Jerry

By: Will B
(© 2009 by the author)
Ably Assisted by Ed

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

Chapter 1

Hi, guys. Come on in and make yourselves comfortable--or cum-fortable (whichever you lick—I mean whatever you like!). You can read this story while I get it ready to send to Tickie, and later to Jamie and Pan. I should introduce myself. I’m Andy from Indy. This story is about a friend of mine, Jerry. He said I could tell his story, so here it is. The story starts about three years ago in Cairo.

Jerry Taylor, 38, marine stationed in Iraq, was on a four-day leave for some R and R, and he had chosen to come to Cairo. He’d heard about this place with its ‘Turkish bathhouse,’ and he thought he’d check it out.

The ‘Hôtel pour les gentilhommes’ was a five-story building in the French Empire style. Located a little way from the center of the city, it had started life as the ‘Hôtel pour les plaisirs des gentilhommes particulaire’ (Hotel for the pleasures of gentlemen of particular tastes).

Started by a nephew of one of the 19^th century Khedives of Egypt, it provided a place where gentlemen of ‘certain tastes’ might meet for pleasures not usually accepted in Egyptian Society. One of the grandsons of Victoria, the Queen Empress, of Great Britain, Northern Ireland, and soon India, had stayed here, secure in the knowledge that ‘Grandmama England’ would never know!

The ground floor of the hotel was taken up by the lobby and several small sitting rooms where residents might meet to discuss business, or politics, or whatever topics caught their fancy. The next floor contained the kitchens where superb meals were prepared for the residents, and the dining room where those meals were served by young men who formerly had worn tuxedos, but now wore nothing but loincloths. The next floors were given over to the rooms for the guests. Staff had their quarters in the top floor.

Guests could take elegantly appointed elevators from the lobby up to whatever floor they desired. Everywhere elegance and formality were the rule. There was another elevator where guests could go up to their rooms from the lower levels of the Hotel. Dress was optional!

An important amenity of this hotel was its ‘Turkish Baths,’ located on the lower levels. As with the bathhouses of New York or San Francisco, patrons using these facilities were not primarily interested in cleanliness. There were rooms with cold, warm, or hot pools, a steam room, and a large room—well, to be honest, it was a playroom, and a lot of erotic, mischievous playing went on there.

This is the room to which Jerry Taylor descended soon after checking into the hotel. He had ‘checked in,’ and now he was going to ‘check out’ his fellow guests.

The room was lit only by a few strategically placed candles. Padded benches and couches were situated around the edge of the room, but in the center of the room was a raised platform with three levels, each one smaller than the one beneath it.

Most of the benches or couches were occupied by men, men of all ages, colors and sizes. Although here were many variable factors, all of the men had one thing in common. They were all, every man jack of them, in a state of nature. And, some of the men were slowly jacking themselves off.

Jerry had curly black hair and blue eyes that could look into yours, and make you his slave. His mouth was wide—wide enough that it could take two of the thick, meaty, juicy, sausages that he loved so much into his mouth at one time. His tongue was adept at caressing, licking, and arousing whoever—I mean whatever—it came into contact with.

His shoulders were broad and his hips were narrow. His pecs were developed and crowned with two of the most suckable brown nipples you ever saw. He had only to flick them with his fingers—or allow you to play with them, to became hard and stand out a good three-eighths of an inch from the pink aureole.

His abdomen had more wrinkles than my grandmother’s washboard! Talk about a six-pack. It was more like an eight or ten-pack. Twinks had been known to take up weight-lifting and doing sit-ups in the hopes that they would develop abdomens like Jerry’s.

