A gay story: Brook’s Deja Vu (All Over Again) Ch. 02 Brook’s relationship with Tony deepens
This story is a sequel to another Lit story with the same title, published about a week ago. Readers might wish to consider taking a look at the earlier story first, but this story does pretty much stand on its own. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. Warning: there is a brief mention, but not description, of rape midway through the story. No AI was used in the production of this story. © 2024, All rights reserved. Brunosden
[The previous story introduced Brook, who just before graduation broke up a long-term relationship and after became the operator of a Detroit gym. His personal and sex life has been casual and adrift for several years. But the gym has been successful. He hires Tony, a young Italian guy who could pass for his ex’s twin. They almost immediately connect and get it on.]
It’s been three months since Tony joined the staff at my workout center. He’s turned out to be a reliable and competent Assistant Manager and personal trainer. He already has a loyal client base that occupies him for several hours every day. In fact, he’s a combination of Mr. America and Mr. Personality, joking with and stroking our clients every day. The fact that he’s drop-dead gorgeous Latin lover type, with a great physique and is carrying a significant set of equipment in his shorts hasn’t hurt either.
Marie, my first employee, another “looker,” has completed her PT certificate course—and she got to use the year or so she had worked for me as practical experience. So she too is now licensed and ready to take on clients. They are already lining up. She is a beautiful woman, a Cajun, with long dark hair, about 23, with a trim athletic body. I guess we’ll need a new receptionist.
And I’ve yet to finish writing the Lit story I was working on when I first met Tony, and he interrupted my quiet Sunday afternoon routine–when I normally would write. Tony and I have become friends, really close friends. In fact, we’re definitely fuck buddies, proceeding slowly toward a commitment, I hoped. He’s moved some stuff to my condo and spends most weekends there with me.
Business has been very good. In fact, we have reached the logical maximum number of members if we are going to be able to accommodate heavy use periods and training sessions. Coincidentally, the coffee/sandwich shop next door closed a few weeks ago, and the “To Let” sign appeared in the window last week—after most of the equipment had been removed. I learned that the rent was very modest.
I’ve mentioned to Tony and Marie that I’m considering an expansion. And I’ve asked them whether they might want to partner with me. I know they have little money, but I think we can borrow enough to add the space next door to our gym on a rental basis. My plan would be to move most of our training sessions there, and maybe to open a juice and snacks bar as well. We would upgrade the street front and probably would need to open later a few nights each week. One of the advantages of this space is that it has a really nice garden patio in the back—so in the summer, the snack bar would serve outside as well. The neighborhood was definitely gentrifying, and somehow I thought we might become a real center of activity for the younger urban crowd that was moving in—thanks to the low downtown rents.
Last Friday night after we closed the gym, the three of us ate take-out at my condo to give us time to talk about the potential. By the end of the evening, I had two partners, and we had worked out most of the details. We would put in equal time, but because of my initial investment, I would retain 51%. They would share the rest. And they would take on responsibility for the required loan for the outfitting of the new space—out of their share of the profits. When it was paid off, we’d reallocate our shares and all be even. We’d sub out the bar as none of us had experience or interest. I broke out three beers, and we toasted our deal and friendship.
Tony and I walked Marie to her car, and I asked him to join me later at the condo—even though it was a “school night.” He never refused me—although I knew we weren’t exclusive. Over the last few months, he had linked up with a few of the gym’s clients—something I had avoided as the owner. But Tony was new to gay sex, not constrained by owner’s reluctance to mix business and pleasure, and entitled to broaden his experiences. It made me a little envious, of course. And maybe a little nervous. My three year relationship with a lover years before had morphed quite easily into an easy sexual affair with Tony—thanks in part to his very strong resemblance to my ex. For me, it was like a continuation. But for Tony it was an exciting new adventure into the fulfillment of his long-repressed desires. And I wasn’t going to risk losing him by being too possessive. So long as he wrapped with others, I was reluctantly tolerant. For now, at least.
