A gay story: Dylan Thomas Merriweather III Ch. 04 Dylan Thomas Merriweather III Ch 04
Dylan and Greg: a developing relationship
Originally, the DTM series was conceived as a three part story. However, there have been requests for more, particularly because there were unresolved relationships–so here is a sequel. It is told from Greg’s POV, the young Greek pilot-captain that Dylan had brought home from Greece. Readers might want to consider the first three chapters for deeper characterization and motivation–although this is a stand-alone story. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. The story is entirely fiction. No AI was used in the composition of this story. © 2023, all rights reserved. Brunosden
[Recap: Dylan, a wealthy young power bottom, regularly seduces young men from the Naval Academy and St John’s. After an Eastern Med summer cruise, where Dylan hired Greg as a “pilot” for his yacht (and top-fuck-buddy), Dylan has invited Greg back to Annapolis. Greg is not sure of his status although he spends most nights inside Dylan or tightly spooning Dylan in Dylan’s bed. Dylan continues to cruise and seduce attractive young hung men. Many have told Greg that he is very special to Dylan, but…..]
Dylan has just offered me a four week (at least) extension on my agreement to be his cruiser-captain and FWB in Annapolis. We had met almost two months before when he was cruising in the Eastern Med. He needed a pilot to assist the captain in the deep, uncharted waters–and he wanted one who would play a second, unique role–at least in my experience–a live-in top who would anchor deep in him. Then, as his captain needed a few weeks for Coast Guard re-certification and vacation, he asked me to come back to Annapolis with him as pro-tem captain of his Evermay II.
He is a complex young guy. I’m still trying to understand him. He’s in his thirties and, thanks to the untimely death of his father and grandfather, with significant inherited wealth–which he has vastly increased as a metals trader. He’s a fearless risk-taker and a very hungry power bottom. He’s eye candy–medium height, tanned, lightly muscled, blond and blue, with a long uncut dick. He turns heads with his handsome masculine appearance. Everything about him screams top and dom (voice, wealth, body language, aggressive business persona, even the size of his cock), but he really isn’t either. He’s a confirmed bottom, but a power bottom who orchestrates every sexual encounter. He loves to feel he’s being handled and roughly, but in fact, that too is something he controls. He occasionally tops, but only to teach what he wants or to make a point. Thus, for someone like me, he’s a dream come true in bed: a ready and willing bottom that I can manhandle all I want while I drink in his beauty and enjoy our comfortable day to day life.
I’ve been with him (and in him) virtually every day since he first interviewed me on the island of Simi. He is a terrific lay. Of course, we do it on his terms–he calls me, day or night, when he feels he needs to be filled, emptied or spooned. He’s tight, responsive, and inventive. I’ve never had better–man or woman. He seems to be very afraid of commitment–although he is definitely out. He’s alluded to a past relationship which broke badly, but I don’t have all the gory details. I’ve seen him with a half dozen guys since he hired me–in addition to me–and he currently is dangling two new guys on sexual puppet-ropes: a muscular Russian immigrant upperclassman at St John’s (Sandy, who is also a skilled masseur) and a brand new cadet at the Academy (Billy, who projects innocence and tenderness and is blessed with incredible beauty, innocent vulnerability and the biggest cock I’ve ever seen–which apparently he uses to Dylan’s satisfaction). Actually, I’m not sure about Billy. Billy is a first year cadet on a short Academy leash. He can’t respond as Dylan might want, but he’s a beauty, a lover, and Dylan might be willing to make some sacrifices to keep this guy–although his past bad experience with a guy married to the U.S. Navy might suggest this is not wise.
Incidentally, I’m really not so hard on the eyes. I’m a little over six foot, taller than Dylan, with dark curly hair (longer than when I originally met him) and dark brown eyes. I’ve got really nice muscle definition and a long thick uncut cock. I graduated from the Polytechnic in Athens. Papa had intended that I would follow him into his commercial contracting business–but the sea called as it has so often to us Greeks, and my brother and I bought a charter boat with a big loan. I think I’m a disappointment. I’m sure Papa is assuming that I will get the sea out of my blood or that the boat will bankrupt me and I will return to home and his business. I’ll be 30 in a week–time to think about the future, he keeps saying. Meanwhile, I’ve really enjoyed captaining and bedding charter customers, men and women. Sex is always better on the water. And my “captain’s” uniform is typically a tight tee (with a giant logo: “Aye, Aye, Captain”), a white and blue bikini (the Greek flag colors), and a Greek fisherman’s cap.