His ass was tight. And you know, there is an old wives’ tale that the tighter the ass, the better hung the guy is in the cock and balls department. I can’t tell you if that old tale is true or not, but I can tell you that Jerry was hung, H-U-N-G!, like a wild stallion. His meaty sausage was thick, I tell you, 'thick,' man! Its eight-and-a-half inch tube hung away from his body at a forty-five degree angle downward when it was flaccid. When it was aroused… well, words just cannot describe that pole of pleasure-giving meat. Just thinking about it and how I would love to…, well, I almost have to stop writing and go and pleasure myself thinking about it!  In fact, I…., I…., oooooohhhh, aaahhhhh!”

As Jerry lay in the semi-darkness, a spotlight shone on the central platform, and two burly men, naked of course, with cock rings lifting their huge cocks upward and outward, their nipples pierced with safety pins, walked in, half dragging a slender young man, also naked, his smooth skin, shining in the spotlight, and looking as if it was coated in oil of some sort. He was yelling, “Oh, please…PLEASE…”

As Jerry watched, the two captors fastened their victim’s wrists and ankles to a large wooden “O” on the higher platform. The young man’s smooth, hairless butt was exposed to those on one side of the play room, and his seven-inch cock, surrounded by a thicket of pubic hair, could be seen by those on the other side of the room. Many of the watchers thought about pressing their cocks, hands, or some other moist appendage, to that delicious sight.

The young man continued to moan, “Oh, please…, please, I beg you….”

The two men each reached down behind the platform and picked up something long and wet. They raised their arms, and with all the force they could muster, brought down on that quivering bubble-butt…. wet towels!

“Ooooh, again, please, harder…. don’t stop,” their captive cried. “More…, hit me again….again.”

Jerry watched entranced as the wet towels were brought down time and again on the willing young man’s writhing backside.

Each time a towel landed with a SMACK!, the young man’s penis rose to a beautiful erection. SMACK! SMACK!

“Again…, Again,” he cried. Higher and higher the young man’s pleasure pole pulsed, sticking straight out toward the audience. SMACK! SMACK!

“More…., more….., oh….., ohhhh,……, AAAGGHHHH!

The young man shot his load of creamy spunk straight out towards the audience. He had ejaculated without once touching himself!

The crowd cheered in approval and excitement. Jerry found his own goodies responding to the sight of that aroused shaft as it shot its nectar toward the audience. 

The toweling stopped, and the two burly men released their ‘victim,’ who stood up and kissed each of his flagellants on the lips, and then knelt between them, and drew both their manly organs closer to his lips; he was sucking one after the other, and then, drew each one as far into his mouth as he could and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until… their creamy explosions coated his throat and face and chin.

Again the audience cheered and applauded. Jerry lay there, his eyes half-closed, and pictured himself taking those two…. ‘I could do without the wet towels, though,’ he mused to himself. He could feel his own rod continuing to stiffen and ‘rise to the occasion,’ when he heard a voice, saying in a John Wayne accent, “Well, Pilgrim … ya got … quite a problem there. Can I give you some … help … with it?”

Opening his eyes, Jerry saw one of the handsomest men he had ever seen. The newcomer was as tall as he was, and built. His chest and abdomen were covered with fine black hair, and his pubic bush spread as far as the creases between his abdomen and his thighs. His head was covered with curly black hair which boasted a silver blaze running from his brow to the back of his head.

It was his face that attracted Jerry’s attention. Two blue eyes, a strong nose, and a wide, smiling mouth made Jerry feel as if he could just melt into that man’s arms, but he played it cool.

“Why, sure, pardner. That’s right neighborly of you, but how’s about we go up to my room where we can work on my problem. I think I’d like to get to know you and yours … better. Oh, and I’m Jerry Taylor.”

“I’m Trace Mackenzie. I think I’ve seen you on the base.”

“You mean….?”

“Yup, Trace Mackenzie, Marine, 38^th Battalion, Bravo Company.”

“Well… what a small world. I’m in Charlie Company!”

With those simple introductions made, the two men, both nude and both semi-rigid, took the private elevator to the third floor, where Jerry’s room was located. As they walked down the corridor from the elevator to the room, they heard sounds of chuckling coming from some of the rooms, and moans of pleasure coming from others.

