In Flesh and Stone

by Hal Bodner

  In Flesh and Stone

  Hal Bodner

  www.wehovampire.com

  In Flesh and Stone

  Copyright © 2009, 2011 by Hal Bodner

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

  ISBN-13: 978-1467903622

  This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  dedication

  To James Michael Auger Stewart

  CHAPTER 1

  The only time Alex could remember being surrounded by so many naked dicks was many years ago in the steam room at the gym. He’d been younger then, certainly more limber and ever so much more eager to please. Even now, after all this time, the recollection brought a flush of mingled pleasure and shame to his cheeks – with not a little pride at his versatility and accomplished skill thrown in for good measure.

  Ah! The nights of drinking and dancing until the bars closed at two in the morning, with the occasional toot thrown in – but only if the trick insisted and was exceptionally hot. Alex had never been one for drugs. Alcohol, of course, was another matter. Recently, his fridge had been converted into the quintessential larder of a gay bachelor: a jar of peanut butter, a few lemons which had moved past their prime before he could use them, various protein powder canisters, a few light beers and an unopened bag of organic greens. The rest of the shelves were practically bare except for bottle each of club soda and tonic water and two cans of diet cola, the residue of a container of low-fat dressing and some half-eaten sandwiches in doggy bags from nearby restaurants. Not to be overlooked was the quart of Stoli chilling in the freezer compartment. It was conveniently stashed next to an ancient package of boneless, skinless chicken breasts he’d bought to save money by cooking at home, but had somehow never gotten around to.

  Not to say there hadn’t been times, not too long ago, when the fridge had been replete with delicacies and the makings for healthy dinners for two. But the one constant had always been the cold vodka next to the ice cube tray.

  His mind wandered away from the contents of his fridge and back to the party days of his halcyon youth. Doubtless, the dicks staring him in the face had something to do with the redirection of his memory.

  Back then, once the bouncers had finished ushering out the stragglers and patrolling the restrooms to make sure no one had either collapsed in the stalls from an overdose or, more commonly, had decided to skip getting a motel room in favor of sucking off a trick on top of the commode, the doors of the bar would be locked and chained. Then, the night would truly begin.

  Hollywood boasted a smattering of after-hours gay clubs. Sometimes, they could be fun and, the few times he’d gone, Alex had met some very interesting young men who had proven to be equally as interested in him. But state law prohibited the sale of booze after the bars closed and, frankly, Alex had always found that social intercourse, and other types of intercourse as well, always went more smoothly and was made much easier when lubricated by a dry martini or Sea Breeze. The local bathhouse might have been an option, but Alex had preconceived notions of dark corridors suffused with the smell of mildew and cheap disinfectant, populated by extraordinarily skinny or hugely obese lecherous old codgers with more hair on their backs than on their heads, arms grasping to seize Alex’s toned and muscled body and drag him into the depths of their cubicles for God only knew what, nevermore to see the light of day.

  Of course, that was before he’d met Tony.

  Things changed when you got married. You still got to witness the dawn once in a while, but it was usually because you and your husband were getting up before sunrise in order to catch a plane for a well-earned vacation in Hawaii and not because you were stumbling in still drunk from the night before. You started to think less about things like maintaining your social circle of people who, while they might be physically attractive, you didn’t really like, and you started looking at the Ikea catalogue in a new light and paying attention to the Year End Savings Sales at Macy’s to see if they had reduced the price on the couch you and your spouse had been lusting for. You even – perish the thought – started to pay attention to that little voice in your head that whispered, “You already have a husband, right? So, why are you still spending so much time in the gym? Twice a week is enough to keep things looking good without going overboard. Besides, he says he likes you better with a little extra meat on your bones.”

  You got comfortable.

  But the comfort was gone, vanished like the days of partying until he could barely walk. At the moment, Alex didn’t have the emotional fortitude to start searching for a new companion, and he sure as hell knew he didn’t have the physical capacity nor the flexibility to abuse his body like he once could.

  Instead, he stood surrounded by dicks.

  There were twelve of them. Thirteen, actually, if he counted the twins, and he definitely counted the twins. Some were fully erect, slim and mushroom headed, ridged with throbbing veins. A few were barely tumescent but showed impressive promise. The longest was – and Alex prided himself on being an excellent judge in matters of this importance – very close to twelve inches, with a head that could only be described as eagerly perky. The shortest was tougher to estimate, being only semi-erect, but Alex suspected the startling heft and thickness of the thing would more than make up for any lack of the distance it could penetrate. Most, Alex suspected, were not circumcised, but insofar as those dicks most prominently displayed were concerned, the foreskin had been gathered where the shaft met the head -- so it was hard to tell for sure.

  They were, quite possibly, thirteen of the most magnificent dicks Alex had ever seen – and the bodies attached to the dicks were nothing to sneeze at either.

