The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Comments will be gladly received by white_collar@hotmail.com Note: Any resemblance to real people is strictly coincidental. No real people are depicted in this piece of fiction. This story contains explicit male to male sex, domination and bondage. If you don’t enjoy reading this sort of material or are under the age of 21, DO NOT CONTINUE READING. If you regard this type of material as depraved then flee from here and don’t look back! And be sure that you practice safer sex. Don’t become another statistic in the rising HIV/STD rates. Don’t be barebacking: it’s your LIFE you’re playing with. This story is STRICTLY fantasy and I DO NOT espouse or endorse unprotected anal or oral sex!

Be careful and be alive—White Collar

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 43

I was dreaming; I knew I was dreaming. Patrick was there with me. We walked through a field holding hands. We were searching for something but didn’t know what it was. Then we started bounding over the hills in huge, long leaps, rising in the air and coming back down to leap into the air again and soar to the next hill. As we were coming down from one of those leaps, I suddenly fell, out of control. The instant before I hit the ground, I awoke.

It was quite dark in the room and because of the intensity of my dream, it took me a few moments to realize where I was. Then I shifted my body and the pain came flooding in from my back, making me groan. I started to turn over and cried out as my flailed butt scraped against the sheets. Finally, I caught my breath and, carefully, gingerly, moved my body into a more comfortable position on my side. When I was reasonably settled, I thought of my dream and smiled. Day after tomorrow I would be near Patrick again. Yes, his family would be there, but it didn’t matter. We’d be close. Maybe we could steal a few moments alone. I wanted his so badly.

But how did I want him? This was a perplexity to me. We’d started out with me as Master and him as boy. But then we’d fallen in love. First complication. Not insurmountable to be sure: my first Master and I had fallen in love too. But he was always Master and I was boy. As far as I knew, he’d never been topped. I suppose with the experience he’d had, he might well have been topped when he was younger but never in all the years we were together, at least not to my knowledge. Even when I became the acolyte and learned the ways of a master, he never gave me his body as a teaching tool. No, he found bottoms he already knew to instruct me. But these last few days of horror with Sam had forced me to admit something: though I was a good top, I still liked to bottom and I liked it rough. In fact, more than like, I needed it rough. My body responded to Sam’s brutality with a power and eagerness that shocked me. It went beyond my mental control. If I hadn’t known better, I might have suspected that I’d been hypnotized into responding to a hard beating. Patrick had made it fairly clear that such a thing was not in his make-up. Could he learn? Perhaps. But I wasn’t sure he wanted to. He liked the roles we’d started out with.

Wide awake, I lay there trying to figure out how to resolve these differences. I needed to be used, abused and fucked from time to time; it made me feel whole. But I loved Patrick and couldn’t bear to betray him. I felt ashamed that Sam had been successful in arousing me and making me come. I felt a tightness in my belly as I tried to see a future that accommodated both Patrick’s needs and desires and mine.

“Don’t be stupid,” I said aloud. “We’ll just have to talk about it and figure it out. Patrick loves you and will understand. We’ll be able to make it work.”

But I remained awake as the conflict darted through my consciousness. Finally, knowing that sleep would not come of its own accord, I turned to self-hypnosis. I concentrated on the lighted dial of my clock, focusing on the blinking colon that marked each passing second on the display. As I did, I saw the time of 7:00 AM in my mind and told myself I would awake at 7:00 AM. I also told myself I would sleep without pain or discomfort. Might as well get the whole enchilada while you’re at it. Always an effective tool, the self-hypnosis worked again and I was soon dreaming once more.

I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock: it read 7:00. Good! At least one thing was going according to plan. I rose carefully and took a cold shower to calm my ravaged skin. I drank some juice and headed to my office.

I arrived before Paul came in and started the coffee pot. Feeling like I was a thousand years old, inwardly moaning with every movement, I waited impatiently for the pot to fill enough to provide me with a mug’s worth. I poured what there was into my mug, knowing that it would be extra strong because the first bit had captured the better part of those precious oils from the beans. I added some milk and sugar and, sipping the reviving liquid, walked back to my desk to start on my paperwork. About 7:30 I heard the front door open.