I left my younger brother in charge of our charter boat when I took Dylan’s offer. We had one employee at that time–a beautiful young French woman who cooked and did guest cabins. Connie had bedded her almost immediately after we hired her at the beginning of the charter season, and they regularly occupy one cabin now. Connie was okay to let me go for a time–it gave him freedom of the boat with Sophia, and our charter season was just about over until next spring. My earnings from Dylan would easily carry us through the winter–so he could relax with Sophia and do the minor repairs that might be required before the next charter season begins.
Dylan’s captain had yesterday notified him of a serious hiking injury (he had taken a family hiking vacation after the Coast Guard recertification course) that resulted in hospitalization. He would probably be out for the rest of the autumn season–thus Dylan’s offer to keep me on as his replacement.
I’m theoretically “thinking” about the offer, but there is little doubt that I will take it. I’m falling for Dylan–and a few more weeks together will give me a chance to convince myself (and maybe him) that we belong together–or that we’ve had a good solid ride (at least I have) and it’s time to move on. But “being together” may mean something different to him: a regular bedfellow, but with an open relationship understanding.
He’s made the offer a little more complex however. He wants me to “read into” a position with his company. He seems to be suggesting that I need to join the business if I want to stay. I’m not at all sure that I’m ready for a suit–even if that is the price for a long term relationship. Besides, Dylan hasn’t given any indication that he is considering exclusivity, let alone monogamy–with me or anyone else. All his hooks have told me that I’m very special to Dylan, but Dylan himself hasn’t really given me that signal.
We are living in a large (inherited) Victorian pile of a house on a creek tributary to the Severn. It’s totally remodeled and modern inside. Dylan runs his various businesses from a “control room” near his sleeping quarters and from an office-apartment over the newly-constructed pool house. Evermay II is docked on the river and is also equipped with a state of the art control room.
In the last few days, we’ve learned of several potential major disruptions in the metals business–an unexpected, announced uranium merger of rivals and a potential Chinese takeover of a rare earth metals producer in Africa. Dylan has been orchestrating responses–and so far, based on his smiles, comments and attitude, he’s been making a good deal of money because of these disruptions, despite his inability to influence the outcomes.
Dylan has asked that a young trader, Tommy Wu, currently in the Singapore office, be temporarily reassigned to Annapolis as the liaison in the fast-paced trading business. Dylan intends to house him in the apartment over the pool house. I’m to pick him up at Dulles International later tomorrow. Based on a few stray comments, I guess that he’s got a good body and that Dylan has had a sex with him. He’s supposed to be our cobalt/rare earth metals expert trader. And I’m to study with him and begin to learn the trading business.
I’ve just taken Billy home–he and Dylan spent the afternoon together on the yacht, intertwined in each other. Dylan is glowing–but I continue to think that Billy will be just candy–he’s good and sweet, but very young, inexperienced, saddled with hazing rules for this his first year–so he won’t be readily available to Dylan. He’ll be around again, but I doubt there is a long term future for him and Dylan. Billy is apparently a novice, but natural lover, extremely well-endowed and really handsome. But his unavailability has captured Dylan’s imagination and ambition. It’s the old story of the sweeter forbidden fruit particularly when offered by an angel with a colossal dick.
I’d almost finished putting the yacht to bed after a weekend sail on the Chesapeake, when Dylan called me to his room. That’s when he dropped the offer to stay on and changed my immediate expectations. (He had just given me a going-away celebration.) I started to contemplate my response as I shut down the yacht electronics, when he called me to his room again. He wanted a joint shower, then probably more from me, and a night of tight spooning.
He was ready when I arrived, wrapped only in a towel. He looked good, really good. How could he have spent the day on the water with Billy loving him and look like this–hungry, open, and inviting? I stripped, pulled the towel from his waist, and gripped him into a tight squeeze. “Where did that come from, Greg?”
“I’ve been watching you all weekend with Billy. Sandy was okay, but he’s not you.” I threw him over my shoulder, caveman style, gripped one cheek in my left hand to stabilize him, and walked into the large glass-enclosed shower, doing my best imitation of a dom. I adjusted the water temp and spray pattern with my right as my left arm balanced him above me. He was squirming ineffectively. So I tapped him a few times on the ass to remind him who was in charge. Then I deposited him on his feet, spun him against the wall, and pulled his arms up and out and kicked his legs apart, using my hands on his cut to pull his ass into my gut. He was exactly where I wanted him.
