Sex in the Sky

James sat in his car, looking up at the old brownstone building in which Malcolm lived and wondered just what the hell he was doing. He’d spent half the afternoon wondering what he should wear. He spent a good ten minutes trying to decide if he should wear cologne or not. If he were given the task of mapping out an underwater course through the Philippines without having to surface, he could do that in about three minutes without a second guess. Where had his backbone gone? Smooth and calm James McNeely was nervous. Not only was there a question of what to wear, but also in the back of his mind, he kept wondering if tonight was the night he would finally have sex. It was like a giant elephant sitting in the room with him. He kept trying to ignore it, but it wouldn’t be denied an audience.

After a couple of minutes, James grabbed the bottle of wine he’d snagged from his parent’s reserve and got out of the car. Just like in all things he’d ever done, he put his mind to it and pushed forward with a grim determination that would intimidate most people. He took the steps to the front door two at a time and rang the bell. He smoothed the front of his shirt down under his coat, ran his fingers quickly through his hair as one last nervous gesture and plastered a smile on his face as Malcolm opened the door.

Malcolm had watched as James sat in his car. Even though he was trying hard to quell his nerves, James’s smile was nervous once he opened the door. Malcolm stepped back to let him in and took his coat. The truth was, Malcolm was just as nervous. The raw attraction and the new, strange feelings he kept getting whenever he thought about James McNeely were like being on a roller coaster, terrifying and fun at the same time. After he’d hung up his coat, Malcolm had to pause, as he looked his guest up and down a few times. The man was the reason blue jeans were invented. They molded to his body like an old glove, contouring to muscular, strong thighs and a really incredible ass. His simple, white button down long-sleeved shirt hinted at strong muscles and a scintillating back. Malcolm’s mind wandered, as it so often does, and all he could think about was seeing those legs and that wide shouldered, well muscled back under him as he licked the back of his neck and thrust deep into James’s body. James turned around and smiled and Malcolm almost wanted to say to hell with dinner, but stopped himself.

Malcolm was dressed in black slacks with a burgundy shirt that looked like silk. The sleeves were rolled up to show a dusting of golden hair. His shirt had the top three buttons undone, showing off Malcolm’s throat and a slight sprinkling of chest hair. James looked down at his own shirt and realized that he’d dressed like he always did, all but the top button done, sleeves fully covering his arms. He wanted to undo some of his buttons, but figured it would look odd. The appreciative looks he was getting from Malcolm put James at ease. Malcolm showed the way into his home and they walked into the dining room and had dinner.

* * *

Dinner had been more than companionable. The two sat and ate their dinner interrupted often by laughter and conversation. They spoke of childhood and college. They shared commiserating stories about growing up in the public eye. They drank the bottle of wine slowly and it added a nice mellowness to the situation that erased both their nervousness and reserve. James was smiling while Malcolm described some of his antics in college. Then he burst out laughing, loud and deep, echoing through the room. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Malcolm was wiping tears from his eyes. “Hey, if someone is going to offer me forty bucks to take a dare, I’m going to do it.”

James was chuckling. “But to strip naked and dance in the school fountain?”

Malcolm grinned. “I was young and stupid. Come on, I’m sure you have tales to tell too.”

James smiled, but it was a bit sad. “Actually, when I was going to school, my dad was in the middle of his campaign. I walked the straight path, never looked to the sides at all.”

Malcolm covered James’s hand with his. “That must have been very lonely.”

James’s smile was a little sad. “It was. But, I don’t regret it.”

Deciding that that sad smile needed to go away, Malcolm grabbed James’s hand and led him out of the dining room. They marched up the three flights of stairs and through a den before they reached the ladder to the roof. Malcolm grabbed the buttons on James’s shirt and started undoing them. He stood apprehensively as Malcolm slowly peeled his shirt off of him. Malcolm stood for a moment, admiring James’s chest. For it was a chest to have sonnets written about. It was a chest that sculptors weep over. It was a chest that said ‘get ready, I need to be worshipped for hours.’ Malcolm grinned and reached for James’s belt buckle. James’s hands stilled Malcolm’s. “What’s going on here?”

Malcolm simply brushed his lips against James’s and whispered, “Trust me.”

Soon James stood in his boxer-briefs, feeling odd and a bit silly until Malcolm started stripping down as well. James watched as the silk shirt slid to the floor and he could see Malcolm’s chest. It was tanned and firm without being overly-defined. It was dusted with hair, just a smattering compared to the deep forest that covered his own. James let out some of his nervousness in laughter as he watched Malcolm hop from foot to foot trying to take his shoes off. Then he was standing before him in his briefs. The man was only wearing simple, white cotton briefs, but the whole picture made James’s pulse pound and his flesh lengthen. Malcolm stared at him for a few moments, grinning as his eyes tracked over his body. They downright gleamed when he saw the effect he was having on James’s body. He kissed him again and grinned. “That’ll keep for later.”

