Back in the Game

by R. W. Clinger

  * * * *

  Los Espejos

  8:00 P.M. to 9:17 P.M.

  We ate dinner at Los Espejos, seated across from each other. He had fusilli with sausage, and I chose a whitefish salad with toasted bagels. I think we downed too much whiskey, but it didn’t matter. Neither of us had made a scene at our two-person table that overlooked the Gulf. In truth, we acted as adult men sharing a professional dinner and conversation: football players and their crafted plays, smart steroid users, and every aspect of the game. Our conversation panned out as long and energetic, without becoming boring. We had a few whiskey shots, just to take the edge off, mellowing and numbing the evening and its bizarre arrangement.

  Neither of us preferred dessert. Instead, I paid the bill for dinner, and we made our way out of the restaurant and up to our room. Once inside, I bolted the door closed, made sure it was locked and secure, and joined the quarterback on the balcony, excited about our uncommon evening together and the sexual doings of two professional football players.

  Chapter 22: Playbook

  San Bisque Island

  Las Playas Del Rios Hotel

  Room 328

  Play One:

  We showered together first, just so he could become acquainted with my body. I knew he had experience showering with other men because of his numerous hours spent in a locker room, but not sexually. Our undressing came off as quick, and we stepped under the shower’s warm spray without pause.

  I asked, “Are you nervous?”

  “I’m not. I was hoping we would do this together.”

  “I like your optimism. Just remember to stop me if you want. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing. That’s not what this about between us.”

  He agreed, thanking me again for my time and care. “Not every guy would do this for me.”

  “I’m not like every guy out there.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re better than a lot of guys.”

  Face to face, wet from the heated spray, I glided an oval bar of soap over his smooth chest, manipulating his nipples. My straying fingers grazed his swollen pecs and their nipples. I touched his bulky shoulders, stomach, and strings of wet curls that decorated his navel. My hand steered southward bound on his ripped torso with the smooth bar of sandalwood-scented soap and met his dick, which I began to stroke. A soapy lather built on his cock as it grew into a full erection. The veined piece of cock glided up and down. I listened to the man pant, overzealous with my work, needy of the friction. Our mouths met with a secret passion, finally joined together, kissing at last.

  * * * *

  Play Two:

  Positioned on the queen-sized bed between his hairless legs, I strummed my tongue along the length of his erection. My lips met his ball sack and rubbed their rounded surface with ease. Again and again, my tongue darted out and lathered his balls with saliva, one by one, making him squirm on the bed.

  Above me, with his legs still open, he instructed, “Suck my dick, guy. Do it. I can’t wait to feel it inside your mouth. It’s what I want from you.”

  My mouth ended up over his cock, and my throat closed over its inflated mass, inch after inch. Heedlessly I dodged my head up and down, choked on the cock, and—

  * * * *

  Play Three:

  He hadn’t come yet; not that I wanted him to.

  Breathless, intoxicated by his masculine perspiration, I said over his cock, “I’m going to do something different now. Don’t panic. I won’t hurt you. Just trust me. It’s all part of our game. It’s all just for fun and to let you experience some wild play for two. Just trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” he said, peering at me between his spread legs with a glazed look of happiness in his eyes. His cheeks were red, and his eyebrows were raised with interest. He asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll show you. Get ready because here it comes.”

  I gently moved a thumb over his pink-tight opening, only for a few seconds, and eventually replaced the thumb with my gentle tongue. Smooth licks ensued, one after the next, for the fourteen-plus minutes. The jock moaned with heated satisfaction, happy with my labor and incapable of stopping me.

  He moaned and twisted. There were animal-like growls and a wild grunt. He said, “Christ, you’re driving me mad. I’ll shoot before we even both realize it.”

  But he didn’t empty his body of its load. He enjoyed his ride, my company, and our fun together, just the two of us, experiencing sex with each other.

  * * * *

  Play Four:

  I stroked his dick with my palm and fingers as I sucked and licked the quarterback’s ass. My play continued and offered him much bliss. Beneath my steady touch, he groaned and moaned with unresolved satisfaction.