Within a week or so of being hired, Tony had identified several gays and one bi guy who were regulars. They were attractive and in good shape. No match for his perfection, but not bad. They came on to him. (With the way he looked all the time, that was not too hard to imagine: he was a walking invitation.) He was flattered and went home with them from time to time. He assured me it was nothing serious. “Just research,” he joked. “You’re way ahead of me. I don’t want you to lose interest in me because I’m plain vanilla. And I’m careful.”
How could I lose interest in him? He was exciting, inventive, horse-hung, a willing top or bottom—and an easy twin for a guy that I had fallen for years ago. And definitely not vanilla, more like mocha!
After Marie drove off, we walked back to the condo. It wasn’t very late, but we did open early the next morning. We both knew what we wanted. We entered and Tony slammed me into the door and took my lips in his. His tongue invaded while his hands reached under my tee and began to handle my nipples. He stepped back a pace and pulled the tee off as he bent to suck hard. He obviously knew that this was one of my extreme pleasure points. And that he could have me begging to be fucked within minutes if he continued. So I guess my new junior partner wanted to top tonight.
He released, reached behind my knees to lift me over his powerful left shoulder and walked us to the sofa. He sprawled me out on the leather, pulled off his own tee, dropped into me and pulled my chest to his. One hand went behind my head and pulled our faces together. We embraced, necked and sucked in that position until both of us were nearly breathless. We were frantic, sweaty, hot and horny. This was going to be fast, but it probably wasn’t going to be the only time we’d couple that night. He often needed to “take the edge off” before he really did me—or let me do him.
He stood and peeled his shorts off and moved back on top. He was so strong. His hands moved under me as our tongues continued to duel. Then he lifted me from the sofa pillow and I felt his hand moving down below the waistband of my workout sweatshorts and his warm insistent fingers prying my cheeks open. He knelt and began to suck the precum from my rigid dick. He brought his fingers to his mouth and soaked them with his saliva and my precum. Then they went back under, pulled off the sweats and penetrated deeply inside. He found the prostate and scraped it with two fingers. I gasped as he squeezed it with a thumb on the taint. He backed off kneeling between my legs. I was wild with lust. And he was an animal. His long dark cock stood rigidly at attention leaking like a faucet. He reached for the lube and coated himself. Then he shot it deeply inside me. He bent again, jackknifed my legs, rolled me back and he was already pressing his massive cockhead into me. I was helpless, his total sub—and reveling in his total possession.
His thighs thrust forward and in one stroke he totally impaled me. I was surprised, feeling a little pain, but wanting him so completely. My chute tightened around his shaft and my ring tightened around his base. I held him tightly to me as my body molded to his. Then when I released him a little, he felt the signal. Almost immediately he began to pound, expanding my chute and stimulating my nut with power and force. We had been grappling for only a few minutes. But I was ready. I was dripping with sweat and leaking between us. And so was he. He shouted out his climax, “God, I’m so fucking deep inside. I’m in your damn gut. I’m gonna fill you with my spunk, Brook. You’re gonna leak until morning. I can’t believe how good it feels inside you. You are so hot. So tight. Fuckkkk! Fuck me. Fuck you.”
I felt the heat, the pressure and the quantity deep inside, and my own dick spasmed and started spewing creamy stuff onto my chest. He had literally fucked the cum out of me. And, he didn’t miss a beat. His tongue emerged and he started licking, circling my nipples with his cream covered tongue. Then he released my legs and fell into me. I held him close, but he pulled even closer with legs and arms that wound around my sweaty torso. We fit together so well. My dark god was wrapped around me, his long talented snake still hard inside. The image of Michelangelo’s Laocoon wrestling with the serpent flashed before my eyes. He had me totally where I wanted to be.
A few minutes later he rose, holding me tight to him with large strong hands on my butt. I clung tightly with arms around his ropey neck and legs around his waist. He marched us to the king and we dropped into it. Only then did his cock slip out as it softened.