Malcolm opened the door to the roof and pulled James outside. It was freezing cold. Both men’s nipples contracted into tight points. Goosebumps erupted on their skin. But Malcolm didn’t stop until he had pulled James to the ledge. They stood on the rooftop, just a few minutes before midnight in their underwear. James had never felt so foolish or aroused in his entire life. Malcolm checked his watch and started the countdown at one minute to twelve. Once he started counting, he slipped his briefs off and raised his eyebrow to James, clearly challenging him. Before he could stop himself, James slid his underwear off, gasping as the cold air caressed his body, instantly killing the slightest bit of arousal.

Malcolm looked at his watch then walked up to James, wrapping his arms around him and whispering in his ear before he bit it. “Happy New Year.” James moaned at the sensation and barely heard the fireworks and the morons in the street banging pots and pans. His shyness forgotten, he kissed Malcolm deeply, running his hands up and down his back. His body was on fire, the feel of all that warm flesh pressed against his felt so good. But before they got carried away, James looked at Malcolm. “Can we go back inside, my balls are freezing?”

Malcolm laughed and led them back inside. Once they climbed down the ladder, they both felt the cold even more. James hustled to get his boxer-briefs and shirt back on. Malcolm dropped his briefs and grabbed a blanket from the back of a couch in the upper den. “Okay, so it wasn’t one of my better ideas. But it was fun.”

James laughed. “Yeah. It was great. But I’m freezing.”

Malcolm grinned at him and stepped back, opening his blanket a bit. “Why don’t you sit down here and we’ll work on warming up?”

James was in the process of buttoning his shirt, but Malcolm’s sultry words stopped him. He walked like an automaton to the couch and sat. Malcolm sat beside him, hip to hip, and fanned the blanket around the both of them. Malcolm stared into James’s eyes and used his hands to rough some heat into his arms. Excited, aroused panic poured through every vein in James’s body. What was going to happen? What was this the start of? He swallowed deeply.

“Malcolm, what is happening here?”

Malcolm gave a small smile. “I’m not sure. But I like it.”

“I’ve never been with anyone before.” His voice stammered and his body shook, with excitement and with fear. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

Malcolm felt a warm, happy feeling suffuse his body. Malcolm turned his body, slipping one thigh over James’s. He cupped James’s face in his hand and brushed his lips gently against James’s. “Then I think you should set the pace.” He rubbed his thumb along James’s cheeks and felt him thicken against his lap. “We won’t go any faster or slower than you decide.”

His hands went flat on James’s chest, his fingers sifting through the hair. James moaned as his fingers grazed against his nipples. Malcolm leaned in and kissed James, delving deep into his mouth, kissing him completely. James’s hands moved up to Malcolm’s back, skimming over the smooth skin. They flowed as if of their own accord. He hesitated from moving too far down and Malcolm grabbed James’s hands and moved them down to cup his ass. James moaned again, liking the feel of the warm, hair dusted globes in his hands.

Malcolm was melting as James kneaded his ass. His body was strumming with pleasure, and all they had done was some kissing and light body stroking. He moved his hands down and undid the two or three buttons of James’s shirt, feeling his erection smooth into the silky hair on James’s belly. The top of Malcolm’s thigh pressed into the bulge under James’s underwear. He kept a slight, lazy, random pattern of pressure going as he kissed James. Malcolm loved tweaking James’s nipples, hearing him moan against his lips. He was leaking against the furry belly beneath him; he could feel the slight pull from the hair. He kept going, wondering when James would stop him. But that moment never came, despite James’s ragged, pained breathing and heavy moans into his mouth. Then Malcolm felt his belly quiver beneath his cock and his legs tense under his. James threw his head back and moaned, crying out as the spasms of completion racked his body. Malcolm’s thigh became sticky from his release and it was by the barest margins that he kept from following James over the edge.

James’s body was electrified beyond pleasure as the last of his orgasm passed. His body was on fire and he felt drained and energized at the same time. He had also never been more embarrassed in his entire life. He never lost control. Not once in all his years had he let go. The experience thrilled him. But more than that, it terrified him. He just wasn’t meant to go from stand still to full marathon right away. Malcolm rolled away from him and James stood, grabbing his jeans and pulling them on, dismayed at how soaked his clothing was and how even after that release, was still almost completely erect. He didn’t even bother with the buttons on his shirt. He grabbed his socks and shoved them into his pocket and practically sprinted for the stairs, Malcolm’s voice chasing him.

James made it to the front hall, hopping while slipping on his shoes. He grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door. He hadn’t made it three feet when Malcolm rushed out the door and called out to him. “James, don’t leave. Please?”

The heartache in his voice made James stop and turn to face him. “Malcolm.” He didn’t know what else he could say.

Despite being barefoot and wrapped toga like in his blanket, Malcolm stepped down to James and cupped his face. “Don’t be embarrassed. It happens more often then you might think.”

James’s blush deepened. “Malcolm, I’m so sorry. This is really too fast for me.” He looked down, embarrassed by his old-fashioned values. Jesus! He was almost a Victorian prude when it came to this. “I want to, very badly. But I’m just not ready.”

Malcolm leaned in and kissed James quiet. When James had melted against his body, Malcolm looked in his eyes. “It’s okay. I told you we’d go at your own pace. I meant it.”

James smiled big; his relief apparent in his eyes. “I won’t always be such a prude.”

Malcolm threw his head back and laughed. “I swear if you got any less prudish, I’d have been right there with you. That I can promise.”