  He whispered above me, “Shane, you’re really good at this. I chose well. I couldn’t have picked a better man for the job. Thank you for tonight. I mean that. Thank you.”

  For just a few seconds, I came off his rear for a breather and murmured, “Trust me, guy. We’re just getting started. The sex game is afoot. Hang on for the ride. It’s going to get bumpy.”

  * * * *

  Play Five:

  I pleasured his ass with minutes of licking and sucking, fucking it with my tongue. A finger or two assisted, which I had imagined had sky-rocketed the quarterback into a state of emotional glory with no return.

  Obscure sounds fell out of his mouth as our diligent play continued. They were hollow and of explicit enjoyment as he swore inside the rented bedroom. “Stroke me off. Shove your tongue deep inside me,” he instructed on his back, windblown and swept away in wanderlust because of our sexual meeting.

  Lex acted helpless and intoxicated because of my hungry libido, and maybe he realized I was unstoppable, greedy for his ass. Honestly, he had yet to take part in the most liberating game with me, which I had planned next with his flesh. To start the show, I pulled my face away from his tight asshole and removed my hand from his cock.

  “It’s time for you to fuck me, man. I know that’s what you really want to do. So let’s get to it.”

  And so we did.

  * * * *

  Play Six:

  Seconds ticked by, and I was positioned on my back, looking up at the man. He pushed latex down and over his dick. Lex knelt between my thighs. The jock lifted my legs and placed my heels on his shoulders. And then he started to bang me, sliding his lubed cock inside my body with quick motion, releasing the dick from my asshole and pushing the organ back inside my body. His work came across as steady, diligent, and top-notch romantic. He wasn’t gentle with my ass, or caring, not that I minded. And he wasn’t afraid to hurt me, which was an unyielding aphrodisiac for me and left me euphoric.

  His rough play on my rear was everything I expected it to be. Dozens of bolts careened into my ass, and his balls slapped against me. Sweat flung off his sculpted torso and onto my sizzling body. As the man’s brisk movement continued, he mumbled a few indecipherable words to me, explaining his unearthed bliss with me, just as he wanted to execute with my body, answering those complex questions about his sexuality fully.

  * * * *

  Play Seven:

  Another ram with his cock bolted inside my center, pulled out, and throttled my ass yet another time. How many minutes had passed while I experienced pleasure and pain with the jock? I was pretty sure it was twenty-three minutes. And how long did our gazes stay glued together, hinged as we rocked to and fro? Forever, it felt, but I wasn’t complaining.

  A ripple of deep satisfaction zoomed through my torso and circled like a whirlpool. Elation hit me, and—without my erection being touched, kissed, or licked—I came. White ejaculate blew out of my cock’s length and splatted on my torso. Zigzagging lines of the semen decorated my chest. A vat of the liquid emptied from my dick, and I became weak on the bed, exhausted from our play, but quite pleased.

  * * * *

  Play Eight:

  “Shoot on my chest, Lex. Don’t hold it in
. I want to wear your load,” I instructed him.

  On his knees, he jacked his uncovered dick with both fists. His hips thrust forward and backward as the quarterback pumped himself. He wasn’t as confused as he looked. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and did exactly what he wanted to do. He blew a load over me, releasing semen from his balls and cock and emptying his pent pack.

  A thick white and sticky string of semen flew out of his cock, following consecutive hip-thrusts, and splatted against the flat surface of my chest. The ejaculate glazed both of my pecs and abs, smoldering my flesh.

  Lex heaved one last time and grinned from ear to ear, sweating from head to toe. “That was so hot. I didn’t know I could accomplish that with a man.”

  * * * *

  Play Nine:

  We showered again, removing ejaculate away from each other with the same oval bar of soap. We kissed under the warm spray and relished a string of bear-like hugs. At one point, we laughed because of our intimate behavior.

  “You were naughty with me.”