“Paul, I’m here. Can you pull the day’s records for me?” I called out, drinking what was left of my coffee and rising to get another cup. I walked toward the door reading a lab report and ran smack dab into- Patrick!

“Patrick!” I cried and fell on him, kissing his face and crushing him to my body. “Oh God, Patrick, I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

“Mark, oh Mark,” he said, both of us talking, kissing and stroking one another’s faces at the same time.

We fell together in a long, open mouthed kiss, tasting one another like wolves of the same pack that had been separated for a winter. Finally, he pushed back from me and looked at my face long and hard, a pained expression in his blue eyes.

“Tell me,” was all he said.

I closed the door. Neither of us wanted to be separated so rather than sitting down, we just stood there holding onto one another. I pulled myself close to him, leaning my head on his shoulder. I was sure I couldn’t tell him the story while looking him in the face and I knew I needed to tell him the whole story. So like a child, I hid myself by not looking into his eyes. Only then could I get through it. As I talked, his hands roamed over my smooth head and my body as if he were reassuring himself that he was, indeed, holding me in his arms. I found that such a comfort.

I told him everything. I told him that after he’d been unable to-to-to penetrate me (I just didn’t want him to think he’d failed so I used a more technical term), I had felt an overwhelming need to be fucked. It had always meant so much to me when I was my Master’s boy and I’d only recently come to understand how much it meant to me. So I’d called Sam. My Master had invited him up a few times and they had shared me in some rough sessions. What I’d failed to realize was that my Master had tempered Sam’s sadistic streak and reined him in. Besides, Sam knew better than to abuse a boy more than the boy’s Master did. That was just not on. A guest master always followed the Master’s lead. So I hadn’t known how brutal and aggressive Sam was. In my ignorance, I’d asked him to come up and have a session with me; just as a fuck-buddy.

Sam was just getting going when Patrick had walked in, interrupting things. I told Patrick how distraught I was when I saw him and saw how shocked he was. I realized how I’d betrayed him. I told him that when he’d walked away from me, I thought I was going to be sick. I’d never felt such pain in my life. On the way back up in the elevator, I’d started weeping. By the time the elevator doors opened on my floor, I was collapsed in the corner, crying like there was no tomorrow. For some reason, Sam decided that wasn’t a good time to continue and had stormed out. I suppose it might have been because I strongly asked him to leave too. Anyway, he left.

But then he’d come back, bent on taking me and breaking me. I told Patrick everything he’d done: shaving me, binding me, beating me, fucking me. And I told Patrick he’d gotten me off, not just once, but every night that week. His abuse and the feel of his cock in my ass and mouth had made me come. I was ashamed and humiliated. It wasn’t just the humiliation of being raped; it was the humiliation of enjoying it.

“Don’t you see Patrick? I feel like shit because I enjoyed it. I came! He raped me and I came. But I love you. I feel like a shit because I love you and I betrayed you,” I sobbed. “I’m sorry Patrick....”

As I cried, Patrick took me in his arms, stroking my head and rocking me.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It’s alright. I’m here. I’m here. It’s alright. Go ahead and cry.”

Finally, I was cried out. Patrick took his handkerchief and wiped my eyes, kissing my hot, tear-streaked face and smiling tenderly. Damn, I loved him! I laughed a blubbering laugh.

“What?” he asked, smiling even more.

“I’ll bet you’ve had a lot of experience doing this with your kids,” I snuffled, blowing my nose on his handkerchief.

He chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose I have. Oh baby, I love you so much!”

“I love you too,” I said. “Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” he asked incredulously. “Forgive you for what? For having a need I couldn’t satisfy? For being a human being? What’s to forgive?”

“Can you forgive me for coming when he was treating me that way?” I was having a hard time letting go of it.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t know a lot about gay sex but, at the bottom...”

I started to laugh at his double entendre, cutting him off.

