INTERLUDE Page 7

  Suddenly he strode over to a lounge chair and lay down, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles. He clasped his hands behind his head, opening his gorgeous chest up to the sun—and my gaze.

  My mouth went suddenly dry.

  His prick was standing up like a flagpole in his crotch!

  The guy had a hard-on—and he was making certain I saw it!

  I breathed deeply—trying to calm myself. I could pretend I didn’t see him. I could pretend I was so engrossed in steering the boat that my eyes hadn’t even wandered to his luscious body.

  Luscious?

  Yeah, I thought. He looked luscious. And his stiff dick—well—I’d never laid hand on anyone’s besides my own—but I was having definite thoughts about his. Definite thoughts!

  He was baiting me. Pure and simple. He was displaying his wares—open for business—as it were.

  So…did I want to go shopping?

  I realized I was perched on the edge of my chair, my neck craned to look down on the lower deck, my eyes pinned on Lance’s hard cock. It was tall and thick, with a smooth round knob rising from a dark brown bush. I bit my bottom lip.

  My prick was rock hard. I cupped it, pressed against it with my palm. It had been six or seven weeks since I’d had sex. It was on Thursday, before Rena went back to college on Friday afternoon—a quickie, at my place. She had stopped by to return a couple of CDs she had borrowed and I couldn’t keep my hands off her.

  “That proves I’m not gay—doesn’t it?”

  Yeah!

  “So why am I getting so turned on looking at Lance Murdock’s prick?”

  I combed one hand through my hair. Geez! I was talking to myself. What did that prove?

  I’ve never been a deep thinker. I usually go with my gut feeling. If it feels right—do it. And if it doesn’t feel right—well, sometimes the consequences overrode the pleasure of the act.

  My eyes drank him in. He was a bronzed Adonis sprawled in the lounge chair. I can’t say that I’d ever seen a naked man before—or one as bold as Lance Murdock. His prick looked enormous, standing as tall as an oak tree in his crotch.

  I checked the instrument panel. Destiny Point was less than ten minutes away. When we arrived, I was instructed to drop anchor and stay as long as Lance wanted. I thought he probably meant to swim, or maybe he’d brought aboard flowers—a wreath—to throw into the water in memory of Lana. Actually, I thought the whole idea was nuts—but I wasn’t paid to give my opinions.

  I kept my seat until I spied Destiny Point off the starboard side. I nosed the boat into the tiny cove and cut the motor. I dropped the anchor and made a decision. I would join Lance on the main deck and then we’d see what would happen—if anything. Shit! He may have a hard-on all the time and I may have gotten turned on for nothing. I didn’t disrobe—intimidated by Lance’s movie star status.

  Destiny Point was lush and green, with incredible blue water. It was a favorite destination for couples seeking privacy. There was a small sandy beach with a grove of willows before the tiny island gave way to towering boulders and steep inclines.

  I made my way to the main deck. Lance still lay stretched out in the lounge, his hands clasped behind his head. His eyes were concealed behind dark glasses so I couldn’t tell if he was dosing or not, though I suspected he was wide awake and waiting for me to make a move.

  “Can I get anything for you, Mr. Murdock?” My voice sounded nervous, high-pitched. Geez! He’ll think I’m a teenager.

  “Yeah,” he answered. He pulled his hands from behind his head and wrapped one fist around his prick. “Bring me an asshole. I need to fuck.”

  My jaw dropped open—and my rod jerked in my shorts.

  He laughed and got to his feet. As he walked toward me, I couldn’t take my eyes off his long cock. It bobbed in his crotch with each step he took and I knew I had to make a move. Time was up!

  “I’m…I’m not gay, Mr. Murdock,” I stammered.

  Lance shrugged his bare shoulders. “Neither am I.”

  He laughed again, kept coming at me.

  He didn’t stop until his long rod was pushing against the front of my shorts!

  “You’re hard,” he said.

  He reached one hand to my fly and slid the zipper down. I felt heat surge through my body. He delved his hand inside my shorts and clasped my cock, laughing again when I sucked in a quick breath.

