London, Real Estate and New York
Chris slept badly that night. He was tense and anxious. He kept waking up and getting water or pacing around the room. Finally, I turned on the light and sat up. “So why is this final making you this angsty? You haven't been this nervous before.”
He sat on the chair across from the bed. He was naked and under normals circumstances, I would have done something about that. “I don't know, Michael...I think I'm afraid I won't be able to keep this going. Like the doubters might be right, or something.”
I thought a minute, not sure what to say. Without really thinking about it, I said, “You know Chris...when I was watching Tomasso play that Russian dude, and when he won, I started having this fucked-up fantasy that when you and he played you wouldn't be playing tennis, you would be naked in Centre Court and you would be fucking him in front of all those people. Or he would be fucking you, I don't think it matters which. It turns me the fuck on to imagine that. I know it's freaky, but...”
Chris' laughter was really good to hear. He laughed and doubled over and laughed some more. The tension in the room just melted away. He got up and got back into bed. He wrapped his arms around me and started to slowly run his cock in between my ass cheeks really slowly. Tomasso slowly. “Michael...that was the best thing you could have said to me. One of the million reasons I love you is you can make almost anything sexy. I mean sure, we've fantasized about Tomasso since being with him that time, but the idea of us fucking in front of the crowd? Genius!” He kissed me and pushed his cock a little more firmly into me and he reached around and started to stroke my obviously very hard dick.
“I thought we couldn't have sex at tournament time...and the night before the final?”
He brought his lips to my ear and said, “Fuck the final. I want to fuck my husband-to-be.”
Because it was late and because we were lazy, he didn't actually fuck me, but he kept sliding his increasingly sweaty and slippery cock up and down the crack of my ass. Not fast, not hard, just enough for it to feel very, very nice. He stroked my cock or I stroked my cock and he slowly ground his hips forward. Occasionally his cock would catch at my hole and almost slip in, but never did and that made it even more intense. Like just riding the possibility of a good fuck but never quiet getting there and that was like a good fuck in itself.
I started to pump my cock a little more forcefully and then he bit my neck like a vampire or something and I felt cool ropes of his cum jetting out onto my back. That set me off and I spewed cum all over the bed pushing myself back hard, hard enough that his cock actually slid into me for a moment, but then he pulled it out. He moved down and licked his cum off my back and ass, licking into my hole and running his tongue up and down between my cheeks.
I turned and we kissed for ages until he finally drifted off to sleep. The bed was wet from my cum, but I didn't fucking care. I was too happy.
--
The afternoon of the Wimbledon final was sunny and Chris seemed to be his mellow self again. He and Tomasso came onto the court laughing, I though that was a good sign. Goran was beside me and he looked surprisingly cheerful. I was always amazed that he could just shrug off disappointment. But I remembered what he said about how it was the people in his life that really mattered, not who won a fucking tennis match. I took his hand and he grinned at me, his dark eyes flashing in the light.
Chris and Tomasso were, I had realized, as evenly matched as Chris and Goran. Tomasso had a different style. More restrained and chill. Not surprising, right? But as chill as it was, he could be a demon when he needed to be.
So these two guys, my Chris and Tomasso, played the best match I have ever seen. Really. It was like watching dance. It was like watching a religious fucking service. Neither of them made any unforced errors. Their serves were beautiful, and their returns of serves just as beautiful. And after a while I felt like my fantasy was kind of coming to reality. It was like they were having the best sex of their lives. It was turning me on like crazy. I looked at Goran who seemed equally amazed. I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I don't know about you, but this match is giving me the biggest fucking hard-on.”
Goran burst out laughing, but he glanced down at my crotch and confirmed what I was saying. He whispered back in my ear, licking the space just under it. “You are a dirty fucker, Michael. If there weren't people everywhere, I would fuck you right here.” He surreptitiously ran his hand over my crotch, massaging my bulge for a second.
That didn't help. My shorts were full of cock, but I had to restrain myself because I didn't want to run to the washroom and jerk off and miss anything of this master class in tennis these two guys were giving us. My phone buzzed and it was a text from Anika, who was watching on TV, saying much the same thing. She was beside herself with excitement.