James blushed and kissed Malcolm again, walking towards his car, knowing the secret service would pull out discreetly behind him and follow him back to the White House. Malcolm went back inside, smiling as he climbed into bed. His mind filled with images of James as he completed what they had started earlier. He went to sleep shortly after, his release going cold on his belly.

Neither James nor Malcolm knew it, but their goodbye kiss on the front stoop of Malcolm’s brownstone was photographed. The young, naïve, mostly out of work freelance photographer just happened to be walking home from a party when he saw the two men. His camera snapped several shots of them. By dawn, the photos were in the news data files. By noon, the story was whizzing around the world. By evening, they were front page worthy stories.

* * *

James stood, staring out from his window in the Lincoln Bedroom. His grin was wide and not stopping as he remembered the night before. It was early, just after dawn. He hadn’t slept much. His body was still humming from the previous night. His mind was lost in contemplation. He was going to be twenty-seven soon. Somehow, someway, he had fallen in love. In his heart, he knew that he hadn’t known Malcolm long enough. He really knew nothing about him. Although their conversation from the night before let him know that he was fun and free. He was a good man, someone thrust into a responsibility he never planned on taking but was striving to do the best job he could. James admired him. But more than that, he liked him. His body made his sing. His eyes were kind and caring, almost reverentially loving whenever he looked at him. In his heart, he knew it was too soon. He didn’t know him well enough. But it didn’t matter. His heart had made up its mind and decided to fall. Perhaps this is how it was supposed to be. Maybe love happened fast and furious, with no pause and little logic.

He left the bedroom, searching for his mother. He found her having breakfast with his father in the solar on the second floor. They invited James to join them. They smiled at him, and James felt himself blushing, as if what had happened last night were flashing in a neon sign over his head. Madeline took one look at her son and felt the prickling of tears sting her eyes. Her son was in love.

“So he’s the one?” She caressed James’s face, staring into his eyes.

James shifted in his seat, not quite meeting her eyes. “It seems like it’s too soon.”

John laughed and clapped his hand on his son’s back. “I knew that your mother was right for me about three minutes after I met her.”

James stared at his dad, with a mixture of admiration and wonder. “That fast?”

John shook his head. “I fought it. I denied that it was real. But it was. I guess that’s why I waited three weeks before I asked her to marry me.”

James chuckled, “Thank God. I was afraid there was something wrong with me.”

A secret serviceman interrupted them, “Excuse me Mr. President. Senator Richardson is here; he’d like to see Captain McNeely.”

John turned to his son and winked. “Let him come up, Roger. Thank you.”

Malcolm walked in, only mostly disappointed that James’s parents were there with him. Not that he disliked them, but he really was hoping he could grab some kissing this morning. “Good morning Mr. President. Mrs. McNeely. James.”

No one mistook that Malcolm’s voice deepened and thickened when he said ‘James.’ Madeline invited him to sit and join them for coffee. They sat in companionable silence, drinking coffee, finishing breakfast, and sharing looks. After a couple of minutes, Malcolm piped up, unable to handle the silence any longer. “Well, has anyone heard a good joke lately?”

It broke the tension and everyone laughed. Malcolm reached over and brushed his hand along James’s arm, causing him to break out in goose bumps. When he was about to speak, the secret serviceman came to the table again. “Excuse me, Mr. President, but Alan Espinoza is on his way.”

Sighing deeply, John stood. “It wouldn’t be a normal day without the press.”

A tall, slender man cleared the stairs and came to the table. “I’m sorry to interrupt Mr. President. There’s a story that will be hitting the wires in a few hours. Thought you’d like to know about it.”

John turned to his press secretary and nodded. “Do we need to take this private?”

Alan cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Um… it involves Captain McNeely and Senator Richardson.”

John’s eyes shot over to the two men sitting with his wife. “How?”

Taking a file from under his arm, he laid it on the table. “There’s a photograph from last night. Looks like someone caught a kiss on film.”

James stood with the picture in his hand, appalled that he’d been caught, and how turned on by how erotic the visual reminder of last night he’d become. “Damn! Who did this?”

Alan bored his eyes into James. “A freelance photographer was walking home from a party and caught this outside the Senator’s home.” Turning back to the President, he calmly asked, “How do you wish to handle this sir?”

“There’s nothing to handle. My son went on a date. Most dates end in a kiss.”

Clearing his throat. “Sir, your son is not openly gay. He’s a naval officer. There is going to be a lot of questions on this.”

Seeing his son get paler with each passing word, John wanted to dismiss Alan Mendoza. “Then the answer is ‘no comment.’”

“Mr. President—”

“No. I’ll see you downstairs for the briefing in ten minutes.”

“Sir—”

“Go, Alan.”

When the press secretary had left the room, John walked to his son and placed his hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay, James. It doesn’t matter.”

“I knew something like this would happen.”

Madeline chimed in with motherly concern. “James, nothing’s happened. Nothing’s wrong.”

Pain filled eyes lifted to hers. “Yes, there is.”

Malcolm, getting more pissed with each passing minute, calmly said, “And what is wrong?”

James turned pained filled eyes to Malcolm. He swallowed deeply and John caught the mood and cleared his throat. “I’m sure the free world needs us, Madeline. We’ll leave the two of you alone.”

