Edgy Partners

"No, it didn't. You gonna fight me?"

"No," I answered.

"A pity," he said. "I'll meet you in your bathroom."

As he strode around the side of the garage, whistling loudly and happily, though, Toby showed that he had other plans. "Come upstairs with me," he growled, as he reached out for me with both strong hands.

"I've got an appointment in the house," I said.

"That fucker can wait for his," Toby growled. "He's getting you both. Upstairs with me, now."

"Is that jealousy I detect, Toby? You needn't tell me that you aren't fucking my mother too."

The only response I got was a repeat of the growl.

Upstairs meant the second floor of the garage, where there were two bedrooms, a bath, and a couple of storage rooms.

Toby hustled me up the stairs and into the handyman's bedroom. The handyman, Seth, was in there, sitting on a straight chair by the bed and shining his shoes. He was wearing just briefs. He looked up at us when Toby pushed me into the room, but he just smiled.

"Shower," Toby said, pushing me toward the bathroom.

When I came out, Toby was naked, on his back on the bed, but he bounced up and grabbed me and pushed me down on my back on the bed, with my feet on the floor at the foot of the bed. He knelt between my spread legs and took my cock in his mouth, as I moaned for him. Seth, a thin, wiry man of about forty, with a scraggly look about him, remained seated in the straight chair. He was grinning, though, and he pulled a long, thin cock out of his briefs and started to stroke it, keeping his eyes glued to Toby and me.

"Ride it," Toby demanded as he lifted me off the bed, came in under me, and plopped me on top of his muscular frame. Straddling his hips, facing his head, I positioned his cock at my hole, slid down on it as far as I initially could and began riding it. As I rode it, my channel descended ever farther down the cock. He lay back, with his hands behind his head and arms bent, and watched me ride the jet-black staff, eyes slitted and a half smile on his face.

I heard the scraping of the chair legs along the wooden floor, and looked down to see the back of Seth's scruffy black-haired head lean in over Toby's belly, as the handyman took my cock in his mouth. He sucked me until, still riding Toby's cock, I came.

Sensing by my tensing and intake of breath that I'd come, Toby laughed and lifted his knees, planting his feet on the surface of the bed, and pulled me over onto his chest as Seth pulled his mouth away from my cock.

"Now," Toby muttered, as he embraced my torso in his strong, chocolate-brown arms. In pulling me down and lifting his legs, he'd cantilevered my buttocks up. He was long enough not to lose purchase in my canal, though, and when Seth moved up behind us on his knees and started pushing his cock into my channel on top of Toby's, I began to writhe and moan.

I wasn't surprised. Toby and I had gone out on the sailboat the previous summer, cruising the waterfront bars in villages on the banks of the Chesapeake. We'd pick out some stud who was willing and hunky, bring him on board the Westsail 32, and they'd double me in the sailboat's cabin while the boat was at anchor in the middle of the bay. Professor Gupta had prepared me well.

Seth had hardened up thicker than I had imagined, though, and I begged for time to accommodate them both as he moved up inside me.

Toby just laughed, as Seth started to pump me. "We both know what you like," he muttered.

I heard the scraping of the chair legs again and looked over to see a naked Hal sit down in the chair, facing us, lean over for a good look, and, pulling a monster out of the slit in the towel hanging on his hips, wrap his hand around his fat cock.

Later, at a signal from Hal, both of the men who had double fucked me nearly endlessly, it seemed, pulled away from me, rose from the bed, and were gone. They'd left their cum behind, slathered on my belly and thighs, neither of them having taken the time and effort to use a condom.

It was just Hal and me in the room. The shadows were growing long in the room, and I lay there on my back, legs spread, and moaning and whimpering slightly. Toby had been right. It had been what I liked. But it had worn me out. Who would have known that a skinny guy like Seth would have a cock that size? Toby, of course, was no surprise for me. I'd taken that cock since the summer I'd first left for Yale.

When they were gone, Hal stood up and walked around to the foot of the bed. He was in full, gigantic erection, his cock standing out from a flaming red bush. He reached down and grabbed the ankles of both of my spread legs.

"Ouch, that hurts, Hal. You're grip is too strong. Not now. Not yet, please. Give me some time to . . . oh, shit. Oh, FUCK!"