I could tell he wanted aggression, and this time I was ready to deliver. I reached around, soaped his pecs and pinched his nips. They darkened and hardened. I teased them until he cried out in pleasure. Then it was down to his dick. I fisted it with soapy hands, stroked it and rubbed fingers over the sensitive head under the hood. He hissed and pushed back. So I reached for his balls and pulled them down and squeezed. He began to quiet. But, I held him still and squirted conditioner into his butt. My rigid cock followed and buried itself deeply within him with one long hard stroke, crowding and brushing the prostate as it plunged. I poked it hard, over and over. He gasped and backed into me, wiggling his ass muscles into my groin. My cock was so big that his wiggling was useless–I was in hard and tight. He was nailed good and proper. And my cock was rubbing his prostate, sending shock waves up his spine. My balls were so full they ached. Then he shot, covering the marble wall with cum. Hadn’t he already had an afternoon of pleasure? How many times had Billy taken him? What the hell is his secret?
I pulled out, still rigid and moved us out of the shower. I toweled him roughly and again picked him up and carried him to the bed. I placed him belly down at the edge and stood behind him. Then I lubed and dove in again. Now I was pumped. My hips drove and drove as he slowly deepened into the mattress. My long hair fell into my eyes. I breathed him in–a combination of pine forest shower gel and the particular musk of an aroused male. It was heady stuff. Then I stretched out above him, pinning him with arms–and of course my hard-as-stone cock. He squeezed his glutes again, massaging me hard, pulling the spunk from my swollen balls. I shot hard, filled him with my cream, until it dripped down his inner thighs. I paused, reveling in the utter taking. Then, I dropped to my knees, spread his thighs, and licked up the spent cum, some even from inside his still open hole. When he was whistle-clean, I lifted him to the bed, shared my spunk with him in a deep kiss, before he fell into my spoon. I pulled him tight, nesting my cock in his cleft while my fingers cradled his balls. I was the dom he so desired. He was mine for the night. He even purred in contentment. Soon we were both asleep.
After breakfast the next morning, I left Dylan to his zoom calls and took the Rover to the airport. Before I left, he reminded me that he wanted me to learn everything I could from Tommy while he was here. The drive would give me time to think–about me, about him, about the possible us. Traffic was heavy. So it took almost two hours. I had plenty of time so wasn’t concerned. By the time I parked in the VIP pickup section, I had reached some tentative conclusions. Of course, I would stay. I would try to see whether there might be a role for me in the company. And I would make it clear that I wanted Dylan on a long term basis–first by making him physically dependent and then towards the end of the four weeks with a verbal declaration of my desire. If at that time his response was not what I wanted, I was ready to return home. I had concluded that if Connie wanted to handle the boat alone (or with Sophia), I would back off and agree to work with Papa. All of this in a two hour drive!! Meanwhile, Dylan was going to be in for a wild ride on my cock for the next four weeks. I wasn’t giving him up easily.
Tommy’s flight was on time, and he emerged from arrivals a half hour later, carrying a soft duffel over his shoulder and, of course, a laptop. He was a tall lanky guy. He was at least 6-6 with a lightly developed chest and a very narrow waist, accented by his tight-fitting jeans and pale pink polo. He had dark black hair, styled but long and straight, dark eyes, and a deeply tanned complexion. His smile was wide and his teeth were gleaming white. He had large manicured hands and bulging guns and forearms. I was beginning to realize that the Singaporean Chinese community was growing big powerful young men, denying the ancestry of southern parts of China where men were smaller and much shorter. He was definitely a chick (or faggot) magnet. I understood already why Dylan had hired him.
I watched him as he walked down the departure ramp. I was dressed in captain’s whites–a button up short sleeve shirt (with epaulets of rank), white shorts with a white webbed belt, and white boating shoes. My deep tan contrasted nicely. I held a sign with his name–but there was no doubt who my passenger was.
I approached and took his hand. He started a dominant squeeze, but I quickly reciprocated–I knew that game–and he backed off immediately. Thus, I was telling him that, although I was sent (like an employee or even a servant) to fetch him, I was his equal physically and in the hierarchy of Dylan’s household. He may have taken Dylan a few times in Singapore, but I had been in Dylan’s bed almost every night for close to two months. I wasn’t going to bottom for Tommy. Tommy smiled. “Good to meet you, Greg. Let’s get out of here. Thanks for coming for me.” With those words, he reached around and tapped my shoulders, pulling me into him. (Did I detect a hidden sexual challenge?) I didn’t even try to help him with the duffel.
We were at the Old Vic, as I had taken to calling it, by mid-afternoon. Sandy’s bike was inside the gates–so Dylan was likely enjoying a massage–and probably more. So I showed Tommy to the apartment and invited him to unpack. Then I took him into the control room. “I presume you’re familiar with this stuff. Feel free.”
