Love Wins Read online

  He chuckled, a lovely, deep rumble. “Mr. Priss—” He snickered at the nickname Dalton had assigned. “—thought fucking a guy’s butt was disgusting. When you eagerly aimed your nose into my ass, I thought I might not be able to take that giant beef pole you had been flailing me with, since my asshole has had so little action these last couple of years.”

  A very pleased Dalton let the now very happy camper ramble on. He was more than aware of his class-A abilities at eating a man’s ass, and the first sight of George’s magnificent behind when he’d stripped off his dorky cargo shorts and ill-fitting tighty-whities had set off Dol’s Olympic-trial best efforts. He’d all but roasted George’s ass with his loving oral affection, which of course relaxed and opened that adorable anal entrance right up.

  “Your kinky central European kielbasa just slid right in and slid right in and slid right in up to those magnificent plum-sized balls,” George crowed. “Fucking settled in and lit up my insides like I was the star of a beloved now-canceled cable show.” He belted out loudly, “San Francisco opened my golden gate!” Christine Ebersole would have been proud.

  The two men popped their first beers only after they took a break from fucking and sucking each other for a solid sixty-nine minutes. That in itself seemed a major indicator of a blossoming relationship.

  Later that evening, it was obvious. Life was going to be a hell of a lot better than either one of them had dared hope twenty-four hours earlier.

  THE HOLIDAY season itself became markedly brighter, the decorations all over beautiful Orlando shinier and twinklier. The few moving jobs Dalton and his partner had booked were more pleasant, the customers more grateful. Marv couldn’t have been more delighted or supportive of his co-furniture-lugger’s blissful attitude.

  The Florida landscape was a much more beautiful place with Dol cuddled against and sunk dick-deep into his new lover’s heavenly, receptive body… and said lover’s own body and rock-hard appendage into Dol’s.

  Not at the same time, of course. They were clever, and flexible, but their near-middle-aged torsos—in as good a shape as they were… uh, well… you know.

  They fit together really nicely.

  Christmas Day itself dawned wonderfully. The best ever.

  Christmas afternoon was shit. The worst yet.

  The prissy snake in the Christmas wreath, which Dalton stupidly thought had been totally banished from their lives—though to be honest, Marv had warned him not to start counting any golden eggs before they had been cashed in—slithered back into their lives again.

  Or rather, showed up at their door unannounced.

  Dalton’s shock at seeing the young man was more than mitigated by having answered the bell by peeking around the cracked-open door. Obviously Mr. Priss had caught them in flagrante delicto.

  He excused himself and left their visitor cooling his holiday heels while he and George hurriedly made themselves presentable.

  Mr. Priss was obviously pissed. He glared at Dalton.

  Dalton shrugged. “You moved out. I moved in.”

  Priss burst into tears.

  George, who had been remarkably calm up until that moment, swept his bereft former lover into his arms. Dalton’s heart sank.

  “Aw, baby. Don’t cry. It makes such a mess of that pretty face. What did you expect, Peter? I’d get me to a nunnery?”

  “I miss you!”

  “Well, sadly, obviously I don’t miss you. You remember Dol? He and his buddy trucked away your loot. He came back to give me solace. He’s been here ever since. I’m solaced.”

  “Me,” the now less-bereft-than-annoyed Peter sniffed smugly, “you left for a truck driver… and a little truck at that.”

  “Take off your T-shirt, Dol.”

  Dalton did so.

  Peter’s pretty jaw dropped.

  “Now take off your shorts.”

  Down they went. Dalton’s prominent half-hard in his skimpy undies made its statement.

  The howls heaved heavenward. “That’s… that’s gross! Now you’re a size queen! Oh God, what have I done? This is the worst Christmas ever!”

  Dalton’s heart perked up considerably.

  With a resigned sigh, George peeled Peter off him. “Okay, enough of Bette Davis.” He maneuvered the wailing kid onto the couch. “What happened? You and the new guy had a spat? He threw you out? You tossed him already?”

  “He wants to fuck me in the ass!”

  “Well, it’s a very pretty ass. I told you that often enough. Why don’t you show it to Dol while I get us some holiday grog… in honor of this happy occasion of the visiting prodigal visiting.”