  “Let’s have a little action, then we’ll have a swim.”

  Things began to happen very fast then. Before I knew it, I was naked and my body was pressed so tightly against his that I found it hard to breathe. He pushed his long hard prick against mine and rubbed around while he clasped my ass cheeks in either hand. Pretty soon I realized I wanted to fuck.

  We stood on the deck and felt each other. I grew bold enough to touch him—finally. I was so aroused I thought I’d come before we actually got around to fucking. I skimmed my hands all over his body, feeling the tight muscles lying beneath his suntanned skin. He was magnificent—warm, sensual, a real hunk. I smelled his aroma, a male musk mingled with an expensive aftershave.

  “Turn around.”

  He turned my body so quickly I nearly lost my footing. The boat was rocking on each wave rolling into the cove. I wondered then if he would suggest we leave the boat and go fuck on the sandy beach. After all, we were quite isolated.

  His hands were on my ass, pushing my ass cheeks open. The next I knew he delved two fingers inside my asshole. I let out a little yelp and tried to step away, the realization that he meant to stick his prick up my butt sinking in. He laughed and reached one hand between my legs, grasping my cock. He began to fondle me, working his fist back and forth, giving me shivers.

  He entered me quickly, making me really yelp out loud. I’d never been ass-fucked. It hurt like hell, but then I supposed it might have been because I was nervous and ignorant about ass fucking.

  He pumped into me hard, bracing his legs apart and pushing me against the railing of the boat. His abdomen slapped my ass cheeks and made little thudding sounds. His fist was really doing a number on my dick. I felt as though I could come a bucketful and despite the pain he was giving my asshole, I was soon shooting my wad against the side of the boat. Damn! I couldn’t remember when jacking off had felt any better!

  He hammered me real hard, clutching my dick even after I was spent and making me wish I could get it up again. Then he let out a loud bellow and clutched my ass in both hands.

  “You’ve got a good hole,” he said. “Tight and virginal—but I guess I took care of that.”

  “Yeah. I’m not a virgin anymore,” I returned, my breath coming in short gasps, my cock limp in my crotch. I leaned on the rail waiting for him to finish and pull out of me.

  He gave me a push suddenly, making me lunge against the railing.

  “So much for your virginity. What’s your name?”

  “Mark.”

  “Well, Mark. Suppose you rustle us up a couple of beers then we’ll have that swim—wash the cum off—before we play another game.”

  I straightened and headed for the galley. I hoped Tom had stowed some supplies aboard. At this point I wasn’t sure of what to expect next from Mr. Movie Star. I was still reeling from the sex with him when I yanked open the lid of the cooler and spied a case of cold ones. Okay! There was plenty of booze to drink. I took two bottles and returned to the main deck. Lance was leaning against the rail, staring at the beach.

  At that point I was up for anything. Why not? Who was going to tell? Certainly not Lance Murdock. He had a star’s reputation to uphold. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to talk.

  Confident that we were all set for an afternoon of sex play, I handed Lance a beer and stroked his bare back with my cold hand.

  He groaned and turned to face me.

  “It’s fucking hot out here,” he said, grabbing my hand. He shoved my palm to his crotch. “Cool my nuts for a minute.” He grinned at me, raised his bottle of beer to his mouth and took
a long swig.

  He watched me while I fondled his tools, grinning. He gulped down his beer and tossed the empty overboard.

  “Suck me off,” he said grabbing my arm and pushing me to my knees in front of him.

  At that very moment the thought that things might get rough came to mind. But then, I really didn’t want to believe that my movie star idol might be up to something more than playing sex games.

  I opened my mouth as wide as I could and the instant my lips parted, Lance pushed his dick inside my mouth. My earlier observance was right on the money—his dick was huge! The smooth head was a mouthful suddenly and the more Lance pushed across my tongue, the more I thought about being suffocated. Lana Sullivan suddenly came to mind. Maybe she had been made to suck his dick and eventually couldn’t breathe, so thinking she was dead, Murdock threw her body over the side of the boat.

  “You give good head.”