I pointed to the yacht. “Dylan has suggested we have drinks on board at 5. He knows you’re jet-lagged and tonight will be an early night.” The pool is heated if you want to refresh before then. Downstairs is everything you might need. Feel free to help yourself to the pantry and fridge. The gym is near Dylan’s room and I presume he’s having a massage. So I’ll show you that later.”
“Before you go, Greg. I’m curious. What is your role here?”
“I met Dylan in Greece last summer. He needed a pilot for his Eastern Med cruise. My brother and I were double-captaining our charter, so I felt I could accommodate Dylan’s request. After several weeks, he invited me back here. I’ve been living here with him since.” I realized that I was deliberately misleading Tommy at this point. I didn’t want to have to eat crow later so I added, “Dylan and I are FWBs. He still sees other guys and so do I. I captain the yacht when we go out. But, I do live here–mostly in his room and his bed, although I have another room–and the captain’s quarters on the yacht. He’s asked me to stay indefinitely and has asked me to shadow you while you are here to learn everything I can.”
“Thanks for the honesty. I have had the pleasure of Dylan in Singapore–but I don’t have any delusions that they were anything but a hook of convenience. I’ll be happy to show you the ropes–and with Dylan’s permission, maybe something more. I’m not your competitor, but I’d like to be your friend.”
My god, he was already coming on to me. Now I understood why Dylan liked his confident, aggressive style.
“I’ll check with Dylan. I’m an equal opportunity companion. And I’m always open to new adventures and new ways of doing things. See you at 5.”
As I walked back toward the house, Sandy emerged and was walking toward his bike. He looked tired and spent. Several jean buttons were open and his shirt tails were hanging limply. Dylan is a demanding massage patient–and a much more demanding “full service” client. “Hi, Sandy. How is it going?”
“Oh, hello, Greg. I didn’t know you were home. Dylan said you were doing airport duty.”
“We just got here and I spent a few minutes getting Tommy accustomed to the place.”
“Is that how we are describing it these days? I seem to remember that you showed me around a bit also.”
“Tommy is a specialist trader from Singapore. I don’t know much beyond that. Can I give you a ride home? It’s really warm this afternoon. Your bike will fit easily on the rack behind the Rover.”
“Thanks, Greg. I could use a lift. Dylan is the most demanding client I’ve ever had. I’m wrung out. And worn out.” So I quickly drove him home.
Later we had drinks and “heavy” appetizers on board the yacht. Dylan was pumped for some reason. But, Tommy was obviously almost unconscious from the long flights and time change. So we closed up early. There was really only one substantive conversation–when Dylan made it clear to Tommy that I was to be glued to him for the next month. “I expect that when you return to Singapore, you and Greg will be able to run that part of the trades 24/7 and interchangeably. Make sure he understands everything you do and why you do it. You will make or break each other after then.” Tommy rose and started out, but overheard Dylan’s last comment. Dylan continued, “Somehow I think you may be breaking in each other even before then. I saw the way he looked at you.” Tommy smiled at me and left for his apartment.
“Dylan, I guess I’m a little different from you. For the time being, you are enough for me. I don’t need extra-curricular activities. And I don’t need you to find my hooks. I’m already fighting them off.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you have my permission. Just be sure to wrap. I’m not changing my expectations of you at all. I want you available, often and without protection.”
I wondered what he meant by that. Was he tempting me to see whether I was his? Or was he really inviting me to enjoy that beautiful piece of Chinese flesh–provided I wrapped? I told you he was complex. Wheels within wheels. Could I ever learn to be with a guy that seemed to be happy with an open arrangement–so long as he had someone like me to fall back on?
“Sandy looked like you had tortured him. Do you need me tonight? Do you want me tonight?”
“I am not sure what got into me with Sandy. I hope I didn’t hurt him. I guess maybe I provoked him. He left here limp and like a chastised puppy. But, I seem to be sleeping so much better in your arms, Greg. Unless you have other plans, I’ll see you in an hour or so. I need to spend some office time before then.” And he quickly stood, reached down and took my lips in his, and left. Will I ever understand this guy?
We spent the night in his bed with me wrapped tightly around him, but without sex. Then, I took care of his morning wood (after depositing my seed in him) before we went downstairs for breakfast. Tommy was already there (presumably, jet-lagging). He had used the pool and changed into the white terry shorts and the tees that Dylan had stocked in the pool house. The shorts made him seem seven foot tall–and nicely hugged his ass and advertised his basket. He was going to be difficult to resist–and it seemed he was open to either Dylan or me.