After they had left, James had no idea what to say. He’d been insensitive. “Malcolm, I’m sorry.”

Malcolm stood, clearly agitated. “What was so wrong? What happened that was so bad?”

James sat still with his eyes closed. How could things have fallen apart so quickly? All he’d wanted was to have what everyone else had. Was that so wrong? Obviously it was. It killed him to do it, but he was going to have to let Malcolm go. Before he could even say the words, Malcolm had his jaw in his hands.

“Don’t!” He kneeled down. “Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Forget it. I’m not leaving.”

James looked at him in wonder. “How’d you know I was going to say that?”

Malcolm’s voice came out as a snort. “Let me guess… you can’t see me anymore. What happened, although pretty damn incredible, isn’t worth the scandal.” He stood and paced a few moments then turned back. “How close was I?”

James shrugged. “Pretty close. Although I wouldn’t have said what happened last night was ‘pretty damn incredible.’” When Malcolm went to say something, James held up his hand to stop him. “It was the best time I’ve ever had.” He shrugged one shoulder and shifted embarrassingly in his seat. “Even if it was one-sided.”

Malcolm came back to squat before James’s chair. “That doesn’t matter. What happened last night wasn’t wrong. It was beautiful. It was mutually fulfilling, and I don’t want it to be over.”

“Neither do I.”

Malcolm’s grin was wide and happy. James covered his mouth with his hand. “But it doesn’t change some things.” He stood and walked to the windows, looking out at the lawns. “I’m a Naval officer. I’ve just been outed by the national press. No one asked, and I didn’t tell, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in violation of the rules of military conduct.”

Will moaned around the fingers Nando pressed into his mouth and sucked on them slowly. It had been so long since he had tasted his older lover. He gave a small whimper as Nando slowly removed the digits on which Will was feeding.

“Take me, Nando. Please, make me yours again.”

“You have never stopped being mine, Will, but I will take you, leave my mark upon you, my seed within you.”

Nando growled pleasurably as his mouth latched onto a small pink nipple. His hand worked its twin as Nando sucked and nipped bringing the nub of flesh to aching hardness. His mouth moved to its twin, sucking and nipping at the small pink peak. Moist, open mouthed kisses travelled down Will’s hairless chest. Nando licked around Will’s navel before tonguing the small indent to an impassioned moan and a thrust of Will’s hips. The movement drew Nando’s eyes to his mate’s slender manhood. The organ lay on Will’s abdomen. Already a glistening trail lay on Will’s soft skin and it drew Nando as irresistibly as a siren’s song. His tongue lapped at the pearly fluid and Nando moaned his pleasure. It had been so long since he had tasted his mate. Will’s intimate flavour was as intoxicating and addictive as Nando remembered. He sucked the head of Will’s shaft into his mouth, sucking gently and probing at the small slit to encourage more of his lover’s pre-come.

Will writhed in building ecstasy. Nando’s wickedly talented tongue licked up the underside of Will’s erection, tracing the prominent vein before bathing his sacs with teasing kitten licks that caused Will to buck and thrust blindly. Will fisted the bedding with one hand as the other alternately stroked Nando’s hair and fisted it mindlessly. Nando draped one powerful arm over Will’s hips, holding the smaller man down. He sucked one of his fingers and reached between Will’s parted globes. As he took Will’s erection fully into his mouth till his nose pressed into the small blond nest of curls, Nando pressed the saliva slick digit into Will’s tiny portal. Unerringly Nando curled it to stroke Will’s special spot as he began to orally massage his mate’s slender rod. It was too much for the younger man. With a wail of Nando’s name, his crème flooded Nando’s mouth and the Rojan swallowed Will’s salty sweet nectar. Finally Nando allowed the softened organ to slip from his mouth and stretched alongside his mate to share Will-flavoured kisses with the satiated younger man.

“So beautiful, my love,” Nando purred. “Such a sweet boy.”

He kissed Will softly and then began to deepen the kisses. He still wanted to be buried in his lover when he came, but hoped he would be able to re-arouse Will. Gently he urged Will onto his stomach and placed a pillow under Will’s hips to cant the perfect bottom for his delectation. He stoked the satiny flesh and cupped the soft sac. Sensually he squeezed the precious orbs to rub together and then part as his tongue traced random patterns on downy skin. Nando parted Will’s legs further and knelt between them. His large dark hands contrasted against the creamy skin and he marvelled anew at his mate’s perfection. That the beautiful blond would choose him had chosen him and agreed to be his Spouse. At times Nando could hardly believe his fortune, to be mated with a beautiful, intelligent young man who loved him as much as he was loved was the fabric of dreams and yet the reality moaned and writhed under his hands, under his tongue.

