Tangled Sheets (43 page)

“Those are research materials,” I said weakly, hoping he'd buy my bluff and not ask any more questions.

“Research materials?” he said grimly. “What kind of research materials?”

“I write for those magazines,” I said.

“Can you prove that?”

He had me up against a wall. Opening my briefcase, I pulled out a recent issue of a magazine with one of my stories in it. It had a big muscle stud on the cover along with a headline about outdoor sex. As I reluctantly handed it to Mitchell, I was thinking about the nasty letter I was going to write my editor as soon as I got home. He was going to owe me big for this.

Mitchell leaned back in his chair, opened the magazine, and began thumbing through the pages. Every so often he stopped and looked at something. I watched the expression on his face, waiting for him to toss the magazine at me and tell me to get out of his office.

After a few minutes, he looked up. “You're Tom Caffrey?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, taken aback. “Doesn't it say that on my file?”

He shook his head. “I just didn't put the two together until I saw this. I love your stuff. Had more than a few good jerk-off sessions with it.”

I couldn't believe what he'd just said. “Well, thanks. I'm glad you like it.”

“Sure do,” Mitchell said. “Helps me get to sleep on those restless nights. I always wondered if any of this stuff actually really happened to you.”

I considered the position I was in. Mitchell was good looking. And I couldn't really get in any deeper. “You want to find out?” I asked, holding my breath while I waited for him to respond.

Mitchell looked at me. After a second, a smile broke out on his face. “Sure,” he said.

He didn't seem to know what to do next, so I helped him out. Getting up, I checked the door to make sure it was locked. The pane was frosted glass, so there was no chance of anyone seeing in. If they did look, all they'd see is shadows and they'd probably think I had gone nuts and was trying to kill Mitchell.

Turning back to Mitchell, I walked over to where he sat in his chair. “Stand up,” I said, adopting my butchest voice.

He stood up. I moved closer to him until my face was right in front of his. He was breathing heavily and was obviously nervous. I put my hand on his chest, and he flinched. I pushed him back until he was backed up against the desk, then began to unbutton his shirt. Swirls of dark hair appeared as more and more of his shirt opened beneath my fingers. While he wasn't overly muscular, he had the body of a man who managed to get to the gym a couple of nights a week.

When his shirt was fully undone, I pulled it off him and threw it on the floor. Sweat had formed on his face, and a bead of it was running down his neck toward the hollow of his throat. I ran my finger over his skin and stopped the drop just as it was about to roll over his collarbone. Mitchell watched intently as I brought my finger to my lips and licked his sweat off it. I stared deeply into his dark eyes as I moved my finger over my lips, wetting it. Then, never taking my eyes from his, I brought my hand to his nipple and squeezed. His eyes fluttered shut and he pushed against the desk.

I had started to get hard the minute I saw his beautiful hairy chest, and my cock was rapidly swelling against my jeans. Moving in toward him, I put my hands on the desk on either side of him and leaned in to kiss him, pressing my growing hard-on against his stomach. As I did, Mitchell put his hands on my chest, as though he were trying to push me away. I felt like the boss putting the moves on a pretty secretary in an old 1940s movie, and half expected Mitchell to slap me across the face and tell me he wasn't that kind of a girl.

Instead, his hands moved down my body and around to my back, pulling me tighter. His mouth opened, and his tongue entered me, warm and wet as it slipped past my lips. One of his hands went up my back to my neck as he kissed me deeply. I felt the whiskers on his cheeks scrape against my skin as he pulled away and moved his mouth to my neck, sucking forcefully. I was going to have one hell of a bruise there, but it felt great.

Soon his fingers were pulling at my T-shirt, urging it out of my jeans. I helped him out, fumbling at the buttons on my pants until they finally fell open and my shirt came free. Mitchell quickly pulled it over my head and dropped it to the floor. Without a word, his mouth dropped onto my nipple and began sucking, his tongue working in small circles around it. At the same time, his hands went right to my crotch, slipping into my jeans and grabbing my prick. His fingers slipped under my balls and held them tightly as he licked at the hair on my chest.

“I'm glad to see that it's just as big as you say in your stories,” he said in my ear, running his hand the length of my shaft.

Now I was the one getting all worked up. Urging Mitchell up, I undid his belt and pushed his pants down. His prick was rock hard and stuck straight out from his body. It was topped by a thick head that rounded to a perfect point, just right for fucking. His balls, fat low hangers, dangled between his legs waiting to be sucked dry of their load. I ran my hand under his nutsac, feeling the thick hair that lined the path to his asshole and letting his balls rest in my hand as I rubbed them.