After breakfast, I went with Tommy to the control room and he began his routine–and the related tutorial. The monitors and computers are on 24/7 and needed only a keystroke to fill the room with light–and numbers and notations. He picked up the trading “string” from his counterpart in London. (The company traded 24/7 from Annapolis, London and Singapore). He explained the hand-over technique (and handed me a simple protocol checklist): the “yielding” trader was required to settle up trades to insure his exposure was within audit guidelines at the end of each session. Then, he briefly explained events over the last 8 hours that might be relevant and signed off. Tommy picked up the controls. He was 24, but a certified genius. Within a few minutes, he explained the various screens (many of which reflected his invented algorithms), showed me how to detect trends and anomalies, and entered a few trade orders, explaining each in detail. He was a very good teacher–and apparently he wasn’t going to try to sabotage me. The computers did most of the work–they only needed a prompt and a password. I began to relax. The only technique was timing–hitting the key just before the counterparty reacted. The morning and afternoon were largely uneventful in the market–trends were predictable. Tommy placed a few bets and by the end of the day, he had made more than a million as he covered his positions and handed over to a counterpart in Singapore.
“Maybe there’ll be some excitement tomorrow, but today was pretty routine. We could have been having some fun–the control panels are programmed to alarm any sudden changes. Maybe tomorrow.” He looked hard into my eyes and drew mine to his shorts. His long uncut dick was hard and the head was well below the hem. He was big and very long. And quite obviously, he was inviting.
We went to the gym in the house and worked out hard. Toward the end of the time, Dylan walked in. We were hot and sweaty, pumped and breathing hard. “Before dinner, I think I’m up for a threesome. I want you both hot, sweaty, and hard. Let’s head to my room.” Tommy looked at me. I shrugged as though to say, “He’s the boss.” So we followed.
Dylan stripped and assumed a bottom position on the bed. Soon we too were naked. We were both erect. Tommy was long, very long, but not too thick. His cock was dark, completely shaved, and with a dark purple head under the tight hood. Maybe he was an inch longer than me–but I was beer can thick. Dylan motioned Tommy to the head and, when Tommy sat and spread his legs, Dylan dove in. Resting on his elbows, his hands reached out to cup the smooth, swollen balls and tighten around the base of the shaft. His mouth touched the head and he quickly sucked it in. Bent in that position, his back curved nicely and his ass was offered up to me. That was my cue to kneel behind and start the entry preparations. I lubed, used fingers, then my tongue. Dylan opened easily. Within minutes, he was deeply plugged on both sides–and obviously enjoying his total submission to two hunky tops. I looked up at Tommy. His eyes were closed. I detected an intense effort to hold back. I realized he was ready to pop, so I speeded up. I wanted simultaneous implantation. So apparently did Dylan–as he coordinated his muscular contractions on my cock with his lip massage of Tommy’s. Three near simultaneous orgasms erupted.
Dylan collapsed onto the bed, flipped over and motioned us to his sides. His hands reached out and stroked our semis, deliberately torturing our sensitive glans. He had been recently spit-roasted, but he was still in charge. We were his pets. “Now that’s my definition of a happy hour, guys. I’m a two fisted guy with two very different trophy cocks in each hand. What more could I want.” Then, just as quickly, he squeezed hard and released us. “Let’s get some dinner.”
Over dinner, we discussed the day–and Tommy complimented me as a quick study. Then, he pled fatigue and left for the apartment. Dylan once again made in clear he wanted me in his bed. When we got to the room, he said, “So you’re 30 in two weeks. We’ll definitely need a party. Let’s do it on the yacht. Thirty is a big deal in the States–it’s when you are no longer trusted by younger guys. You’ll be an old man. Do you think you can keep up with my demands? Is that what you plan, Greg? Are you going to become untrustworthy–or worse, limp, in a few weeks?”
I rolled him onto his back and lifted his legs. I positioned in the vee and rolled him back, holding him in a tight fold as I lubed, and tapped my cockhead at his entrance. No prep, this time. I wanted it rough–part of my plans. He wasn’t going to get away with an insult to my masculinity–not yet anyway. Soon we were rocking as my hips pushed my cock hard into his chute. His eyes widened, and I even detected a tear. Was it pain? Then he smiled and covered us both with his cream. I followed and filled him with mine. For one of the first times, I had taken him without invitation. And quite brutally.
“Unexpected, Greg. But welcome. I should tease you more often with others.”
“Is that what this is–a tease? You know, you don’t have to do that. I’ve already decided. If you’ll have me, I’m yours. You don’t need to tease.”
“Greg, you’re growing on me–or rather you’ve grown in me.” He laughed. “But, be careful. I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down. Right now, I’ve got a lot of options–and they’re all big-dicked and handsome. I’d like you to come home to, but I’d still like to take a big cock now and then–for spice and variety.”