  Peter remained firmly seated. “Doll? As in an action figure?” he asked contemptuously.

  Dalton’s heart was definitely airborne. “It’s a corruption of Dalton, Priss. Uh… Peter. You know, like if someone nicknamed you Pet… sort of. Or, like I sometimes call George ‘Geo’ for the abbre—well, you get it. Dol. D-o-l. For Dalton.” He was getting giggly at the situation.

  “Pet, that’s sweet,” George noted, coming in from the kitchen with the drinks. “Why did I never think of that? Drink up, heartbreaker, and accept your fate. You’ve been replaced by a far, far better man than I am, Gunga Din.”

  “I hate it when he pulls some literary thingy he knows I don’t know.” The pretty young man stuck out a pretty pink tongue before slugging down a hefty swallow, his sniffles subsiding. “Um, could you put your clothes back on… please? All those… that… muscles intimidate me.”

  “We used to do it in the dark… under covers,” George noted dryly to Dalton. “We do it in the daytime,” he announced pointedly to Peter. “Maybe in the fucking sunshine soon, even!”

  Chuckling, Dalton redressed. “You do know that ass-fucking is pretty much expected these days.” He sat next to the kid. “It’s all over the Internet, and it’s even made it to national television. Well, cable. Didn’t you warn your newbie that yours is a no-no?”

  “Of course! Well, maybe not in so many words. But I thought… oh, I don’t know what I thought. I thought the rest of me would be enough, I guess. It’s just….” He looked plaintively from one man to the other. “What do I do now?”

  “If you ever let him near your tight butthole, Dalton would blow your tiny little mind,” George muttered, sarcastically.

  “Come on, Geo, let up on the kid,” Dol relented. “He’s got a right to say no. We’ve all got that right. And he came to us—well, you—for advice. Thanks for your recommendation, but I doubt seriously if Pete would want his successor nosing around his behind, attractive as you’ve pointed out that it is.”

  Peter fluttered his lashes. “I hate ‘Pete.’ Pet’s nice. Are you really that good at it?” he asked innocently. “Getting a guy to loosen up? Back there, I mean?”

  “Uh… I just do what a man does when he wants to make sure his fuck buddy is happy. I never thought of myself as an expert.” Dalton felt the cozy, warm Christmas spirit that had been so crudely driven from his groin by the very attractive young man’s surprise appearance begin to suffuse his midsection again. He glanced at George, whose hard look at his former lover seemed to have morphed into a somewhat bemused empathy.

  “Would you like my new friend to attempt to work his magic on your hard ass?” George asked. “That is, if he’d be willing to take a few minutes to try to pry it open. In the spirit of the season?”

  “Uh, would you mind? You’d stop right away if it hurt, right?”

  “I… of course, I’d stop right away. Your ass should never get near to hurting. But, George….”

  “Take your clothes off, Pet. Show the man what he’s got to work with.”

  With a look of trepidation, the young man turned toward the bedroom.

  “Here, in the middle of the living room. Naked. Now. I’ve always wanted to see that.”

  “George, don’t be vindictive,” Dalton said.

  “He’s beautiful naked, Dol. I’ve always longed to see him run around the house in
his birthday suit. Like he all but does at the damned disco!”

  “I do stupid things when I get drunk.” Peter sighed, undressing. “I’m really kind of shy. It’s the way I was brought up. I get nervous.”

  “Probably a good thing, considering how unnervous you act when soused. Oh, my.” Geo’s attitude softened into mush. “Look at him, Dol. Isn’t he gorgeous? Turn around, Peter. Slowly. He’s like a piece of sculpture. So beautiful. So smooth. So fucking perfect. Okay—” He pulled himself together, tightening his jaw. “—our former relationship can die dead for good now. I’ve seen you naked in my living room. Do what you’ve got to do, Dol. Wherever you want to do it.”

  Smiling, Dalton stripped off his T-shirt and shorts. “Stay where you are, Peter. You are an attractive young man. We’ll start right here where you stand, and your big, bad, grumpy Daddy can watch. And maybe learn something. He’s so busy moaning and groaning when he’s having his magnificent ass reamed, I doubt if he’s made any objective observations for returning the favor. Though I have to admit, his natural inclinations have served him well so far. The man does fuck like a trooper.”