  “It’s exactly what you wanted from me,” I replied. “I couldn’t disappoint you.”

  “I didn’t think I would like it that much.”

  “But you did. I know you did, right?”

  He brushed his tender lips against my parted ones, squeezed my upright frame against his own, and felt our hard pecs collide, as well as our limp cocks. Following that play, he said, “That was amazing stuff, Shane. You’re very good at huddling with another man.”

  “I must say I’m skilled on and off the field.”

  “Yes,” he confirmed. “On and off the field. Now let me jam my cock inside you again, here and now, in this shower.”

  I didn’t object, thrilled that I could fulfill his desires in every way. I had the time of my life with the man, even if I had just become his play-thing and someone temporary.

  * * * *

  Play Ten:

  We slept together, side by side, following our second round of heated sex. Sometime near dawn, the September sun rose in the east, but still bled its way inside the rented room, splaying gold-red light over our bodies. I felt the jock spoon me, his arm over my hip and its massive palm still against my chiseled stomach. His deflated cock was snug against my ass, and his breath caught at the nape of my neck. Semi-asleep, enjoying his touch, I smiled and believed that maybe I had accidentally fallen in love with him. Then again, maybe not. Love wasn’t easy to find, especially when it came to a married man with two little girls.

  Chapter 23: Happy, Someday

  San Bisque Island

  Las Playas Del Rios Hotel

  Room 328

  September 2, 20—

  8:19 A.M.

  Lex stayed with me for almost two hours when we woke in each other’s arms. We had sex again, which was less rough but just as fun. He was hungry for my dick inside his bottom, and I carried out his wish with careful affection. Positioned doggie style on the bed, with the jock in front of me, I banged him the way he wanted. I held his hips and delighted the man with my swinging motion, build-up of lust, and relentless abandon.

  The sex was of the finest quality: romantic, gliding, without any harmful intent, and numbing. It was the way a married couple might have made love, fun-filled and without worry. The time we spent together that morning was priceless and everything I had imagined it to be. Neither of us wanted to separate, but we did nonetheless, only to catch our breaths.

  * * * *

  Following our sexual interlude, we had breakfast together: fruit salads, orange juice, hot coffee, and toast. And then he was gone, leaving my side and the docile island. He returned to his wife and daughters and a life that he didn’t at all seem comfortable with, unhappy.

  I asked myself: What exactly comprised a normal man?

  Was it the wife he had attached to his arm and the wedding ring he wore on his left hand, or the daughters he dearly loved and took care of financially and emotionally? Did it have something to do with his professional athleticism? Was it the vehicle he drove, the Rolex watch on his wrist, or other materialistic items he could so easily afford?

  Was a man normal because of his attraction to the opposite sex? Was he normal because he enjoyed working out and taking care of his body, building his physique and having muscles to show off? The longer I thought of the definition of a normal man, the more I realized I didn’t know what the hell one was. How could I? Every man on the planet was very different. There was nothing normal in the world, I surmised, which included the quarterback and me. Perhaps we were both normal and didn’t even realize it. Then again, was it even important to be normal? I honestly didn’t think so, and I was pretty sure Lex didn’t either.

  * * * *

  Palm Field

  Ten-yard Line.

  September 7, 20—

  1:49 P.M.

  Suited up in his Thors’ uniform, guarded by his silver-and-blue helmet, and charged by a rush of adrenaline, Lex stared at me on the ten-yard line as I stood on the side of Palm Field as a judge. My stare aligned with his tranquil-blue one. I also viewed tufts of blond hair that stuck out of his helmet. Did he wink at me through his grill? I believed so. Would he ever blow me a kiss? Never. The moment was intense, but very short.

  In fact, my attention was drawn to other players like Rook Payne, one of the Eagles’ tailbacks, and Michael Dashwood, our team’s linebacker. The roaring crowd also broke my concentration from Lex. The Eagles were winning by three points, which wasn’t much, but we were still ahead of the opponents. It told me Lex was going to work for a win, whatever it took. Through hell and high water, he wasn’t leaving Palm Field without a victory for the day.

