Companions All by Will B

Cousins All
by: Will B
(© 2007 by the Author)
Advisor: E Walk

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

Jason and Nicky: You have found love with each other

and now together you soar on eagle’s wings in endless space.

We miss you, we miss your love and your wit

May peace and light fill your days.

Here Nurse Harrison did break down and wept. Everyone in the room had tears in their eyes.

“That’s why I urge you all to take every care. I don’t want to see this happen to anyone else. That’s all. You may go.”

Most of the young women filed out of the room, but Tammy and Mary and a few others went to ‘Battling Betty’ and just touched her shoulder, or held her hand for a moment. No words were spoken, and indeed, none needed to be spoken.

Chapter 6

Pete Harris, 47, and his lover, Joe Jones, 49, had been together since 1953 (We met them in “Brothers All”). They had found each other and grown to love each other when they met at their grandmother’s farm that magical summer. They had been together for 32 years—32 years of love and joy. Sure they had had problems, but they had always been able to talk them over and resolve any differences with a delicious time of making up.

They had gotten degrees in social work and gone to work for the Division of Social Services in Baltimore. They had planned this trip as a way of rejuvenating their relationship.

They had been looking forward to this trip with a lot of pleasure, only now each of them had a worry on his mind—a worry that he could not or would not share with his partner.

Pete was afraid that Joe was planning to leave him. One day Pete had come into the living room of their house and Joe was on the phone, saying, ”It’ll be all right, I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry.” Another time he overheard Joe saying, “No, I’ll tell him at the right time. . . I’ll be the judge of that.”

Joe didn’t know that Pete had overheard the conversation, so he hadn’t felt the need to explain what the call was about.

Another time the phone had rung and when Pete picked it up, a man’s voice said, “Joe?” Pete said “No, . . .” Before he could say any more, the man, whoever he was, had hung up.

Joe, on his part, was worried about Pete. He had seemed moody and distracted. The few times they had made love recently, Pete had responded with such frantic energy, it almost seemed as if he was trying to prove his passion to Joe,

Both were worried about the other, and both hoped that this trip would improve the situation.

The men arrived in Las Vegas and took a cab from the airport to their hotel. It was a brand new hotel, one that geared its hospitality to a certain group of men. On the marquee the hotel’s name was “Les deux chevaliers” (That is to say, ”The Two Knights”). Inside the hotel’s full name was emblazoned on the stationery and elsewhere. The hotel’s full name was “Les deux chevaliers de soixante neuf.”

The lobby had several statues of Greek and Roman gods and the artists had not bothered to include fig leaves. There was an ornamental pool in the lobby with a column from the top of which water flowed—not in an even jet, but in spurts—some spurts higher than other! Here and there intertwined digits of “6” and “9” were intertwined. The whole effect was sybaritic, to say the least.

Pete and Joe were not sure what they thought of the sensuous décor, but the name of the hotel caused them to raise their eyebrows, the statues caused their lips to curve up in a smile, the fountain with its irregular spurting caused an even bigger smile—but the hotel staff!

Every member of the staff was a hot hunk, dressed very casually. The desk clerk was wearing a white dickey (shirt front, for my younger readers), wing collar and bow tie, with a cutaway coat. If he had come out from behind the desk, you would see that he was wearing bikini briefs that covered an impressive package; his legs were bare, and he wore flip-flop sandals.

The porters, or “bell-bois” as their name tags said, were all young studs, who appeared to be 18 or 19 years old, who wore trainers, white socks, and thongs that revealed delicious looking bulges when viewed from the front, and adorable bubble butts when viewed from the back. If the décor caused eyebrows to go up, the staff, especially the “bell-bois” had a similar effect on other parts of a guest’s anatomy.

Pete and Joe went to the desk to sign in, and the clerk greeted them with a smile. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Ah, yes, I see you have been booked into one of our deluxe suites, 469. I will ring for someone to carry your baggage to your suite.”

He rang the bell and immediately two young, good-looking, well hung bois came to the desk. “Take these gentlemen’s luggage to suite 469.”

With that the two young men bowed slightly towards Pete and Joe and said, “If you will just step this way, sirs. . . .”

