!”

He introduced himself as Jeff, “We need to be a little quiet, Dale’s sleeping at the moment”. He explained he was the nurse taking care of Dale nowadays. “He needs a nurse already?” I’d asked as we sat down around the kitchen table.

Jeff put his cup of coffee down and said, “He let it go too long. By the time he came in, he was already losing a lot of himself to it. He could barely get back from the hospital on his own. Decided to call the company I work for not long after.” He stretched back in his chair. “My job is pretty much, ‘make him comfortable’.”

“Has he been on his own this whole time?” I asked, referring to Gordon’s death some 6 years previous. Heart attack on a walk Casibom through the woods.

Jeff nodded. “He stopped taking tenants probably fifteen years ago. I guess it just got to be too hectic to deal with. Said he’d started to notice some health problems a couple years back, but would have rather not known than been told something bad.” That sounded like Dale, dodging the bullet…or at least the noise of the shot as it was on its way.

We chatted a bit longer. He told me about his life, hometown boy who found something he enjoyed doing, but made no money so he became a nurse. I told him about mine, living outside Atlanta, married, two kids, three dogs. He seemed a bit surprised when I mentioned the wife, “Dale told me when you were younger, you were…kinda…together.”

I chuckled in a warm manner, bringing my memory back, “Dale and I were. He was the one who taught me to never let my mind settle into a groove, so I never have. I dated a dozen men and a dozen women after I left here, and my wife is too adventurous to ever let me settle on anything.”

“Oh really?” he said, an eyebrow going up. Heh, would THAT be a story to tell Melanie when I got back…

A few moments after that exchange, another young man came through the side door and into the kitchen. He was my height, about 5’9″, with closely cut sandy blonde hair, somewhat heavyset. He wore scrubs that were much the same as Jeff, who introduced the newcomer, “Oh, hey, Joe this is Paul.” He shook my hand, “Paul is supposed to be taking over my shift, so I’m technically off work now…but since it’s Dale’s birthday I opted to stick around.”

“Good thing too!” a familiar, yet somewhat unfamiliar voice came from the dark hallway between the kitchen and the dining room, “God knows I could have slipped on a drop of water and died a horrible death.”

Dale was always slender but his younger wiry, marathon runner self had been replaced by a stick figure. He looked about ready to break in five different places. His hair had lost what little brown it had 10 years previous and was completely white. His blue eyes were as bright as ever, “Hey Josey!” He exclaimed seeing me, “You’ll never guess, I finally quit smoking!”

The four of us sat around the table, the younger two listening to the ramblings of the older. At some point, Dale had brought up a particularly embarrassing sexual moment, and after glancing to make sure nobody was offended, I guffawed back to him, “Look, you were the one who was drunk, it’s not my problem your pullout game was weak that night.”

“I just remember thinking, ‘Am I pissing?’ and I half pull-out, seeing this gush of pee come out all over my pants.” Dale laughed, “And I’m going through a phase where I don’t wear underwear…”

“Did you ever wear underwear?” I interjected

“That’s beside the point.” He waved me off, “So my pants are soaked, right? We’re at a party, so I tell Josey here to go get a beer and come back. He does it, comes back in, gives it to me. We walk outside the room and I go ‘whoop’ and spill it on myself.” He laughed, breaking into a cough.

Paul spoke up, “We ought to get you back upstairs.” He stood.

“Not on your fuckin’ life.” He said, firmly planting himself. “It’s my birthday. We’re gonna go in the living room and I’m gonna get my present.”

We walked into the living room, seemingly barren in the interim between Christmas decorations and springtime decor. There were three presents on top of an old bureau that once held an archaic black-and-white TV but where now perched a largeish flat screen. Dale sat down in the large recliner I’d never seen before, “OK, Paul, take that first one and open it.”

Paul took the box and opened it. He pulled out a pair of blue bikini underwear, “Seriously?” He asked Dale, a look of disbelief.

Dale just laughed, “OK, Jeff, that second one is yours.” Jeff followed suit with the next box, pulling out a pair of green bikini underwear.

“Well isn’t this special, you old horndog.” Jeff said, holding up the small amount of fabric, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Dale laughed, coughed, and laughed some more, “Go get them on!” He said.

Both the young men just shook their heads. “Oh come on.” Dale said, frowning slightly, “This is the last birthday I’m gonna have. Indulge me.” Jeff looked at Paul, who rolled his eyes. They said a few half-hearted arguments, bringing up that they didn’t get paid enough for this and went into an adjoining room.

“You just like tormenting your nurses?” I inquired.

