INTERLUDE Read online

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Interlude

  Copyright ã 2006 Stone Richards

  ISBN: 1-554109-697-4

  Cover art: Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

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  GETTING A RUSH

  The sixties were a confusing time for me. I had just opened my own law office, broken off a seven-year engagement to a woman I really didn’t love or want to spend the rest of my life with, and bought a new house in the suburbs.

  I had never lived in the suburbs before. I’d never experienced the camaraderie of neighbors chatting over the back fence, getting together for barbecues, drinking beer in the late afternoons, or getting stoned. I’d never experienced marijuana in any form, had no idea how outrageously grand getting high could feel, or the consequences associated with letting one’s true emotions run loose.

  I had a neighbor named Toby Gilliam, a big robust guy, a welder by trade. Toby liked weed, probably more than he liked beer. He would guzzle a glass quart; belch three or four times, and light up a joint. At first I couldn’t figure out if it was the booze affecting Toby or the weed. He seemed to come unglued, talked out of his head, made lewd gestures. The nearby neighbors began to shun Toby about the time I moved into the neighborhood.

  “Say man, you better watch your ass around that Toby dude. He’s a messed up fucker,” Steve Melton said to me one afternoon over the back fence. Steve was a stock market analyst and all round busybody.

  “Aw, Toby’s okay,” I defended. I was raking up the leaves from the old maple tree in my backyard. The damn thing was almost dead and shed leaves like a hairy dog. I was forever cleaning up after it. I’d only been in the house a month and already I’d been considering cutting the damn thing down, butchering the landscape, if only I’d owned a chainsaw.

  “Toby grows his own dope,” Steve continued. “See that basement window? That’s where he keeps his plants.”

  “You’re shitting me.” I laughed. Maybe Steve had been downing too many beers.

  “Honest. All us neighbors have known about Toby’s little hobby for years now but we’ve kept our mouths shut. We’re all scared of the big fucker.”

  I considered the neighbor’s words for a time, stared a little while at Toby’s basement window, thought about cutting down the nuisance maple tree, then went back to raking leaves.

  The following weekend, I bought a chainsaw, went out to the maple tree, cleared the patio furniture out of the way, and cut a deep notch in its trunk. I’d had enough. The maple tree was coming down.

  “What are you doing?”

  I shut off the chainsaw, and glanced across the lawn to see Toby standing on his back porch. He was barefoot, dressed only in cut off denim shorts. He scratched his barrel chest with one big hand, yawned, then brought the can of beer he held to his mouth. At fist I wondered why he had a can instead of his customary glass quart but then I realized I was just trying to put my mind on something other than the way Toby looked, situated the way he was on his back porch, the summer sun illuminating his big body from behind. It was then I found my interest in Toby to take on a whole different tone inside my head.

  “You cutting down your tree?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, shaking my head. I watched with immeasurable interest as Toby scratched his crotch, really digging in with his fingers, flopping his balls and dick from side to side, then actually spreading his legs and scratching his asshole.

  “Want some help?” Toby yelled.

  I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth fast enough, it seemed. Toby slid his feet into a pair of worn out tennis shoes and began striding in my direction, scratching his chest again. He threw the beer can over his shoulder, aiming haphazardly at the garbage can near his porch.

  Toby belched, ambled over to the maple and had a look. Placing both his beefy hands on his hips, he grinned at me.

  “Let’s just push the fucker over on Steve’s shed.” He held his belly and laughed.

  I shook my head no, laughing in spite of myself. “Hell, we can’t do that,” I reasoned. Toby was drunk already and it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet. “I’m gonna lay it right there beside the house. I’ve got it all planned out.”

  “You’re fucking crazy,” Toby alleged, scratching his belly again. “Damn chiggers,” he muttered. “My pot plants are infested with the aggravating things. I got ‘em all over me.”

  “Chiggers on pot plants? I never heard of such things.”

  “Hell,” Toby laughed. “There are probably lots of things you haven't heard of.”

  I blinked my eyes at him. I’d been warned about him. But most of the things I’d heard didn’t add up. No body could be as wild and crazy as Toby was made out to be.

  “Oh, I’ve been around,” I said in a laughing tone.

  “No you haven’t.”

  “Yes. By God. I have.” I was instantly mad and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Toby walked over to me, stood towering over me in his almost-naked state, stared down at me. I smelled his body odor, could count the number of black curly hair surrounding one of his big male nipples, felt his beer-laced breath on my face. It was all I could do to keep my hands from reaching out and cupping his crotch. What the hell? I thought, taking a step back.

  Toby laughed, throwing his head back on his wide shoulders, he really bellowed. I was afraid he might bring out the other neighbors with his loud guffaw.

  “What in hell is so funny?” I said between gritted teeth. I looked around, eyeballing the back doors of the neighbors’ houses. It was Saturday morning. Maybe everybody was sleeping in. Or I hoped to hell everybody was.

  Toby halted his laughter, placed one open palm on my right shoulder and squeezed his fingers around my collarbone, almost hard enough to make me squirm in pain.

