Jewels for Vishnu (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  Joey came sauntering back into the room, unselfconsciously nude and carrying a glass of milk in one hand and a bottle of mineral water in the other.

  “Milk?” Corey asked. “You’re drinking milk?”

  “Why not? It’s healthy.” Joey handed Corey the mineral water.

  “Thanks.”

  “Who was that on the phone? One of your other tricks?”

  “Hardly. A potential new customer who wants some custom work done. We set up a meeting.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Well, right now we’re only at the talking stage. He hasn’t committed himself.”

  “When gets his first look at you, he may commit himself to more than a piece of jewelry.”

  “Unlikely. Anyway, I try not to mix business and pleasure.”

  “I can’t say the same for myself,” Joey admitted. “I hook up with guys from the gym all the time. Technically, I’m not supposed to, ah, ‘socialize’ with guys who belong to the gym, let alone with the men who hire me to be their personal trainer. But as long as we don’t actually get it on at the gym, nobody gets too worried about what goes on elsewhere.”

  “Speaking of workouts, at the gym and elsewhere, you look nice and sweaty standing there,” Corey said, salaciously. “Would you like to take a shower?”

  “Maybe later. If you’re not in a hurry to get rid of me?”

  “Getting rid of you is the farthest thing from my mind.”

  “Then what I’d really like is to mess around with you some more. If you feel up to it. And if you don’t mind the sweat.”

  “I like the sweat.”

  “Me, too. I like it when the sex is, you know, kind of hot and sweaty and athletic and no-holds-barred. But then, after I’ve had it that way, I like it slower, with a lot of kissing and cuddling. And vice versa. I guess I just can’t make up my mind.”

  “Who says you have to? You can have it any way you want—provided you’ve got a versatile partner.”

  “You seem to be versatile.”

  “Thanks. I try to be. I don’t like to get stuck in a rut. I enjoy trying new things. Why don’t you come here? Get back in bed.”

  “Kiss me,” Joey whispered, joining Corey on the bed, his breath hot on Corey’s face.

  “Sure.” Wrapping his arms tightly around Joey’s back, Corey brought his mouth to the other man’s waiting lips, and they kissed, slowly at first, but then with the intensity of a gathering storm. Their mouths ground hard together in slow circular motions as they kissed, their cocks hardening. Corey’s hands raced down his lover’s back, clasped him by the buttocks, and pulled him firmly against himself. He could feel the solid throbbing of Joey’s cock against his own. Despite his recent violent orgasm, Joey hadn’t softened at all. And Corey’s own neglected hard-on was equally rigid and pulsating, as though in a mute cry for attention, as it dueled with the other man’s.

  With Joey locked in his arms, Corey rolled across the mattress, turning them both onto their sides. His hand worked between their bodies to grasp Joey’s erect dick. Joey moaned and pulled slightly away, giving Corey room to play with his prick. Corey tugged at the hard tool, pulling on it and squeezing and stroking it until it was like a tube of warm metal inside his fist.

  “Do me a favor, buddy. Suck me some more,” Joey suggested. “Quick, baby! You’re getting me so horny I feel like I’m going to come again any minute now!”

  Corey broke from his grasp and clambered down the bed, deftly positioning himself between Joey’s widespread legs. He bent the stiff prick to aim it at his mouth, but just before his lips touched it, Joey stopped him.

  “No, I don’t want to be selfish,” Joey whispered. “Let me suck you, too. I want to suck your cock while you work on mine.”

  Corey’s cock throbbed with lewd anticipation as he shifted his position, swinging his legs up until he was lying in the opposite direction from Joey.

  “Not on our sides,” Joey specified. “Lie on top of me. Stuff your cock down my fucking throat and make me choke on it while you eat me again!”

  The young stud’s explicit directions excited Corey all the more because of their direct, healthy, uninhibited vulgarity. He had never cared for the kind of guys who acted coy in bed, and he was grateful for the opposite quality in a sex partner. Dirty talk could turn him on almost as much as the various sex acts themselves, and hearing Joey’s explicit lewdness made him eager to respond with the same degree of animal urgency.