Focusing on pleasuring his lover and wanting to re-arouse him, Nando parted the soft nether cheeks to gaze with hunger and the exposed pink rosebud of Will’s entrance. Nando felt his shaft jolt and pre-come dripped to pool unheeded on the bed-sheet. Nando’s tongue slid sinuously between the parted cheeks, swiping repeatedly over the tiny portal. From sweeping licks, Nando began to circle to small aperture occasionally probing with the tip of a darting tongue to tease the furled flesh. Finally he was as desperate to taste his lover as Will was to have the agile muscle inside him. Will’s pleas and mewls were incoherent sounds of want and need and were increasing the older man’s desire to take Will and fill the willing body with his flesh and then his seed. Holding Will as wide apart as possible, Nando thrust his tongue against the rosebud and felt it bloom and open. His tongue pushed deep, tasting Will’s most private place. Nando’s moan of bliss sent pleasurable vibrations throughout Will’s body and Nando felt Will try to push back.

As Nando’s tongue alternated between licking wetly around the loosening entrance with deep penetrating thrusts, Nando released one pert buttock to fondle at Will’s groin. With a growl of triumph that preceded a muted moan from Will, Nando began to stroke firmly the resurgent erection of his mate. For long minutes Nando’s tongue and hand worked to fully arouse his young mate. Reluctantly, Nando pulled back. He reached for the oil and coated two fingers. His smile was self-satisfied as two fingers slid easily inside his lover. Quickly coating the third he stroked at Will’s prostrate as Will panted and pushed back surging to his knees and trying to spread his legs more.

“Now, Nando. Please take me now,” Will pleaded.

“Roll over,” Nando commanded in a voice dark and husky with need. He gave a feral smile of satisfaction as the smaller man obeyed with alacrity and spread his legs wide in a silent, submissive invitation. Unable, unwilling, to deny what the both needed, Nando locked gazes with Will as he coated his hard, purpled flesh that jutted upright from a thick pelt of dark pubic fur. Will’s glazed orbs had darkened to indigo and held the same need and desire as Nando’s that glittered blackly. Nando pushed the head of his sex against the glistening portal.

“Mine,” he growled as he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt. He held himself still till Will’s voice husked;

“Take me now.”

Nando felt the slender limbs lock around his waist. Will used his heels against Nando’s bunching and flexing gluteus muscles, meeting each thrust of his mate with a movement of his own ensuring Nando went as deep inside him as possible. Nando nipped at Will’s throat and collarbone to leave outward marks of his passion and possession. His forearms balanced him as he pounded into velvet heat. A whimper and the thrashing of the lithe body below him heralded the repeated strikes against Will’s sweet spot. Nando grunted in time with his thrusts feeling Will’s hands grasp and score his muscular back. His head was pulled into a kiss of teeth and tongues and the two men panted wetly into each other’s mouths as their zenith approached. Nando reached between their sweat-slick bodies to pull at Will’s hard need.

“Come for me,” he bellowed.

“NANDO!!” The scream seemed to echo around the room as the world narrowed to the two men becoming one in spirit as well as in flesh. Will’s pearlescent seed flowed between their bodies, coating them in the evidence of his sexual surrender.

“WILL! MINE!” Nando’s primal roar was a counterpoint to Will’s cry. Pushing as far inside the clenching channel as possible, Nando finally found his release. Pulse after pulse of his hot seed flowed into Will’s still convulsing body and Will’s moan was both wanton and music to the older man’s ears.

Will felt his mate’s living essence fill him and he revelled in the voluptuous feeling of fullness it gave him. He reached to pull Nando for another kiss even as Nando’s flesh still thrust lazily inside him, fully spent of its precious semen. Will sighed in pleasure as Nando’s tongue pushed into his mouth. His lover was in him, around him, over him, all he could see, feel, taste, smell and touch was his lover and Will had never felt so complete or content.

Nando and Will both moaned softly as the kiss broke apart and Nando’s softening shaft began to slip from its haven. Carefully Nando rolled their satiated bodies to tuck Will safely in his arms, the blond head fitting perfectly in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“Te queiero, mi angel, Nando husked.

“Te queiero, Nando,” Will echoed.

Nando nuzzled at Will’s temple and smiled at the sudden weight and snuffling that heralded Will was now sleeping sated and safe in Nando’s embrace. Nando smiled. It wouldn’t hurt for them both to sleep a little after the intense orgasms they had shared. He hugged the slender body close. In just a few short months he and Will would be married: Husband and Spouse.

“Mine,” Nando growled softly as he let the soothing cadence of Will’s heartbeat lull him into sleep.

Every night the kids and I watched Ronnie on her CPPW remote broadcast from Nairobi, interviewing teenage girls, married women, prostitutes, old ladies. It was all so interesting. And Ronnie looked very glamorous in the different Dashikis she wore each evening.

“There’s mommy,” I said to the children, pointing at the TV.

“I know,” said Warren.

“Why is she wearing that funny dress?” asked Nancy.

“That’s the fashion in Nairobi,” I explained to her.

“When is she coming back? I miss my mommy.”

“Darling, she’ll be back next week. Before you know it,” I told her, and gave her a little squeeze. Then I took her upstairs and put her to bed.

When I came back into the parlor, Warren put me to shame as usual on the evening quiz shows, and then I took him upstairs also and tried to help him into his jammies.

“I can do it myself,” he said. He was getting so independent. He was really growing up.

“Okay,” I said, and watched as he changed. He had an adorable little body. He was just like a little cherub, sculpted by some great Italian artist.