  “You come on over to my basement sometime and we’ll just find out where you’ve been,” he said in a low tone. Then he locked gazes with me for a few seconds before returning his attention to the now badly leaning maple tree. “We better do something with this fucker before it falls on your house.”

  Toby hung around and helped me with the maple, then he invited me over for a beer. After all the noise with cutting down the tree and all the time it took to whack off its branches, I was ready for a break. I took off my gloves, threw the chainsaw aside and followed Toby through the back yard. At that particular time the conversation we had earlier had slipped my mind. I’d forgotten how he bated me, or how he had called my attention to my own carnal lust for him.

  I went with Toby to his basement, stopped in my tracks when I saw his pot plants, lush, green, and thriving in the makeshift garden beneath the window.

  “You’re really growing weed,” I exclaimed.

  “What’s the big surprise? By now all the neighbors have told you.”
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  “Yeah. That’s right,” I admitted. I felt the need, suddenly, to be honest with Toby. It was right about that time that Toby dropped his drawers and I laid eyes on his massive cock. He had a hard-on that looked the size of Texas on a clear day, large, heavily haired balls swung low in back, reminding me of a picture of a bull I’d once seen. “Damn!” I muttered. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Toby laughed and came toward me. It was then I realized I wanted him to. I felt my own cock stir in my pants. Unconsciously, I found my hand had lowered to cup my erection, stunned at my own reaction to naked Toby.

  “Strip,” Toby stood waiting, hands on his hips. “We’ve been eyeballing each other across that back yard for a month now. It’s time we fed our lusts for each other.”

  “Lust?” I stupidly repeated. Then it dawned on me. He was right. I had been lusting after Toby, even had a dream about him one night soon after I’d moved into the neighborhood. At the time I’d put it off to fatigue. I’d been burning the candle at both ends, but then I began noticing myself wanting Toby to come over, just to talk. I realized I would fix my eyes on him, roam my gaze over his body. He wasn’t pretty by any means, a bit overweight, crass, balding slightly in front, but there was a raw sensuality about him that I felt compelled to explore in some manner. Up until that moment—the second my cock seemed to strike out on its own—I hadn’t completely understood my emotions.

  I took off my clothes; T-shirt, shorts, shoes and socks. My cock was hard as a hammer, moist on its round head. My breathing quickened, sweat popped out on my forehead and chest as Toby stepped up to me.

  Our cocks touched, felt electric, pulsed, jerked, came together, then Toby reached out and wrapped his fist around my cock, giving it a little squeeze. I felt compelled to do the same to him. My sweaty palm enveloped his big dick, squeezed it gently, then Toby did something that made me jump in surprise. He thrust his big cock against my palm, pushed my hand back against my own abdomen, bumped our engorged cocks together. Hot flesh melded, rubbed, caused me to gasp.

  “Turn around,” Toby growled.

  I had never experienced anal sex before, not with a guy anyway. Once I had fucked a woman’s asshole, so I guessed it was pretty much the same thing. I learned right away the act was a whole lot more sensual, more physical in every detail than just ramming a stiff dick inside an asshole and thrusting about until orgasm.

  I felt his fingers slide inside me, then he moistened my hole with a few licks of his tongue. That was nice, I admitted. Damn nice. I tried to focus on what he was doing to me. It was so sensual, so fucking erotic I could hardly stand it.

  I knew the second he pushed his knob against me, paused, gave a little shove, entered my body. He was really big and the pressure made me wince, but the sheer joy of knowing I was finally being taken by him made me forget all about any discomfort I thought might be forthcoming. He pushed in further, paused, began working his tool, pushing in, pulling back, pushing in again. His fingers dug into the soft cheeks of my ass. I heard him groan in ecstatic pleasure.

  By this time my prick was waving like a flag in a stiff breeze, bobbing at my crotch, inviting my hand on it. I coiled my fingers around my cock, masturbating, feeling what was taking place inside my asshole. Man! Words escaped my mind. Then I felt his hand mingle with mine as he reached between my legs and grabbed me. Man!

  My mind all but left my body at that point. We began to rock, him thrusting into me, his hand doing a number on my hard prick. I was the first to come and he followed soon after. I squirted semen across the floor, just missing the pots of weed under the window. And he lunged into me so hard I thought I’d fall on my face. Man!

  I gulped in deep breaths of air, startled to some extent by what we had just done. My body felt like I’d died and gone to heaven—I’d never felt so damn sated sexually. I remained bent over at the waist while Toby continued to grasp my cock, which was still dripping with semen and limp as a noodle. His cock was still moving a little inside my asshole. It didn’t hurt now, which I was glad of. I heard Toby breathing hard, slumped over my back, his beer breath whooshing across my neck.

  “Now you do me.”

  He gave me a shove, dislodging himself from my asshole. At first I staggered around a bit, trying to get my bearings and wondering if I’d be able to get it up again, but the second I turned round and gazed at Toby’s big naked body, all that doubt disappeared from my head. My rod began to rise to the occasion, jerking around, ready to go.