  George’s huffy reply was stifled midhuff by Dalton’s sweet final observation. He grinned. “I’ll get naked, too, and maybe jack off while you two go at it, if that’s okay. Another sick fantasy to check off.” Smugly, he stripped and settled onto the couch, firmly massaging his thick dick to very interested life.

  “Look at that thing,” Peter muttered glumly as Dalton sank to his knees in front of the young man, slowly turning him by his trim hips. “It’s enough to make anybody’s asshole tight. I love sucking on it, but the thought of—”

  “Then don’t think about it. Mine’s even bigger,” Dalton noted coyly. “Just go with the flow as we get the flow going. Grab your ankles.”

  “My what?”

  “A little awkward, I know,” the instructor explained quietly. “Even Mr. Big Dick over there and I haven’t put on a floor show in the middle of the room like you and I are doing now. But ‘assuming the position’ will definitely help things along. Pretend you’re a new recruit and a hot sergeant is checking to see who’s got the sexiest butt to present to his even sexier captain, or maybe it’s summer camp and this smokin’ counselor is checking to see who gets first dibs on taking his giant dong up the wazoo, and you want to impress your cute li’l bunk mate.”

  “Wow, all that’s hot.” Pet bent and easily placed his palms flat on the floor. He was astonishingly flexible. If he had any sense of rhythm at all, the kid could be a smashing go-go dancer, Dalton thought, gliding his big hands firmly over the golden-hued buttocks, pressing them ever so delicately apart and framing the object of his total attention. “That’s delicious.” He leaned in and stroked a tongue lightly over the puckered perfection. George did know how to pick ’em.

  Peter squeaked. “Oh gee! Wow! That feels…. Oh… my.”

  George groaned from the couch, his hand manically whanging his bone as his other hand clutched his big furry balls.

  Dalton pulled back, forcing his tongue to unglue. “Now, before you get to this point, we’re assuming you’ve taken into account when your last, uh, evacuation was. You want to be clean back there, maybe even with an occasional enema to be sure—don’t make that a regular thing. And lots and lots of lube—do make that a regular thing, though it looks like my dick is doing a fine job of providing that. Geo,” he called out, roughly, “ungrip and get over here and suck the young man off while I pry open his ass. He needs something to distract him.”

  “What’s…?” Bolting upright, Peter blinked, mood splintered.

  “Right, sir!” George’s impressive Marine salute was immediately followed by his bounding over and dropping to his knees to suck in the slim, throbbing sexual organ.

  Peter gasped and gulped. Dalton swabbed his precum-gushing dickhead over the befuddled anus and easily slipped a finger into the lubricated tissues to further release them. Lubriciously, he burrowed his face back into place, tongue lapping and lashing at the electrified nerve endings. Urged on by no vocal protests, more fingers pried the kid’s butthole wide.

  Gasping in excitement, Peter grabbed George’s head and, lurching his upper body forward, crawled onto the older man’s shoulders, driving his gulped meat even deeper into George’s guzzling throat. “Ohmigod! Ohmigod!” barely escaped his gurgling lips.

  Dol stood and pressed his dickhead against Peter’s gaping asshole. With the slightest resistance, the massive connector slid through, the encasing sphincter capturing its large nosecone.

  “Oh, yeah!” Peter raucously responded to the invasion. “I’m totally takin’ that baby!”

  Firmly, Dalton drove the rest of his throbbing meat into the virgin hole, drilling past the internal sphincter, and began to stroke in and out. With a howl of ecstatic satisfaction, Dalton felt the young man’s muscular buttocks grind back, as eager to engulf Dol’s driving dick as to bury his own meat into Geo’s vacuuming face.

  The tension in the room became palpable as the sweat flew and the cries and grunts grew louder. Expecting at any moment for the dangerously balanced trio to collapse onto the floor, Dalton realized each body was committed to getting the young man off without succumbing to any sort of gravitational interruption.

  Dol picked up speed, pumping faster and faster. Peter’s limbs tried to climb higher onto his headgiver’s shoulders, folding around the man’s pumping head as his fingers dug into George’s tousled dark hair. Suddenly he shrieked, “Oh God, I’m coming! I am so fucking going to come!”

