The Fortunes of Fausto (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  “Bi? You mean—as in bisexual?”

  “You don’t have to look quite so surprised.”

  “I’m not just surprised. I’m actually kind of shocked. After all, you’ve got this reputation as a big ladies’ man!”

  “Oh, I like women, as much as I complain about them. Don’t get me wrong, buddy. Maybe I like women too much. God knows they’ve gotten me into a lot of trouble! But I like being around guys, too. You can be more yourself when you’re with another man, you know? And sexually—it’s not quite as emotionally complicated, getting it on with another guy, somehow. I’m not all that experienced when it comes to the homosexual stuff. I have to get to know a guy for a while first, before I feel comfortable enough with him to—well, to put the make on him.” Brent grinned. “Sometimes, of course, it’s the other guy who ends up making the first move, and saves me the trouble. That always comes as a relief. It seems to make it easier for me, somehow.”

  “You’re an incredibly attractive guy, Brent. And you’re a celebrity. I imagine you have men hitting on you all the time.”

  “Sure. But there’s being hit on, and then there’s wanting to be hit on—you know? There’s a big difference.”

  As they sat beside the fire and drank their coffee, they discussed the matter at considerable length. Finally, however, their conversation trailed off into silence, as both men looked up at the star-studded night sky.

  “It’s getting late,” Brent said, quietly. “Let’s douse the fire and hit the sack.”

  “Okay.”

  After taking care of the fire, they went into the tent, secured its flap, and stripped. Maneuvering cautiously within the limited space, they set their clothes aside in two piles, then stretched out together on the sleeping bag. Brent reached out and switched off the small battery-operated lamp he’d brought along, plunging the interior of the enclosure into darkness.

  “See? There’s plenty of room,” Brent said—although, even as he spoke, he seemed to contradict himself, by squirming close against Fausto’s nude body. “Are you warm enough? If not, we can pull the flap of the bag up over us, and zip it part of the way closed.”

  “I’m fine.” It was no exaggeration. Lying there next to Brent, both of them naked, was definitely the most enjoyable part of the trip, so far!

  Brent slid one muscular arm across Fausto’s hairy chest.

  “How about giving your bi friend a goodnight kiss?” Brent whispered.

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  They kissed, lightly and chastely at first, but then, increasing the pressure of their lips as though by silent, mutual consent, they quickly increased the force and the sensuality of the kiss. Soon they were kissing with open mouths, bringing their hands into play as well to hold onto each other tightly, their tongues darting deep into each other’s mouths. With a moan of lust, Brent crushed Fausto closer, his lips touching Fausto’s ear, his tongue slipping into the opening, sending a shudder through the other man as he licked. In a moment, their lips touched again and a warm glow of heat washed over both men’s flesh as they melted together.

  “Like I told you—I’m not really all that experienced,” Brent whispered. “But you’re pretty experienced, aren’t you, buddy?”

  “Very,” Fausto boasted. “I’m experienced enough for both of us.”

  “I have a confession to make. It gets me hot, thinking about you fucking around with other guys. What kind of men do you like to have sex with?”

  “Masculine men.”

  “That’s what I figured. That’s what I picture, in my imagination, when I fantasize about you and some other dude, sucking each other’s dicks and taking turns shoving your dicks up your asses.”

  “Jesus, Brent. Do you have these fantasies very often?”

  “All the time. Come on, Fausto. Be a pal. Don’t make me have to beg for it. Show me what you like to do with another guy in bed,” Brent pleaded. “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

  “¡Diantre! Corazón de melón!” Fausto exclaimed.

  “Huh? What does that mean?”

  “Never you mind.” It was in fact Puerto Rican slang, roughly translatable as Damn! You sweet thing, you! But Fausto wasn’t in the mood to waste any time on a language lesson. He had too many other things he wanted to teach Brent! “You just lie back and get ready for your first lesson. You can start by kissing me again.”