When they arrived at room 469, Pete and Joe gasped at the elegance of the suite. There was a sitting room with couch, two easy chairs, a large television set, and a drinks cabinet. The bedroom had an “emperor” sized bed. On each pillow was a chocolate, and on the two tables, one on each side of the bed, there were crystal bowls filled with condoms and a tube of lube, waiting to be used. Looking up, Pete nudged Joe and pointed to the ceiling. There was a large mirror fixed so that anyone lying on his back could see . . . , well, I think my readers get the picture!

One of the two bell bois said, “I am Morris, and this is Maurice. We want your stay to be memorable. If there’s anything- any thing—we can do for you, just let us know.”

Maurice added, “Ah, mes oui, messieurs, you have but to ask and we will drop everyzing and rush to do your pleasure.” At this he fondled his crotch suggestively.

“Cut that out, Mac, you are not from France, you are from Hackensack, just like me,” Morris said.

This interchange between the two young men did bring smiles to Pete and Joe’s faces. Pete tipped them each $10.00.

“Sirs,” Morris said, ”We would be happy to be your table companions at dinner tonight, if you like, and we can tell you about some of the places you might want to see while you are in Vegas—and by the way, my name isn’t really Morris. It’s Buddy Mason, and he is Mac Williams.”

Somehow this refreshing candor made the two young men more likeable—not as studs, but as real live human beings.

“No, Joe. I’m a little tired. Maybe I’m suffering from jet lag. I’d like to take a little nap.”

“Oh, ho! So, would you like to stay here and play a little game or two of our own?” Joe wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, not now, please. Maybe later.” Pete was feeling torn up inside. He would have loved to hold Joe in his arms, and kiss him, and feel his warm . . ., but how could he make love fearing that Joe was going to leave him?

Joe was now even more concerned than ever. ‘What was wrong with Pete?’ he asked himself. ‘Is he getting tired of me?’

The two men, who had been lovers so long, spent a miserable afternoon moping around their luxury suite. What was the good of this beauty if they weren’t in the mood to enjoy it?

At dinnertime they went down to the dining room. There they met Mac and Buddy, out of uniform, wearing matching white shirts, dark maroon slacks, and tan loafers. Pete thought ‘They remind me so much of Joe and me when we were younger.’

Joe thought ‘I wonder if they are more than co-workers. Could they be a couple?’

Mac thought to himself, ‘There’s something not right here. They book one of the most luxurious suites in the hotel and now they’re going around with long faces like they have a toothache.’

Buddy thought, “These guys seem nice—not like some of the people we get here. I don’t know if they are having problems, but Mac and I are gonna do what we can to see if we can get them to snap out of it!’

Keeping their thoughts to themselves, the four guys went into dinner. As they were seated, Mac said, “Now sirs, you understand that there is no charge for our company this evening. It’s all part of the hotel’s service for its ‘valued customers.’ And don’t worry, when you see the prices on the menu, you’ll understand, that you’re not really getting anything for free!”

During a dinner that was absolutely delicious, there was a singer, a female impersonator, who sang some of the old romantic ballads and as dessert was served, he did his “Judy Garland” impression, singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

Mac said, “There’s some after dinner activity in the downstairs ‘play room.’ Tonight is strip poker night. Everyone who goes to the show is given a numbered ticket, and then six numbers are called and those six men get to play strip poker while the rest of us watch. The first one to lose all his clothes has to be the target of one of the other player’s fantasies. The one who has the most of his clothes still on, gets to call the shots.”

The four went down to the ‘playroom’ and bought their tickets,. Buddy and Mac, as staff, were allowed in because they were the companions of two of the hotel’s guests.

The numbers were called and Pete’s number was called. “Way to go,” said Joe. “Lucky you,’ said Mac.

“I don’t know, I’m still a little tired. I think I’ll just sit here and watch,” Pete said. “Why don’t you go in my place, Mac?”

Mac took the ticket and went down to join the other five players, and the three guys settled down to watch.

As player after player began to take off articles of clothing the audience began to get more and more raucous, calling out, “Show us what you got, babe,” and “Look at the cock on that stud.”

As the game wore on, it looked like Mac was going to be the one to lose all his clothes, and finally he was completely naked. His young lithe body glowed in the artificial light. His shoulders, arms, and chest were muscular, his abdomen showed an attractive six pack, and his bush had been neatly trimmed into a triangle. One could see some of the players, and some of the audience, licking their lips.