He smiled, “Oh, they enjoy it. Jeff modeled a whole collection last week. He’s just a bit stage-shy because you’re here.”

Paul came back in the room first, his blue bikinis a bit of color in his otherwise hairy, white build. He wasn’t as heavyset as I’d thought, more stocky. You could tell there was muscle under there. It also did little to hide a rather full bulge area. The material was a bit too small for him, so it pulled away a bit under his half-hardness, Casibom Giriş showing some scrotum.

He took a seat on the couch and continued muttering to Dale in his indignation. Just as he was beginning his second round of “this is bullshit”, in walked Jeff.

Jeff’s scrubs hid a very well-constructed physique. He wasn’t cut like a bodybuilder, but he was in no way unfit. His almost hairless body was a uniform tan with the green triangle of fabric covering a healthy, well-placed bit of manhood. He did a little twirl when he walked in, the dimples on his ass flashing as he sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Paul.

“Your turn, Josey!” He pointed up to a slightly larger box.

I just shook my head, “Not on your life. I’m not as pretty as these kids.” I wasn’t super well built, but I wasn’t out of shape either. I just wasn’t young. 47 years old will do that to you.

He slapped his leg, “What did I say? My birthday, my rules. Open the box!”

It was heavy enough to not be bikini underwear, thank god. I pulled off the wrapping paper and saw an envelope taped to the lid of the box. It was emblazoned, “read this first”.

I opened the card to see it was a blank one with a message written on the front, “All debts come due.” I opened the card.

Inside was one of those coupons you get in a book around Valentine’s day. I’d gotten it for him in 1991 as a ‘joke’ but we’d used the things like they were commandments.

“Good for one sexual act, no holds barred.” It said. The back of the card had writing on it as well, “Go ahead and open the box now.”

I did as the card instructed, finding a jockstrap instead of bikinis, and a large bottle of lube.

“Read the coupon out loud.” Dale said.

“You kept this for what…30 years now? Seriously?” I said, then read aloud the writing on the coupon.

He laughed again, “Yeah, I did. I knew it’d come in useful one day.”

I just shook my head, “You sure about this?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard what the act is yet, sunshine. Go ahead and get changed.” He waved me away.

I went into the adjoining room, a room he’d always called ‘the music room’ due to a piano and a stereo. It was the same way it’d always been. I disrobed, putting my clothes on the piano seat and donning the jockstrap.

I hate jockstraps. Dale knew I hated jockstraps. This was for his benefit alone.

I walked out with my ass hanging out. I wagged it at Dale who half-heartedly slapped at me. “Man, you got hairy these last few years…”

My hands went to either side of my ass and I pulled my cheeks apart, showing the lack of hair, “Melanie got me a Christmas present about ten years ago.” I turned back and went to the armchair I’d vacated, sitting down. “Ok, old man, what’s the coupon for. I’m a man of my word.”

He smiled then. It was a smile he’d used on me in my youth dozens of times, right before we were getting to business, “Well, you remember my 47th birthday?”

I glanced at the two young men and then back to him, “Yeah…as I recall, there were only three people there.”

Dale changed his smile slightly, wistfully, “Well, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not able to do much here, so how about you pretend I’m just a fly on the wall.”

I shrugged, “If it’s what you really want. I’m fine as long as they’re game.”

“Depends.” Paul said, “What is gonna be required here. I told Dale I’d be open minded, but to a point, you know?” Jeff was less concerned, and his bulge was getting generously bigger.

I grinned at Paul, “Let me know when your mind closes, OK?” I walked over to the couch and knelt down on the floor. 28 years ago, I’d done this same thing, but with a different man in this spot. One of my professors, actually. He hadn’t been wearing bikini briefs. He was wearing a pair of boxers.

Then, I’d reached up and grabbed the waistband, asking him to lift and scoot down a bit, like I did to Paul now. My professor’s monstrously erect and pulsating seven inches had flipped out against his stomach as it came free of the cotton. Paul’s equally erect six and a half inches whipped out and hit him in a not much different manner, but I’d only lowered the front of his new underwear.

He was shaped excellently, the head slightly narrower than the wide shaft below it, a lightly visible and dead straight circumcision scar about an inch and a half below his frenulum. Several veins snaked through his underside as I reached up and placed the palm of my hand on the top, pulling it towards my mouth.

There was a sharp breath inhaled as I wrapped my lips around the top of him, immediately bringing my tongue to bear. I’d learned a lot of new tricks in 28 years, but even then my teacher hadn’t been able to handle much of my oral skill.

I moved up on him further, placing an arm along his thigh and mouthing more, allowing my saliva to build up around him as I worked my way down.