  Despites his protests of inexperience—with men, anyway!—Brent was a total lover, his whole body responding to Fausto’s caresses, the muscles and curves of his tanned flesh thrilling Fausto as he fondled him all over. They moved slowly and methodically against each other but with growing excitement, relaxing nude against each other’s bulk. Brent’s body was like a statue carved in rock, his arms and pectoral muscles tight yet voluptuously sensual. As Fausto ran his fingers down the other man’s chest to his side and then around in back to grip his ass, he kissed him hard on the mouth, moving against him, conscious of the rigid cocks between their bellies—both of their dicks were pulsing hotly against each other. Fausto gasped when Brent pressed even harder into their embrace, his hips thrusting up to meet Fausto’s, his powerful legs twisted around Fausto’s.

  They drew on each other’s mouths, their hands alternately gripping and then touching lightly all the secret places, all the responsive spots, they discovered. Both men were deliriously aroused and it wouldn’t take long at this rate for their mutual passion to reach the boiling point of a double climax.

  Fausto moved down the other stud’s body, kissing his chest, sucking on his nipples until they stood out hard and red. Brent was panting hoarsely as Fausto traced a pattern down his abdomen to his stomach, his mouth taking little nips at his sinewy body, his tongue wetting the fine traces of hair just below the navel. Brent knew what to expect, knew that Fausto would soon be biting deeply into him.

  Fausto opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the firm hip of the other man, at the same time slipping his hand around to grip one of his ass cheeks. And then he rode him as the actor rose off the floor of the tent with a cry, trying to escape Fausto’s demanding mouth, yet enjoying it all the while. Fausto’s fingers sought out his butt crack, and then he slipped one into his asshole. At first Brent tightened and it seemed to hurt him, but, in another instant, he relaxed his sphincter and Fausto’s finger sank deep inside him, all the way to the knuckle. Brent moaned in ecstasy, rolling on the sleeping bag, responding to both the intrusion of Fausto’s hand and his mouth continuing to nuzzle his hip and thigh.

  Fausto released his hold, moving his mouth quickly over to the other guy’s cock, the heat of it searing him on contact. He had forgotten how well hung Brent was. His chin hit the prickshaft and he reared back to stare at it for a moment from this close vantage point. It seemed even more gigantic than Fausto remembered it from the brief glimpses he’d had of it in Brent’s dressing room, at work. Perhaps everything just seemed on a larger scale outdoors! The erect penis was shining, lusty and virile-looking, with its long thick shaft pointed toward Brent’s chest, the head touching his navel. Fausto sucked his breath in quickly as he contemplated taking all that meat into his mouth.

  He dropped down before he had a chance to reconsider, pressing his lips to the pulsing hard-on, running his tongue up and down over it. Brent groaned, pressing his hips up to him, begging him to take it—but Fausto wanted to delay that, to give his partner enough anguish to bring on a torrential cloudburst of cum once he did ejaculate in his mouth. His tongue tickled the head just below the crown, a highly sensitive area. Brent was gasping with quick, short spurts of breath, his hands on Fausto’s head, gripping his hair, his legs lifting up and around Fausto’s back.

  Fausto touched his balls—heavy and pendulous. He held them lightly at first, then squeezed them in his palm, hefting them, marveling at their fullness.

  His buddy was more than ready now, so Fausto slipped his other hand around the shaft of his big cock and pulled it toward his lips. As he did so, his mouth opened
wide and his lips enclosed the head, sinking down—as far as he could go without choking.

  His partner’s body contracted, his legs tightening around him, and he cried out in agonized pleasure. He was on the verge of coming and Fausto was determined to let him experience this delightful frustration to the fullest. Fausto rolled Brent’s balls frantically within his fingers as he moved his head up and down with all the speed he could muster. He sucked with tremendous pressure as he drew back and then let his mouth just barely touch the circumference of that stud cock while he slipped it back down. This alternating pressure—first heavy, then light—was beginning to really work on Brent. Sweat broke out all over him, and his moans were now more sobs than expressions of desire.

  His body was pounding up and down on the sleeping bag spread over the ground cloth of the tent. Fausto released his balls and ran both hands up and down his body, feeling every bit of it. He gripped his hips, whipping one hand around to his ass again. Without giving him any warning or allowing him to relax, Fausto brutally shoved two fingers into his asshole.