Pete got up and excused himself, saying he had to go to the men’s room. Joe and Buddy sat and watched as Mac lay down face up on the table, and the man who had kept most of his clothes on said, “I’m gonna get out of these rags, and then my fantasy is to have all five of us jerk off on this young guy’s delicious body. His role is to tell us how much he wants to feel our hot cum shots hitting his body.”

Mac lay there and began to get into the spirit of the game, writhing from side to side, thrashing his head from right to left, and bucking his mid section up and down. “Come on guys. Shoot your hot cream on me. Let me feel your man milk coating my hot body from head to toe.” Mac’s cock was erect, all six inches of it, pointing directly to the ceiling. His arms were thrust back over his head.

Joe noticed that Buddy was not enjoying this exhibit. In fact, he had his head buried in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking. “What’s wrong, my friend?”

“I wish he wouldn’t, that’s all,” Buddy said. tearfully “God knows what germs he may pick up. I wish he wouldn’t do it!”

Suddenly Mac let out a long “Aaaahhhhhhhh! AaaaaaaahhhhHHHHHH! HHHHHAAA!” With that he shot a long stream of his own cum a good three feet into the air. The audience went wild, cheering and yelling, Five-dollar bills and tens and twenties floated down to where Mac was laying.

Joe said, “Forgive me if I intrude on your personal life, but you two are more than just coworkers aren’t you?”

Buddy was too upset and too glad to have someone to listen to his concern to object to Joe’s question. “Yeah,” he said, “We’re boy friends, lovers, companions, call it what you will, but we are together. We took this job so we could save some money for college.”

“Because, dammit, we need the money. Any time a staff member puts on an act like Mac did management gives him a bonus and allows him to keep any tips he picks up.”

“We both want to be doctors, but we have a helluva long way to go,” was Buddy’s reply.

“No, sir, I know that he needs-we need—the money, and the pay and the tips are pretty good.”

“Buddy, no amount of money is worth risking your lives for. I think you should have a heart to heart talk with him and make him listen. It’s none of my business but . . . , please talk to him. Get him to see reason. Your lives may depend on it.”

Buddy looked at the older man and said, “Joe, if I may call you Joe, thank you for the advice, I think you have given me just the shove I need. And now, Joe, I would like to say something you might think is out of line . . .”

“It’s just that Mac and I sense that you and Pete are not the two happiest pigs in clover this evening. If something is bothering you, why don’t you talk to Pete and get it out in the open. Your happiness depends on it”

Joe looked at him as if dumbstruck. “Boy! Out of the mouths of babes, so to speak! I will, I’ll talk to him tonight. Thank you, Buddy. I could kiss you, but what would people say?”

Buddy smiled. “Go ahead, Joe. This isn’t called the ‘Hôtel Les Deux Chevaliers’ for nothing.” And so, Joe took Buddy into his arms, and gave him a tight hug and kissed him on the cheek—and then on the other one.

At this moment, Pete came back from the men’s room. “Am I interrupting something?” he asked, sarcastically.

“I see. Well, Maybe I should see if the hotel has a broom closet or somewhere I can sleep tonight, and young Buddy can continue to make you even happier!”

“No, you don’t see, you don’t see at all, Pete. Buddy has just given me some excellent advice. Please come up to the room and I will explain. Please. Please.”

Author’s comments: Although this entire story is now dedicated to the memory of Jason and Nicky, this chapter is devoted to another pair of lovers who have been together for 46 years. One of them has been an unfailing source of friendship, advice, humor, and encouragement. Please, dear readers, raise your glasses or put your hands together for Chris and Carlos.

Comments by E: Will is dangling a carrot out there. He is starting to play the cliff hanging game.

Author’s very last words: My dear friend and editor is such a worrier. He was afraid people might not know what sybaritic meant. I assured him that my readers would surly know that it meant luxurious or voluptuous. Of course Dorothy L. Sayers once put a passage in one of her mysteries written in French. When her editor asked her of she thought that was a good idea, she is said to have replied, that all of her readers must surely know French! And, let’s face it, cliff hangers are a good way to get the readers coming back.