V. Intimations of Immortality
The next Monday, Darren arrived for his appointment at Mid-West Surgical Appliances. He was ushered into a comfortable office and was met by a pleasant, professional looking woman who explained to him the processes of fitting a prosthesis, the time involved, the training sessions required, the physical therapy necessary and the problems that he might have. She underlined the fact that if he was to obtain acceptable results, it would not be easy. He would have to learn how to walk, climb stairs, to maintain a healthy seat for the prosthesis, and it would all take time and a lot of work. A good bit of the success of the prosthesis would depend on him and his ability to adapt.
Darren appreciated her clear, concise professional approach. She asked if there were any questions. He had none.
She made a quick phone call, after which she said, "If you're free tomorrow afternoon at 3:00, we can start. One of our technicians, as a matter of fact, one of our best, has an opening then, and he can see you then."
"That would be fine."
"The process tomorrow involves measuring and a preliminary cast will be made."
"Thank you very much. Tomorrow at three," he said as he got up and left the office.
The next day he was ushered into a rather strange room which contained a full-mirrored wall--although the mirror had a dark grid etched over the surface--an examination table, a folding screen, two waist high parallel bars, a couple of chairs, a desk, a cabinet and several apparatuses on wheels. He sat on one of the chairs and waited.
Shortly the door opened and in walked a man with a white coat, carrying a clip-board. He looked vaguely familiar to Darren. "Must be the white hospital coat," he mused to himself.
"Sorry," the technician said, apologetically, "Give me a minute. . . . I haven't had time to look over your chart. . . . been swamped. . . ." he said as he began to leaf through the contents. Almost immediately he stopped and quickly glanced up at Darren.
"Darren Jansen," he said slowly and quietly, half questioning. "Darren Jansen from Mc Leicester College?" he asked as recognition slowly swept across his face.
Darren gazed intently at the vaguely familiar technician. He was about six-feet-one-inch, one-hundred-ninety-five pounds, narrow waist, what appeared to be a relatively flat stomach, deep chest and broad shoulders. . . actually quite muscular although not massive. He had a receding hairline, short, carefully trimmed dark beard, blue eyes, a strong Aquiline nose and well formed lips. He was vaguely familiar, but Darren could not attach a name.
"Yes. . . yes I am," Darren answered and continued, "I'm sorry, I think I should know you. . . you're vaguely familiar. . . but I can't attach a name. . . ."
The technician smiled, reached over the clip-board offering his hand which Darren took , "That's okay. . . . It's been a long time," then added the missing piece, "Gene Villarosa."
Recognition flooded him, shocked recognition, "Well for God's sake. . . ." exploded forth, then he added, "It's nice seeing you again." That wasn't altogether true, but a required nicety. Of course the beard and the receding hair-line did not aid in the recognition process.
Gene Villarosa, returned to the clipboard and his professional demeanor returned. "Did they explain the process to you?"
"Basically, yes."
"Well, today we take measurements. Its rather a tedious process, especially for you, but a vital one. I will also be making a preliminary mold of the termination."
Darren nodded, understanding and thankful for the efficient manner in which Gene explained the process.
"I will need you to remove your clothes, including shoes and socks. You may leave your underwear on. You can step behind the screen to disrobe," he said nodding to the folding screen. "And, then get onto the table."
"Now?" Darren asked.
"Yes, if you would, please."
Gene carefully, clinically observed Darren as he got up and moved behind the screen.
"Have you always used a single crutch?" Gene queried, penciling in comments onto a page.
"Yes, except for the first week," Darren stated from behind the screen, "Two seemed more difficult, besides, I'm only missing part of one leg. . . . the second crutch seemed superfluous."
Gene continued writing.
"Finished," Darren declared as he sat on the table.
Gene walked around the screen. "Darren, would you please lie on your stomach."
Darren complied. Gene went to the cabinet and removed a plastic, compartmentalized box and set it on the table next to Darren.
"I'm going to place a narrow, black, adhesive tape along your spine. It helps in making proper measurements."
"I see," said Darren as he felt the touch of Gene's hands as they seated the tape from his neck to the waist band of his briefs. He did not really know how that piece of tape would help in the measurements.
"There, " Gene said, "Now, if you would, please, come over to the parallel bars."
Darren moved to the bars, Gene asked him to move to a line on the floor, perpendicular to the bars, he took Darren's crutch and told him to balance himself with his hands on the bars. Gene stood back and surveyed Darren's position.
"See, that double, red line running down the middle?"
Darren looked down and answered, "Yes."
"Move your foot until it just touches the outside edge of the right line. . . . That's it. . . . Now just a trifle back to the right. . . Stop! Right there. . . . Fine!"
Gene rolled one of the wheeled devices to the left of where Darren was standing. "Now, bring your hands hack to where the red tape encircles the bars. . . . . Fine. That's it."
Retrieving the plastic box from the examining table, he took out a piece of paper with small adhesive black dots on it. "I'm going to place one of these on each shoulder and each hip. They will become our reference points." He took one of the dots, placed it on the back of his left hand and probed lightly, Darren's left shoulder. Quickly locating the bony prominence he was seeking he placed his left index finger on the exact spot, removed the dot from the back of his hand and placed it on the precise spot. He moved around Darren and repeated the same process on his right shoulder.
Gene squatted down, deftly felt for the bony arch of the ilium, and said, "Darren, I'm going to have to lower the band of your briefs slightly. Its covering the area I need to locate." Saying that Gene dexterously lowered the elastic band an inch, probed for the protuberance and placed the dot. The same for the other side.
