Sex in the Sky

After bad night, Neal must face consequences with Marie.

5:00 AM Saturday morning I awoke as usual horny as ever. Seems even with all the extra activity I’ve enjoyed lately and the great sex Marie and I share I still love to start the day with a hot stroke session. Usually a story or 2 at Literotica and some mm porn online will do it. My favorite stories are always similar to what I write. My favorite porn sites feature regular guys in various combinations or mmf bi-sexual themes. Although I still love sex with women straight porn does nothing for me. After a particularly pleasing stroke session I showered, had breakfast and checked my financials online.

This time, from Alton’s perspective.

“(Some very kind people asked me to write another chapter in this story. So here it is. I hope it’s okay. It’s dedicated to you with thanks)”

*

Alton of the Golden Sun Hair lay on his narrow bed in Ellington 312, of his empty dorm. He had been trying to masturbate. He was half way through his sophomore year here and wondered with more than a little worry if he was becoming impotent already. It was foolish, he thought. There, naked. In the too well heated room. He could dress and go out in the snow. It was close to Christmas. He had lost his girl. He had embarrassed himself before his teacher. He had trusted the man. Who had had no time for him. He had had it made for such a long time now.

A second ritual and a second attempt at love.

“Hey, hey…Shhh, you’re alright, baby…” The whisper made him shiver delicately, his eyes fall shut at the soothing tones in that British voice that could only belong to one. All the fear faded rapidly, expelled with a sigh. Snuggling further into Ivan’s embrace, Damien’s lips, parted for an apology, trembled as the soft brushing of fingers down his back continued.

“Another nightmare? Don’t worry, Dami, don’t apologize…” Kissing a bare shoulder, Ivan closed his eyes before pulling away, tugging the younger’s shirt collar into place. The pup gave a shuddering breath, his fingers grasping handfuls of fabric, of his shirt. Taking a dare, Ivan let his lips nuzzle a turned cheek; wide cinnamon brown locked onto his tendered green ones. For a single second, his lover stared at him with fear, the tiniest of flickers before a blink and a frail smile replaced the trigger reaction.

The story of Jonathan’s parents (conclusion).

Six months later, Jonathan sat at his Uncle’s desk with Tony seated right beside him who was showing him the various files contained on the hard drive of the computer. He was instructed, step by step, how to navigate each one and continue the orders and pay outs that would keep the business running.

It didn’t go unnoticed that many of the files had been removed, leaving only half of what had been there the last time Jonathan had tried to decipher the codes. But, he didn’t ask many questions knowing Tony would tell him if it were that important. And with the strange happenings that had been going on in the mansion since they had been there, he really didn’t need to ask. He assumed that Mr. Bowman must have made a special appearance of some kind to Tony and told him what to do and where to look.

Forgotten night is now discovered; love is tested.

Gin and tonic was the best he could do at the moment; the drink burned its way down his throat, snapping him to attention momentarily before a pleasant numbness would take over. Letting his breath out in a quiet sigh, Marcel inhaled deeply, praying that the lack of sensation would free him from the coiling guilt at how much trouble he had caused the night before.

“He didn’t try to kill himself or anything, Damien would never.” Jumping at the first words the older wolf man spoke in over half an hour, the enforcer sneaked a glance at the broad-chested, intimidating figure who sat in one of his stools propped up against his kitchen counter table. Aware of how strongly this Ivan could convey his emotions, frightened of it too, Marcel looked away, palms sweating and unsuredly, a tongue darted out to moisten his dry lips. “Do I say anything in return to that? Does he-” “He’s narcoleptic, he probably hit his head on the way down.” There was no amusement in the other’s voice, only a statement spoken with that certain foreign lilt that reminded Marcel strongly of childhood neighbors and of older days.