Ups and Downs
By: Brock Archer
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 22
Give and Take

Rocky wasn’t kidding. When it came to fucking, he gave as good as he got…and more. He fucked me so hard the next morning that I didn’t think I would be able to walk for a month.

“Can I borrow your—”

Raphael entered my room through the connecting doors, which we always left unlocked so that we could commute between our hotel rooms easily. “Oh, sorry,” he said, realizing that he had caught Rocky and me in flagrante.

At that point, I was too enthralled to care that Rocky and I were being interrupted or even to reply, but Rocky seized on the moment. “Hey, stud, come give me a hand here.” What he really wanted, though, was a butt. “Sit on his face and help me hold him down while I destroy his ass.”

Though I was practically in tears from Rocky’s demolition of my rectum, Rafael gleefully joined the fray. As he sat on my face, he pulled my arms over my head and used his legs to secure them to the bed. Spreading his cheeks as he sat down, he aimed his hole directly to my mouth and commanded me to eat it, which, of course, I had no choice but to do.

“Squirm all you want,” sneered Rocky. “You’re my bitch now,” he proclaimed as he pounded my ass faster and harder. I would have screamed except that Rafael’s ass was covering my mouth.

“Lick it,” Rafael ordered. “Eat my ass,” he said, stroking his hard tool as well as mine in unison.

“Yeah, you’re really loving this, aren’t you, cunt?” Of course, I couldn’t have denied it if I wanted to with my mouth smothered as it was, but the truth is that I really was loving it. It was somewhat painful, but the thrill far exceeded the pain. I had used lots of guys in my dad’s storeroom, never quite as roughly as this, but now I understood why they enjoyed it so much. It was an extreme trip.

Rafael’s orgasm and mine battled for supremacy as the blasts from our dicks clashed between us, his jizz coating my crotch and mine splattering all over his junk at the same time. I shook from a series of electric shocks that surged through every nerve cell, synapse, and dendrite in my body—a response intensified by the beating that my prostate was getting from Rocky’s long, thick, hard cock, which practically burst with his own orgasm as he drove deeper and deeper into my inner sanctum.

Rocky and Rafael collapsed on top of me from opposite directions as all three of our spent bodies spasmed for several minutes.

“That was fun,” Rocky eventually gushed. “You’re even more magnificent as a bottom than you were as a top,” he teased, which brought a smile to Rafael’s weary but deliriously elated face. “We should do this again tonight.”

“Oh, shit!” I panicked. “I’ve gotta catch a train at 11:00.”

“You’re leaving?” asked Rocky, looking somewhat deflated.

“Only until Sunday afternoon,” I replied. “Until I get back, maybe Rafael can take out my revenge on you,” a suggestion that brought an even broader smile to Rafael’s face.

“OK, until Sunday I guess I can make mince meat out of his ass the way I did with yours,” bragged Rocky.

“When I get through with you,” boasted Rafael, “your whole body will be mince meat.”

Rocky pretended to throttle Rafael for that remark, but he lacked enough energy even if he had been serious, which, of course, he wasn’t. It was just a couple of dudes good-naturedly trash talking.

“If you guys are going to be around Sunday night, why don’t you come to my concert in Madison Square Garden?”

“That would be dope,” exclaimed Rafael, “but I’ve heard that concert has been sold out for months.”

“Well, it just so happens I am acquainted with the lead singer,” Rocky mocked, “and if you’re really nice to me, I can probably finagle a couple of back-stage passes.”

Rafael got so excited with that suggestion that he almost fell off the bed.

After I showered, dressed, and finished packing, I said my goodbyes to Rafael and Rocky, who had adjourned to Rafael’s room. They were still wrangling over who was going to fuck whom as I closed the door.

After checking out of the hotel, Mr. Block, Woody, and I took a taxi to Grand Central Station, where we caught the Amtrak train to Connecticut. We sat in facing seats with the two of them on one side and me on the other. No sooner had we gotten settled when I asked them to excuse me while I went to the dining car for a snack.

“It’s only a one-hour train ride,” commented Woody, “and we’re going to have a big lunch once we get settled in the hotel in Greenwich.”

“I know,” I replied, “but I haven’t had any breakfast, and I just want something to tide me over until then,” I explained as I got up to find the dining car.

“No breakfast?” chided Woody. “I guess you must have slept late.”

There weren’t many other passengers on the train at that hour, but as I passed a few in the narrow corridors, we had to turn sideways to avoid bumping into each other. At one point, I passed a couple of uniformed police officers, and one of them actually groped my tender ass as we converged. Suddenly, my mind flashed back to the two cops who had caught Joey and me naked in Flat Rock Park in Columbus and forced us to suck them off. In retrospect, that encounter didn’t seem nearly as bad as I had thought at the time. In fact, I was very tempted to relive that moment with these two cops right there in the corridor. As I continued on to the dining car, I looked back to see one of the hunky cops sizing me up. Damn! He was cute too.

On my trek to the dining car, I passed several private compartments, most of which appeared to be empty, and the ones that were occupied had the shades pulled down over the windows—except for one that had me do a double-take. I wasn’t sure I had seen what I thought I had seen, but when I looked again, I saw a man, completely naked, milking his lizard, and he was staring directly at me with a mischievous grin.