  Toby pinned his eyes on my crotch, gave me a wink, a little chuckle, scratched his belly, and turned his bare ass to me. I felt suddenly like a kid in a candy store. All my life I’d wanted something I couldn’t quite find, now I knew at last my search was over.

  I stepped up to Toby’s ass, taking control as though I really knew how, tried to recall exactly what he’d done to me so I could imitate it. A rush of hot lust ran through me as I placed my hands on his bare ass and pushed his cheeks apart. Then it was all down hill from there. I remembered he had licked my hole and I poked out my tongue and lathed his, liking the smell of him and the feel of his skin against my tongue. I closed my mouth over his hole and poked my tongue inside it a little ways. I was so turned on at the prospect of actually fucking him that I found I was mentally taking notes about the incident. Finally, I aimed my cock head at his dark brown orifice and shoved inside, listening to Toby grunt when I reached my full limit inside him, then I began to rock against him, pushing in, pulling back, lunging in again.

  Toby moved with me, pushing his ass back against my crotch. In some ways he reminded me of fucking a woman—the way he seemed to anticipate my every move—only better. There wouldn’t be any apology if I came first. I pushed the thought out of my mind. Toby was my Utopia—my ideal place.

  We moved faster and faster. I grew hotter and hotter. Sweat popped out on my back, my forehead. My balls tightened in anticipation of the orgasm I was working toward.

  Then it came full force, making me rise up on my toes and let out a loud yell. Toby pumped his ass faster into my crotch. The explosion raced through my body, forcing me to close my eyes and throw back my head just to savor the unbelievable sensation. Hell! It had never felt so good!

  Later, we smoked joints, drank beer, discussed the neighbors, the future. I looked over at Toby, perched on an empty beer keg near his pot plants. I felt peaceful inside, relaxed by the sex and the marijuana and beer.

  “You know,” I said to him. “Moving to the suburbs was the best damn thing I ever did.”

  DIVE IN

  The palm trees swayed in the tropical breeze and the white frothy waves moved in on the sandy shore, washing against the side of the wrecked boat in a noisy splash. Derek Collins sat on the crest of the beach, his back leaned against the trunk of a tall palm tree, a pointed stick in his right hand. Damn coconuts. They were hanging so high up he couldn’t reach even one to coax to the ground. He raised one arm and swiped it across his brow. The heat was miserable, and only served to remind him of how really bad his situation was.

  Suddenly from down the beach, Derek heard Tony, his first mate, shouting excitedly. He scrambled up from the sand and began running toward his voice, spying Tony wrestling a large fish up on the shore. Hurrying his steps, he raced forward and began beating the fish with the stick he held, soon taking the life from it.

  Silently, and panting from their weakened state, Derek and Tony set about cleaning the fish, then carried it over to the bonfire they so vigilantly tended. Exactly one week ago their sailboat had capsized off the coast of the little island and they had found themselves battling starvation and exposure ever since. The fish would be the first decent meal in all that time.

  The two men sat near the hot campfire and savored the aroma of the cooking fish. They were bedraggled and grungy, their only clothing consisting of shorts and T-shirts. They were forced to huddle together to stove off the cold at night, worried too much to get really good sleep for fear the damn fire would burn out, and emotiona
lly drained from the overall ordeal they found themselves in.

  When the fish was cooked, they gorged themselves, cleaning up every last morsel, then leaning back in the sand and savoring their full state.

  “I don’t think we’ll ever be rescued,” Tony declared.

  Derek frowned at him. He wasn’t very optimistic. But then he always had to bolster Tony’s courage in one way or other. He was a weakling, a pessimist. He stared at his tall, lean body sprawled on the sand. He was lacking muscles, but he had a wiry quality to his physique. He was tanned, well proportioned, with a tight ass and a beautiful mouth. Derek shivered at the thought of stripping away Tony’s Bermuda shorts and having sex with him. A week had passed and he had gone without sex rarely that long.

  “Yes, we will. By this time all the guys at the boat dock have realized something went wrong. They’ll be along shortly to check out the island.”

  “We were blown a hundred miles off course, Derek. The storm wasn’t supposed to happen. No one will look for us here. We’re dead men.”

  “We can catch fish. Keep the fire going. We can wait it out.” And we can fuck each other, he wanted to add, but he gave Tony a curious look instead. He’d never shown any inclination about having sex with him previously, yet he’d always been a little curious about him.

  That night, when the moon rose high in the darkened sky, and the two huddled together near their signal fire, Derek let his hands roam over Tony’s thin body. At first Tony stiffened at his touch, drawing his knees up to his chest, pinching his eyes shut, but Derek persisted. His cock was rock hard already. He wanted sex and he expected Tony to capitulate, after all, they were thrown together by circumstance, which just about let anything they did while they were marooned be given to insanity of the moment.

  Derek heard Tony drag in a deep breath when he poked his hand under his T-shirt and began stroking his bare skin. Slowly, he moved his hand around to Tony’s front and began fondling his nipples. Tony moved on the sand, relaxing a little bit, allowing Derek to grow bolder in his exploration.