He pulled me roughly down the bed to where my buttocks were on the edge, raising and spreading my legs as he did so. He let go of my ankles, grabbed my hips, and pulled my pelvis up to him.

"Oh, FUCK!" I cried out again as he thrust inside me; reared back, coming out nearly all the way; thrust inside again; and pumped me hard in long, deep strokes for a good five minutes until he shuddered and came inside me.

He leaned his torso over mine, his medallion brushing against my sternum, and buried his fist on either side my chest, inside my thrown-out arms, which had been outspread, my own fists scrabbling at the coverlet on the bed. My torso had been arched back, set against the strength of his thrusts, and I lowered my back to the bed and looked up into his eyes.

"It was good for you," he said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," I said, exhausted but fully satiated, swimming in his cum. He was nearly as big in girth as Toby and Seth had been together.

He moved up the bed on his knees, and I lifted my head and took his cock inside my mouth, cleaning it and sucking it.

"You're a sweetie," he murmured. "The spitting image of your father."

He moved down the bed again and reentered my ass with his cock. His medallion was dangling over my face as he leaned over me and slowly moved inside me, and I took that into my mouth and sucked on it. I encircled his waist with my legs and hooked them over the small of his back, and set my pelvis into a motion that moved his cock inside me up and down as he pushed it in and out. He was hardening and lengthening inside me again. He began pumping harder, deeper, faster.

I cried out and arched my back again, releasing the medallion from my mouth. It was whipping around and striking my pecs, my nipples, my chin now. I didn't care. All of my sensations had gone to my channel and to the churning girth and length of him, getting harder, thicker, longer.

His hands went to my throat, and, with his thumbs on my carotid arteries, he was choking me. I gagged and struggled for breath, arching my head. My eyes were bugging out, and my head was swimming.

I spouted cum and, with a laugh, he released his grip on my throat, his cock still plowing me hard. I coughed and gasped and started to speak, but he was gripping my throat again. Squeezing, his face close to mine, his eyes wild. I gagged and felt an arousal high as I'd never done before. Stars were swimming before my eyes, and I was on the clouds, counterpunching the biggest, deepest-reaching cock I'd ever had.

I spouted cum again, this time much weaker than the last time.

Release, and he was deep inside me, holding there, his cock filling me to capacity and throbbing.

Once again the choke hold, the breath-control play. And this time I did black out, but not before feeling a slight, last release of my own cum, and a flooding of my insides by his.

That evening, at dinner, the discussion was somewhat desultory. If my mother noticed that there was any change in my relationship with Hal since she'd gone to town that afternoon, she didn't remark on it. She seemed taken with her shopping trip and chattered on about all that she had bought and the people she had seen. Increasingly during the meal, though, I could see a cloud passing across her face. She was prone to migraines, and I could tell that one was creeping up on her.

I had spent the two hours before the dinner that the cook prepared and then left us to eat, going home to cook for Toby, down at the dock, working on the Westsail 32. I wanted to be alone and away from the house. Thus, when the dinner bell went off, I was just in a Speedo. I came to the table that way. I knew my mother didn't like it, but she'd tolerated anything I wanted to do since I'd gone off to college.

I'd like to say that I didn't strip down like this to pose for Hal and to inflame him, but that would be a lie. I found him exciting and forbidden. I had never come for anyone as I had for him this afternoon—never been dancing on the clouds as I did with him. I knew what he'd done with me was dangerous—for me. But that made it all the more arousing.

He appeared in shorts and an open-front Hawaiian shirt. The medallion on the gold chain hung between his pecs, and I swallowed my breath hard at the image of having sucked on that while he was fucking me hard—and getting bigger and harder and longer.

I never before had been barebacked like he had, his cum never stopping, flowing out of my hole and dribbling down my thighs. Planted deep inside me. This too was a luscious danger.

My mother was remarking on the medallion Hal was wearing. "It looks like an ancient coin. Is it a family heirloom."

"It is a coin, yes. The horse's head is Phoenician, but the coin is from Carthage, leveled by Rome sometime around 200 B.C. It's new. I got it on a recent trip. A visit to the ruins of Carthage."

I stiffened. Carthage. A ruined city on the coast of what was now Tunisia. Tunisia. I had looked Tunisia up after coming home from the funeral.

When I looked up again, my mother was rising, and saying, "I've suddenly had a migraine come on. I'd best go to bed."