Only a moment or two passed before I was almost all the way Casibom Güncel Giriş down, down to where my gag reflex was reminding me I’m not able to deep throat. My head was against his stomach, and I could feel him shudder as my tongue snaked its way around the underside of him, tracing the veins I’d seen earlier.

There was a slight movement to my right as Jeff shifted over. He still wore his briefs, but the top of his head was poking out of the waistband. I ignored him, just like I had those years ago.

I moved my hand to Paul’s base and used some of my slobber overflow to jack him, my hand following my lips up and down.

His breathing began to come in quick gulps. I started to feel a bit of tension down below my hand when he said, “This…this is gonna be over…like…real quick…if you don’t back off a…just a little.”

As I recalled, that was my cue. I pulled off of him and immediately went to Jeff.

Jeff was mostly out of his briefs now. He was a bit harder to contain. I looked at him as I pulled his waistband down, the way I’d pulled Dale’s down all those years ago.

I don’t know how Dale had done it, but somehow he’d found a person with almost the exact same cock as his back then. Eight inches if it was a sixteenth. Girthy, but not overly so. Uncircumcised, but not with a great deal of extra foreskin. Veined throughout like a bodybuilder’s physique. I immediately went to work.

Muscle memory is a funny thing. Since those years with Dale, and indeed during those years, I’ve sucked dozens of cocks, maybe a hundred! But with the surroundings, the setting, the same antique couch, I was right back to 19 years old, using every trick in the book to get the man I adored to cum in my mouth, even though I knew he wouldn’t.

For every flick of my tongue, a pulse jetted through a corresponding vein. For every time I rolled my lips up the shaft and over the head, a thick dollop of precum would roll onto my taste buds. For every stroke of my palm down him, a pulse would thrum through him like a tuning fork.

I could only fit about five or so inches into my mouth at any given time, but I capitalized on it. There was nowhere I didn’t end up using my lips, tongue and teeth between his slit and ballsack.

I’m not sure how much time passed between my work starting on Paul and when Dale spoke again, but I’d have guessed 20 minutes or so, “Paul, why don’t you kneel down behind Josey there and line up on him. I’m pretty sure he can take you.”

Dale had seen me take bigger than Paul. He’d trained me to take bigger than Paul.

I felt a cool wetness as the lube hit my ass crack. The fingers of Paul’s left hand probed my hole, pressing in lightly. I bore a little and fluttered my rectum, showing him Dale was right.

Only a moment later I paused on Jeff as the pressure of Paul’s head pushed into me. I bore down hard and let him push himself in what felt like three inches in the first stroke. “Damn, that’s…wow.” Paul said between breaths.

Dale interjected again, “I remember. Trust me, I remember.” I was turned in such a way that I couldn’t see him but I thought about what he looked like, sitting there with his memories.

A slow back-and-forth action started behind me with Paul pushing just a bit more of himself inside every forward thrust.

“Hey, I’m here dude…” Jeff spoke from in front of me. I’d been focusing my attention on my ass like a virgin. I started working on Jeff again with more intensity than I’d been and in just a few moments, he began to take note.

“OK, I might need to take a break here myself, dude.” Jeff said between gulping breaths. I felt the vibration of his voice through his prick, thrumming on the roof of my mouth.

Dale came back as director, “Yeah, Jeff. Take a breather. You should let Paul get ready to finish up, that’s how it went back then.”

…My memory was the same. I’d been on my hands and knees, Professor H. banging away at my asshole, his balls slapping into mine beneath me. Dale was at my mouth. The difference here was that Dale wouldn’t cum from a blowjob unless he wanted…

Paul only took a second’s worth of breather to allow Jeff out of my mouth and to the side, then went back into his energetic rhythm. I let him go. He wasn’t hitting me anywhere particularly stimulating…well, other than the ring of my rectum…His shape kept him from going overly at my prostate.

I crossed my arms on the couch and looked over towards Dale, to see if this is what he wanted out of things. He sat in the armchair, but had taken his clothes off. I could tell he was self conscious about the way that he looked, but I could also tell he was enjoying the show.

It was only a few moments before Jeff felt like he had his composure back, and Dale once more went into his instruction. See, 28 years ago I was on my hands and knees, Dale was in my mouth on his knees in front of me, Professor H. was on his knees in my ass. Dale instructed Jeff and Paul into the right places in front of him, and we set to it.

I gagged a few times on Jeff as he was larger than I was used to, and Paul’s thrusts kept pressing him into my mouth further. I held my composure though, wanting to make sure that Dale got the show he wanted.

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