"Now, stand straight," he said as he moved directly in front of Darren, sought the reference points, glanced from one to the other, then stepped sideways to align the black tape on Darren's spine with a vertical line on the mirror behind him. "Okay, now lift, slightly, your right shoulder. . . . a little more. . . . There! Hold it!" he commanded. Again he looked at the reference points and the spinal tape. "Darren, could you please raise your left hip a bit without moving your shoulders?"
"This is more difficult that I thought," Darren said to himself, and tried to do as he had been asked. "I'm not sure I can," he stated and then admitted, "Its difficult with out my left leg. . ."
Gene clasped Darren's left thigh, front and back and exerted a little pressure upwards. "There. . . Can you hold that?"
"I think so," Darren replied.
Quickly Gene brought the wheeled instrument in front of Darren and swiftly manipulated a pointing mechanism, touching the four reference dots. Each time he touched a dot, he depressed a hand-held signal-button.
In less than fifteen seconds he had finished. "You can relax now, " he smiled. "I told you it was tedious. . ." he smiled again.
Handing Darren his crutch, "You can go back to the table and relax a bit."
A few minutes later Gene came around the screen. Darren was sitting on the table. "Now for the preliminary mold," he said as he pulled a wheeled stool in front of Darren and sat down on it. He carefully inspected the lower, remaining portion of Darren's leg, running his hands over its entirety and paying special attention to the scar. "Nice job," he commented clinically.
Some forty minutes later, Darren still sat on the table, his termination was encased in the white armor of plaster and cotton strips. "Now to remove it. . ." Gene said as he grasped the mold. He tugged. The mold did no give way. He twisted it slightly and that motion unseated the mold and it slipped off.
Gene inspected the inner surface. , "I think we've got a good one," he declared. Then he took a damp towel and cleaned the remaining plaster from Darren's leg, and said, "You can get dressed now. We're finished for the day."
In all his actions, Gene had been quietly professional. Darren admired that. He dressed, walked around the screen to where Gene was busily writing down some notations, and asked, "Anything else?"
Gene stood up, "No, we've done all we can do for today," then added, "Thanks for your cooperation Darren." Gene extended his hand and a firm, warm handshake was exchanged. "The office will contact you. . . . It should be about a week. . . for your first fitting. See you then."
Six weeks later Darren walked out of Mid-West Surgical Appliances. Walked out without his crutch. Walked out after his last 'training' session and evaluation. There was a bit of a limp, almost imperceptible.
"You can learn to dance again," Gene had stated. "There are even those who have done a triathalon. It's all up to you."
Darren took cab to the hospital. He was to meet George for lunch. He saw Dr. Soderberg walking to the main entrance, Darren hurried to open the door for her.
"Thank you," she said somewhat distracted, not recognizing Darren.
"How are you today, Dr. Soderberg?"
She glanced up to his face. Recognition immediately brightened her face. "Why, Darren," she exclaimed. "Let me look at you,"she said, stepping back.
Darren turned around and held his arms out, a questioning look on his face coupled with a smile.
"Marvelous. . . You look marvelous," she stated. "You've made a remarkable recovery!"
The following Friday night, Darren worked late at the lab and decided to stop into Ashbee's for a drink. He was exhausted. As he walked in he noticed a familiar face, Gene Villarosa sitting in one of the booths. He walked over, saying, "Well hello, I've not seen you here before."
Gene looked up, smiled and motioned for Darren to sit. "I was attending a seminar at the "U" and just stopped in for a drink on my way home. . . . What are you drinking?" he asked.
"Scotch and soda."
Gene motioned to the waiter, saying, "Scotch and soda, for my friend."
They sat, sipped their drinks and chatted. After the six week process of getting his prosthesis and the training, Darren had come to respect Gene. At no time did he perceive the arrogant 'jock' that he had known at Mc Leicester. And, of course, those two disturbing occasions, so long ago, were never mentioned.
Both asked questions of the other, light probing, informative questions that are asked by acquaintances who have not seen each other for a long period. Gene had admitted to a recent divorce from Cynthia, his college sweetheart, and his separation from their two children, which was particularly difficult. Darren retold the trauma involving Justine.
Two more drinks were ordered and consumed. Gene ordered a fourth round.
Darren protested, "I think I've had enough. . . . I'm a bit high," he admitted.
"How far do you have to drive?" Gene asked.
"I live just down the block," Darren admitted.
"Hell, then one more won't hurt," Gene declared volubly with a friendly aire.
After the fourth scotch, Darren was decidedly tipsy. He stood to leave and nearly toppled over as he slipped out of the booth and stood. Gene was immediately by his side, steadying him.
"Sorry," Darren apologized.
"Hell, nothing to apologize for. . . . It's probably because of the prosthesis. It takes a long time to get used to it. . ."
The next morning Darren awoke feeling a bit fragile. He threw the bedclothes back, glanced down, noticing he was still wearing his briefs, and thought, "I guess I was drunker than I thought." Normally, Darren slept nude. In fact, the last thing he could remember was getting up from the booth. . . . and nothing more.
He reached for his 'extension,' as he referred to the prosthesis, which was not where he usually placed it, fitted it over the termination and stood up, a bit unsteadily. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and dashed cold water in his face. "I'll shower after I get some coffee," he said to himself.