He laughed too. “Sorry. Basically, it’s all sex. You know me: I’ve been reading up on this because when I realized what was happening to me and how much I liked it, I had to know if there was something wrong with me. So I read. What I’ve come to understand is that none of us really knows why we respond to things: we just know we do. I’m not into analysis so I’m not going to worry about it. Something in you needs that. And I love you, so that’s OK. What you need is what you need, just like what I need is what I need. I just don’t know how we’re going to work out your needs and my needs.”

“I know,” I smiled. “I’ve been trying to work that out myself. But I don’t think we have time right now. I’ll have patients here any minute now.”

“I know,” he said. “I have to get to work myself. Are you still going to Vermont tomorrow?”

“Well, I’m going up tonight because I need to be there early for the rehearsal, but yes, I’ll be there.”

Just then, I heard the front door open and close and Paul calling out his “Good morning.”

“Good,” he said, grinning broadly, his blue eyes sparkling, his white teeth flashing beneath his reddish mustache. My heart skipped a beat or two as I looked at his shining face. “I’d better run. I’ll call you later then,” he said.

He turned to go and stopped.

“Oh,” he said, turning back. “And yes, I forgive you. Now get over it!”

“Yes sir,” I answered smartly and grinning. “I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” he said and walked toward the door.

“Oh, Patrick,” I called after him.

“Yeah? What?”

“Your handkerchief!”

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 44

I’d been getting things ready for a couple of days, doing laundry, laying clothes and toiletries aside, running down my checklist. We’re a family of accomplished travelers so it’s pretty routine for me; I just didn’t want to forget anything. When you travel with kids, you want to try and avoid some types of surprises, like not having enough underpants for them. Patrick is always a wonderful partner in this, checking the list himself and doing what he can to make sure everything happens. So we were in the car by 8:00 AM, heading north up the Thruway toward Albany and then over to Vermont.

As we rode, I looked over at Patrick, smiling and happy. He’d reach back and ruffle one of the kids’ hair or tickle them and joke that he was going to pull over and feed them to the raccoons if they acted up. They’d squeal with laughter, knowing their daddy would never do such a thing. Yes, Patrick was happy. But there was a shadow over my heart.

Something had changed in him recently. He’d always been driven; that’s why he was a success. Not that he hadn’t taken time to be with me and the kids; but there was always an edge lying beneath the warmth. Am I explaining it adequately? Patrick’s always been a warm, loving man but you knew there was more going on inside him. That “more” showed itself in his business dealings. I have my own drives and really look forward to the time when the kids are in school and I can get back to the hurly-burly of the business world. I enjoy it; it’s a constant challenge and something I need, so I understand and recognize it when I see it in others. But recently, something in Patrick had changed. I won’t say I didn’t like it; it was actually rather nice. It was like he was more at ease with himself. He’d...how can I describe it? He’d come home. I think that’s it. He had settled into himself. It was as though there’d been something he’d been avoiding and had finally made peace with it. But what was it? That was something he hadn’t shared with me, yet. I knew he’d tell me sooner or later so I wasn’t going to fret over it. He was happy and that made me happy. The rest would come out eventually. So I settled back in the seat and listened to the story on the CD while the kids played in the back.

The drive upstate and north toward Burlington passed with the usual pit stops for health breaks, snacks and lunch. We pulled into the entrance to the guest farm where the festivities were to take place and gasped. The site was exquisite! Lying on the side of Lake Champlain, with wide, rolling fields surrounding woods, it was breath-taking. After stopping at the gatehouse at the entrance, we drove down the long, meandering road that took us toward the main house. We passed by the large “barn”, which was really a complex of Victorian Gothic barns and enclosures where the guard had told us we could take the kids for activities and riding. Then we drove along the road toward the mansion. We caught sight of it and all exclaimed on its picturesque qualities, perched on a rise above the lake. A beautiful gothic mansion with cupolas and a sweeping view across the water to New York on the far side. Our children, naturally, were taken with the towers capped with witches’ hats, imagining it to be haunted. We pulled up and went in to register and immediately fell in love with the Victorian interiors, lovingly restored by the grandchildren of the original owners, members of one of New York’s oldest, wealthiest families.