"I'll stay out here and keep Grif company," Hal said.

"Yes, that would probably be best tonight. And I'll be asleep later, I'm sure." This I'm sure was shorthand for "no sex tonight," given cryptically so I wouldn't understand it. But of course I understood it all.

When she was gone, I rose from the table and said, "I think there's baseball on the TV in the living room. Mother said just to stack the dishes in the kitchen, but I'd best do them. I don't want to displease the cook. She too good for us to want her to be upset with us."

"Leave the dishes and come up to the sleeping porch with me."

"I think not," I said, suddenly not that wild about being manhandled by Hal. I also had just remembered that he'd said earlier that I was the spitting image of my father. I'd had no idea he even knew my father. From where? From Tunisia?

I picked up dishes and moved through swinging door to the sink, around a kitchen table and across the room. He was behind me quickly, pushing me into the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter on either side of me, trapping me in. I wasn't a small man, but he was considerably bigger and stronger.

I could hear him sniff next to my ear. "You smell nice. I know that smell. It's the smell of a sweet piece needing to be fucked."

I was sassy enough that normally I would have retorted that it merely was the smell of roast beef, from dinner, but he had a scent about him too. A musky scent of need, want, and determination.

"Hal," I croaked.

But he already was pulling me away from the sink, picking me up, propelling me toward the kitchen table, and slamming my chest down on the table top. He quickly had my Speedo and his shorts stripped and had mounted me and was fucking me. He was holding my head down on the table with one hand gripping my neck.

Then there were two hands wrapped around my throat and I was gasping and gagging, my eyes were bugging out, and, in stark contrast to my distress, I was floating on a lightheaded high of arousal and sexual release, represented in a prodigious ejaculation onto the tiles under the table.

"Where do those stairs lead," he hissed in my ear when he'd released my throat.

"To servants rooms above," I answered in a raspy voice. "Not now used."

He fucked me again and again on one of the single beds upstairs, above the kitchen. Each time he used breath control play. Each time I came for him. And in the end, he flooded my insides and then left me, moaning and whimpering and rubbing my throat. But also in a state of sexual satiation that I'd never experienced before.

* * * *

"Is this what you came for?" Tyler Weston, my father's former spymaster, asked when he could catch his breath. He was on his back on one of the twin beds in the guest room of his foreign artifact-stuffed apartment on Q Street near Dupont Circle in Washington, D.C. I was saddled on his midsection, my hands gripping his outstretched wrists, my channel still moving slowly on his cock, now becoming flaccid inside me.

I had told him I wanted information more than comfort and solace when he'd opened his door to me. But he'd made no bones about what I'd have to do to get any information that was classified.

He was vain enough to believe that I'd really come for his cock. And this was the second fuck, the first one having been on a bear-skin rug in front of his fireplace with me on all fours. He was proficient enough to have his vanities, if he wanted.

But I had come for information that I suspected only he could—or would—give me.

"I want to know how my father died. I've been told he was murdered. How?"

"He was strangled. In his room in his hotel in Tunis," Weston answered. He reached down to start stroking my cock. That was fine with me. I wanted release too. But not just that kind of release.

"Was he on the job?"

"Yes."

"Was he on the job alone?"

"No. He had a partner."

"A partner? Henry Holden, perhaps?"

"Yes, but how did—?"

"How much of a partner was he?"

Weston hesitated. "What is it that you think would shock me—that should be kept back from me—when we are here as we are?" I asked.

I moved my channel on his cock, which was reawakening. I was about to blow myself. I leaned down and took his mouth in mine, kissed him deeply, and then moved my mouth to his nipples. He moaned and I could feel him rising inside me.

"Do you want to fuck me again?"

"Yes."

"How close was their partnership?"

"As close as it could get; as close as you and I now are," he answered with a whimper. I let him turn me, onto my stomach, mount me, and begin the fuck once again.

Later that evening, having arrived back at Clifftop, I asked if Hal wanted to take that sail out into the bay. "The scenery will be beautiful in the twilight, the sunset and everything. Then I can show you how accommodating the cabin of the sailboat is. Out on the bay, there will be no one to surprise us. It will just be you and me."

"It sounds great," Hal answered.

I didn't know about great, but it sounded just and fitting to me. Boating accidents were fairly frequent on the bay. I hadn't had my quota of those yet.