Darren walked out of his bedroom, down the short hall, towards the kitchen and was startled to see a blanketed form on his sofa. He cautiously and quietly entered the living room and looked down at the waking form. It was Gene. As he stood there, mildly surprised, Gene awoke, saw Darren's questioning face and sat up.
"Good morning," he said, throwing the light blanket from his fully clothed form, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and quickly glancing at the brief encased body in front of him. He stood up saying, "Had to help you home last night. . . . You were out of it," he smiled, "and I was pretty high myself. . . . didn't want to drive. . . so I crashed here. Hope you don't mind?"
"No, of course not," Darren admitted, recovering from his initial surprise. "I'm going to fix a pot of coffee. . . I need some. . . . How about you?"
"Yeah," Gene said, "I need some, too. . . . My head's a bit heavy"
"Mine too," smiled Darren, and then he added, "I bet you'd like a good hot shower, as well?"
"I've already troubled you too much," Gene declared.
"Nonsense! The bathroom's the second door on the right. . . . towels are on the rack. . . help yourself," he said as he went to the kitchen to prepared the coffee. After turning on the coffee maker, Darren returned to his room to shower, noting the sound of running water in the hall bathroom.
Having finished his shower and replacing the 'extension,' Darren stood in the middle of his bedroom wiping the last drops of water from his body. He hadn't thought of closing his bedroom door, and was a bit surprised when the the door to the hall bathroom opened and Gene stepped out. There Darren stood, completely naked. Gene glanced in and quickly appraised what he saw, smiled at Darren, nodded slightly and disappeared down the hall to the living room. Darren, in his surprise and mild embarrassment, had barely moved when Gene glanced in at him, affording his visitor an uninterrupted view of his six-foot-two-inch frame, with one-hundred-eighty-five pounds of neatly arranged muscles. His light golden-brown hair, glistened, and, lower down another patch of light golden-brown hair gleamed. From its core a substantial cock arched downward and balls hung behind.
Quickly Darren dressed, slipping into a pair of cotton-knit Bermudas and a light polo-shirt and returned to the living room. Gene glanced at Darren and flashed a little smile. They sat at the small table near the entrance to the Pullman kitchen, sipped their coffee and chatted about the night before.
"I don't know what got into me," Darren admitted. "I usually don't drink so much. . ."
"Well, once in a while doesn't hurt, I guess," Gene stated. "But you were pretty unsteady. . ."
"Unsteady?" Darren snorted, "I hardly remember a damned thing. . . . I was 'snockered!'"
"Yeah, I guess you were pretty 'soused'. . . . I had a hard time finding out from you where you lived. . . and thank God, they have an elevator in this building. . . I don't think I could have carried you up those stairs. . . ."
"Was I that bad?" Darren asked, slightly embarrassed.
"Well, let's say that if I left you at your door, you probably would have awoke there this morning," he said, laughing. "And, getting you undressed was a major operation. . . . but then, I was pretty high myself." Again, Gene laughed. Darren, by then, also, saw the humor of the situation and laughed himself.
After finishing a second cup of coffee, Gene got up, "Well, I've got to go. . . . I've already overstayed. . . . my welcome," he stated. Then as an afterthought he added, "If I had any at all!"
"What do you mean by that?" Darren asked with a mixture of surprise and concern. "Of course, you were welcome. . . . . Why shouldn't you be?"
"Well. . . we've never been. . . never were. . . what you would exactly call. . . . friends," he stated with a knowing look.
Darren smiled in understanding, lifted his brows and said, "What's past is past. . . . Besides, you've done marvels for me." Saying this he raised his left leg and patted the 'extension. '
Gene smiled, accepting Darren's kindness and said, "Anybody could have done that."
"I don't know. . . . somehow I think you took extra-special pains in my case. And, I appreciate that." Saying that Darren offered his hand, Gene took it and they shook hands warmly.
As he was leaving, Gene turned and said, "Oh, by-the-way, you'll be getting a call from Mid-West soon. They want you to come down and fill out some survey. . . . for some grant they're trying to get. . . shouldn't take too long."
"Sure, no problem."
The call from Mid-West Surgical Appliances came on Monday, and Darren said that he would drop by the next day. After he had finished completing the brief form and was exiting the building, he ran into Gene, also exiting the building. He looked tired and bit disheveled--not the neat precise, professional appearance Darren had become used to these past few weeks.
"Hi, Gene. . . . You look. . . . tired."
Gene actually looked almost haggard. "Shit!" he exploded, hands emphasizing his apparent frustration and anger, "There was a fuckin fire in the apartment house last night. . . . across the hall. . . . the smoke was horrendous. . . . what a fuckin mess. . . . smoke everywhere, water everywhere. . . . Shit, they even battered down my door. . . my apartment wasn't involved. . . . ass holes!" and then again, "what a fuckin mess. . . . It's going to take weeks to repair. . . . I have to have all my clothes cleaned. . . . The fuckin smoke smells like shit. . . . ."
"Geeze, that's too bad," Darren said, then quickly added, "Have you got as place to stay?"
"Hell, I don't know. . . . no other place in the complex. . . . they're trying to arrange temporary lodging for us. . . . 'til every thing's repaired. . . . ."
"Why don't you stay at my place? I've got plenty of room. I've got an extra bedroom."
Taken back, somewhat, Gene said, now quietly, having released his frustration a bit, "That's awfully nice of you Darren. But, no. . . it's too much trouble."
"Hell! It's no trouble. . . . It's not like your moving in permanently! It's the least I can do. . . ."
Gene shook his head lightly and was about to reply.