“I’m okay for the present time with things as they are. But, I’m putting you on notice. I want you and I want you to want only me before long–or I think I’m going to need to go home to Greece.”
Wow. I had said it. Perhaps too soon. Perhaps those words would end what we had. But, I had to express my feelings–and why not in the minutes after I had taken my pleasure and brought him to his. He was on a carnal high–and I had given it to him. This was not the first time I had taken him, then comforted him in my arms and with my body.
Dylan smiled at me, rose from the pillow and took my lips. He pulled himself into my lap, straddling me, placing my semi into his cleft, and embraced me, using his hands behind my neck to force our mouths together. We necked for a long time, moaning in pleasure. Then, I moved us into a prone embrace and pulled up the duvet. We would sleep front to front tonight, his hands on my neck, mine on his supple ass cheeks. Was this a yes?
We awoke to an alarm a few hours later–not a bedside alarm, but from the computer. It was signaling a red alert–the highest possible. Quickly, we pulled on the terry shorts, not bothering with tees, and headed for the control room. Tommy was already there. The Chinese had struck at dawn, Africa time. Units of the local Red Guard (nominally assigned as security for the new Chinese-financed and operated port which exported rare earth materials) had occupied the cobalt production facilities–which China claimed as security for defaulted loans previously made. If the seizure held, China would control the vast majority of that precious mineral. The markets were in turmoil. This was a very perilous time for Merriweather Trading. Dylan had more than a week ago instructed his guys (led by Tommy) to take strong long positions–effectively, we owned significant quantities of the metal available for delivery in the next two years. Dylan had bet everything–he was out about $100 million–and cobalt prices had just gone up by a factor of 5.
Dylan and Tommy reviewed the positions–speaking to each other out loud, without time to teach me, but I was nevertheless in the loop given the loud comments. “Europe is already awake. US traders will add steam to the uplift in the next few hours. What do you think, Tommy? I’m guessing we liquidate our positions in a few hours–before any alternatives can be considered to reverse the price increases–or the US politicians begin to voice idle threats.”
“I agree, Dylan. Let’s liquidate most of the portfolio in two hours, then dribble the rest over a few days. The price could go higher, or it could collapse–if China relents. This screen which tracks in-the-know Chinese state traders shows them beginning to liquidate, but only very small positions. They know something. Perhaps it’s just a bluff–and the Chinese government could make a fortune if they threaten control, drive up the price and then back off. I don’t think any other traders have a direct link to the Chinese activity–so we have advance, better information. If we detect any significant Chinese trades, we move faster.”
For the next hours, we watched the screens carefully and when it appeared the Chinese were moving, we pulled the plug and sold. Days later we would learn that the move was a bluff–to get the Africans to make a significant payment on the infrastructure debt–and China had profited from the trades. But, we continued to “play” for the next two weeks. It was a very profitable time. Dylan had made nearly a fortune. We were definitely now in funny-money land.
“Well, Greg, I think we can afford a real blowout for your thirtieth. Call in the planners immediately!!” He looked at Tommy, who was glowing with pride in his achievement. I could tell that Dylan was about to take him to bed as a reward. My face darkened and I looked away, and Dylan noticed. After all, I had put my cards on the table only a few hours ago. “Tommy, you’re entitled to a nice big bonus. I think Greg is too.”
Tommy quickly responded. “I set up the tools, but once that was done, Greg has done as well as anyone could have. He may not be able to design the tools yet, but his instincts on timing trades are almost perfect. He seems to get into his counterparts’ heads almost immediately. I don’t know where you found him, Dylan, but he’s a keeper.” Then Dylan walked out of the control room–instead of into Tommy’s apartment. I think that may have been a signal to me. I sure hope so.
Later that day, Sandy arrived for Dylan’s scheduled massage. I was busy with Tommy–we were working together to finalize and document our initial trades and set up alerts for the next few days. But, I did notice that Sandy left about 90 minutes later. The logical conclusion: Dylan had taken only a quick happy ending or had been content with only a massage. My spirits rose even higher. That night, Dylan called me to his room. “You belong here, Greg. I want you to move in tomorrow. I’m going to extend your contract indefinitely.”