But someone has to win, right? That's the point. Chris did. In a similar way to when he played Goran, At the end of the fifth set, Tomasso made the slightest miscalculation at the end of a long rally and his return went out. He stopped and dropped his racket and began to clap in Chris' direction. He was beaming. Chris looked stunned as if he wasn't sure the match was over, but then he got it. He also dropped his racket and began to applaud in Tomasso's direction.
They walked over to each other and hugged and kissed. It was becoming our trademark. Kiss at the end of a match. I hoped it would catch on. They turned to the cheering crowd and waved and the rest of the night was celebration.
We all went to Goran's house in Chelsea and got drunk. Tomasso brought someone with him he had just started seeing and she was – not surprisingly – gorgeous and smart and funny. Her name was Maya, and she and I had a nice conversation in the kitchen at one point and totally bonded. She was from Boston, so that helped. Another great person to add to the list of great people we knew and loved.
Sadly, Ravi had to miss Wimbledon because he had to go to a conference in Germany. I could tell that Goran was pissed. Even thought he didn't win, I think he wanted Ravi there no matter what. I began to wonder if they were reaching a crisis of some kind.
When Tomasso and Maya got ready to leave, I went over to Tomasso and gave him a big hug and told him that we had witnessed the best tennis we had ever seen. He looked quite moved, and kissed me and whispered in my ear, “Be careful Michael. I might make another exception, and just with you, if you aren't careful.” He ran his hand over my ass and gave me a knowing look. I wondered if he had told Maya about what we got up to in Barcelona. I smiled innocently and said, “I'm never careful.”
Much later, when everyone had left, including Brad, the three of us hung out in the little back yard behind Goran's rental. It was very private back there, so we all took our clothes off. It was wasn't so much to fuck, but just because we were happy, drunk and stoned. In fact, we barely even got hard. We sat in the big outdoor chairs and jerked off together. I wanted to get up and taste their cocks, but I was too tired. And being stoned makes it easy to just sail away on great feelings. Once we had cum and cleaned ourselves up, we piled into Goran's bed and were asleep really fast.
--
Now that Wimbledon was out of the way, and we were happily back in Barcelona, I hired some people to clear out my father's house in preparation for selling it. Because the house was in Boston, it just wasn't a useful location, even if we had wanted to keep it. John helped me find a real estate agent and from Spain, I arrange for it to go on sale. And then I arranged for most of the contents to be put in storage because I had no idea what to do with it all.
I had the thought that such a big old house would either sell in five minutes or it would be on the market for a year. I won't tell you what it was listed for. You can guess.
One morning, over a big cup of coffee, Chris said, “So when your father's place sells...should we buy a place in New York? Or on Long Island, or somewhere else? We do need a base there.”
I nodded, but my attention was taken by the sun that had just risen over the Mediterranean and was bathing our deck in some awesome light. I finally was able to focus and I said, “Yeah. I think that's good idea.”
So we started looking into places not far from New York. We didn't want to join the filthy rich on Long Island, we decided, even though technically we were rich. Hopefully not filthy, anyway. But I found a listing for a place not far from a little town in Connecticut called Beacon Falls. It was a big old house on a bunch of acres with forest all around – in fact a National Forest adjacent to it. It had fireplaces and eighteenth-century wood all over the place. Really nice and not crazy expensive. Ok, kind of expensive. But hey, if I can thank my father for anything, it's for that.
We arranged to see it a few weeks before the Open started. We flew in and Brad had rented us a place in Brooklyn – a big old brownstone – that would do just fine. Goran was going to staying in the City at the top of some crazy tall glass thing. He wanted to see the city more than we did.
A couple of days later, we rented a car and drove north toward New Haven, then cut up a smaller road that led to Waterbury. It was nice country with rolling hills and old houses. Probably rednecks. But you can't have everything. But there were lots of signs that the creep of New York had happened.
The house, on the other hand, was really amazing. It was old, solid and comfy. And big. Lots of bedrooms.The land was pristine and the woods were mature. We both gave each other little smiles and once the agent had finished their spiel, we both nodded and I said, “So we'll put an offer in. Today.”