I kissed him on his forehead and pulled up the covers. Then I turned out the light and went down the hall to my own bedroom. There had been a lot of laundry that day, (I had changed all the linens, and washed them, and dried them, and folded them) so I was really tired.

Usually before bed, I read a little, and I was right in the middle of the best part of the book I was reading, ‘Magda on the High Seas,’ a romance novel about an eighteenth century highborn lady who is on a sea voyage from England, bound for the Carolinas, when her ship is overtaken by a pirate vessel, and she is taken captive by a vicious band of brigands, led by the handsome and dashing Captain Fabian, after which, she is forced into all kinds of menial labors which she had never been unaccustomed to, such as cooking the meals, and acting as a servant to the rowdy crew, as well as to the handsome Captain. And I was just getting to the part where she was about to be forcibly seduced by Captain Fabian. He had called her into his cabin and was about to rip open her bodice and force himself upon her. I was breathless to read it. But it would have to wait until tomorrow night. I was just too tired now. I fell immediately asleep.

I don’t know what time it was. Probably after midnight, but I came awake. I felt a presence in my room. Someone was in here with me. Slowly I opened an eye, and I saw my employer, Eric. I saw his slim naked body glowing in the moonlight streaming through the window. He was standing barely a foot away from my face. I could only see his midsection. I didn’t dare look up. He was standing there with an erect penis sticking roughly ten inches perpendicular to the rest of his body. Whatever could this mean? Rather than face the situation, I closed my eye, and pretended to still be sleeping.

He shook my shoulder roughly. I opened my eyes, and looked up into his. They were cold and they were mean.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Suck my cock, homo,” he ordered me.

“I am not a homo,” I defended myself.

“Of course you’re a homo. I knew you were a sissy the minute I laid eyes on you. So why don’t you just be a good little fairy and suck my cock for me? I need to shoot off a load, so I can get some sleep.”

I had told him I was not a homo, but I thought that maybe I really was. I had been terribly attracted to some of the boys on the sports teams back in junior college, back when I was eighteen. There had been this really sleek, beautiful boy, Jimmy who was the star of the swimming team, and he had kind of cornered me in the shower room one day. He had pretended to be my friend, and told me how much he really liked me, and I kind of got a momentary crush on him, and I was so happy that he really liked me that I would have done anything for him, so that when he suggested that he would like me to suck on his penis, right there in the shower, I slipped to my knees, and took it in my mouth. And then he wasn’t so nice any more. He kept pushing my head down on it, which was choking me, and yelling, “Suck it, faggot. Suck it, faggot,” and before I knew it his hot thick cream was filling my mouth, and even going back into my throat, and I tried to spit it out, but he held my head in such a way, yelling “Swallow it, faggot. Swallow it.,” that I had no choice but to swallow it.

After that life was not worth living. Every boy in school knew I was a homo and hounded me for blowjobs, but I only did it if I knew they were going to beat me up, should I refuse to blow them. I didn’t really want to do it any more. So, yes, maybe I was as gay as everyone thought I was. Junior college had been years ago, and I had mercifully put it all out of my mind.

And now, here was Eric, my employer, calling me a homo, and ordering me to suck his cock. Eric was very handsome, but I was deathly afraid of him. I felt just like Lady Magda felt toward handsome Captain Fabian in ‘Magda on the High Seas,’ repelled by Eric, and attracted to Eric at the same time.

I crawled out of bed, and obediently got down on my knees before his thick pulsating penis. I took it in my left hand, and felt its amazing rigidity. Then I inched forward and took it into my mouth. He had showered, and I tasted Ivory Spring soap, which I loved. I began sucking on his penis. At first I liked it.

But then it was just like back in high school with Jimmy. He got mean and nasty. He grabbed the back of my head and forced me down on it, so that I was choking, all the while yelling “Suck it, faggot. Suck my fucking cock, you fucking homo.”

It didn’t last long. Ronnie had been gone for over a week, so he had a copious amount of cream, which needed to be expelled, and it was. Down my throat. He kept forcing my head down on it and thrusting in with each spurt, until the fountain had run dry.

He withdrew his softening cock from my mouth, and complimented me. “You give a good blowjob, faggot.” Then he turned and left my room. I watched the bounce of his tight buttocks as he walked to the door, and I could see his large pendulous balls and limp penis swinging in front of him, as I looked between his muscular thighs as he walked away from me. He closed the door behind him. I was still kneeling on the floor next to my bed, trying to mentally process what had just happened. Finally, I just got back into bed, and luckily, I fell back to sleep rather quickly.

I was preparing breakfast as usual the next morning, and getting the children fed and ready for school when he descended the stairs. The moment I had been dreading. I couldn’t even look him in the eye.

I put his platter of bacon and eggs on the table in front of him.

“My juice,” he said.

I had forgotten his orange juice. I poured him a glass and set it in front of him. And not another word was spoken.

Ronnie returned from Nairobi a week later, and life returned to normal. I was so much more comfortable having her in the house. By this time I was very attached to the children, and happy in my job except for that one incident, which in a strange way had been a little exciting, so I decided not to risk anything by revealing to Ronnie what had occurred in her absence.

And then a year passed, and the children had each graduated to the next grade level, and Ronnie was again given a foreign assignment. ‘The Life of the Ladyboy in modern-day Thailand’.