  “Oh, fuck,” Joey grunted, looking up at the length of Corey’s stiff pecker hovering above his face. In this position, Corey knew, about all you could see was the other guy’s cock and balls, and the thick growth of crotch hair around them. It undeniably helped to focus one’s concentration. “Look at that big stud prick of yours,” Joey said, licking his lips. “Just look at it—hell, why just look at it? I want to do a lot more with it. Let me feel it, man. Let me taste the fucker.” He grabbed Corey’s tool at the base and pointed it down until the head was only an inch or two away from his open mouth. “Fuck my face the way I fucked yours. Shove it in me and drive that big dick all the way down my throat, all the way down into my guts!”

  His other hand wrapped itself around Corey’s ass and shoved down on it, forcing Corey’s erection inside his mouth. Joey grunted as he gorged himself on the massive prick.

  Corey felt his partner’s throat reflexes constrict as he began to choke on Corey’s penis and tried to back off. But instead of lifting himself up, as Joey evidently wanted him to, Corey lunged down harder on the other guy’s face, planting his cock firmly in his throat. At the same moment, Corey’s own mouth drove down on Joey’s dick, taking it just as deeply and fully. He winced with pain as Joey’s hands squeezed his hips and buttocks to make him raise himself, but he didn’t budge. Only the slight rocking motion of his thighs as he drove in and out of Joey’s mouth broke the solidity of his weight over him.

  Despite Joey’s gurgled protests, Corey knew he was excited by this invasion of his mouth and throat. He could feel it in the stiffness of Joey’s cock as he sucked it, the tightening of his legs as he came nearer and nearer to ejaculation. But Corey, too, was ready to come, though he wanted to wait until Joey was shooting a second load of jism into his mouth before he gave up his own fuck fluid. He sucked ravenously, twisting and turning his head to make his tongue attack Joey’s dick at a new angle with each pull of his lips, each hard stab of the shaft into his mouth.

  Suddenly he heard a muffled whimper, and in the next instant he tasted the sharp, salty burst of Joey’s hot cum shooting into his mouth. He lunged down with his hips, and with his prick buried deeply in the other man’s throat, he let go. It was an incredible sensation, coming simultaneously like that. They came in each other’s sucking, slurping mouths with the same violent, coordinated bursts, swallowing and spurting at the same time, each man experiencing to the fullest possible extent what his partner was feeling as he climaxed.

  When Corey finally lifted himself off Joey and swung his weight around so that they were lying side-by-side once again, he felt as though he’d just run a marathon—and then been dipped into a hot bath of his own sweat. But he also felt totally relaxed. It was more than mere sexual satisfaction. Somehow, having such great sex with Joey seemed to have cleared his mind of extraneous thoughts, just as it had drained his body of its tensions. And my seminal vesicles of their sperm supply, he thought wryly.

  “You make me feel good,” he told Joey, giving him a hug. “I hope I have the same effect on you.”

  “Yeah. You’re a hot guy. And I loved it when you fucked my face like that. I really got off on that. I like having sex with a guy who knows how to take charge. But now I’d better take that shower, if you don’t mind me using your bathroom.”

  “I don’t mind at all. I want you to feel at home here. Help yourself to a clean towel and washcloth. They’re in the cabinet, right beside the sink.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Corey stayed on the bed, enjoying
the sight of Joey’s retreating back and ass as his guest crossed the bedroom and went through the bathroom door. Then Corey relaxed on the mattress, making the most of the post orgasmic fatigue that seemed to weigh down his limbs.

  Things were definitely looking up, he decided. He liked Joey, who showed every sign of developing into a regular fuck buddy, and maybe more. And Corey was looking forward to his appointment with the gentleman named Kaustav Thevar.

  Chapter Three:

  Pleasure and Business

  Corey had an obvious source of information. He phoned Elinor Rossi, whose maid answered the phone and, after Corey had identified himself, put him through to “Madame.”

  “Hello, Corey darling.” Elinor was one of those women who called everyone “darling.”