  Though the twins had far from the most spectacular physiques of the group, Alex found himself drawn to them more than to the others. He doubted he’d have been able to imagine two physical specimens of young manhood more his “type” than they were. Besides, there were two of them, identically beautiful, and even the passing fancy of what kinds of erotic tripods could result from that combination made Alex’s shorts uncomfortably tight. Obviously natural athletes, he envisioned them stripped to loincloths, their oiled bodies sweating under the broiling Mediterranean sun of some ancient Greek Olympic field, muscles straining as they threw javelins or hurled discus in perfect synchronicity. Better yet, he pictured them completely naked – and since they were already naked, his creative juices weren’t taxed too hard to form the mental picture – sweating in some sandy arena while they wrestled, sun-bronzed arms and legs intertwined, chests heaving with grunts of effort, bits of dirt clinging artistically to perspiration-soaked shoulders and backs. They stood, each with an arm draped casually around his brother’s shoulder, shyly smiling at Alex with expressions hinting of erotic delights that could only be performed in groups of more than two.

  The other eleven men were all in their own unique ways equally stunning. Even the hirsute, thick-chested fellow in the corner with the shoulders of a linebacker and the humongous dick proudly at attention in a field of lush, wiry dark hair-covered legs and a veritable forest of crotch – though Alex was not normally attracted to guys who weren’t smooth, or at the least trimmed or shaved – even he was someone Alex would be loath to kick out of bed for eating crackers. More likely, he’d do whatever was most likely to get him into bed in the first place – up to and including sacrificing his first-born child to some pagan god of lust, were he ever to consider having a kid.

  Certainly, there was enough variety of male flesh to keep him entertained for months. Broad, heavy chests, manly chests, sheathe
d with muscle and tipped with large, full nipples to suckle at. Slim, wasp-waisted younger men, with tapered V-shapes, washboard stomachs and what Alex thought of as “poppy seed nipples” to be teased and licked. Impressive shoulders and massive biceps strong enough to lift him clean off his feet, cradle him in strong arms and carry him to some erotic orgy before overpowering him with such force that Alex would only be able to bite the pillow and moan as the weight of his lover forced him deeper into the mattress. Lithe, dancer builds, all smooth skin and flexibility so Alex would want to be the aggressor and guide the young athlete into new contortions, experimenting with novel positions where arms and legs could stretch and twist to reach all sorts of interesting places – and occupy themselves with even more interesting titillation.

  And the faces! Even the few older men – perhaps nearing forty – were exquisitely beautiful. Whether he was grinning at the youngest of the bunch, a youth of barely twenty with almond eyes, thin lips bearing the start of a shy smile and a sharp, angled jaw evoking some wood sprite lurking in the foliage of an enchanted forest, eager for naked playtime, or if he was distracted by the craggy handsomeness of the more mature daddy-type with all the hair below the waist, Alex could scarce find a single flaw in any of the men’s perfection. Such magnificent nudity, such an overload of perfectly honed bodies, such raw sensuality...well, Alex had been pretty much operating on auto-pilot since he first entered the room and saw them.

  As for his own dick? Evidently, its auto-pilot had already shifted into overdrive.

  Alex glanced down at his cotton shorts and regretted having decided not to change after his morning jog. He’d figured, with so much work to do today, a lot of it likely to involve a substantial amount of sweat and grime, he’d might as well not have to soil an extra pair for the laundry. But he hadn’t counted on the reaction the thirteen stunning men were producing. He was leaking like a sieve, his jock strap was already soaked through and, he feared, the pre-cum would very shortly work its way through the running shorts themselves to display itself.

  Hopefully, over the next few hours, he could work up enough of a sweat to hide the tell-tale signs of his arousal.

  He took a last, lingering look at the dicks, making sure to take in as many details of each for later consideration as he could, and sighed. Sadly, Alex knew he’d have plenty of time to closely examine every inch of them in the coming weeks.

  For the foreseeable future, these thirteen statues would be his only companions and would provide his only erotic release.

  There was a muffled curse from the doorway, followed by a string of much more audible cursing and a thump. Alex winced at the sound of a wooden crate hitting the marble floor and hoped nothing had been damaged.

  “Jesus, Alex! I thought you were going to help me with all this sh...” The voice of the young man trailed off as he caught his first glimpse of the dicks. “Wow!” Midnight blue eyes sparkled with something akin to lust as the shirtless, dark auburn-haired young man took in the details. “This is your new apartment?”

  Alex couldn’t suppress a grin, tinged with just the tiniest bit of embarrassment that he’d been caught. “Yeah. It’s great, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say! It sure as hell beats porn any day. Although…” The man in the doorway frowned at the statues. “…it’s not like they can actually...perform, is it?”

  “That, my dear Corey, is one of the truly sad things in the universe.”

  Corey craned his neck to examine the thirteen men in awe. “How the heck did they get here?” He pointed. “I think that one’s my favorite. I’d do him in a bar any day. Hell, I’d do him in Macy’s window if I got the chance.”

  Alex’s eyes followed the line of Corey’s finger. “That’s Aries, I think. Wait, no. Taurus. You always did have a thing for older guys with big balls.”

  “Daddy, Daddy!” Corey’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “Bull balls. Lemme at ’em.”

  “I kind of like Gemini myself.”

  “Knowing you, that’s a surprise?”