And so we bought the place. And it was a really nice place. We imagined spending Christmas there or when Barcelona got too hot, coming over in the summer and dozing under some trees. I texted some photos to Goran and Ravi and got all kinds of excited emojis. Goran also texted, “Make sure there's a big room for us.” Of course there was.
--
Once the sale was being finalized – we would got possession in September after the Open – Chris went into the final tournament prep, as did Goran, so I didn't see much of either of them. Ravi was going to come to New York just before the Open started. So I was mostly alone. But I was getting used to it by that point. Maya texted me and said they would be coming later, since Tomasso preferred training in Italy.
But Jack and Stuart, of course, were nearby so that was a bonus. Jack was working his lawyer's hours which often meant all the time, so Stuart and I hung out during the day when he wasn't teaching. Oh, about that. Stuart did leave Boston and shacked up with Jack and got a job at a tennis school in Long Island. Very nice.
But he wasn't at work all the time, so we had a few days to ourselves. We went to some museums and to The Cloisters, we went up the Empire State Building, which I had never done. I was a little freaked about looking at the giant fucking tower that replaced the Twin Towers. Too much history there.
Stuart had really come into his own and had way more confidence. I fantasized that he had more confidence by learning how to take Jack's cock, in which I played a small part. But who knows? Being in a great relationship does wonders. It did for me, after all. I say this, because when we got back to their place, Stuart said, “Let's chill on the deck. Want a beer?”
I thought that was a nice idea, but what I didn't expect was Stuart pull off his clothes after he handed me a beer and sling himself into one of the lounge chairs on the deck. I could tell it was mostly private, being on the top floor and all, but the neighbours had an identical space and there was only a glass partition between them.
But I thought: when in Rome. So I threw my clothes in the living room and went out and joined him. I felt a little awkward since were were totally on view to the neighbours, assuming they came out. But it was the middle of the day on a Tuesday, so I decided they were at work.
After a while, I dozed off and floated on those little dreams you get when you're having a nap; all fuzzy and indistinct. I woke up when I heard voices. I opened my eyes and saw that the neighbours were indeed home. I turned to Stuart and he looking at his phone. Then mine pinged. It was a text from Stuart telling me that the couple who lived next door were kind of voyeurs and even though no one had said anything, Stuart and Jack had often lain out there in the nude to give them a thrill.
That sounded really fun to me. We were facing out to the city so they really couldn't see much except a side-view of our cocks, but nevertheless it was kind of fun. I tried not to look over at them. But a quick glance told me it was a straight couple and they were sitting pretty much the same way we were, but they had bathing suits on. Interesting.
I leaned over to Stuart and said, “What if we give them a little show?” I realized this was also a test to see if Stuart had become a little different. Or maybe a lot different.
He turned to me and grinned. “Really?” But I could tell he was interested. I decided to get things going. I took my dick in my hand and gave it a few strokes and it chubbed up right away. We were in it now. Stuart did the same thing and we both started jacking ourselves nice and slow. I turned and glanced at the couple and they were both staring at us. She was farther away, but I watched as she slid her hand into her guys' bathing suit. Bingo.
I knew what was going on here. We were watching each other and getting off on it. Good clean fun. I turned to Stuart and purred at him. “Why don't you come and join me on my seat...”
He did and we both crowed onto the chaise, our legs pressed together and without consulting the other, we started stroking each other's cocks. Real slow. I wanted to really show off what we were doing. I looked at the couple again and the guy had this really intense look on his face, and not just because his wife was now sucking him off. She had pulled down his bathing suit and was lapping at the end of a very nice-looking prick. But this guy was a complicated dude, because whatever we were doing was turning him the fuck on.
I decided to up the ante. I got up and turned and took Stuart's pale cock, hard as rock and did what she did. I licked the end and gave it some suction, making as much noise as I could. I held the base and really got my head going, up and down, taking him deep. Stuart ran his hands through my hair and fucked upward a little.
It was all a bit crazy and I briefly wondered if I was fucking up neighbourly relations, but that thought left my head when Stuart reached down my back and started to finger my ass. I heard a sound and looked and the guy was now feasting on his partner's snatch which if I saw it in the past, would have sent me into space, but I wasn't into it. Like I said before, I think my gay/straight ratio was heavily skewed to the gay side now.