  “Hi, Elinor. You haven’t come into the shop in a while.”

  “Nonsense, you dear boy. You sold me that charming little emerald necklace only last month. Everyone who’s seen it envies me.”

  “I hope you told them where you found it?”

  “Of course. You know I’m practically a walking advertisement for Rosenthal’s.”

  “We’ve just gotten in stock some very attractive new pieces. I’d love to show them to you.”

  “Corey, you are what they call an enabler. Well, maybe I could drop in some afternoon, just to take a look.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. In the meanwhile, Elinor, I believe I have you to thank for referring a possible new client to me?”

  “Oh, do you mean Kaustav Thevar?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you met up with him yet?”

  “No, we’ve just talked on the phone. We’re going to get together this weekend. Thank you so much for recommending me to him.”

  “Darling, it was my pleasure.”

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “I don’t really know him that well. We met through mutual friends. But I do know he’s charming. He’s about your age, he’s very good-looking, he’s fabulously rich, and he’s not married.”

  “So far, so good. Somehow, I got the impression he’s not an American citizen?”

  “Oh no, dear. He’s a foreigner.”

  “Is he Scandinavian?”

  “Scandinavian? Corey, my dear boy! Hardly. He’s Indian, you know, as in curry powder and sacred cows and the Taj Mahal? But he’s not the kind of Indian who wears a turban. Which is too bad, because I’m sure he would look marvelous in one.”

  “He did sound nice on the phone. And now you’ve whetted my curiosity even more.”

  “My girlfriends and I are always arguing about him. We can’t decide whether he’s gay. Personally, I can’t believe that any one hundred percent heterosexual man could possibly have such charming manners and be so considerate toward women. My guess is that he’s at least bisexual.”

  “Intriguing. Well, with any luck, I may be able to decide the issue, one way or the other.”

  “Oh, darling! If only you could! The thought of you and that milk-chocolate god in bed together—it’s already giving me palpitations! You’d make a perfect couple. He’s so divinely dark, and you’re so fair. The contrast would be so exciting. It would be like one of those porno videos you gay boys like to watch.”

  Corey laughed. “Oh, it would, would it? Now I’m the one who’s starting to have palpitations. But what’s this about ‘you gay boys’? I seem to recall a certain all-gal party you and your girlfriends threw recently, when one of them had her latest divorce finalized. I distinctly remember being asked if I could recommend a male stripper you could hire for the evening.”

  “Yes, darling, and he was such a sweet boy. And such a good sport. After the pawing he received from all of those horny women, I made sure he got an extra large tip—to go with his extra large everything else!—because God knows he earned every cent of it.”

  “Pawing? The poor guy had bite marks on his ass cheeks afterward! And, as I further recall, he was only part of that evening’s entertainment. You begged me to lend you a couple of my porno DVDs—do the titles Big Tools in Tight Places and Chauffeur Driven Gangbang ring a bell? And then, after the party, I had to beg you to give them back.”

  “Darling, I couldn’t give them back until I was able to buy my own copies for future use. Those videos have done wonders for my sex life. As far as I’m concerned, gay porn is the greatest invention since the multiple-speed vibrator.”

  “Well, you won’t hear any arguments on that subject from me.”

  “Anyway, good luck with Mr. Thevar. Maybe you’ll end up as his maharini or his male concubine or whatever they call such things in India. You absolutely must call me afterward and tell me what happens.”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  After this conversation, Corey was more curious about Kaustav Thevar—aka the “milk-chocolate god”—than ever. His fantasy about a blond Viking was shot to hell, admittedly. But it was now replaced by an even-more-intriguing mental image of some sultry young bejeweled rajah riding an elephant. He visualized Sabu on steroids, as rendered by Tom of Finland.

  With his curiosity satisfied for the time being, to at least some extent, Corey turned his attention to more immediate concerns.

  He calculated the number of days that had elapsed since the last time he’d tricked with Joey, and he decided to give him a call. Joey answered almost immediately.

  “Hey, Joey. What’s up?”