We unloaded the car, got the kids settled down for a nap and went downstairs for a cup of coffee since we had a couple of hours before the ceremony. We sat on the veranda overlooking the lake and sipped iced coffee, just drinking in the beauty of land and lake.

“This is heaven,” I said to Patrick and breathing in the cool, clean air.

“Yeah, it is,” he said, smiling and taking my hand. “I’m so glad we could do this. Tomorrow we can take the kids down to the barn and see what kind of trouble we can get them in.” He laughed and I saw the devil in his blue eyes.

“Yes,” I answered. “This definitely looks like a place we could come back to!”

Just then, a man came out of the house carrying a drink and found a table on the veranda. I saw Patrick’s eyes flick to him and then back to me. I glanced at him too, wondering why he’d caught Patrick’s attention. He was quite handsome but interestingly, his head was shaved. It was apparent that he wasn’t naturally bald or even approaching that. You could see that he had a full head of hair had he let it grow in. Nevertheless, his head was shaved. And he had deep blue eyes that had lighted up when he saw Patrick. His eyes met mine and then he looked away. Curious. Since the “wedding” group had booked the entire inn, I figured I’d probably meet him later. What interested me was the electricity that I sensed passed between him and my husband in that moment.

* * *

Patrick took his shower and, while he was dressing, I bathed Jessie, our daughter. By the time Jessie was dry, Patrick was dressed and ready to get Jessie’s clothes on her. I took our son Jackson and put him in the tub. Through our teamwork, Patrick and I got the kids bathed and dressed while we were getting ready too. We had this down to a science and it was a fine system. We headed downstairs just before 4:00 for the ceremony, which was taking place on the wide lawn between the mansion and the lake, beneath a large maple tree.

The setting couldn’t have been more beautiful and Jim and Mark seem to have enlisted Nature’s aid in celebrating their union because the sky was painted with beautiful fluffy clouds across a bright blue sky. We found seats and kept the kids occupied by urging them to spot birds and butterflies flitting through the flower garden as well as looking to see if they could spot “Champie”, the supposed Lake Champlain monster. The seats filled and everyone was waiting expectantly when the string quartet, which had been playing as everyone was being seated played a “fanfare”, if you can say that anything a string quartet plays is a fanfare. Everyone rose and they began playing an arrangement of Vaughan Williams’ “Rhosymedre”, one of Patrick’s and my favorite pieces of music. As they played, the procession left the house and began walking toward us.

The “procession” consisted of Jim, whom I knew well since Patrick and I had hired him when our business began to expand and his partner Mark. Between them, “walking them down the aisle” was the man who’d raised my curiosity when he came out onto the veranda earlier in the day. As they walked across the lawn and between the rows of chairs, all of them looked, well—radiant is the only word. Jim and Mark had been partners for ten years and I knew how much this moment meant to them-a celebration of their love and a public recognition of them as a couple.

As they walked up the aisle, my eyes moved from Patrick’s face to the mystery man. For several moments they seemed to be oblivious of anyone else. They eyes were on each other, burning into each other. It was a look I knew and I felt that shadow again. Much that I had been wondering about ever since Patrick and I met suddenly began to make sense. But I’m a systematic person and I decided to put that on the back burner for the moment. I sighed a small sigh, knowing that Patrick and I would have a lot of work to do and very soon.

The ceremony was beautiful. Another friend of Jim’s and Mark’s officiated and pronounced them man and man. They kissed, we all threw birdseed and went inside for the reception which was a lovely affair. They served beautiful hor d’oevres with champagne while people mingled and chatted. Then we sat down to a dinner in the dining room. The choices for entrees was tournedos of beef or grilled salmon, each with a zinfandel reduction. Following dinner was the cake: a lovely chocolate gateau decorated with flowers on top. Patrick and I remarked that we were very glad they hadn’t opted for a tacky “groom and groom” decoration. We were sitting eating cake and drinking coffee when the children started to get restless.