Once more I pushed Mitchell back onto the desk, this time until he was actually sitting on it, his ass resting on top of some files. His full sac hung down between his spread legs and slid over the edge of the desk. Sitting in his chair, I pulled it up until I was right between his legs. He leaned back, pushing his cock toward my face. Close up, his prick was quite a sight. Perfectly straight, it rose up in a neat line, one thick vein running up the side of it. The crown split neatly in half, as if a sharp knife had been plunged into the very heart of a soft, ripe peach.

The dark fur that covered Mitchell's chest exploded at his crotch in a dark cloud that surrounded his prick like fog around a tower before spreading out again over his thighs. Even his balls were hairy, covered in soft tendrils that stuck to his skin with his sweat. I put my hands on his legs, running them up his calves and onto his knees. Pushing them farther apart, I leaned forward and ran my tongue over the soft folds of his pouch. Carefully, I took one round nut between my lips, sucking on it softly. Mitchell's hand came down on my head and began to rub my hair as I did this, his long fingers kneading my skin.

“That feels so fucking good,” he said.

Remembering that my financial future might depend on just how good Mitchell felt in the next half-hour or so, I went to work on his cock. Starting at the base, I ran my tongue lightly up the shaft until I reached the top. Pausing just long enough to make Mitchell uncomfortable with anticipation, I went down on him until I felt his bush beneath my lips. His prick slid into my throat smoothly and easily, and soon I was moving up and down his big tool, slurping at the sides and teasing him by running my tongue around the tip before deep-throating him again.

His prick tasted wonderful in my throat, and pretty soon I forgot that this was an IRS agent I was blowing. While I sucked his big dick, I played with my own cock, which by now was hard as a rock. The friction of my hand on my meat was too much. I stood up and put Mitchell's legs over my shoulders, pulling up on them so that he was forced to lie back on top of the papers that covered the top of his desk and knocking a few piles onto the floor. Spitting into my hand, I rubbed it into his ass crack, roughly fingering his tight hole.

Positioning the head of my dick against his pucker, I entered him slowly, letting him feel every thick inch of my piece as it slipped past his hairy lips. The sight of my cock disappearing between his cheeks almost made me shoot my load, especially when I saw his prick twitch against his belly and ooze a stream of precum as I filled him up. When I was all the way in, I started to pump him, watching his face as I screwed his nice tight butt. Mitchell began to moan as I moved more quickly. He wrapped his hand around his cock and jerked it in long strokes. The harder I fucked him, the harder he beat his tool.

When he came, I felt his ass tighten around my prick. A stream of cum blew from his hole and streaked the hair on his forearms with thick pale lines. More of it streamed out and coated his chest. I pulled out and used some of Mitchell's still-warm juice to whack myself off. It didn't take long before I shot a volley that peppered him with a fresh round of stickiness that rained down from his neck to his balls, drenching him in my spunk. When I finished, I looked down at him sprawled across his desk, our combined loads making wet swirls in his hair.

I leaned down and rubbed my chest over Mitchell's sticky torso, feeling our cum slide over my skin like a warm mouth. Lying on top of him, I could feel that his cock was still hard between us. Kissing him on the lips, I whispered, “How was it?”

“It was great,” he said, running his tongue over my ear. “Now I want to see if you can take as good as you give.”

Now, I can't say getting fucked is my favorite thing. But if it got me out of paying some taxes, I was all for it. And besides, Mitchell looked so damn hot covered in cum, I would have done anything for him. Mitchell got up and I bent over his desk, giving him a nice view of my round ass and dangling balls. He came up behind me, and the next thing I knew, he was sliding his cock deep into my shitter.

My hands gripped the sides of the desk tightly as I took every inch of his thick poker without a sound, that fat round head of his plunging into me like a bullet. Once he was in, Mitchell wasted no time in pumping me hard. Fucking me so forcefully his stomach slapped against my ass, he rammed his fuck pole into me over and over until I thought my ass was on fire.

And he was getting more vocal. “Nice tight ass,” he growled. “I'm going to shoot one hell of a load up this hot hole of yours.”