  Brent screamed out loud then, and almost threw Fausto off him as he shot into Fausto’s mouth. His ejaculation hit the back of Fausto’s throat with great force. Fausto held on, sinking the two fingers even deeper up his ass, shoving his own head down the length of the other man’s cock as far as he could go. Brent came again and again, the hot, fiery liquid streaking into Fausto’s throat. Fausto swallowed it as quickly as he could, knowing that another spurt would follow each gulp.

  Brent was shaking, his body shuddering with pleasure as he forced himself to slump back, relaxed, onto the sleeping bag. Fausto drew away from him, looking down at the reclining figure of the handsome young actor, aware that their mutual passion had only been whetted by their lovemaking so far. Both men would be ready for action again in a moment, and Brent would give Fausto back in full measure all the pleasure Fausto had just given him.

  Fausto ran his hands down the other man’s legs as they lay on either side of his own body. He was sitting back on his heels, staring down at him, admiring the bronzed perfection of his body. Fausto’s prick was still as hard as the rocks of the surrounding canyon cliffs, standing straight out over Brent’s thighs, patiently awaiting its moment. Brent’s hands glided down and then, with his eyes closed, he reached for Fausto’s dick, one hand grasping it, the other gripping Fausto’s waist.

  “I want you to do what my girlfriend can’t do for me,” Brent whispered.

  “Oh yeah? And what might that be?” Even as he asked the question, though, Fausto had a good idea of what his buddy might have in mind!

  “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me, Fausto. I want to feel you inside me. Deep in my ass. You’re going to have to promise to go easy on me, though, at least at first. I may need time to get used to you. You’re hung kind of big, and it’s been a couple of months since the last time I let a guy in there.”

  Fausto’s heart jumped at the thought. Brent hadn’t been fucked in weeks—no one had entered his magnificent body, plunged into the hot tight depths of that ass. By Fausto’s standards, the guy was practically a virgin!

  Fausto slid down easily until he was lying on top of him, their heads together, their bodies tightly compressed against each other.

  “Do you want to?” Brent asked.

  “Of course I want to. And I’ll go slow at first. Don’t worry—I’ll do it just the way you like it.”

  The way Brent liked it, as it turned out, was one of the ways Fausto liked it, too—rough and athletic, with little or no holding back. Brent interrupted their lovemaking only long enough to grope, in the darkness of the tent, for his backpack. He plunged one searching hand inside it, and pulled out a strip of condoms and a small tube of lubricant.

  So—he brought those along, because he was hoping the whole time we’d end up fucking! Fausto realized. It was a good thing his buddy had done so, because it had never occurred to Fausto that this was going to turn into that kind of a weekend. He hadn’t included any such supplies, when he’d packed his own gear.

  “Man, you’re hung,” Brent said, bluntly, as he tore open one of the little foil packets and unrolled the condom down over Fausto’s erect prick. “Maybe I should’ve bought some of those magnum-size rubbers.”

  “No, these’ll be fine.” Even in the darkness, Fausto could feel his face heating up, as he blushed.

  “We’re going to need plenty of this lube, if I’m going to take that monster up my butt,” Brent declared, as he slicked up Fausto’s latex-sheathed cock, then applied another generous glob of the lubricant to his fingertips and reached behind himself to rub it into his asshole. “Come on, big guy. Hurry up before I lose my fucking nerve!”

  But Brent didn’t wait for Fausto to penetrate him. He essentially joined their bodies himself. Twisting around, placing Fausto’s body against his, and holding Fausto’s organ by the shaft, Brent blindly pushed the knob into his tight anal opening. Fausto heaved his hips upward and entered Brent to the hilt, burying himself in the hot, welcoming pressure. He was leaning on his hands, poised above Brent, whose legs were now flung up over Fausto’s broad shoulders—and, immediately, gritting his teeth, the handsome young actor began to move under him.

  “Fuck me, Fausto,” he gasped.

  “God! You’re so tight!”

  “Fuck me hard. Loosen me up.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you—”

  “I can take it! Just fuck me! Fuck me!”