“Patrick,” I said quietly, “Would you mind taking the kids up? You could check at the desk and ask them to send up a sitter and then come back down. Would you mind, sweetie?”

He smiled that beautiful smile that made me fall in love with him the first time I saw it and said “Sure. I’ll be back in a bit. Will you be OK?”

“Sure,” I answered. “It’ll just be nice to relax for a bit. Thanks honey.”

So he gathered the children up and took them upstairs after helping them say goodnight to the happy couple. Jim gave Jessie a big hug and kiss, complimented her on her lovely dress and thanked her for coming to grace their party, making her blush and become suddenly bashful, hiding herself behind Patrick’s legs. After they’d left, I looked around the room and spotted my mystery man. Fortunately, he was sitting by himself, everyone else at his table having drifted off to chat with others. It was the opportunity I’d been hoping for. I rose and headed across the room to where he sat.

“Nice party,” I said casually, sitting down next to him.

He’d obviously seen me coming and I’d seen a look of anxiety fly across his face. Honestly, men are so transparent. If they only realized how easy they were to read. Gay or straight: I don’t care: they’re like open books.

“Yes, it is.” he answered in a deep baritone.

There was a pause.

“It’s a beautiful place,” he said. “I’ve never been here before. Looks like a nice place to come back to.”

“Yes,” I responded. “Tomorrow we’ll take the children down to the activity center and scope that out. Looks like there’s a lot of stuff to do.”

“Oh? That’s good. Should be fun,” he answered absently.

“I’m Sarah Freylinhuysen, Patrick Wolfe’s wife,” I offered. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. I saw you escorting Jim and Mark down the aisle so I guess you’re a good friend of theirs?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” he said, holding out a strong, well-manicured hand. “Mark Andrews.”

“Hi Mark,” I said, taking his hand.

“I’ve known Jim and Mark a long time,” he said. “Jim has been a patient and then friend of mine for years. Actually, I helped set him and Mark up on their first date.”

“Oh,” I said. “Now I see why you escorted them down the aisle.”

“That’s right,” he said.

“Have you and I met before?” I asked after another pause. “I feel like I should know you. I think you and Patrick know one another?”

“Oh,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry; I’m Patrick’s doctor. He’s been seeing me for some stress reduction for a little while. Jim referred him.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yes, he told me he was seeing someone. You’ve helped him a lot. He’s very pleased.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“Yes, he seems a lot more centered lately,” I said, laying emphasis on “centered”.

“Oh... Well, I try to help where I can.”

There was another pause as we watched people moving about the room, laughing, talking and just enjoying being together. I know I was considering my next step in this dance; probably he was as well.

“Patrick’s always been very driven,” I said. I wanted Mark to talk more about Patrick. There was more I needed to know.

“Yes, he seems to be. Still I know he cares about his family a great deal.”

“Yes, he’s a wonderful father. And he’s a good husband,” I added.

Mark Andrews looked at me with his piercing blue eyes and I saw a flicker of pain and envy in them.

“I’m sure he is,” he said slowly. “I get the impression that he gives his all to whatever he commits to. That’s an admirable and rare quality these days.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right,” I said.

I decided to launch a direct probe.

“Are you here alone?” I asked and was rewarded with a brief pained expression.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I had a partner for many years but he died about ten years ago. I guess I have a long term relationship with my work.”

I obviously struck a vulnerable place in him. I could feel the subtle longing and hurt in his simple statement and, feeling a twinge of regret for being so forward and touching him in a sore spot, I couldn’t help but to reach out for his hand.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have asked. That was rude.”

“No, it’s alright,” he said leaving his hand under mine. “I suppose it helps me to remember that I’d better do something about my personal life before I’m too old to have one. Coming to this ceremony has been a painful wake-up call for me. I sure don’t want to find myself a lonely old man.”

At this, he smiled wistfully and turned back to me.