The kids and I hated to see her go, but it was a good career move for her. She was to be gone three weeks this time, and was also to interview sex-workers in other Asiatic countries. This was a subject garnered to bring the station mucho high ratings.

It happened again. About a week after she was gone, I awoke to see the handsome, naked Eric looming over me, clutching an enormous hard-on. I sat up in shock. “On your knees, faggot. You know what to do.”

I did know what to do, and I got on my knees and did it, and as mean and rough as he was, I was getting a perverse kind of thrill out of his ill-treatment, and the largeness of his dick filling my mouth, and I was even grasping his firm buttocks, as he slammed his cock into my throat, and the dribble was running down my chin, and onto the wood floor. He was still using Ivory Spring. My favorite. I began to get into it a little, and succeeded in pulling my mouth off his knob, so that I could tongue his heavy balls, and even the flesh behind them, and even a little between the tight buttcheeks. My tongue touched his hole, and he jumped and roared. Finally, he grabbed my hair and sent his cock burrowing down my throat for his voluminous liquid climax.

“Swallow it, faggot,” he ordered me, but I already had.

Ronnie came back and life returned to normal. Another year passed. I wondered if Ronnie ever noticed that her husband never looked at me or spoke to me, but I said nothing.

And then she got her biggest assignment yet. She was going on an assignment to interview Aslamic women for CPPW. She was going to be broadcasting from the country of Medinastan. This assignment was going to put her in line for the top anchor position on the nightly news. She was terribly excited, and I was happy for her. I knew that I would probably have another visit from Eric while she was gone, but I now felt I could handle it.

Sure enough. Not too many nights had gone by when his trim naked form appeared by my bedside. “Hi,” I said. I just wanted to make it a little more friendly.

“I can’t fall asleep. I need to cum. Do it.”

“Yes, master,” I said, trying to make it sound like it was a game, and I was kidding. I climbed out of bed and got down on my knees in front of his erect penis, and decided I would tantalize him a little first. I didn’t put it right in my mouth. I stuck out my tongue and licked up both his thighs. I felt his muscles tighten beneath my tongue. This hadn’t been expected. Then I started to nuzzle on his large hairy sack, taking each of the large eggs into my mouth one at a time, and running my tongue over it. He seemed to like that too, because I heard a little moan. I knew he wanted me to swallow his cock now. Wanted it badly. But not just yet. I crawled between his thighs, and licked his firm, manly, muscular buttcheeks, which I then separated just enough to stick my tongue between until it came into contact with the soft wrinkled hidden ring. As long as he was moaning and arching his body like this, I had no intention of stopping. I was enjoying his pleasure. I was positive that neither Ronnie nor any of the other nannies before me had ever done such extreme things for him, and wondered if he even appreciated my efforts to delight him. Suddenly he grabbed my hair and pulled my face in front of his long straight cock, with the smooth angry red knob.

“Suck it,” he ordered. I was about to say okay, but he used that opportunity to shove it right down my throat. He was throat fucking me with unbelievable force, as if he wanted to hurt me, but I was excited. Secretly I reached down between my legs, and grabbed my own erection, and stealthily jerked it back and forth as he fucked my face. The sensation of the hot liquid blasts filling my mouth and throat sent me over the top, and I spilled my own load secretly in the dark on the wooden floor. Thank goodness there was no carpet in my room. I would have stained it.

As soon as he had drained the last drop down my throat, he pulled away and turned and left the room. Not so much as a thank you. And I had given him such extra special treatment tonight. I shrugged and reached for a tissue to mop up the puddle on the floor. Then I got back into bed and slept like a baby. I’m not sure, but I think I even dreamed that I was sucking Eric’s cock.

Ronnie had been making nightly appearances via satellite, and it was so interesting to learn about the lifestyle of the women in the eastern lands. So different from here.

But about two days after my visit from Eric, I was dusting the parlor, and I had the radio on. Suddenly the hip-hop song they were playing stopped right in the middle. There was a news announcement. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stood frozen in a half-stooped position about to dust the legs of the armchair, when they announced that Ronnie Ranger of CPPW International News had been captured by terrorists, and that they were going to behead her the next day. The terrorists were planning to charge her with crimes against the modesty and obedience of Womanhood itself, and would show a videotape of the mock trial in several hours. The dust rag dropped from my hand. I began to cry.

I tried to call Eric at the plant, but they told me he had already been informed of the situation and was on his way home, and that he was stopping to pick the children up from school.

I sat down in the undusted armchair, and faced it toward the television, where I had CPPW tuned in for further information. I was still crying, and using the dust rag for a handkerchief.

I gave the kids an early dinner and sent them up to bed. The less they knew, the better. Eric and I sat in separate chairs watching the large LCD screen across the room. As usual, we didn’t speak. I tried to tell him how sorry I was, but he just glared at me.

All of a sudden there was a breaking story. CPPW was about to show a tape it had just received from Al Haluul, the leading television broadcaster in the Eastern world.

A group of covered, masked men led in a woman whose hands and feet were bound and who was completely covered in a chador. Only her frightened eyes were showing. They spoke in Medinastantic, which was then translated into English, and the woman answered in English. It was indeed Ronnie.