  “Corey! I’m glad you called. Good timing.”

  “Oh? Why?”

  “I was just about to jerk off.”

  That sounded promising. “Really.”

  “I just had a few drinks with a buddy of mine, in a bar down the street. I had more than a few, I guess. I think I’m a little drunk.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Oh, I’m at home. I said good-bye to him outside the bar, and we went our separate ways. He took a cab home, and I staggered back here.”

  “No harm done, then.”

  “I wanted to invite him to come back here and fuck, but he’s one of these sons of a bitch who insists he’s straight.”

  “Ah yes, I know the type. Annoying, aren’t they?”

  “He’s a good-looking bastard. You’d like him. I guess I’ve got a crush on him. As long as I’m half crocked and horny, I figured I might as well jerk off. I was about to put on a porno DVD when you called. Fuck, have I ever got a hard-on!”

  Corey found these unsolicited, drunken revelations quite fascinating, to say nothing of stimulating. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Don’t let me hold you up.”

  “I can hold out for a little while, I guess. Can I come on over to your place?”

  “Sure, but how are you going to get here? You don’t sound as though you’re in any condition to drive.”

  “I guess I could call a cab.”

  “No, that’s silly, to spend the money. Why don’t I come to your place?”

  “You don’t mind? Doing it here, I mean? I told you, my place is kind of a dump.”

  “Stop apologizing for it. I can leave right now.”

  “You’d better hurry. I’m really fucking horny.”

  “Put it on ‘hold’ until I get there.”

  “Hurry,” Joey repeated before he hung up.

  Corey could feel himself getting increasingly excited during the drive. There was something perversely stimulating about taking advantage of Joey’s evident need. At the same time, he was amused by the other guy’s transparency. Alcohol intake had obviously lowered Joey’s defenses and prevented him from censoring himself. Corey wondered about this ostensibly straight “buddy” of Joey’s, who had such an overpowering effect on him. Rejection, Corey knew from personal experience, could be a potent aphrodisiac. Rebound sex, revenge sex, or whatever one chose to call it was usually good sex.

  He parked near the Greek restaurant, found Joey’s name on the row of mailboxes in the cramped, dingy vestibule of his building, and Joey buzzed him in when he rang the bell.

  Upstairs,
Joey was barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only a pair of jeans. He gave Corey a hug and kiss as he let him inside the apartment. Joey was slightly unsteady on his feet, and he had more than a hint of booze on his breath, but Corey didn’t find the latter at all objectionable as he returned the kiss. His hands prolonged the embrace, lingering on Joey’s broad, well-muscled bare back.

  “You sure got here fast,” Joey said.

  “It sounded like an emergency.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, just think of me as a sexual paramedic, here to administer first aid.”

  Joey laughed. “You’re funny.”

  Corey looked around, curious to see how Joey lived.

  He’d been prepared, from the way Joey talked, for something pretty grim. But in fact Joey seemed overly sensitive about the way he lived.

  It was a studio apartment, with a kitchenette that was about large enough for one person to stand in and move around in comfortably, and two doors side by side in one wall. One of these doors presumably led to a closet. The other, which was ajar, was the bathroom’s. Most of the floor space in the main room of the apartment was taken up by the bed and by Joey’s padded workout bench and extensive collection of free weights. The TV and DVD player were on a wheeled cart, positioned at the foot of the bed. The one prominent item of décor was a poster-sized framed photo hung on one wall. The photo was of none other than Joey himself, completely and gloriously naked, lit and airbrushed so that he looked like a Greek god newly descended from Mount Olympus to drive mere mortals mad with homoerotic desire.

  “That’s some picture of you,” Corey said.

  “Yeah, isn’t it? It was taken by a very famous photographer. It was part of a photo spread for a gay magazine. He wanted to suck my dick. I finally let him, in exchange for him giving me that big print for free.”

  “Good for you.” Corey had lived in LA too long to be shocked, or even particularly surprised, by the barter transaction Joey had just described. On the other hand, Corey couldn’t help thinking that Joey had sold himself rather cheaply.