He pulled me on top and I immediately took possession. I kissed and licked every centimeter of his body as he groaned in pleasure. “Put Andy in, now, Greg. I need you inside.” So I stretched out above him, squirmed in our sweat as his legs parted and wrapped around me, his heels pushing me into his center. I entered easily and parked Andy’s throbbing head on Dylan’s bundle of love nerves, keeping it very much stimulated. His head rose and I took his lips. Then, I started the slow pump, stretching his chute, stimulating his nut, deepening my penetration. This was a first–this was definitely making love. It lasted forever. We climbed the Acropolis together and looked down at the common folks below. Our tension and arousal peaked, almost painfully. I withdrew all but Andy’s head and plunged back hard. Dylan knew it was over. He shot his essence into our chests as I filled him with mine, plugging it deep inside him where it would grow and flourish.
“I’m in love, Dylan.”
“I think I am too. But, you’re going to have to be patient. I know you can’t handle an open relationship. So I’ll try. I promise at least a year–then we can reassess. But, not until after your birthday. That’s going to be my last fling.”
“I can handle that.” I rolled off and he spooned into me. I only had two more weeks to wait–and then he would be mine, and mine exclusively. I even think I could become a good trader.
The next morning Dylan began the party plans. At first, he suggested that he would send the plane for my family. But, as he continued the description of the party, it became clear that he was planning the biggest two-day orgy that Maryland had ever experienced–and I didn’t think my family would be up for that. So we decided that together, after the party, we would go to Greece for a second celebration–and an announcement.
Dylan was quite serious about the birthday bash. Invitations went out by email, text and phone to dozens of guys: a pool party with a buffet in the pool house on Friday night; a Saturday “sail”–although we wouldn’t leave the dock; a barbeque at Old Vic late on Saturday afternoon; followed by drinks at the Pink Pelican–which Dylan had booked for the night. Since I had few friends in Annapolis, most guests were acquaintances (and probably bed buddies) of Dylan’s. I wasn’t too sure how this was “my” birthday party–he was going to be collecting all the gifts.
Appointments were made for haircuts and body “manscaping.” Caterers, bartenders, florists and security were all signed up. Of course, Dylan knew all of the firms which catered to gays–no one would be shocked at the plans. And throughout the weeks leading up to the festivities, Dylan and I were together always. That boy doesn’t do anything by halves! But, under the excitement, I was afraid. Dylan had declared these to be his last weeks as a “free man.” It was like he was planning a birthday party for me and a bachelor’s party for himself. I was guessing he was planning to participate in many orgies–which was okay. But, I was fearful that he was going to make another try with Billy–the angel who had bewitched him. I knew Sandy was still providing full service. And Tommy was still in residence. Who knows who else he has invited?
Finally the first party day arrived, and guests started to arrive. The array of bodies in “almost” swimsuits around the pool was fantastic. A few even ventured into the heated pool. Within a half hour, few swimsuits were left, and many were making out (or more) on the chaises surrounding the pool–or in the pool house or on the yacht. The entire atmosphere was no-holds-barred, anything goes–definitely a Fellini X-rated party–that nobody was filming. Bubble butts and erect cocks were everywhere. Tats, nipple and cock rings, dildos and condoms were scattered on the bodies–and the lawn–like confetti.
Sandy of course was there. He already knew that in the future his responsibilities would be reduced, but Dylan had already set him up with a number of friends. He would have a thriving massage business (with or without profitable happy endings) in the gay community. He seemed content–I had assumed he never had his sights set on Dylan for the long term. He soon found a playmate (who was also afraid of the water) and the two of them soon disappeared into Old Vic–as far from the pool as possible. (Sandy, I guess, wanted to show him the gym and massage space.)
The Senator appeared with a super-attractive young “legal assistant”. He was a twunk and clearly the Senator was enjoying more than his legal advice. They walked around–the Senator shaking hands with his right as his left hooked in the belt with his palm planted firmly on Dave’s cute little butt. I guessed that Dave was already booked. Maybe the Senator was looking for a threesome. A politician can never have too many supporters.
Tommy of course was still in residence and was immediately hooked by an Academy senior, nearly Tommy’s height, but outweighing him by quite a bit. He was Tommy’s opposite: light haired, clearly all-Anglo and presumably with a thick dick. I think he was on the football team, but, if so, tonight would be an isolated “don’t ask, don’t tell” adventure. Tommy was the exotic condiment with the longest, thinnest cock I had ever seen. It really looked like a dark snake with a purple head had coiled itself into his crotch, occasionally peaking out of the hem of his shorts. When he removed his suit, it hung semi-limply down his thigh, the purple head glistening with moisture. The cadet couldn’t take his eyes off it. And Tommy couldn’t take his fist off the thick fireplug that lofted from the soon-to-be-Marine’s gut. They seemed to be in heavy negotiation. My money was on Tommy.