We talked for awhile, speaking in hoarse whispers, not wanting to break the intensity of the spell he had cast. He was overwhelmed, he said, with the generosity of my offer to partner with him and Marie. No one, not even a family member, had ever gifted him and trusted him as I had done. “You’ll never regret this, Brook. I’m your friend for life.”
Little did he know that I already had assigned him a permanent slot in my life plan.
We were about to commence round two—with me on top and as the pitcher. I was already teasing his tits with soft finger tips, and his dick was responding with increasing size. Then, the cell phone’s loud antique chime sounded. I was going to ignore it—it was late and probably would hold. But, I glanced over and noticed the screen was identifying the caller as Marie. So I reached over and answered.
It wasn’t Marie’s voice, but a man who identified himself as a police officer. It took him only a few sentences to describe the situation: there had been an assault as she emerged from her car at her condo; Marie had been raped and beaten. The cell was found on the floor of the car with my number on speed dial. She was in the ER. She was hurt, but not critically. He identified the location. And five minutes later, Tony and I were dressed and in his car on the way to the ER. At first, they didn’t want to admit us—we weren’t family. But the police intervened. Apparently she had already told them that her small family was far away in Louisiana and probably not able to make the arrangements to travel to Detroit quickly as her mother was bed-ridden.
As we entered the room, she tried to smile at us. But obviously, it hurt. It turned into a grimace. Her face had been severely beaten. She’d have a couple of black eyes, maybe a dislocated septum and jaw. But, apparently there were no broken limbs—it was strictly a face job—and of course a rape. She had given a brief statement. And they had used the rape kit and cleaned her as much as was possible. They were pretty sure the morning-after pill had been used in time. They wanted to keep her for at least a day for observation. We wanted to stay with her, but the police and the docs both insisted we leave.
I reached over to kiss her goodbye. It was then that she whispered, “I know who it is. He’s been in the gym in the past.”
I stood quickly lest the police detect something in my actions. She obviously didn’t want the police to know. I turned away as Tony moved in to kiss her forehead. Soon we were outside the room. “She knows the guy that did it. For some reason she doesn’t want the police to know. We’ll find out more later.”
Her doc emerged at that moment. “We’ve given her a pain killer. She’s going to sleep for half a day. You guys should probably leave. We’ve got your contact if anything changes.”
On the way home, Tony and I made instant plans. One of us would stay at the hospital the following morning. The other would open the gym. We’d keep in touch by cell and switch midway through the next day. We couldn’t afford to close—not when we were about to start a major expansion. We got back to the condo and dropped into bed, exhausted and not feeling very much like continuing what we had interrupted a few hours before. So, quite uncharacteristically, Tony pulled me tenderly into an embrace and we dropped off.
********
They say that crises bring out the best and the worst in people. Certainly Marie’s crisis showed me two aspects of Tony that he had never exposed to me before. Tony became the softest, most considerate, most protective person I had ever met. Marie was his “sister”, his family. He carried her around, cooked for her, consoled her like his oldest confidante. And when he was away from her, Tony showed another side. He was enraged that someone had hurt his “sister.” “He’s gonna pay. As soon as she identifies him, I’ve got some friends who will make sure he never rapes a woman—or even has a dick to try—again. He’s gonna be a fuckin’ eunuch.”
I began to realize that there was a depth and essential goodness to Tony—and a fierce protectiveness over his family and friends–that I was ignoring. I even began to question myself and how I was handling him. I had hired him based on his looks. He had proven to be a capable and compassionate partner—at the gym and at home in bed. But, so far, I was pretty much ignoring him as a person. He was just an alter ego to Jeff, my ex. Indeed, he was that, but he deserved more from me. I resolved to learn more about his past and to experience the depths of his personality. He was much more than a look-alike sex toy that I had chanced upon and bought. He was a young man in his own right with a complex lifepath, a difficult father—and probably some depressing experiences in his senior year when his foot injury had grounded him from his sport.