  Corey scratched an itch on his chest with studied idleness. Alex wasn’t fooled for a minute. The way Corey’s fingers kept brushing his own nipple while he scratched, the way they lightly flicked over the sparse hair surrounding the aureole, Alex knew the movement was anything but casual. With his next words, Corey confirmed Alex’s suspicions.

  “You may be my age, but I never had a problem with your balls, if you can remember that long ago.” Corey’s grin was practically a leer. It was abundantly clear what he wanted.

  Their time together as regular lovers had come and gone a long time ago; they’d been college roommates at the time. The finale had come about, not because of any fading of attraction, but simply because Tony had come into Alex’s life. Corey was good sex. Hell, he was pretty amazing sex, actually. But with Tony, there had been more – there still was more. With Tony, there was love.

  Still, Corey was standing there making his desires known and Tony was obviously not available. He considered. Bedding Corey – or rather flooring Corey, as the bed was still packed in the truck – would be a solution of sorts. Even when he and Tony were together and ostensibly monogamous, or at least more monogamous than most gay couples, Tony had always tolerated a special dispensation for Corey. Tony knew Alex and Corey had been lovers of convenience for four years; Alex had hidden nothing. Tony also realized the close friendship between the two had developed independently of the sex. Corey was just too damned easy to like and the very qualities that made him such a great companion, Tony had intuited, were the ones that made it impossible for Alex and Corey to ever have a more meaningful intimate relationship.

  Corey took nothing seriously – except sex, parties and the gym. He was one of those beautiful youngish gay men whose wallet was always full enough to pay the cover and stand for a round of drinks, yet never seemed to have any permanent gainful employment. Normally, Alex would have suspected a sugar daddy lurked somewhere in Corey’s background, but he knew better. There had been gifts from admirers, of course, some of them quite expensive. The truck they’d used to move Alex’s belongings was one such present. Most of them though, came in the form of trips to exotic locations, fancy dinners and overpriced clothing. Having spent many hours at Corey’s apartment, Alex knew the dresser drawers were brimming with overpriced trendy labeled underwear and swimsuits, the closets were packed full of tight shirts and even tighter jeans, all of them purchased for him by men who took great delight in having Corey model them for him in the clothing stores. The watches and jewelry Corey generally returned or, if he didn’t know where his latest beau had originally bought them, pawned for whatever he could get.

  It netted enough, Alex supposed, for Corey to get by so long as he supplemented his income with the occasional cater-waiter job or a stint posing at photo shoots for one of the ubiquitous skin mags. For a while, Corey had dabbled in online Web cam sex. It may have been the only time the redhead had ever made consistently decent money in his life. But, having to have sex on camera at predesignated times, Corey had confessed, simply bored the crap out of him and, as he had put it, cramped his style. He’d done two porno films but was disenchanted almost immediately and complained that on-camera sex was mostly about angles and lighting and not very much fun at all. Though Corey’s two titles were still selling very well and Corey had been offered what seemed to Alex to be an exorbitant amount of money to be naked and have sex with hot strangers on camera, he had consistently declined.

  Alex took a long moment to let his eyes rove up and down Corey’s body. It was well muscled from long days spent working out at the gym, and the hours on the stair machine and stationary bike had certainly paid off; there was nary an ounce of body fat on him. His belly was cut like one of those suits of body armor Hollywood costumers were so fond of putting on cinema superheroes, and the striations of his shoulder muscles and back were clearly visible through the skin – and through most of the skin tight shirts he wore when he deigned to wear a shirt in the first pla
ce. A compact torso with a smattering of sun-bleached hair on the chest, descending in a pleasure trail down his stomach completed the picture of his upper body.

  Corey knew damned well Alex was drinking him in with his eyes and sought to tempt him further. He clasped his fingers together behind his head in a calculated stretch, showing off the V-shape of his torso and arching his back to force the muscles of his chest into greater definition. His nipples were hard from the attention his fingers had been giving them a moment earlier and, he knew, twin trickles of sweat wound their way from his armpits down his sides toward the waistband of his low-hanging cut-off shorts. He moved one foot slightly forward, intentionally flexing his thigh to make every cut stand out, unconsciously striking a pose that would have fit in well with the thirteen statues lining the walls.

  “It’s been a long time,” Corey whispered. “Look, I’m even sweating. You know how much you like that.”

  Alex swallowed to moisten his throat, suddenly grown dry. It was true. Corey was one of those guys who, in spite of a head of hair that tended towards red, had been gifted with dark, thick skin that tanned to a golden bronze. He spent days at the beach, oiled up and broiling in the sun, coming home to lather himself with moisturizer so his skin stayed supple and smooth. He was also one of those lucky people who, however much they might sweat from heat or exertion – and Corey perspired liberally – never gave off a rank odor. Alex remembered many a college afternoon or evening spent naked in bed while licking the salty fluid from his roommate’s body, delaying the moment when he could bury his face in the pit of Corey’s arms, at the precise spot where the muscles of his back met his sides, and languorously breathe in the scent of him, musky and wholesome, with just a touch of something wild and earthy. The smell of Corey’s body – now that it had sprung to mind, Alex imagined he could sense it even while standing several feet away – was usually enough to encourage his dick to swell even further.