There were English subtitles also, as the men spoke in Medinastantic. One of them, the leader, it seemed, spoke.

“You are accused of walking through our Kingdoms with neither shame nor feminine modesty, displaying your face and body for all to see. You are the ultimate example of the Western Slut who is corrupting the purity and virtue of our women. We have consulted our holiest texts and the righteous men who interpret them, and have decided that these crimes are punishable by death. You will be beheaded at once, and your head will be carried on a pole throughout the land for all to see the fate of a harlot.”

Ronnie started to cry.

At first the man seemed unmoved. But then he asked her. “Do you repent your crimes?”

She was desperate. She didn’t know what to say or do. She just kept ripping at the long sleeves of her chador, with her frightened eyes looking left to right. Finally she made a decision. It was obviously a last futile attempt to save herself.

“Yes. Yes. I do. I have been a Western slut and harlot, and I only wish I had the chance to show you what a modest and obedient woman I could be. That is my true self. What you saw in me was a mask I wore to survive in the Western world, where it is impossible to be a real woman.”

“Is this the truth?” The man, was impressed with her impassioned speech, but didn’t know if he could believe her.

“Yes. That is the truth. I only want to be a good woman and follow in the traditions of obedience and humility.”

“There is a way that you could save yourself and live,” he suggested.

When she heard the English translation, her tremulous voice asked, “How?”

“You would have to convert to our beliefs. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Yes. Absolutely. Yes. How do I convert?”

“Repeat after me,” he said. The translator told her what to do and say, and she repeated the foreign phrases she had been told to speak, not having the slightest idea what she was swearing to.

“Is that it?” she asked. She wasn’t quite sure she was out of trouble yet.

“Not quite.” The translator told her “Not quite.” The next conditions, which we saw in subtitles on the screen even before they were translated, were these: “We will arrange a marriage for you. You will become the wife and property of one of our great Mujahadeens. You will serve him religiously and obediently and bear his many children.”

Ronnie just stood there in her chador.

“Do you agree to these conditions?” The translator asked, following the leaders foreign words. She stood motionless for a few moments, but what choice did she have? It was either agree or be beheaded.

“Yes. Yes, I agree,” she agreed.

At this point the translator, translating the leader’s words, told her that this very man, this leader, this great Mujahadeen has agreed to make you his third wife, as he already has two. He has always liked blondes, and thinks that perhaps you will have beautiful babies together.”

She seemed a little dizzy, and looked about to faint, but the leader caught her and set her down into a chair. They would be married immediately, and start their new family. The ceremony would be shown the next day on Al Jaluula television. And then it was over. Eric and I sat there stunned. As usual we didn’t speak.

He switched off the television and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. I waited a few minutes and went to my own room. Somehow, some way, Ronnie would find a way to trick them and escape. She was smart. She was clever. She was Ronnie. We would have her back soon. I was sure of that. I never gave up hope. Still crying, I fell asleep.

The next day we witnessed the Matrimonial Ceremony rebroadcast on CPPW from the original tape sent to Al Jaluul. They had Ronnie. At least for now. I knew that at this very moment she was probably having to go to bed with that horrible Mujahadeen. I had only seen his eyes, but they were mean.

Eric worked tirelessly with the State Department, trying to secure her freedom, but it was useless. Neither the identity of her new husband nor her whereabouts could be discovered.

I bonded with the children as closely as I could, to make up for the loss of their dear mother. We told the children almost the truth. That she was being detained in another country and our government was doing everything possible to get her back.

I helped the children with their homework every night. I did everything I possibly could. I knew they were feeling insecure. Nancy was always throwing her arms around my waist and holding me, and Warren was also. He was even kissing me on the cheek every morning when he left for school.

It took Eric about a month to appear in my bedroom late one evening, and demand that I give him a blowjob. Well, Ronnie was gone, and I had been hired as her surrogate. I was the Nanny. I did what I had to do. He was happy enough to use me, but he still never spoke to me. I wondered if the children ever noticed that their father never addressed a word to me.

Then he started coming in more than once a week. Then he started lying on my bed, and making me crawl on my knees between his legs to suck him off. He was making himself comfortable now.

And then one night, instead of saying “Suck it,” he said. “My wife is gone, and I like to fuck. I’m going to bang you. Kneel on the bed with your ass in the air. I’ll go in doggy.”

“I don’t think…….”

“Get on your fucking knees,” he screamed at me. I did. He climbed up behind me on the bed and I could feel the tip of his cock probing at my virgin asshole. He slammed forward. I screamed. I don’t remember when I had ever felt such excruciating pain. He took it out and spit on it. Then he went back in. But I was very sore now. I think he had scraped me a little. I was crying. That didn’t stop him. He just kept pushing it forward more and more until my ring closed around the large head of his tool, and after that he plunged forward. It was not fun. He slammed against me. “Take my dick, faggot. You like my big dick up your hot tight little ass?”

“Yes. Yes,” I lied. “I love it. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

And he did. And in a few more minutes I was starting to actually get to like it. I was still chafed, but it felt very good deep within me, filling me. Then he pushed me down flat on the bed and just lay on top of me with his hips pounding up and down, feeding his big cock into my cherry ass. And then I felt it happening.