"What ever argument you give is nonsense!" said Darren firmly, and then repeated, "It's the least I can do. I won't take no for an answer."
"Weellll. . . ."
"Good, where's your stuff?. . . . Oh, that's right. . . . smoke. . . . Do you have anything for tomorrow. . . . . I mean to wear?"
Darren shook his head, "No. . . . I'll have to stop and buy some stuff--underwear, pants, shirt, toothbrush--everything."
"Okay, you get what you need. . . . Do you think you'll be done by 6:00?"
"Yeah, easily. . . ."
"Good, I'll have dinner ready at 6:00. . . . I bet you're starved?" Gene nodded. "I'll even have a drink for you."
Gene smiled and said with a forced lightness to his voice, "Well, if I had any qualms, the drink has washed them all away."
"Good, 6:00 then. . ."
"Hey, Darren I really appreciate this. . . I really do!"
"Good," Darren smiled. "Don't be late," he added, shaking his finger for emphasis.
"I won't be."
At precisely 6:00, Darren's doorbell sounded. He opened the door. Gene stood there with several plastic bags in his left hand and a a flowering begonia in his right. He offered the plant to Darren.
"What's this for?" he questioned.
"A host gift. . . my Mom told me always bring a 'host gift' when I was invited to someone's house."
"Well, thank you, Mr. Villarosa," Darren said in mock formality. "Please come in."
Gene grinned, bowed, also in mock seriousness and entered.
"Nice set of luggage you have there," Darren said nodding to the plastic bags with a smirk.
"Oh, these? Just something I picked up last year in Monaco," also said, also smirking.
"You can put your things in the guest room, first door on your right," he said gesturing down the hall.
"Thanks."
As Gene went down the hall, Darren asked, "How'd you like a drink?"
"Love one. . . ," then added, "I really need one."
A couple minutes later Gene entered the narrow kitchen where Darren was busy putting the finishing touches on the dinner. Darren motioned to a substantial drink in an equally substantial glass sitting by the sink and said, "You drink 'Wild Turkey. ' Right?"
"Yes, how'd you know?"
"That's what you were drinking at Ashbee's the other night," and again, "Right?"
"Yeah."
"Well that's about all I remembered from that night," he laughed.
"Ashbee's never served a drink like this," Gene said hefting the amply filled glass. "Want to get me drunk?"
"No. . . just thought you needed it."
After dinner the two sat in the living room, talking. They both held nearly empty glasses--Darren's first and Gene's second.
"Here, let me freshen your drink," Darren got up and reached for Gene's glass.
Gene held back, saying, "This was my second. . . . what with the wine at dinner, I'm already feeling it. . . ."
"Didn't you say Mid-West has given you the day off, tomorrow?"
"Yeah. . ."
"Well, another one won't matter," Darren said as the wrested the class from Gene's grip.
Darren returned with two healthy drinks.
"I'm going to get drunk," Gene snorted as he took the glass.
"Ah, well, you're among friends," came the reply
Somewhat later, Darren observed Genes glazed eyes begin to close.
"I think it's time for bed," he stated a bit hesitantly. He, too, was a bit tipsy.
Gene tried to focus and slurred, "I think I'm soused! Don't think I can get up," he laughed as he tried and fell back.
"Here, let me help," said Darren as he took Gene's hand and helped him stand. Gene was unsteady and began to topple. Darren slipped an arm around Gene's waist to support him and guided him down to his room. They brushed against the wall heavily once or twice, Darren only a bit more steady on his feet.
He leaned Gene against the bedroom wall while he pulled the bed-covers down. He turned to find Gene had slid to the floor, his head lolling to one side, eyes closed. Darren wrestled Gene to a standing position.
"You need some help," came the obvious.
Darren grabbed Gene's polo-shirt and pulled it off, over his head. He reached down, unbuckled the belt, unclasped the top and drew the zipper downward. He inserted his thumbs under the waist band and drew the pants down to the floor. He was greeted by the immediate sight of Gene's cock and balls. Gene was wearing no underwear! He helped him to the bed, laid him down and removed Gene's socks. He looked up. Gene's eyes were closed--apparently in sleep. He looked back down to Gene's crotch. There lay his big-headed cock, resting on his sizable ball-sack. The large, mushroom-headed cock was covered in its velvety sheath. The prepuce terminated in a frilled, soft extension. "Much longer than George's," Darren thought. The sight of that luxurious, opulent overhang interested Darren, immensely. He reached over and lightly grasped that generous, fleshy extension between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it lightly, cataloging the sensation in his mind.
That action brought a noticeable spasm to the flaccid member. Darren quickly let go and glanced up to Gene's face. His eyes were still closed. Gently Darren covered Gene's nude body, turned off the lights, closed the door and went to his own room. A soft smile formed on Gene's lips in the darkness.
Late the next morning, after several cups of coffee, Darren said to Gene, "I'm going to the lab for a while. There's lunch-meat in the 'frige' and bread in the box. You can fix yourself some lunch. I should be back by mid-afternoon."
"Thanks," replied Gene, "But, I've got to go the apartment office to sign some papers. . . . releasing my furniture. . . so the cleaners can take them to be fumigated. . . or whatever you call it. Then I've got to go to the laundry to pick up my clothes."
"They're going to be ready so fast?" Darren questioned.
"Only the things that can be washed. . . . the dry-cleaning will take another couple of days," came the answer.