“Nice cock,” I said, as I entered his compartment, locked the door behind me, and pulled down the shade. He didn’t reply; he just stared at my crotch, which was enlarging by the second. As I dropped my pants and exposed my own cock, he squealed and dumped his load all over his belly. My first thought was that I was too late, but he quickly scooped up the cream and wiped it across his joy hole, which he then offered to me. Not wanting to appear unappreciative, I readily accepted the invitation and plunged my stake into the heart of his ass. I loved the feel of his tight tunnel and the thought of dipping my cock into his juices.

Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but as I fucked this complete stranger, my mind flashed back to Joey in the park, to Tyler by the pool, to Zac in the limo, to Rocky in the hotel, and, yes, to my fantasies of Woody. Naturally, I shot my load pretty quickly, which, I suspect, was a disappointment to the train passenger. Still, he thanked me as I pulled up my pants.

“Let the shades back up on your way out,” he instructed.

“Aren’t you afraid those cops will see you?” I asked.

“I’m hoping they will,” he smirked. “I’ve already had one of them, and I’m hoping to have the other one before this train gets to Boston.”

Having squandered most of the time I was hoping to use for a quick breakfast, I just grabbed a granola bar and headed back to my seat. Whether it was the satisfied look on my face, my disheveled appearance, or the smell of sex all over me that gave me away, Woody sighed at me as I sat across from him and exclaimed, “Planes, trains, and automobiles. Jesus Christ, Joe, they could make a movie about you.”

“Oh, give the kid a break,” Mr. Block admonished Woody. “I remember when you—”

“Stamford,” came the call over the speakers. Stamford, Connecticut, was our stop, the closest station to Greenwich, our destination. I was dying to hear Mr. Block finish his comment about Woody, but, alas, that was not to be.

Woody drove us in the rental car to the hotel. Normally, I would have driven, but even though I was old enough to have a license, I wasn’t old enough to drive a rental car since most companies require the driver to be at least 25.

After checking into the Delamar Greenwich Harbor Hotel, we enjoyed a hearty lunch on our way to the location of the art show. Since there would be only hors d’oeuvres at the reception, lunch was my only chance that day for a full meal, and I was famished.

I was a bit surprised when Woody pulled the car up to a warehouse just outside of town. This is where they’re having the art show? It turned out to be the perfect facility for the exhibit, though. Paintings, sculptures, and other works of art adorned the temporary walls and partitions, and empty spaces were decorated with industrial hardware such as hand tools, cog wheels, and vats, and a forklift even served as a platform for a large nude sculpture of Vulcan, the Roman god of fire and industry.

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” said Mr. Block to the man approaching us as we entered. “Arthur, it’s so good to see you again.”

“Joe, I’d like you to meet Mr. Cavendish, the genius behind this extravaganza.”

“Aaron,” edited the man as he extended his firm hand to me.

“What can I do to help you, Mr. Cavendish…uh, Aaron?”

“Well, as you can see, most of the artwork has already been placed, but maybe you can help me move a couple of benches and then do a last-minute check of the inventory. Do you know how to drive a forklift?” He was only joking. Little did he know that I actually did know how to drive a forklift.

It was only 4:00 o’clock, and the reception would not be until 6:00. After showing off my muscles with a few manual chores, I followed Aaron around the warehouse with a checklist, ticking off each entry as he called out the titles of the pieces. The artwork—mostly nudes, some of which were very explicit—was very impressive, but we moved so quickly that I scarcely had time to appreciate them. I was looking forward to having more time to really drink them in.

As we approached the last section, my jaw nearly hit the concrete floor, bounced up to the ceiling, and ricocheted off the walls before slapping me in the face. Sketches. My sketches. Pictures that I had drawn of the scenes around the pool at the Block estate. When I gazed at Aaron speechless, he explained, “Arthur sent these to me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I...I….” Half a dozen of my sketches had been nicely framed and mounted on a wall all by themselves. They were displayed in an area devoted to sketches and drawings, but they hung on a partition with no other competition, and beside each piece sat a card with my name, a title (which I’m sure Mr. Block had provided since I had not named any of them), and a price. “A hundred dollars?” I gasped.

“I think they’re probably worth a lot more, and undoubtedly will be one day,” explained Aaron, almost apologetically, “but since you are an aspiring artist, I didn’t want to price these out of the market.”

I was so overcome that without even thinking, I threw my arms around him and gave him such a big squeeze that he had to caution me. “Easy there, champ. I do have to breathe, you know.”

It was a cleverly disguised compliment. Aaron was a hunk—not quite like Woody, but the man was built. I saw it when I first met him, and I felt his ample muscles when I embraced him.

“Anyway,” he added when I let him go. “Mr. Block is the one you have to thank for this. I would not have been aware of your talent had he not enlightened me.”

“I…I…”

Aaron just patted me on the back and laughed approvingly.

I remained in a state of shock for the rest of the evening. Little did I know that this was only the first of several big surprises that would shake my world that weekend.

To be continued...

Posted: 11/11/2022