And then there was Billy. I knew this would be the supreme test. Dylan had fallen hard for Billy and I could understand why. Billy was absolutely from a super race of desirable young men and, realistically, just an exotic lover to be taken from time to time. No one was entitled to cage and own such beauty which exuded affection and sex appeal. I was pretty sure, Dylan wanted one more set of games with Billy before we went exclusive in two days. Late in the afternoon, while I was occupied with a number of groupies who were hitting on me (pinching my dark nipples and wiggling butts in my lap) under the guise of wishing me well on my birthday, I noticed that Dylan and Billy had disappeared. Meanwhile I enjoyed the attention of the beautiful young men. Dylan knew I liked twinks as “snack food” and he had provided several for my enjoyment. An hour later, I saw them arm in arm walking back from the yacht. I assumed they had consummated their mutual attraction in the owner’s cabin with its mirrored ceiling, perhaps for the last time. I wondered how Dylan conducted his good-by fucks.
Tommy had taken his conquest to the apartment. Or maybe it was the other way around. But they were gone.
Others were necking, stroking and fucking on virtually every horizontal surface–and even some vertical ones!
Much later the party died to a quieter slumber event. Many had bedded down under towels on the chaises unless they were lucky enough to find suitable spots on the yacht or in the pool house. At least I took solace in that we would be in bed together in a short while. Dylan approached, took my hand and we headed for our room. “Can I do you tonight, Greg? I want to give you a birthday gift.”
“Of course. Let’s go. I’m at your command.”
We quickly washed the “chlorine” off, dried and headed for the king. I positioned in the center, belly down and spread. Dylan knelt beside me and rolled me onto my back. “Tonight, I need to see my birthday boy’s eyes as I deliver my present.” Dylan liberally coated my body with lotions and stretched out over me to begin his version of a full body massage–taking my lips in his, sucking and biting my tits, stroking our shafts together, licking my balls, taking them each in turn into his warm mouth. Then he slipped back and I pulled my legs up and held them behind my knees. He popped the cap on the flavored lube and began to stroke. His fingers were soon replaced with his tongue. He probed deep, almost touching the nut. His cockhead was soon at the gate. It pounded a few times and pushed in. He hadn’t taken me often and I was pretty tight. “You feel so good in me, Dylan. Go ahead. I’m ready. Make it rough. I know you like it that way. I can handle it–and you, anytime, any day.”
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He didn’t move quickly, but rather persisted with long slow strokes that stretched and stimulated. It was very unlike him. He was definitely love-making. “I need more Dylan, much more.” So he moved into push up position where only his cock was the point of contact. Up and down. Up and down. He pummeled and slammed, long, stiff and hard. He was filling me and stretching me. I couldn’t take anymore. Having a bare lover inside is an entirely different experience from being a top. It is far more intimate. Far more yielding. Far more dependent. Happy Birthday to me.
My cock hardened and darkened as he pounded the prostate. Then it exploded, carrying my seed from balls to abs and pecs. Dylan followed and filled me before he collapsed on my chest. I dropped my legs and engulfed him into me. My arms went to his neck, and we pulled into a deep kiss. Then we stopped suddenly. Silently and without motion, we relished our contact and release. Our breathing slowed and began to move in sync.
Later, he slipped down and tongued my abs. “Greg, you taste just like a salty baklava. What else would I expect? I guess this is going to be one of my favorite desserts for a long time.”
He crawled back up onto my chest and rested his head on my pecs as our dicks and balls relaxed together. I pulled the duvet over us, content to have him sleep on top for the night. But, just before we slept, Dylan’s head popped up. “I didn’t have sex with Billy, this afternoon. I was ready. But, he said he had seen us together. He knows love when he sees it. And he wasn’t going to get between us. But I did ask if he’d be willing to consider captain’s duty in the future–or perhaps a few Old Vic parties.”
“I’m going to try to make this work, Greg. I’ve been fighting your love for weeks. It scares me. Now, I think I’m in love too.”
I wasn’t entirely naïve. No doubt, Billy and Dylan had gotten it on–it doesn’t take an hour and a half to say no and good bye. But, I did think that Dylan had probably decided to back off for the future. Or maybe it was Billy who had drawn the curtain. Billy was an unachievable goal–at least for a few years. He needed to succeed at the Academy. And he was handsome enough to find what he needed within those walls.
Dylan’s topping tonight was perhaps a sign that he was willing to take a different path. Of course, I understood that Dylan would stray from time to time. But, I would be in his bed always, and slowly I would make him really mine. He would come to feel the love that he had just voiced. I was pretty sure. At least I was willing to try. BD
(There’s probably another chapter here, but it isn’t written yet.)