"See you later, then," Darren said as he picked up his briefcase and went to the door. He stopped suddenly, "I forgot," he said, moving to a small table and removing an object from the drawer, "Here. You need a key." He handed Gene a key. "It opens the lobby door and also my apartment."
"Okay, thanks," as he accepted the key. "See you. . ."
It was about 6:30, when Darren returned. He noticed Gene's car in the lot. He unlocked the apartment door, walked in and closed it. "You here?" he called out.
"Yeah, just finished my shower," Gene said as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel draped over his shoulder, his nude body radiated the warmth of the shower. "How'd it go for you today?" he asked casually. He stood with the nonchalance of any nude athlete.
Darren replied, "Fine," as he glanced at the muscular form in front of him with its hypnotic, wedge of black curly hair at the base of a muscled belly, adorned with that big headed cock nestled over those opulent balls. "How'd it go with you?"
"Got my laundry," Gene declared, noting that Darren's glance was something more than casual. . . bordering on a frank, lascivious appraisal. "Won't get the dry cleaning for a couple of days though," he added shifting his weight, causing his balls and cock to move. He casually dropped his hand to his cock, clasped the generous preputial extension and gently tugged it.
This kind of fondling was something that Darren had seen performed before by the 'jocks' in the locker room. An action of casual indifference in which most nude men seemed to participate. Still he focused briefly on that tantalizing, nether region.
Again, Gene suitably noted the glance. "Oh, by the way," he said as he started for the guest room, "I'm fixing dinner tonight. . . that is, if you don't mind?"
"No, of course not. . . but, I thought we might go out for dinner."
"No problem, I've already got the fixings. . . . It won't take me long," Gene declared, and added, "Is that okay?"
"Yeah, sure."
Gene disappeared into the guest room while Darren deposited his briefcase on the desk. He glanced into the kitchen, saw two grocery bags sitting on the counter, smiled and walked to his bedroom. As he passed the guest room, the door was open. He glanced in and saw the back view of what he had observed a minute before. Gene was unfolding an article of clothing. He observed broad muscular shoulders 'V-ed' down to a narrow waist; a round, firm ass sitting atop muscular thighs and equally muscular calves. Hark hair was sprinkled over the thighs and calves--the compact ass was remarkably smooth and hairless. Noting this, he continued to his room and closed the door. A soft smile formed on Gene's lips.
Some time later after a long relaxing shower, Darren donned a pair of soft, cotton-knit jogging pants and a polo-shirt. He was still somewhat sensitive about his 'extension' and always wore long pants 'in public. ' As he opened his bedroom door he detected a tantalizing, pungent aroma.
"Something smells great," he said as he walked into the kitchen.
Gene was standing at the stove, wearing a deeply cut, dark blue tank-top and white, nylon running shorts, briefer than normal with a deep side slash--a slash that revealed the side and the beginnings of his smooth ass. Also, Darren could not help but notice that the thin material and equally thin liner did little to contain or mask Gene's cock and balls. When Gene moved, that motion was telegraphed, tantalizingly to the opulent frontal bulge.
"Hope you like pasta," Gene said.
"Love it. . . . I'm really hungry," he admitted.
Gene glanced at Darren and smiled.
Darren inhaled long and deeply, saying, "It smells great!"
"Hope you like Bolognese sauce?"
"Oh, yeah. . . one of my favorites. . . . I'll set the table," Darren said, opening the upper cupboard. "Do we need wine glasses?"
"Shit!" erupted from Gene's mouth. "I knew I forgot something!"
"No problem. . ." Darren said quickly, "I've got a couple of bottles. . . . That should do us."
He placed the plates and glasses on the table and moved back into the kitchen. The kitchen, a Pullman kitchen was nearly eight feet long and narrow, counters ran the length on both sides. In the center of one side was the stove, opposite, on the other side, was the sink and at the end of that counter stood the refrigerator.
"The wine is over the refrigerator," Darren explained as he side-stepped behind Gene. "Kitchen's kinda narrow," he admitted. As he passed behind Gene, he could feel the double bulge of those firm ass-cheeks covered by that thin, revealing fabric. His lightly enclosed cock moved tantalizingly over those firm, muscled orbs. The touch caused a reaction in his loins.
Gene, likewise, felt that flaccid member brush past his ass. It caused a twitch in his cock.
When Darren returned, Gene perceived that there was a slight enlargement in that brushing member. A soft smile again formed on Gene's lips.
After consuming prodigious amounts of the pasta and a bottle of wine, both men relaxed. They sprawled languidly, Darren in the chair, Gene on the sofa and sipped the dark amber liquid of Benedictine from large, crystal snifters.
They talked quietly.
As they both sat there, half-reclining, legs spread, Darren observed that the position had forced the leg-opening of Gene's brief running shorts up, revealing the whole inner thigh as it wedged into the beginning of his ass-crack. The genital bulge was accentuated as cock and balls strained against the thin, imprisoning material. Darren even detected fringes of cock-hairs peeping out from the flimsy liner. He glanced away.
They continued to talked quietly, sipping the pungent liqueur.
Again Darren glanced at that exquisite swelling; a glance that lingered somewhat longer than before. Gene was aware of Darren's interest. Darren glanced away, aware of a twitching in his own groin. Both the feelings of embarrassment and interest suffused him.
Again his eyes returned to the intriguing swell. Gene continued to study Darren's face. Purposefully, he moved a hand to his crotch, cupped his enclosed cock and balls and hefted them, once, twice.