I have to admit, he was one damn fine ass rider. After a minute, the feeling of his big head splitting my cherry wide open started to feel pretty good. My cock was slapping against the desk, and my nuts started getting all worked up as he banged me. I started to jerk my aching rod, and soon enough I was ready to spill a load. I reached the edge when I felt Mitchell start shooting deep in my hole. I could feel his warm spew filling me up as he came again and again, continuing to pump me the whole time.

“Oh, Christ Jesus,” he moaned behind me, his hands gripping my shoulders as he fired away. “My balls are going to explode.”

Mitchell pumped one more shot into my overloaded ass and I came. Four blasts of jism ripped from my pipe and slathered the papers on his desk in thick cream. The biggest rocket splattered all over my file, staining the brown folder with a spiderweb of white. I collapsed on top of the desk, my body still reverberating from the force of Mitchell's fucking, as his cock slipped from my asshole and he fell back into his chair, exhausted. His body was soaked with sweat and covered in drying cum, and his skin was flushed.

After I caught my breath, I picked up my spunk-spattered file and waved it at Mitchell. “Shall we go over the rest of my deductions?”

“Don't worry about this,” he said, taking it out of my hand and ripping it in half. “I'll just put it in the computer that everything checked out.”

I picked my pants off the floor and started to pull them on. “Thanks. Now, can you do anything about my overdue library books?”

Mitchell looked at me seriously. “Don't push it,” he said, grinning. “I'm still suspicious about that seven-hundred-dollar claim for postage.”

He leaned down and picked something up off the floor by his feet. “By the way,” he said, waving the magazine with my story in it, “do you mind if I keep this?”

I laughed. “Be my guest. Who knows, someday you might just even see yourself in there.”

T
he old wooden bleachers had been replaced by concrete-and-steel ones and there was a new electronic scoreboard, but otherwise the field looked just like it did when I played second base. White chalk lines stretched out across the green, bases crowning the corners where the lines intersected. In the center of the diamond, the pitcher's mound rose as if some giant were pushing a hand up through the earth.

It had been ten years since I had played ball with the Booneville Central Wildcats. I could hardly believe it when I opened my mail and saw the invitation to the reunion. Ten years, a whole decade. It seemed like only a few months since we had thrown our hats into the air at graduation.

I wasn't really looking forward to going back to my old high school. I've always thought reunions were kind of silly—a bunch of men who should know better trying to impress each other with their pretty wives and BMWs and aging prom queens bragging about their kids and their Amway commissions. Besides, I didn't really feel like fielding questions about my social life, which had been about as exciting as a scoreless inning lately anyway.

That night while I was getting ready for bed, I looked at myself in the mirror. There was a little bit of gray in my black hair, but my eyes were as blue as ever. I ran my hands over the smooth muscles of my chest. Not too bad after ten years. I might not be able to fit into my old uniform, but regular workouts kept my body in shape.

What the hell, I thought, I might as well show everyone that I still have it. I also have to admit that I wanted to show off a little. Ten years ago, I was barely passing my English classes. Now I was writing for a major sports magazine. It would be great to show up everyone who thought I was just a dumb jock.

Now here I was, back at the old ball field. The reunion wasn't scheduled to start for another couple hours, but I wanted a chance to look around by myself before facing my old schoolmates.

No one was around, so I indulged myself and relived a few of the old glory days. Standing at home plate, I looked out over the field and thought back to the warm spring days spent out there with the Wildcats. I was never the best ballplayer, but I had a few proud moments, even hit a homer or two. Even ten years later I could still remember the tight feeling I got in my stomach every time I faced the pitcher, the mixture of excitement and fear knowing that whatever happened in the next few seconds would determine whether I was running the bases or walking back to the bench in disgrace.

Just for fun, I ran the bases, jogging slowly around the diamond. As I crossed home plate I raised my hands in victory. I imagined the crowd cheering for me and tipped my baseball cap in appreciation.

I heard clapping coming from behind me, and a voice said, “Not bad for an old man.”

I spun around, embarrassed that someone had caught me in the middle of my little fantasy. Sitting in the front row of the bleachers was Jack Carpenter, the pitcher from my old baseball team. He had a big grin on his face.

“Looks like we both had the same idea,” I said, hoping my face wasn't as red as it felt.

Jack stood up and came over to where I was standing. As he walked toward me, I felt like I was seventeen again. In high school I had been in awe of Jack, and now I remembered why. He was a huge man, well over six feet tall with a well-developed body made hard by the work he did on his family's dairy farm. Many nights after games I had lain in bed, stroking my cock and thinking about watching him in the showers after a game.