Feeling a lot frisky, I got up and sat in Stuart's lap, and I let his cock slide into me. It was tight and we really needed lube, but neither one of us seemed to be interested in getting any, so I grit my teeth and pushed myself down. Thankfully, my cock was producing a lot of precum and that helped.
So Stuart fucked me and/or I fucked myself on him and when I looked over, they had moved their chairs a little closer and the guy had her on her hands and knees and he was fucking her from behind, staring at us the whole time. I stared back at him. He was cute. Long limbed and a little buff, but not too much. He had this nice trimmed hair all over that reminded me of Goran. I wanted to see his cock, but it was busy. I gave him a smile and he grinned back at me.
His girl suddenly stood up and she sat back in the lounge chair, her hand busy on herself and I heard her say, “You should go over there, Steve. I want to watch.”
She wasn't mad – which is what I first wondered - she was turned on like crazy. Steve, for his part, looked surprised then excited. I turned to them and simply said, “Don't bother knocking.”
He kissed her and ran inside. In a few minutes, I heard the door open and then he came out onto our deck in his bathing suit which he quickly stepped out of. His cock was big and meaty and wet looking. He came around behind me and said, “Can I fuck you?”
I pulled myself off Stuart's cock and said, “By all means. Can you get us some lube from the bedroom...I assume it's by the bed?”
Stuart laughed and agreed. Meanwhile, I got down on my stomach with my face in Stuart's crotch and I had some quality time sucking him. Steve ran in like a little kid and then came back, lubing his cock while he trotted over. Then he spread my ass cheeks and squeezed some into my hole, smearing it around. I adjusted my hips so my cock wasn't being squashed too much and then he got on top of me and ran his cock up and down my crack which I just love. But before long, I felt his dick start to press into me and then slide in, and not too slowly. I felt his breath on my neck. I had a feeling he was looking over at the woman and then he started to thrust himself into me. His cock was thick and long and he used it well, he used it like it was massaging my insides.
While I suctioned Stuart's cock, he fucked me hard. He got faster and I heard the woman's voice call over, “Fuck him harder.”
So he did. Really hard. The lounge chair was slowly being pushed backward with little scrapes every time his cock reached the deepest part of me. Even thought here were three people on it, for fuck's sake. Stuart held my head still so he could get his cock deep in my throat, and I was being used. You know how much I love being used. Have you been paying attention?
And the great thing about being used is I get a lot of cum. Stuart finally came, unexpectedly. No warning, but suddenly cum was spraying into my mouth. Steve, who was going fast and breathing really hard in my ear, started making this kind of animal howl and with three or four gigantic fucks that I thought would break the chair, I could tell he had filled my ass with his juice.
I swallowed and licked Stuart's dick of the last few drops. Steve slowly sat up, his cock sliding out of me. I felt a little sore and a lot amazing. I turned to him and he gave me a sheepish smile. Ever the brat, I pulled him down and kissed him really deeply and then looked at the woman. I said, “Thanks for loaning him. He was awesome.”
She laughed a bunch and I hoped she had a good time watching us. I imagined they would fuck for the rest of the day, after that.
Stuart went and got us more beer and we chilled for a while, recovering. But the afternoon was waning and I had to go. Chris needed me. I needed him.
--
So the US Open. Chris had won Wimbledon and was the top seed, and everyone was wondering which of the three of them – Chris, Goran or Tomasso – would win this. Or maybe someone else. Tennis is like that. You think you know who will win and often they do, but there is always the chance that something unexpected will happen.
Because Chris was seeded number one for this, he was at the top. Goran was number two, so he was at the bottom. Tomasso was three. All the people we liked breezed through the first four rounds. No unexpected meetings, no heartbreaking losses. So the quarters came along and there was Tomasso, Goran, Chris, the American with the rocket serve, the skinny French kid, the asshole American, the Russian dude and someone no one knew from Belarus who seemed to be as surprised as anyone that he was there.