Darren's eyes darted up to Gene's, met them, and quickly he glanced way. The twitching became more pronounced and Darren was aware of a swelling and lengthening in his cock. A cock that was also outlined by his position and cotton-knit pants. "This is embarrassing," he said to himself. He sat up slightly and crossed his leg in an attempt to mask his growing excitement. As he did this, he glanced back to Gene. Darren noticed that the hefting movement and changed to a gently fondling of that mass.
"Why did you do that?" Gene asked.
Disconcerted, Darren replied, "Do what?"
"Cross. . . your. . . legs!"
"Why? What's wrong with that?" Darren inquired, halfheartedly almost childishly.
Smiling, knowingly, "It's okay for you to ogle me. . . . but, you won't let me observe you!"
"What do you mean?" Gene stated in mock annoyance, knitting his brow.
Gene's lightly covered cock had grown to near complete erection, reaching up beyond his hand which now only cupped his balls. Darren's eyes, involuntarily darted down to that sight, registered the obvious and back up to Gene's eyes.
"That's what I mean!" Gene stated softly, with a provocative smile.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Darren blurted out, flushing, confused and obviously uncomfortable.
"Well, obviously I've made a mistake," Gene stated as he stood up. The white nylon running shorts jutted out, tented by his erect cock, barely contained in by the light material. The large cock-head strained against the thin cloth, revealing itself as it protruded outward. He did not move.
Darren's eyes shot to and were glued to that projecting form. He was transfixed by this awesome sight. His mouth gapped slightly. He did not move, either.
Gene smiled, knowingly, "Do you want to see it uncovered?" he said pointedly and quickly dropped the shorts to mid-thigh. His long, mushroom-headed cock sprang out from its confinement. That swollen, glistening, purplish head, freed from its generous skin sheath, capping a long hard shaft, bobbed in its erect freedom. The balls fell and rolled in their satiny sack, hanging downwards in their weight.
"Do you like the look of it?" Gene asked. "Do you like my cock?"
Darren did not, could not answer.
Gene turned from a profile view to a full frontal stance, grabbed his cock and began to slowly masturbate himself.
"Do you like it Darren!"
Darren glanced up into Gene's eyes and then back down to that beautiful cock.
"I think you do. . . . You liked looking at it last night. . . You even touched it last night. . . You like looking at it when you came home this evening. . . You liked the sight of my ass when you went to your room. . . You sure like the feel of my ass as you moved past me in the kitchen. . . I felt your swelling when you moved back past me. . . . . ." Gene smiled knowingly after reciting this litany.
Confused, embarrassed and with a growing suspicion that all this may have been intentional, Darren replied slowly, "You. . . planned all this. . . . You set me up!"
Quickly squatting down in front of Darren, partially to minimize the sight of his hard cock, partially to focus his eyes on Darren's plane, and partially to explain his actions as he did not want to lose a treasure he perceived in Darren, "No. . . not really," he answered softly. "When you helped me to the bedroom last night it was not in my mind. . . but when you touched me. . . I. . . I hoped."
"Damn, I've misread him," he thought to himself and continued, "I've really done it this time."
He continued audibly, "Then, when you came home this evening that was not planned. . . But. . . I could have gone straight into the guest room. . . I didn't. . . it was not planned. . . not completely. . ." his explanation, his response to Darren's pointed accusation became incredibly emotional. Gene's eyes welled up. "I don't know what made me do it. . . I. . . Yesterday. . . . somehow. . . . I felt a. . . . I don't know. . . . a feeling, a realization. . . that you're special," he said as two tears rolled down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away. "Shit!" he said quickly, standing up and pulling on his shorts in the process. "I'm sorry!" he gulped and turned to leave.
Quickly Darren rose and clasped Gene's shoulder. Gene turned a tear stained face. He turned Gene around and enfolded him in his arms. He could feel Gene straining as he fought back the tears.
"I'm sorry!" Gene repeated.
Saying nothing Darren looked into Gene's watery eyes and slowly, deliberately kissed him, fully on the mouth.
Gene began to sob in emotional release and relief. Darren just held him closely.
Then slowly he led Gene down the hall to his bedroom. Again, without uttering a word, he kissed Gene again, this time with certain, undeniable passion. Gene responded. Darren broke away, fixing his gaze on Gene's eyes, carefully slipped his thumbs into the elastic waist-band of those flimsy running shorts, slid them downward to mid-thigh. He then gently cupped the now soft cock along with its amble balls and tenderly fondled them.
Gene merely stood there in stunned silence as he felt those warm fingers move over his cock and balls. A smile replaced his shocked expression when he felt Darren's thumb and forefinger grasp his frilled sheath-tip and gently roll it between the two.
Still, Darren did not utter a word.
"That feels good," Gene whispered and carefully reached for Darren's cloth covered cock.
Darren intercepted his hand, causing a look of concern to flit over Gene's face. Darren released Gene, took a couple of steps backward. Gene was lost in consternation and confusion.
Darren quickly pulled his polo-shirt off, over his head, observing Gene's face as he did. He then untied the waist cord of his jogging pants, slipped them down his thighs and allowed them to fall to his ankles. Only then did Darren speak.
"Is this going to be a problem?"
"Is what going to be a problem?" he asked pointedly.
Darren glanced down to his left leg and the 'extension. ' He lifted his eyes back up to Gene.
"No. . . no, never," Gene said softly, and yet uttered with a quiet intensity that brooked no other interpretation. Saying that he stepped up to Darren and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his body against the whole of Darren. "Never," he whispered in Darren's ear. He felt Darren's tense body suddenly relax and mold against his own. They kissed. Kissed deeply their tongues touching and exploring the other's soft mouth, alternately.