  His words brought my thoughts rapidly back to what we were doing. He was hunching his hips real fast, lunging into my mouth with a force that nearly knocked me on my ass. He laughed as I tried to keep from falling and the next I knew, he grabbed me by the hair, really wrapping his fist tightly on the top of my head. It hurt like hell and I suddenly thought better of the idea of sucking him off—but it was too late. He was spurting hot cum in my mouth. The stream shot down my throat so fast I didn’t have time to spit his dick out.

  He held my head against his crotch and enjoyed his orgasm. I didn’t have any choice but to endure his bucking against my mouth and the onslaught of hot cum filling it. He unloaded so much that the fluid overflowed my mouth, running down my chin and dripping onto the floor of the deck. I thought he’d never be done.

  He pushed me away suddenly, releasing my hair from his fist and making me crash on my bare ass. I tried to catch myself with one hand, swiping at my mouth with the other. Cum flew from my lips. I spit out a mouthful as I watched Lance stride off toward the interior of the boat.

  “This is bullshit,” I muttered beneath my breath. The bastard was rough and so far, he was the only one having any fun.

  He returned momentarily carrying two beers. He handed me one. By that time I’d managed to get myself under control and taken a seat in a lounge chair near the railing. My dick was limp; lying in my crotch like it was taking a snooze. I raised the beer bottle and chugged the whole damn thing. When I finished, I saw Lance was looking at me.

  “I’d like to tie you up,” he said.

  “I’m not into bondage,” I replied, getting to my feet. I headed for the cooler in the galley. I needed another beer.

  “What are you into?” he called after me.

  “Pussy, mostly,” I yelled over my shoulder.

  “You give head like you’ve done it before.”

  “Beginner’s luck.”

  Lance laughed.

  I entered the galley and lifted the lid on the cooler. Just as I was about to remove a beer, Lance attacked me from behind. He gave me a shove forward, pushing my head into the cooler, then he wrapped something around my neck. The next I knew, I was being dragged backward through the galley onto the main deck. He had wrapped a rope around my neck and all my efforts to grab it with my hands were quickly failing.

  My body scraped along the deck, slipping and sliding along the teak boards until he dragged me over to the side of the boat. I was nearly choking, the rope being so tight around my neck.

  “Turn me loose, you weird bastard!” I croaked out. I was kicking at him with both feet, clawing at the rope with my fingers.

  And he laughed, loud and long.

  I saw then he had a hard-on the size of a log.

  “You sick bastard!”

  “This is bondage, man.”

  “Is this what you did to Lana Sullivan?” I suddenly blurted out.

  The second I realized what I had said, I saw the rage building in his eyes. Maybe, in the beginning, choking the hell out of me with a rope was his sadistic idea of bondage, but that quickly passed. He snarled at me and yanked the rope so hard I almost blacked out. He lunged at me and grabbed my shoulders, levering me to my feet. His strength was immense, his face screwed up in an angry scowl, and all the time his hard-on was enormous, bobbing like crazy in his crotch.

  “Stop it!” I screeched.

  “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, pansy boy!”

  He pushed at my body with both hands, releasing the end of the rope and giving me a second to try and loosen it from my neck. But while I was scratching and clawing, trying to get loose, he hoisted my body to the top of the rail. I knew immediately he was throwing me overboard.

  In an instant I was hitting the water, headfirst as though I’d dove in, the rope around my neck momentarily forgotten as I kicked my feet and tried to surface. It seemed like an eternity passed before I bobbed my head above water. My lungs ached for want of air.

  Scared shitless, I hoped he didn’t have a gun or other plans to end my life. Then I heard the motor of the boat start and the anchor being lifted from the water. He was planning to leave me in the cove.

  I treaded water, trying to capture the rope with one hand, trying to catch my breath. This is what happened to Lana Sullivan, I thought, finally able to get the rope from my neck. I knew I had rope burns—knew my skin was red and bleeding. But I was alive. And a little smarter then Lana Sullivan had been. I knew the territory.