So Tomasso was playing the Asshole (that's what I called him now), Chris was playing the French kid, Goran was playing the other American and the guy from Belarus was playing the Russian. Got it? This meant of course, that Tomasso and Chris would meet in the semis, since they were on the same side of the draw, which was scary. Goran, I knew could handle the American since he'd beat him before, but it meant that Goran would play for the Open either Chris or Tomasso. Fuck.
So I grit my teeth and Brad, Seamus and I sat in the stands with the coaches and freaked. Or at least I did. I was no good at this. I needed to concentrate on making tables for fuck's sake. It was way more relaxing. I mean it. This feeling? This boiling lake of anxiety in my belly? I had felt it all the time when I was competing and I was still feeling it as a spectator. Making furniture seemed pretty darned good right then. I made a mental note to talk to Marco about starting a business.
Goran played first and beat the American pretty easily. The guy from Belarus was kind of amazing and the Russian dude didn't know what hit him. Remember what I said about the unexpected at these things? Well this was unexpected. This unknown guy walked away in straight sets with a win. I thought the Russian was going to explode he was so angry.
Tomasso had no trouble with the Asshole and the Asshole was as ungracious in defeat as ever. Chris had some trouble with the French kid at first, but eventually wore him down and won in four sets. So as predicted, the semi's were Tomasso and Chris, and the Belarusian and Goran.
So the two semi-final matches: Goran won, but had to work for it. Tomasso and Chris? They had another marathon. Just like the last time. They both started laughing a little toward the end because neither one of them could get an advantage. Tie break after tie break. Then Chris fucked up a serve and I knew that was it. One tiny point and the perfect balance they had between them tipped toward Tomasso.
But Chris seemed really happy. It was an epic match, almost as good as the last time they played. The crowd was wild and appreciative and they hugged it out and had a big smooch.
But later I realized Chris was a bit sad, but not about losing so much as missing out on the excitement of playing the final, but in the end he was just happy someone he cared about beat him, and not some idiot. That seemed to be the theme for him. The people were just as important as who won.
When we got back to Brooklyn, I did all the things for him. I undressed him slowly with lots of kisses, I put him in a bath with nice smelling bubbles, I brought him some whiskey and some chocolate. I dried him off very carefully with a big towel. I put him in our big bed and rubbed his back, kneaded his shoulders and massaged his poor feet. Then, as requested, after sucking my cock for a while, I got on top of my amazing Chris and slid my cock into him.
Slowly and sensually (and I had a fantasy of sending a picture to Tomasso to show that he had inspired us) I fucked Chris. We kissed and I gave him a hickey, I fucked him in various positions: from behind, on top, with him on his stomach, against the wall. He seemed to want everything that night. When I finally came it was with an almost white-hot intensity and it was so intense that in the middle of blasting cum into Chris it felt like it wasn't enough, so I had to pull out and jack the rest out of me which went all over him. I was laughing and almost crying.
Then, energized by watching me cum, Chris flipped me over, and gathered up a bunch of my cum and lubed his cock with it, then slid it into me, and getting his face really close to mine so that our lips were touching and we were sharing our breath, our eyes huge, he said, “You in me and me in you, Michael.” My body felt full of Chris and mine had been full of him, and what better thing could there be? He fucked me slowly for ages, and it was like some wild minimalist music that starts to accumulate meaning and power by repeating the same phrase over and over. That's what this felt like. It felt like a ritual.
And when Chris came, I think he almost blacked out. His body was rigid and he threw his head back and made some sounds from space. He fucked me a few more times really short and fast and said, “Michael...let's fucking get married, for...fuck's....sake!”
I was about to have my second orgasm, and my cock just took over my body and somehow, my balls had produced more cum, because it flew out of my cock and Chris bent down fast, slipping out of my ass, and took my cock in his mouth and I must have shot another five times. I waited for him and he moved up to me and kissed me with a mouthful. We needed to patent that move. It was ours.
When we both calmed down, we held each other for a long time, just feeling our breath. Feeling close.
Safe. Happy. Goran's words came back to me about how winning the tournaments is great, but the people in your life are just as important. So Chris and I, all wrapped up in each other? That was what counted.