  The second quarter ended, and the third quarter started.

  Lex invaded my space on the side of the field and pointed at me. He called through his grill, with a beaming smile, “You’re looking good.”

  “Get out there and try to win the game,” I told him, wanting to smack his ass the way jocks did, but I decided not to.

  The Thors took the lead during the fourth quarter. Lex threw a number of plays that just about shook the stadium with anger, achieving his best game. The Eagles were down at twenty-four to fourteen, and they wouldn’t obtain a lead for the rest of the game. Lex basically won the football game on his own because of his top-notch passes into the end zone. He became a hero to his teammates because of his great work and masterful tactics on the field.

  * * * *

  Following the game, he hunted me down in the players’ parking lot. He was freshly showered and smelled like Irish Spring. He carried a Thors’ gym bag at his side. I was just about to take a taxi home, unable to hobble the distance home, when he called out to me.

  “Hey, Mr. Polk!”

  I stopped walking to a nearby taxi station and admired his massive frame again.

  “You have a minute?”

  I nodded. “Make it short. I was hoping to get home and enjoy a strong drink and the game between Daytona and Sarasota.”

  “I should come over to your place and watch it with you. What do you say?”

  “You inviting yourself to my apartment?”

  “I’m a guy who cuts to the chase, Shane. Why should I beat around the bush?”

  “I’ll tell you what. Give me a ride home, and you can stay for the game.”

  Lex didn’t object; not that I thought he would.

  * * * *

  My seventy-two-inch Sony was on, and the Daytona Dogmas had already scored two touchdowns in the first seven minutes. Lex and I sat on the same sofa, separated by two throw pillows the color of midnight oil. We ordered a pizza, and I served us light beer in bottles from a microbrewery in Pennsylvania.

  During a GMC commercial, with the volume on the Sony turned down to a level that we could barely hear it, he said, “I met someone.”

  I was floored by his news. “Who? Where? When? Spill everything.”

  The guy’s name was Chet Blackfield, a professional baseball pitcher. The two men met in an
Internet chat room on a local dating site. Chet was single, twenty-eight years old, and Lex said he looked a lot like Ben Affleck when Ben was in his early twenties.

  “We get along great. I’m thinking about having sex with him.”

  “What about Virginia?” It was only appropriate to mention his wife since he should have been concerned about her safety and heart.

  “We have an arrangement. We’re still married and staying together for the time being, but we’ve agreed to keep our relationship open. Honestly, I know she has a baseball player of her own. He’s in college.”

  “She’s seeing a younger man?”

  He nodded. “For the last three months. The guy’s name is Cain. He’s a nice guy and attractive. I think the two of them make a pretty good-looking couple, if you want to know the truth.”

  “How’d you learn this?”

  “Virginia and I are open about what happens in our lives. There’s no jealousy. We’re very supportive of each other and have always been. We both want each other to be happy. I know it sounds odd and quite alternative, but it’s real. We both feel that life is short, and we need to do what will make us happy.

  “Of course.”

  “I wish her the best,” he admitted, taking a sip of his beer. “Any good friend would.”

  “I wish you the best,” I admitted to him and meant it, satisfied with his visit, his honesty with me, and the friendship we had oddly created together.

  Chapter 24: Men on my Mind

  Aaron Felder:

  I learned by freak chance that Aaron had started his own amateur porn web site called Aaron’s Army. While clicking on a few fag sites, enjoying pornographic scenes on my laptop, I just happened to run into his.

  I viewed a string of amateur fuck videos of his brown-haired twins: Tab and Tad. I think I watched a dozen or more and realized there were other paid amateur sex-actors on his site: Rod, Danny, Pitt, and Harold. All the men were adorable. Some hooked up with Aaron. Others carried out three- or foursomes. Tab and Pitt did a golden showers sex scene that just about blew me away. Harold dressed up as a marine, stripped, and jacked off in a solo video.