Jack's hand on my shoulder brought me out of my daydream.

“It's good to see you again, Tom,” he said.

I managed to mutter something in return. Jack didn't seem to notice that he had turned me into a stuttering idiot. He stood and looked out over the field, his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans. He was wearing the same old letterman jacket he had in high school.

“Jeez, it looks just like it did when we were kids.” He laughed. “Remember all those times Coach Roberts made us run laps around the outfield? What a bastard he was. And that stupid motto he had. ‘Don't think. It hurts the team.' ”

“If I remember,” I said, “he was usually yelling that at you about five times a game.”

Jack laughed again. “Yeah, I never was the by-the-book type. But as long as we won, he couldn't really do anything about it. He just used to storm around the locker room afterward, trying not to let on that he was pissed at me.”

Jack stepped up to home plate. He easily slipped into the old stance he had when he was batting, knees bent and head up. He swung at an imaginary ball and watched it sail up over the scoreboard. “It's outta here,” he said proudly. Then he turned and looked at me. “Let's go check out the old locker room. See if it all looks the same.”

We walked up the small hill behind the field and over to the gym. As we walked Jack talked about our high-school days. We had never talked much in high school, and I guessed we didn't have much in common now either, so I just listened to him talk, nodding every now and again so he'd think I was paying attention.

The door to the locker room was open, and we just went right in. There was some new equipment, but it all looked pretty much as it had ten years ago. Rows of gray lockers and wooden benches filled most of the room. On the bulletin board there were notices about soccer and wrestling tryouts and schedules for upcoming games. There must have been a game earlier in the day. Puddles of water spotted the floor, and there was the smell of sweat in the air. Someone had thrown one of the familiar white towels on a bench.

Just the thought of a locker room filled with men sweaty from playing ball is enough to make me hard, and I felt my prick start to swell against my jeans. I hoped Jack wouldn't notice. I'd spent enough time in high school trying to hide the hard-ons that always seemed to come at the wrong time, like while watching Jack strip after a game.

While I was trying to get my uncooperative prick to cool down, Jack came up behind me. He put one of his hands on my crotch and massaged my cock through my jeans. “Looks like we're both having the same idea again,” he said and pressed himself against my ass so I could feel his bulge. “Ten years is a long time to wait to see that cock of yours hard. Why not take it out.”

I turned around and faced Jack. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and I waited for him to tell me he was just fooling around, that this was all a big joke. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue entering my mouth slowly and deliberately, his hand on my neck pulling me into him. I put my arms around him, feeling the soft wool of his jacket under my hands.

Jack was still rubbing my prick, his fingers wrapped around the shaft through my jeans. I was still too surprised to say anything and could only watch as he unbuttoned my pants and let them fall to the floor. He continued to stroke me, the heat from his hand burning through my underwear as he worked my cock. His other hand ran over my stomach and up my shirt. Gently, he pinched my nipple, and I moaned. Then his tongue was back in my mouth, probing and hot.

Jack's kiss brought me out of my trance, and I ran my hands through his short dark hair, pulling him away from me. “How about getting out of those clothes?” I said. As I removed my shirt and shoes and stepped out of my jeans, he took off his jacket and dropped it to the floor. I unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a chest covered with thick dark hair. Ten years later, his body was, if anything, more beautiful than I had remembered. I ran my hands over his wide shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath my hands.

Kneeling in front of Jack, I ran my tongue over the bulge in his jeans. I could feel his cock under my tongue straining to get out and began to work at the buttons on his fly. Soon his pants were off, and he stood in front of me wearing nothing but white boxer shorts. The pale cotton stood out against his tanned skin, and his prick stretched lazily down the side of his leg.

Jack sat on a bench and leaned back against the lockers, spreading his legs invitingly. Hungrily, I knelt between his thighs. My mouth went to work on his tight stomach, my tongue tracing the hard ripples of his abdomen, my hands running up and down his muscular legs.

Jack put his hands behind his head, watching as I licked the hair on his thighs and stomach. When I sucked his nipple, he let out a low growl like that of a big animal and the muscles of his chest tensed. Burying my face in his crotch, I could feel his balls and sensed his cock pulsing against my neck. I ran my mouth over it through his shorts, letting my tongue slide over the cockhead that peeked out through the edge of his shorts. Jack moaned softly above me and shifted his hips, pushing himself against my face.

