I shook Dr. Peters hand, but he reached around and brought me into a hug. “Mom” Peters did the same. “It is nice to have a celebrity in the family. We are definitely going to party tonight.”
Geoff stood back, and finally he too gave me a bro hug, whispering, “I’ll show you what I really want to reward you with later.”
Joe and Reg Gallagher came over to congratulate and I introduced them to the Peters and to Rebecca. By that time, I noticed that Reg was holding hands with Nicole. They made an incredibly striking couple that belonged on the cover of some fashion mag. Pete brought over his family as well. I couldn’t tell what was going on between Chet and Reg—they seemed somehow cold. Dad had issued an invitation to the entire team for an early afternoon barbeque at the ranch, but Pete indicated his family wanted some time together before he left on the team bus for Houston. Reg and Joe similarly regretted. But most of the rest of the team and the coaches were coming with us. Coach Neal announced to Chet and Reg and anyone else who has other plans for the afternoon that the bus would leave for Houston from the UT campus promptly at 3. Anyone not on the bus can find his or her own way back later tonight or tomorrow. “I am really proud of you guys. No practice on Sunday. We’d appreciate if you would let the manager know now if you are NOT going to be on the return bus.”
Hours later after the feast, the bus left the ranch to rendezvous with the other players who had stayed on the UT campus—I knew several had girlfriends at UT. “I’m exhausted. I’d like to take a nap so I can be human tonight if that is alright with you Mom.”
“Of course. You know where Geoff’s room is.”
After a quick shower, “Alone this time please. I’m really beat.” I stretched out in my underwear on the bed. Geoff lay beside me but didn’t make any love-making gestures.
“Did you notice Reg and Nicole?”
“Yeah, and it appeared that Pete wasn’t too happy about it.” Soon, I drifted off—and I guess Geoff got up to visit with his family.
Sometime later, I was enjoying one of those full color dreams with bits and pieces of my life intermingling in a nonsensical sequence. It involved the conclusion of a race which I had won, but for some reason my compression shorts and shirt had been shredded and I was standing on the winner’s platform half-naked, my jock showing and blood curling down my thigh. My arms were cuffed above my head holding up an enormous phallic-like trophy. I was helpless before the crowd. Nicole was directing the tableaux as a tall black man approached from behind and impaled my ass with his enormous penis—which I was enjoying, while another crew cut white boy, Pete (?), pulled my dick out of my jock and was deep-throating it–which I was also enjoying. I was moaning in pleasure as the small audience pointed and laughed. Well, it didn’t turn out to be entirely a dream. As I opened my eyes, I saw that my boxer briefs had been pulled down below my scrotum and a black haired animal was sucking voraciously on my dick as long fingers probed my entrance. He had placed my hands on the headboard bars. Geoff was back with me in bed! Freud would have a field day with that dream!
I realized that I had been gripping the pipes of the headboard tightly. So I released and reached down and ran my hands through his thick hair. His mischievous eyes focused on mine as he rose and tongued the bulb while continuing to explore my channel with his long fingers in search of my prostate. I decided to close my eyes and enjoy it. He was really a professional. He brought me to the edge several times, each time leaking pre-cum onto his waiting lips, frustrating my urge to orgasm, before deep-throating and sucking yet again. My hips rose from the bed, my tired legs tensed, and I finally shot my seed-filled cream between his waiting lips. “Geoff. Perfect as always. I’ve forgotten all the intrigues of the afternoon—and I’m ready for the romantic mysteries we will weave tonight. Come up here. This reminds me of our first time together on the pool chaise.”
He covered me on the bed and I opened my legs to cradle him in. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for some deep passionate lovin’. He was hard and rubbed repeatedly over my abs until he too popped. Later, we rose, quickly showered—together this time—and emerged refreshed for cocktails, a late dinner and conversation.
Dinner was a buffet of the leftovers from the barbeque—sliced steak, salads, cheeses, fresh bread. It was spread on the kitchen counter for us to graze as we wished. Geoff had filled his mother in on the details of the apartment reno–really not such a big deal–and had regaled his Dad with the infamous pranks that first year meds play on each other.
As we sat with plates in front of us in the great room, Val asked, “Chet, tell us about your studies. And what is going on with your plans to go pro.”
“Studies are going well. Senior year is really not all that difficult. I’ve loaded up on courses this semester so that I will have only two next semester—and my thesis. I switched out a few and I’ll be eligible to take the financial advisor and manager exams in December—before the holidays and after exams are over. That’s really my job ticket. I’ve been told that any of the big investment banking firms will hire me in a New York minute as an analyst, working on financial deals.
I’ve decided on a senior thesis topic—I’m creating a socially responsible fund that could be market traded—focusing on the environment, rather than the whole range of socially responsible investment funds that have been created so far. I’m already using my mock trading time to beta test the initial picks for the fund. I pre-qualify an S&P major equity based upon one criterion: they must spend two-thirds or more of their budget, including R&D, on alternative energy, response to climate change, environmental clean up, or similar activities. Then I look at their performance over one, three and five years to determine volatility. I should have the fund created by the end of the year.”
“I actually have some news that’s relevant at this point in our conversation. Two weeks ago the Foundation’s CFO/Americas resigned. Luigi Marzotti is Italian, obviously, an old friend of the family. I think Geoff knows his son from summers in Italy. Now he wants to return to his family since he is 60 years old. We are currently trying to decide what to do. Meanwhile, the senior CFO of the Foundation in Milan will be handling matters using consultants that we are hiring pro tempore in Houston. I’d like to have you meet the Foundation team and help us with that decision making process. We always like to have a member of the family, familiar with a given subject, serving on important strategic committees.”
I looked over at Geoff. It was obvious that this was not news to him. Somehow I felt I was being played. “Thank you for considering me a part of the family. It means a lot to me. I’d be happy to help—but as you know my own full time plans remain that I will go pro next year—which leaves little time for anything else—but not until after May.”