  His writhing body contracted over George’s bobbing cranium, then suddenly released with an explosive lurch. Dalton felt the internal tunnel of muscular bands tighten around his dick and milk it furiously. He fired a mighty load of boiling cum deep into the young dude’s asshole. The young man exploded, beyond communication, accompanied by only a plaintive “Unh! Unh,” as Geo gagged, giggling uproariously at every ungulpable spurt.

  Throbs and expulsions of ejaculate continued to roar through the two men until they were drained and George gut-filled. Inertia and gravity took over, and all three collapsed onto the carpeted floor in an exhausted, enervated, rollicking heap, Dalton and Peter inextricably glued together, hip to ass.

  His big chest heaving, George wiped his face and pecs, chuckling. “Well, I gotta say, I have missed the cream baths. Dalton’s got a dandy dick, but nobody shoots like you do, Firehose Fanny.”

  Firehose, though exhausted and emptied, was frantic with enthusiasm. “I have never, ever come like that. To have a dick blowing out your ass when you shoot a load is… is… amazing!”

  “See,” Dol muttered happily. “Even you young studs can learn something from us old… uh, superstuds.” They all laughed.

  “I want to do that again! Now! Can we? Huh? Can we, please?”

  The excited young dude asked so nicely, they could and did, several more times—being sure that George had his turns at what formerly had been denied him—until Peter felt he would be able to handle whatever his new bed partner might want to deliver.

  He made a phone call as the two pleased hosts congratulated themselves on still being able to instruct the young in a thing or two. Or half a dozen.

  “Lazzie, it’s me. Yeah, I know, I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. I just needed some time to… um, think some things through. Didn’t mean to upset you. Yeah, I get, uh, like, a little high-strung sometimes. Look, I’ve got some great news. No, it’s a big surprise. Big! You’ll really like it. I’ll be home soon. It’ll be a great Christmas yet, don’t you worry. I promise!”

  “Lassie?” George arched an eyebrow. “Like the dog?”

  “That dog was a star, don’t forget.” Peter snickered, spreading appreciative hugs around. He began quickly dressing. “My star is Lazlo. You’re going to love him. He’s gorgeous. African American. Wait ’til you see his ass. Magnificent. What’s my ass like, guys?”

  “Uh.” Dalton gave a quick glance to George as an excited, well-fuck
ed Peter headed for the door. “C’mon, man,” he pleaded after their hurriedly departing guest. “Take it slow, Pete. Jeez, I’d be out of it for at least a few minutes after what you’ve been through. That lovely bunghole of yours has had quite a workout today, and loving and gentle as the drillings may have been, your sweet butt might need to take a few days to recuperate. Give it ’til New Year’s and then have a few glasses of bubbly, some nice music, carloads of sweet-smelling lube. And then make sure he takes it really, really easy at first.”

  “New Year’s? That’s a year away!” Peter protested at the door. “No way, man. You didn’t go slow. We’ll be fucking up a storm by then. I love you both! My ass and I cannot thank you enough. Lazzie will not be able to thank you enough.” Blowing ecstatic kisses, he charged outside, yelling back up the walk, “We’ll get together one of these days and have a gang, uh… bang-up time. Nice Christmas tree, dudes!”

  George and Dalton looked at each other, sighed, and shrugged.

  “Five bucks the kid is walking very funny by the time he gets to their apartment.” George stuck out a hand.

  “Some things the young have to learn by themselves. Oh well, we did our Doctor Oz.” They shook on it.

  Midweek there was still no word from Pet regarding the big surprise for his Lizard, as Geo had dubbed the new boyfriend.

  “It’s not a racist nickname, or sexist, or even animalist,” he protested. “He stole my boyfriend, and even though he’s now more than welcome to him, he should know that’s not a nice thing to do. No offence to lizards.”

  Dalton also was more than a little annoyed at Peter’s lack of communication, feeling more than a little invested in Peter’s newly attained and hopefully retained ability.

  “How much time does it take to text a quick ‘Everything’s great! Meant to write, meant to call. We’re screwing our heads off. Cheers. Happy New One to you both’. How long would that take? I feel like a Jewish mama, to be totally politically incorrect.”