Reaching into his boxers, I pulled his cock out through the fly. I had never seen Jack hard before. I had always been quick to get out of the shower when he came in, afraid my own raging hard-on would give me away. Now I was holding his hard tool in my hand. I ran my tongue slowly over the head, sucking gently and enjoying the feel of his hot skin in my mouth.

Jack reached down and put a hand on my head, pushing me down on his prick. His cock slid easily into my mouth, my tongue caressing its smoothness and licking up the sweet precum that dripped from his hole. Jack moved his weight forward, and several inches of hot manhood slipped into my throat. His balls were still covered by the shorts, so I rubbed them from the outside, feeling their heaviness roll around in my fingers.

Jack groaned. “That's right, baby,” he whispered softly. “Suck me off.” His hand pressed against the back of my neck, and I felt the hair of his legs against my face as the entire length of his dick went in and out of my mouth. Still massaging his balls, I let my tongue travel the length of his cock, tasting the salt of his skin, feeling his thick pubic hair against my face when I sank all of him into my throat. I couldn't wait for him to shoot his load so I could taste the hot cum I knew was boiling in his balls.

Just as I thought he was about to come, Jack pulled out of my mouth. I looked up, wondering what was wrong. Jack just smiled. “Come on,” he said. “Time to hit the showers.”

We both stood up, and Jack slipped his boxers off. Seeing him completely naked, I almost came on the spot. His cock stood straight out from his body, his juicy balls hanging heavily below it. I followed him into the shower room, my eyes fixed on his beautiful round ass as he walked in front of me.

In the showers, Jack turned on one of the showerheads, adjusting the water until it was warm enough.

“Here,” he said. “Stand under this.”

The water hit my back, rhythmically massaging my muscles and wetting my hair. Jack was on his knees in front of me, the water from my body splashing over him. Taking my cock in his hand, he rubbed his cheek over it, the stubble of his beard sending bursts of pleasure up my groin. He slipped my wet prick into his mouth, taking it all in until his nose was pushed up against me, his tongue moving crazily all over my dick. He started to move his head back and forth slowly and deliberately, my cock sliding in and out of his mouth, his lips sucking eagerly at the tip each time I entered him.

As I fucked Jack's mouth, the water streamed over us, dripping off his face and running over my cock whenever it left his mouth. As he sucked me, Jack was slowly stroking his own cock, and I could see the water dripping from his balls as his fingers worked them. The sight of this big stud blowing me got me really hot, and I wrapped my fingers in his wet hair, pushing myself as far into him as I could.

After sucking my cock for what seemed like forever, and bringing me to the edge several times, Jack stood up. Standing in front of me, he put our cocks together and began stroking them both with one hand, his long fingers easily encircling our pricks. Our balls slapped together as he beat faster and faster. With his other hand, he caressed my ass, working my cheeks steadily to the rhythm as he brought us closer and closer to coming.

“You know what I'd like now,” Jack said, just as I thought for sure I couldn't take any more of his hand job. “I'd like to taste that beautiful ass of yours.”

He turned me around so that I was facing the wall of the shower, the water running down my back and over my ass. He knelt behind me and, his strong hands pulling my cheeks apart, began tonguing my tight hole. He pushed his face against my ass, his probing tongue working its way slowly into me. Every so often he would pull my balls back and suck on one or both of them, letting them slip in and out of his mouth with the water.

Once he had loosened me up with his tongue, I felt him enter me with one finger.
Christ,
I thought,
his finger is bigger than most guys' cocks.
What the hell was his dick going to feel like? Jack was back on his feet, leaning against me so I could feel his chest hair against my back and his huge dick against my ass. “My God,” I said. “I haven't felt anything that big since batting practice.”

Jack laughed. “That's right. And I'm about to make a home run.” He reached over to the soap dispenser mounted on the wall and pumped out a handful, rubbing it into my asshole. Then he slipped the tip of his dick into me and pushed gently. I groaned and pressed against him, feeling the rest of his cock slide up my ass with one smooth motion. He didn't stop until his groin was pressed against me, all of him buried deep inside me.

Luckily, the water and the soap made Jack's dick slippery. His wet prick slid in and out easily. Jack thrust, moaning softly in my ear and tonguing my neck as he worked his throbbing piece in and out of my hungry ass, pulling almost all the way out and then ramming back in as far as he could go.