They released each other. Their bodies already beginning to respond to the intimacy as noted in their lengthening cocks. Darren sat on the bed and reached down to remove the 'extension. '
"Let me," Gene commanded softly, as he knelt before Darren, grasped the prosthesis, expertly dislodged it, and set it aside. He smiled at Darren who reached over to kiss Gene lightly. The termination involuntarily brushed Gene's burgeoning cock. Gene glanced down and began to move his hips, rubbing his cock and balls over the lightly scared end. As he did this, his cock swelled to full erection. Darren's cock, too, jolted to complete, pulsing hardness.
Gene placed a hand on Darren's chest and gently forced him back on the bed. Quickly he bent over and took Darren's substantial cock, completely in his mouth. Darren groaned as that hot, juicy mouth moved up and down his fuck-pole, sending wave after wave of delicious sensations through his body. Gene sucked and pistoned his head up and down that exquisite love-muscle.
After a few wonderful minutes, Darren sat up, grabbing Gene's head and lifting it off his sensitized cock. "Stop!" he gasped. "I don't want to cum now. . . not yet."
Darren moved onto the bed. "Lay beside me," he said.
Gene moved to Darren's side and turned towards him. "You're quite special, Darren," he said in a low voice.
Darren, also, turned towards Gene, a brief smile flitted across his face. "Thanks, but I've got to admit something."
"What?" Gene asked.
"I'm not very accomplished. . . . The truth is. . . . you're the second man I've ever really been with." The last phrase was uttered half-apologetically.
Gene smiled and planted a brief kiss on Darren's lips, saying in the vernacular, "Not to worry."
Darren reached and kissed Gene back. Not a brief kiss but a long searching, tongue probing kiss.
Breathless Gene pull back. "At least you know how to kiss!"
Darren laugh, half derisively.
"Why that laugh?" Gene inquired.
Smiling, "Well, you're the first man I've kissed that way. . ."
"You're joking?"
"No. . . ," Darren quietly shook his head.
"Well, you're either a quick learner, or some things just come naturally." Saying that he hugged Darren close to him. They held each other for several minutes.
Darren's hand began to move over Gene's back and his firm ass. He insinuated his hand between them and sought Gene's cock and began to softly manipulate it. Gene groaned and turned on his back, allowing Darren free access. Slowly, Darren moved his hand over that erect, upstanding, randy member. Gene groaned in delight and anticipation.
Darren raised up on his elbow, as Gene watched, and began to inspect that new-found toy. Slowly he brought his encasing hand up that tumid rod and watched the foreskin first slip over the wide, flaring crown; bit by bit it eased over the entire head, hiding it eventually from view; it ceased its movement having ended in a considerable, fluted overhang, an incredibly erotic augmentation. Darren touched that rippled end and felt it between his thumb and forefinger. Carefully, slowly he inserted his finger into that soft opening. It encased his finger up to the first knuckle. He slowly slipped his captured finger down the side of the huge cock-head and marveled at the elasticity of that covering.
He sat up and faced that frilled fuck-toy and asked, "Can I play with it?"
"It's yours!" came the breathless reply.
Darren lightly grasped an edge of that generous prepuce with both thumbs and forefingers and watched in awe as he was able to stretch that erotic sheath a full inch.
Gene smiled. He, too, liked to stretch that thing. He had played with it ever since he could remember--stretching it, pulling it. "Maybe that's why it's to long," he had thought many times when he was younger. But, then, at about sixteen, he had seen his older brother, Joe, in the showers after gym class and noted that he was also endowed in the same manner.
Darren pulled the satiny cover back over the flaring, glistening head, grasp that plumb with his finger and thumb, and pushed the elastic sheath back up. It covered all--his thumb, finger and swollen glans.
Gene grinned. "Do you like my cock-hood?" he asked, knowing the answer.
"Yeah," Darren breathed, "It's incredible!" Darren slipped free, grasped the cock, just behind the head, moved his hand back down 'til he felt the soft cock-hairs, exposing the purple, radiant head and carefully observed it. He took two or three deep breaths and lowered his mouth over that projecting knob. He started to gag. He raised off and swallowed purposefully a couple of times.
"Sorry, I tried this once before. . . . couldn't stop gagging. . . ."
Gene sat up, clasped Darren's face and said quietly, "That's Okay. . . . for you kissing comes naturally. . . . sucking doesn't. . . If you want to do it. . . you will. . . in your own time." He smiled gently and placed another light kiss on Darren's lips.
Gene bent down and kissed one of Darren's tits--its nipple was already erect. His tongue darted and circled that sensitive spot. Lightly, he grasped it between his lower lip and upper teeth and tugged at it. Darren groaned. He lowered his hand to Darren's crotch and grasped his stiff cock. Again Darren groaned. Gently Gene pushed him back to a prone position and regarded that magnificent cock. The triple-muscled shaft was thicker than his own; in length, a bit longer; its reddish-purple, swollen cock-head was not as big as his monster; and it was 'cut. ' "It's glorious," he thought. He moved to his hands and knees, lowered his head and traced his tongue over the swollen head, around its flaring ridge, down the topside of the shaft and up the bottom side. He fondled the wrinkled ball-sack, its twin orbs the size of small walnuts. He lightly sucked both of those spheres into his mouth and tongued them in his moist, hot mouth. Darren continued to moan.