After a day or so, she had still not identified the perp. “I wonder what her thinking in not identifying him is? Maybe she doesn’t want the bad publicity for the gym. Or maybe they’d think she had invited the rape since she knew him. I can imagine with a body like hers—and a job in a gym as a personal trainer, that they would assume the worst. They’d assume she had led him on. I’m sure she’ll tell us what we need to know in a day or so. But, somehow, everyone in the gym is now a suspect in my eyes. We’re going to have to be really careful that we don’t destroy the atmosphere—or the expansion potential—by accusing everyone with our eyes. And when she comes back, we’re going to let her take the lead. No pressure. No threats.” Tony stared at me, apparently not happy or satisfied, but ultimately agreed.
Marie was discharged two days later, but it would be a week or more before she returned to the gym, and she was going to need some help. Fortunately, she had an apartment mate. The friend had an hourly job—and we agreed to compensate her for a week if she’d stay with Marie. Tony was there whenever he wasn’t working at the gym. But, without Marie, we had to take on her clients, so our hours multiplied. Marie had still not identified the guy, and I hadn’t noticed any particular absences from the regulars at the gym. But, there were always times when a client would disappear for a week or two—a business trip or a vacation.
And Tony was settling down.
We hired an architect to work out the expansion. We decided to build out the new space completely before breaking through the wall to minimize operating obstruction. We ordered the necessary equipment and hired the Assistant Manager of the sandwich shop (who had lost his job when the place closed) to work up a proposal to operate a juice bar and snack facility on a concession basis. Once again everything seemed to be on track.
Marie returned after a week or so. She actually looked pretty good, and explained to all who were interested that she had fallen down a dark stairway. There was no hint of a crime. Since Marie had only given a vague description of her assailant, it was pretty clear that the Detroit PD considered the case to be low priority and unlikely to be solved.
But we all knew that he had been a client. It was unlikely that he’d show his face again at the gym, and like any gym, we had a dozen or so leave every month—replaced by new folks with fitness objectives—or dreams. None of that month’s resignations were “regulars,” and none had been trained by Marie. So we were up against a wall. If she didn’t talk, there was nothing more we could do.
A month later, the expansion grand opening occurred. The partnership had been formed and documented. We were adding half a dozen new clients every week. Marie’s joyous presence reestablished itself. She moved—and now had three roommates and secure parking. She had dated one guy three times in the last two weeks. We were hoping something would click for her. And Tony and I had resumed our “regular” routines.
Friday nights and Saturday nights, now starting at 10, became ours again. And Sundays were always our best time. For some reason, probably related to Marie’s experience, Tony stopped hooking with guys in the gym. In fact, I was pretty sure he was monogamous. (If he wasn’t, I would be amazed. He was so virile and produced so much spunk when we were together, that, if he were also doing someone else, he definitely qualified as a superman. And of course, he never identified a specific partner. I think that’s one of his Italian things.)
I began to relax with and into Tony. He wasn’t going to leave me. I was beginning to feel his affection and I returned it. We talked a lot, and he opened up about his childhood. It had not been happy. And of course, it made our sex so much better—if that were even possible.
On both Fridays and Saturdays, we ate, showered and changed at the gym and reserved our condo time for loving, cuddling, coddling. It wasn’t sex. It was making love. On Friday’s I let him take the initiative. He was always so hot that I probably couldn’t have done anything differently anyway. On Saturday it was my turn. Sunday mornings were for experimenting. And Sunday afternoons were left for time with Marie—and her new friend.