“Your children are lovely,” he said. “You don’t often see kids who could sit through a day like today and not act like...”

“Monsters?” I suggested.

“Exactly! They’re a credit to their parents.”

“Well I don’t know that it’s their parents or their natures, but yes, they are good kids. Patrick and I consider ourselves very lucky.”

“I know,” he affirmed and caught himself, realizing that he may have said too much. “I mean, he’s talked about that during his visits. I like to know what’s getting to my stress patients so we talk about all aspects of their lives. He certainly loves his family.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m lucky too.”

Mark looked at me a moment.

“Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, I’d say you were both lucky.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. Just then I spotted Patrick coming back down the stairs.

“Here comes Patrick. I’ll stop pestering you,” I said, rising and extending my hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you Dr. Andrews.”

“Please, call me Mark,” he said, taking my hand and smiling politely. “The pleasure was all mine.”

As I walked back across the room to our table, I considered our conversation. Now I knew what Patrick saw in him. But that left me with two very big questions: how deeply were he and Patrick involved and what were we to do now?

When Patrick joined me again at our table, the small band that Jim and Mark had brought in had begun to play one of our favorite dance tunes. So Patrick took me out onto the floor and we danced the night away. Several times, as we turned and moved around the room, my eyes fell on Mark Andrews. The look in his eyes was almost painful to see. He was clearly watching us and was just as clearly aching. It was a look saying that he saw what he wanted but knew he could not have. My heart hurt for him. But my heart also hurt for Patrick and me. I knew that we were facing the most difficult times ahead. I put my head on his shoulder and wished for earlier days when things were simpler and easier. No, this was not going to be easy.

Eventually, we went up to bed, knowing that the children would be up bright and early and ready to go. So we said thank you and good night to Mark and Jim, wishing them continued happiness and went up the stairs.

We had a suite so Patrick and I had the privacy of our own bedroom and Patrick was definitely in the mood. He came to me and gently pushed me back onto the bed, covering me with kisses. I caught his fire and returned it in passionate love. I loved him; of that there was no doubt. And he loved me: that was obvious. Not only could I feel it oozing from his pores, but I felt it within me. That’s certainly one nice thing about a man: he can’t fake it. Well, I suppose he can, but when he’s looking into your eyes with passion and filling your body, you know it’s real. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I knew we would be able to work it out. Our window overlooked the moonlit lake and we gave ourselves up to the pale silver light.

Sometime later, I awoke in the darkness as the moon was setting over the distant hills. Patrick was gone. I sat up to see if he was in the bathroom and saw that the door was open. Hearing nothing, I realized I was alone in the room. I lay back on my pillow, staring at the ceiling.

“Oh Patrick, what have you done?” I whispered. “Where are you going? What are we going to do?”

Once again, there was a shadow over my heart.

Executive Stress Relief—Chapter 45

I waited until the band folded up to go up to my room. I just didn’t want to be alone. Well, really, I did want to be alone. Oh hell! I guess I wanted to be left alone but I didn’t want to be by myself. I hadn’t figured on it being so hard to be here, seeing Patrick with his family. That just filled me with an aching sadness and longing. God, how I wanted a husband. I wanted to have children and grow into a settled old age with my husband and me sitting together, jiggling our grandchildren on our knees. How would that ever be? I was in my mid-forties and had been alone for close to ten years now. I needed someone in my life, but the only someone I loved was Patrick. And here he was with his wife and children. I didn’t see a slot in the photograph for me. I knew that would never fly.

Sarah coming over and introducing herself really put me off my speed. That was the last thing I’d expected. I guess I was silly to think I might be invisible, being the man that walked the lucky couple down the aisle (Lucky, shit! They’d worked hard at it and were making a go of it. Luck had nothing to do with it!). I was sort of hard to overlook, especially with my bald pate. Damn Sam! There was no way I could blend into a crowd. Anyway, she was quite a woman. I could see why Patrick loved her. She was bright, warm, intuitive, caring and obviously quite intelligent. I’d have been honored to count Sarah among my friends. But somehow, I didn’t think she was going to be especially thrilled to find out that her husband was having an affair with his doctor. Then, as I thought about her manner and the little things she’d said, I began to wonder: did she already know? Had she put some of the clues together?