Gene quit the ball-sack and took the whole of Darren's delicious cock into his mouth and down his throat and began to suck that cock with a passion he had not known before.
Darren reacted with equal passion. The feeling that he was experiencing was fantastic. He reached under Gene's belly and grasped his firm, long, big-headed cock, and moved his hand up and down its whole length, in time with Gene's bobbing head. The movement of Gene's head up and down and Darren's hand back and forth established and erotic symbiosis--as one's arousal increased their movement surged and the hastening caused a like quickening in the other's movement.
Soon, they both were on the threshold of spasming release. "I'm going to cum," Darren gasped. Gene could only moaned as he, too, was at the same level, but his mouth was stuffed with that fabulous suck-toy.
Darren felt Gene's cosmically hot cock harden even more and begin to spasm. Milky, viscous cum spurted out in profusion, anointing Darren's hand, his side, the sheet and the heaving chest of Gene. Gene uttered a deep, throaty groan.
The the sound, the feel, the knowledge of Gene's release almost simultaneously shot Darren over the edge. He arched his back and groaned as deeply as Gene, sending hot jets of cum into his mouth and throat.
Gene lifted off Darren's cock and collapsed beside him, panting. Darren, too, was breathless.
"That was wonderful," Gene said, winded.
"Fabulous," was all Darren could say.
Darren reached over Gene, grabbed the sheet and flung it over their sweaty, satiated bodies. Soon both were in a deep cleansing sleep.
Darren awoke first, quietly slipped out of bed, padded to the bathroom, pissed and brushed his teeth. When he returned he stared at Gene's sleeping form, legs spread, arms thrown upward over the pillow and his hard cock tenting the sheet. A warm smile spread over his face. Carefully he lifted the sheet, crawled onto the bed and softly grasped that thing which, somehow, had become the focus of his interest and desire. He held the hard cock, jutting from Gene's sleeping body, which seemed to possess a life, a will of its own.
He bent down and smelled it--it had a musky aroma like the smell of a mossy, humid forest. He smelled it again as if to memorize its luxurious fragrance.
Lightly he planted a little kiss on its head--firm, hot and silky. He kissed it again, lingering a bit longer as if to retain the knowledge of the feel of this flaring wonder.
Tentatively he tasted that glistening head with the tip of his tongue--slightly salty, but other than that, relatively neutral. He licked it again, tracing his tongue over its surface. He became aware that the feel of this gloriously stimulating organ, this cock, somehow had sensitized his tongue, sending hot messages to his own cock. Darren's cock lurched to erection.
Darren, still lightly grasping the shaft, kissed the head again. This time with parted, moistened lips, covering half of the purple, gleaming knob while his tongue swirled over the tip. The feeling in his crotch grew to an insistent heat--his cock spasmed. He drew back, regarded that head, swollen, hard, with its slitted opening, and saliva slathered--his saliva! He was propelled downward again by some unseen, unknown, unrecognized inner force. Carefully, slowly he lowered his head--his moist, eroticized lips slid slowly over the tip, past the half part, hesitated at the flared edge and then slipped over that, too. The whole of that big, mushroom-like, burnished cock-head was in his mouth. Inside his tongue moved over the surface of that captured form. He held it in his mouth, breathing through his nose. He moved off, half way and then back down again slipping an inch down the shaft and back off. He repeated that motion and was amazed that there was no
inkling of the gagging sensation. The third descent he had taken half of Gene's long cock into his mouth. He moved off, to regard his new found conquest and felt a hand on his shoulder.
He turned, seeing Gene's smiling face. "What a wonderful way to wake up," Gene said.
Darren returned the smile, bent over and lightly kissed Gene.
Gene felt Darren's breath hot and moist against his cheek and a throaty reply came forth, "I'm going to suck your cock!"
"I'd love that, but, first I've gotta piss. . . . . bad!" Gene rolled off the bed, walked to the bathroom, relieved himself, rinsed his mouth, hard cock and returned to the bedroom.
Darren sat at the edge of the bed as Gene had disappeared into the bathroom, watching that beautiful ass and those magnificent thighs move, in consort as he retreated. As Gene returned Darren was equally mesmerized by that swaying, upstanding cock, and the bobbing ball sack as Gene walked to the bed.
Darren intercepted Gene before he reached the bed. "I'm want to suck your cock!" he said with raunchy desire. His hands bracketed those narrow hips and that gorgeous cock bobbed in front of Darren's face. He opened his mouth and began to suck Gene's cock, carefully at first and then more insistently. As he sucked, he fondled those big balls.
For Gene, the blow job was great. . . not technically, but great because it was Darren's first. At the moment of release he withdrew his cock, breathing, "I'm going to cum!" He grasped his spasming rod and shot load after load of pearly fluid directed over Darren's chest and stomach. Darren watched in amazement as he was anointed by that hot cum. He glanced up into Gene's smiling face.
After the orgasm had subsided, "Come on," Gene said. He grabbed Darren's hand to help him stand, "Let's take a shower."
"Okay. . . . but. . . . I think we should shower separately."
"Why?"
"I've got to get to work this morning. . . If I get into a shower. . . with you and this," he said, cupping the now drooping cock, "I'd probably not get to work at all!"
"Don't you trust me?" Gene asked.
"I don't think I can trust myself!" Darren snorted and hopped to the bathroom, turned and said, "Later. . . . Okay?"
"You better believe it!"
The both felt reborn. . . rejuvenated.