So Fridays, it was fast and furious. Rough and hard. He crushed me with his embrace as his big strong hands grasped my ass cheeks so hard they bruised. Then he manhandled my nipples, sucked my tongue and lips until they were puffy and sore, finger fucked my ass and covered me completely with his magnificent dark body. By the time he entered, we were both ready. And he almost invariably took me with one huge thrust after shooting a large glob of lube deep inside. I could tell he was smiling at the relief that taking me hard had produced. He definitely needed that semi-violent entry. Then he’d come back to tease my prostate, over and over, sending shocks of pleasure up my spine. His musk would surround us, deeply masculine and fertile. Finally, he would drive deep, deeper even that before and pushed the second ring to surrender. I was all liquid. All his. I was totally and completely filled with his manhood, and, when he was done, I was completely filled with his essence. Typically, he remained hard and kept it plugged within, surely taking possession of my soul as well as my ass. He was a tiger—he even joked that he was THAT Tony the Tiger and JUST GREEAT! Or maybe the Exxon Tiger filling my tank with hi-test. We would drift off to sleep. And the next morning when the early alarm rang, I would find myself tightly spooned into his rock hard abs.
Saturday mornings were early ones. We opened at 7. So our morning desire festered throughout the day. Periodically during the day, I would look over at him and stare at the hardness in his shorts, barely concealed by his tight jock. He would look back with those dark piercing eyes and wet his thick lips. Occasionally a customer would notice. But fortunately, most of his clients took it as a compliment and kidded him about his unstoppable libido and his eveready dock —and offer to take him home to bed to “help him with his problem.”
Saturday nights were my turn. And my technique was entirely different. I teased and edged for long periods of time before I brought him to orgasm with my own. I learned every erogenous zone—there were many— nipples, the soft underside of his arms, the baby-like inside of his thighs, his earlobes, the nape of his neck where his defined delts yielded to softer skin. And of course, his balls. He writhed in passion when I took them into my cheeks and teased with my tongue. Time and time again, I would take him to the brink. Then pull back and circle and squeeze his shaft. With each round, it would swell. And his pre-cum would melt on my tongue. The sweetest nectar, worthy of the gods.
At the end he would swear—and he had an enormous vocabulary of sordid words—in English, Sicilian and a few other languages that I could only guess. He would threaten, “Put the fucker in now, or I’m gonna roll over and ram your ass so deep, you’ll feel it in your throat.” But, through it all, he was essentially gentle. I felt his love. And his restraint.
And when finally I would move him onto his side and push one of his legs forward, he would smile and wait for my entry. I always started by eating him some. I knew how much he loved it. Then I pushed in gently. When I bottomed, it was his signal. His anal ring would go into action, massaging and sucking me deeply inside. He’d roll back and, holding himself above me, would plunge his ass repeatedly on my upright dick. I would push him back and dive deep. Thus, the climax was not gentle—only the path of arousal to it. I thrust hard and rough. He would groan in pleasure. And we would simultaneously blow. He was always so full of cum. His cream would completely destroy the sheets. I would push him into it and stretch out on top, reveling in the odors of our commingled essences. (Sunday morning was laundry day fortunately.)
I would spoon and carefully re-insert my still slightly chubbed cock inside. My hand would go to his soft moist balls and lightly fondle them. And we would fall into a deep dreamy state of euphoria.
Shower sex, mutual blows, various toys (he REALLY got off when I inserted a remote prostate vibrator as he pummeled me with his throbbing cock) appeared on Sunday morning until finally sated and happy. Then, we would dress to meet Marie and Jacques for brunch. We’d part in the afternoon, knowing where they were headed. Just as they knew we too would have a busy early evening!
Marie never did reveal the rapist. And presumably he never appeared at the gym again. Jacques moved in with her—another new apartment. And finally Tony began to relax that his little girl had some protection. He had had a “long talk” with Jacques, and we were convinced that he would take care of her (or else).
The gym became very successful. A year later we bought out the lease, enlarged the bar, and in the summer we had the the hottest outdoor pick up club in Detroit. BTM’s Place was the place to work out, train—and pick-up. And as we had imagined, it became one of the hubs of the newly gentrifying downtown Detroit, a Renaissance City.
Almost one year after I first hired him, Tony made it official and moved into the condo with me. I’m not sure his father even knew—or if he did, that he cared.
I had found my soul-mate. And my partner in pleasure. It was good. Very, very good. And I even stopped comparing him with Jeff. I never finished the Lit story. My character research at O’Malley’s was somehow permanently interrupted.
BD