I sat looking at the lake with the moonlight sparkling on the water until the silvery disk began to descend toward the mountains of New York. Then, sighing, I undressed, put on my pajamas and climbed into bed. My body was beginning to fade into that alien world that precedes sleep when I heard a noise. I sat up and listened: there it was again; a quiet tapping on my door. I arose, pulled on a robe and padded across the floor. Opening the door a crack, I looked out into the dimly lit hall.

“Patrick!” I exclaimed in an excited whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” he said, shivering in the cool night air. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” I said, opening the door and pulling him into my room. “You shouldn’t be wandering around in the middle of the night in your pajamas. What are you thinking?”

“Oh shut up mother, and warm me up. Baby, it’s cold outside,” he said tartly.

“God, I’ve missed you,” I said, gathering him into my arms and kissing him deeply.

“Oh Mark, I’ve wanted to be with you so much. I saw you sitting there looking so alone and I just wanted to take you in my arms and hold you.”

“But you couldn’t,” I said, pushing myself away to look into his face. “You were with Sarah.”

He looked wounded. “Please Mark, don’t say it like that. I love her. Don’t you understand?”

“Yes, I do,” I said, turning from him and walking away to sink onto my bed. “I saw you with her and I know why you love her so much. What hurts is that I love you too and I can’t be with you.” I was surprised to feel my eyes sting suddenly and tears leaking down my cheeks.

Patrick came and sat down beside me and, putting his arms around me, pulled me to his chest.

“Oh Mark,” he said, holding me close. “We’ll figure it out; we’ll find a way. You’ll see: we just have to think.”

“I don’t want to think anymore,” I sighed. “I just want to be with you. I want to have children like you do. I want to have someone to come home to. I’m tired of being alone.”

“I know,” he said, stroking my smooth head and kissing my tear-streaked cheeks.

I pulled myself together, taking a deep breath.

“I met her, you know?” I said suddenly.

“What? Who? Sarah? You met Sarah?” he asked, clearly startled.

“Yup. When you left with the kids she came over and introduced herself. We had a nice chat,” I said, trying to sound breezy.

He gave a low whistle. “Oh boy,” he said, furrowing his brow.

“I think she knows, Patrick,” I said quietly.

He just sat there for several very long moments. I could see his brain was churning.

“I think you’re right,” he finally said. “I guess that means I’m going to have to accelerate my plan.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I told you I’m going to have to tell Sarah. I’m going to have to tell her I’m bi-sexual and that I’m in love with you,” he said.

“Are you crazy?” I said, my mouth gaping. “Do you think she’ll just say ‘no problem’? She could make your life a living hell!”

“I don’t think so,” Patrick said thoughtfully. “Oh, I’m not saying it’ll be like my telling her I want to go to an Italian restaurant for dinner. But Sarah’s different. I think that she’ll be OK with it. Maybe I’m just being naïve but I think it’ll be alright in the end.”

“What’ll be alright? What are you suggesting?” I demanded, still not fully comprehending what he was saying.

“I’m suggesting that there are four people in this world I love: Sarah, Jackson, Jessie and you. Together, we’ll work out a way to have a life. I don’t know quite how but I can see it.”

“See what?” I was still having a hard time focusing on his “vision”.

“I can see us being together. I can see us spending holidays together. I can see us being a family. It’s starting to come together in my mind.”

“Well, were you going to let me in on it?” I asked, a little irritated that he’d gotten ahead of me.

“I could see some sort of arrangement where I spend some days and nights with you and some with Sarah and the kids. You don’t live all that far away from us so it wouldn’t be like I was in another town. And you could be part of our family.”

Suddenly I fell into his alluring view. He’d plucked just the right strings without even knowing that he was offering an answer to the longings I’d been feeling. He’d thrown me a lifeline and I desperately grabbed hold of it. Again, tears sprang to my eyes as I looked up at him.