  I watched the boat leave the cove, then I turned and swam to shore. Once Tom glimpsed The Fancy Lady coming into port, he’d check on things. He’d hop in one of the charter boats and come to find me.

  I was exhausted by the time I made it to shore. I dragged my naked body up on the sand and lay there panting, thanking my lucky stars that we were near land when Murdock went bonkers. I sat up suddenly and watched the boat disappear on the horizon. The crazy bastard was headed back to port—wasn’t he?

  LADY LUCK

  I’ve always referred to luck as a lady—probably because I’d grown up hearing my Uncle Felix boast about lady luck being on his side when he won big at the Vegas crap tables. I come from a long line of gamblers. We’re risk takers. Sometimes I think we rush to act without taking time to think the situation through. One time in particular comes to mind—lodged very vividly in my mind. It was the first time I had sex with a man.

  I’m not gay. I remember saying the words over and over—even out loud. And I remember Larry Bishop chuckling and continuing to unzip my fly. He hauled my prick out in his hands and ran his fingers along its engorged length.

  “Nice,” he said in a low tone.

  Then he leaned down and kissed the bulbous head.

  His lips felt good, warm, moist, and I sucked in a quick breath. My prick jerked in his hand, making him laugh again.

  We were waiting for Max to close for the night. Max Compton owned the local pool hall where Larry and I hung out when we were home from college. It was a week before Christmas, Thursday night. The small town was quiet. Snow covered the ground and it was a virtual icebox outside.

  Larry and I had shot some pool, tried to pick up a couple of girls, to no avail. Neither of us had a car. Shit. There was a foot of snow on the ground and it was treacherous to walk, let alone drive. After Max decided he was closing for the night, Larry and I talked him into playing a few hands of poker in his office. He tried to put us off—accusing us of planning to cheat him—then finally agreed to a few hands—once he got everything closed down for the night.

  “Mine’s bigger than yours,” Larry announced, grinning broadly.

  That’s how it started.

  Larry bragged a lot. He was tall and lean with a set of shoulders all the girls liked. He was a medical student at school and always surprising me with one thing or another. Just the week before, he got caught with a girl in his dorm room. He wasn’t much on formality. Lied when it was convenient—which was most of the time—and had a penchant for hard liquor.

  So, when he boasted that his prick was bigger than mine—I felt I had to prove him wr
ong. Trouble was, there was enough sex talk between us to allow me to get a hard-on. It was in this state of things that Max found us when he came into his office—Larry holding my erect prick in his hand.

  Max burst through the door and Larry and I jumped as if we’d been shot. I sat up real straight in my chair but Larry didn’t turn loose of my prick. If anything, he gave it a tight squeeze. Holy cow! I almost shot my wad right there.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Max laughed.

  “We were just seeing who had the biggest prick,” Larry explained nonchalantly. He released my rod and unzipped his fly. He hauled out his hard love hammer, and grinned at Max. “You be the judge. Who’s the biggest?”

  “Aw, Larry,” I hurried to say. I felt embarrassed suddenly. I tried to push my erection back inside my pants.

  “Wait just a minute,” Max said to me. “Let me get a good look.”

  I halted my hand, laughing and shaking my head.

  “I don’t usually stick it out for people to stare at, Max.”

  “Maybe not, but aren’t we in here to do a little betting?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at me.

  “Yeah. Sure,” Larry hurried to say. He stretched his prick out of his fly and angled it against my leg. “Which one’s the biggest, Max?”

  Max rubbed his chin with one finger. “I can beat you both.”

  “Aw hell! I didn’t know you were in the running,” Larry quipped.

  Max shrugged his shoulders. “Why not? We’re all men. I may be a few years older than you two but I still get it up on a regular basis.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with it,” I said. “You’ve already seen our pricks. You already think yours is bigger. You just want to make some easy cash.”

  Max crossed the room to his old desk. The top of it was stacked up with piles of papers and books. He opened a drawer and took out a wooden ruler. Grinning at us, he swept aside a stack of papers and placed the ruler on the desk corner.

  “Put your money where your mouth is,” he announced. “Measure your rod from your nuts to the knob.”