  Brent’s torso remained flat against the sleeping bag, hardly moving, but his hips began to buck and grind and squirm with a maddening agility. He was virtually fucking himself on Fausto’s cock. At first, Fausto barely had to move, let alone actually thrust in and out of him. Brent’s hands clutched at the sides of the sleeping bag. His eyes were closed, his upper body rigid except for the pulse fluttering frantically at his throat. But his hips and thighs and buttocks, by startling contrast, were all fluid motion, humping under Fausto with a frenzied energy. It was almost as though the son of a bitch was double jointed!

  “You are one hot fuck,” Fausto panted. It was no exaggeration. His cock seemed to be surrounded by, and stroking in and out of, a bath of molten liquid.

  Brent moaned, a soft, unconscious expulsion of breath, as Fausto pumped rhythmically into his asshole, still balanced on his palms, knowing instinctively that he would add little to the other man’s anal pleasure by kissing him or fondling his nipples. Brent, he suspected, wanted cock, cock, and nothing but cock. And Fausto gave it to him, settling into a steady screwing pace, his cock sliding deep into Brent’s butt again and again, encountering little resistance now.

  He drove with mechanical thrusts, firm and relentless. Their bodies became one in the heat of lust, Fausto’s guts aching with the need to expel his sperm and yet reluctant to experience the pleasurable agony that the release of orgasm would inevitably bring with it.

  Suddenly, a great shudder passed through Brent’s body.

  “Fuck me, fuck me,” he moaned. “Oh God, please fuck me! Harder! Come in my ass, man! I can’t stand it any longer! I–I’m going to come!”

  His eyes opened, his body trembled, and he cried out incoherently as though in pain as he reached his climax. Fausto felt the tunnel of the other man’s anus constrict even more tightly around his cock as the flood of semen gushed from the tip of Brent’s overexcited cock, and, grunting, he, too, let himself go. Brent’s hands released the sides of the sleeping bag and clung desperately to Fausto’s body, fingertips digging into his straining muscles, as they unloaded together. With Brent’s restless thighs tightening around his waist, Fausto shot deep inside his asshole again and again, in a fury of fulfillment, until he had spent the full force of his lust and he had no more to give, for the time being.

  Slowly—gasping, sweating, his head reeling—he drew away from his friend.

  Brent let out a nervous little laugh. His hands left Fausto’s body and moved down, matter-of-factly stripping the condom from Fausto’s stil
l-rigid cock and tying a knot in it to contain the semen within it before he tossed it aside. Fausto stretched out on the sleeping bag beside him, drained and inert.

  “Oh, that felt so good,” Brent exulted. “And you certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself, too—how’d I stack up, next to all of the gay guys you’ve fucked?”

  Fausto laughed, breathlessly. “It’s not a competition—and I’m not about to start stroking your ego for you, cabrón.”

  “I’ve got something else you can stroke, right here. Any time you want to.”

  “Gimme a rain check. I’m exhausted. You’ve worn me out.”

  “Sure. Let’s get some sleep. We’ve got all weekend to do it.”

  They slid down inside the sleeping bag together, and, as they got comfortable, their bodies pressed together, their arms around each other, Brent gave Fausto an open-mouthed and extremely passionate goodnight kiss.

  For a bisexual guy, he’s sure versatile—to say nothing of enthusiastic, was the last thing that registered in Fausto’s consciousness before he happily surrendered himself to sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Share and Share Alike

  An hour or two later, Fausto awoke with a start.

  Where am I? Oh yeah—in Seattle. With Gene. In Gene’s house. In Gene’s bed.

  Despite the pleasant sense of fatigue that usually followed sex, despite the reassuring warmth of Gene’s body next to his in the bed, deep sleep had eluded him. He felt restless, even agitated. Taking care not to wake Gene, he slipped out of the bed and went to the window, standing there nude as he pushed the curtain aside to look out.

  It had stopped raining, and Gene’s lawn looked lush and green, the grass sparkling with drops of water in the moonlight. The neighborhood was certainly quiet. Fausto glanced back at the bed, and smiled. Gene was hugging the pillow against his face, his hair tousled, his mouth half-open, his torso bare above the covers. He looked half his age, like the boy Fausto had slept with years before.