“Oh Patrick, I love you,” I said and pulled him down on the bed with me.

“I love you Mark,” he said, kissing me hard, plunging his tongue into my hungry mouth.

Patrick raised himself, pushed my robe off my shoulders and unbuttoned my pajama top. He pulled the tie holding my bottoms up and pushed the silk pants away, exposing my rising penis. He slid off the bed and knelt on the floor, taking my dick in his warm, wet mouth. I arched my back and sat up, clutching his red-blonde hair in my fingers. As he laved my flesh with his tongue, I bent over him, kissing his head and moaning. I’d had too much abuse of late and was ecstatic to have my lover sharing himself with me so gently.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, releasing my rigid member. “Let me love you tonight. I just need to be with you again.”

“I need you too,” I said, breathing deeply, inhaling his smell. “I need to be loved. I just want some gentleness tonight.”

I pulled him down on top of me, gnawing at his nipples through his shirt, moaning as he ground his cock against mine. I unbuttoned his shirt and unsnapped his bottoms. He slipped into bed with me and we held one another close, savoring the warmth of each other’s bodies again.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he asked. It was as though he could read my mind.

“No,” I answered. “Not tonight. I just want to be next to you.”

We lay together, fondling each other’s tits and genitals. He was amazed the by feel of my smooth body because he’d only known me hairy before then. But he decided he liked the feel.

“Well, when we remove Sam from the picture, I don’t know that I’ll want to continue to shave all the time,” I chuckled.

“Maybe I’ll find my inner top and sometimes you’ll be my boy. Then I’ll shave you myself,” he grinned.

“We’ll see,” I said, looking skeptical.

With that, he dove on my tits with his mouth and began suckling them, pressing his tongue against their cones like a puppy nursing its mother and sending me through the ceiling. Then he moved lower and pulled my testicles into his mouth. He almost gagged trying to get both of them in at once but he persevered and managed it. When my eggs were safely tucked away inside him, he took my cock and began feathering the underside with his fingertips, running up the ridge and tickling the meatus as his hot breath swirled around my swollen pole. His ministrations were making me thrash and pre-cum dribbled from my piss slit. This he gathered up and rubbed into my tits, taking me even higher. Soon, I could take it no more. I raised myself and turned around, positioning myself so that I had access to his organs. He released my balls and swallowed my cock as I fell onto his, kissing and licking it, slurping at the pre-cum that oozed from its tip. All of this was done as quietly as we could manage because we realized that this old building might not have the soundproofing that a modern one would. The only sounds were those of slurping, sucking and stifled moans as we made mouth music in duet. We didn’t want to be rousing the other guests.

We began to bob on one another’s leaking, hard cocks and soon our tempo had increased to a frantic rate. Sixty-nining with someone you love can be so pleasurable: you know he’s feeling the same things you are and you give and receive at the same time. I clutched at his buns, sinking my fingers into his firm mounds, and worked his cock, knowing from the throbbing in my mouth that he was getting close. I inserted one finger into his grasping flower and he did the same to me. In moments, I felt that pulse of sperm rising from his testicles, mixing with semen from his prostate and flying toward their only exit into my sucking mouth. At the same moment, my own sperm took flight. My mouth was filled with his pulsing gift and my cries of ecstasy were stifled by the hot flesh filling my throat. My muffled shouts were echoed by his squeals of delight as we spasmed again and again, sowing seed in one another’s eager mouths.

When our orgasms had subsided and our quiet cries had faded to soft whimpers, I moved back to lie next to him and we snuggled together, joining our mouths in a kiss and mixing our cum in our mouths before swallowing it. I would love to have sunk into a joyous sleep but I knew he needed to go back to be with Sarah.

“You’d better go,” I said, outlining his lips with my fingertip.

“Soon, I’ll be able to stay. I promise,” he said.

He got up, put his pajamas on and, after kissing me goodnight, left me there, lying in the darkness. But in my heart, it was light.

To be continued.