Jerry punched in the pass-code on the lock, and the two went into the room. They stood facing each other, about three feet apart.

“Well, here we are,” said Jerry, suddenly shy.

“Yup, Pilgrim, we are here,” responded Trace.

“Look, Trace, I want you to know that … I’m not exclusively ‘top’ or ‘bottom.’ I like giving as well as receiving.”

“How about that, Pilgrim! So am I,” Trace replied.  The two men were now about two feet apart.

They looked deep into each other’s eyes, and Jerry thought he had never met a man who was so wonderful. Sure, he had a hot body, but he also had a sense of humor and he seemed kind.

As he looked at Jerry, Trace thought, ‘I feel like I’ve come home.’

Another step, and they were in each other’s arms. Jerry’s tongue ran over Trace’s lips, and Trace let his hands caress Jerry’s neck and chest.

Jerry’s tongue invaded Trace’s mouth. Trace’s fingers were rubbing, kneading, flicking Jerry’s nipples.

Jerry ran his hands over Trace’s chest and abdomen and encircled Trace’s waist.

Trace’s hands began exploring Jerry’s lower body, feeling Jerry’s pubic bush, and then… grasping Jerry’s cock, holding it, squeezing it gently, slowly pumping it. Jerry moaned at the sensation.

Trace sank to his knees and said, “Jerry, I’m gonna taste your nectar.” Slowly and tenderly, and then a little more rapidly, he began to fellate Jerry.

Jerry closed his eyes in ecstasy and somehow the two moved across the floor until they came to the bed. Trace pulled off of Jerry long enough for Jerry to lay down on the bed, and Trace lay beside him, his lips enclosing that purple engorged helmet.

As Jerry’s seed began its coursing through the tubes that led to the shaft that led to the open air, Jerry found his balls tightening. “Trace, I am about to…”

“Hush, babe, let it come.  I want it.”

That was all Trace needed to say. Jerry let out one of the most glorious explosions of semen he had ever had. Twice he expelled a volley of love’s liquor into Trace’s mouth.  And then Jerry had a wonderful period of ‘coming back to earth.’

As he regained his sensibilities, he opened his eyes, he looked at Trace and said, “It’s my turn to lap up your man-milk, my dear Trace! Just give me a minute to enjoy this afterglow.”

Trace smiled and said, “At your pleasure, my dear, dear Jerry.”

Both lovers realized they had vocalized the feelings they had experienced ever since they met. This was no one-night ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’ or ‘suck ‘em and then split,’ session. This was something special, something to hold onto, something never to let go.

Three times that night Trace gave Jerry the most wonderful sex Jerry had ever experienced, and three times Jerry did the same for Trace. Sucking, buttfucking, jerking each other off, grinding cocks into crotches. They explored each other’s bodies.

Jerry found himself thinking, not of his own pleasure, but of how he could give Trace the most wonderful, the most fulfilling sex of his life. Trace, who had always thought of getting his own rocks off, now thought only of loving Jerry and pleasing him.

At last the two lovers fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When they woke the next morning the sun was streaming in the windows. Both of them had extended organs, not from love and desire, but because they had to pee.

Laughing, they got out of bed, and ran to the bathroom to relieve themselves. Those two little items of business taken care of, they decided to shower together. The warm water cascading over their bodies, sticky with each other’s ejaculate, and the proximity to each other in the shower stall, soon ‘brought their pots to the boiling point again,’ and each saw to it that the other had another serving of that steaming liquid they had both come to love.

As they were dressing, Trace said to Jerry, “I think one of us ought to move into the other’s rooms, so we don’t have to ‘commute’ at night.”

Jerry laughed out loud. “Oh, my dear Trace, I’ve always wanted to say this, so here it is: Your place or mine?”

“Either one, my pet, as long as we’re together!”

To be continued...

Posted: 06/05/09