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David's Contribution: Ryan - Chapter 2
Ryan's culinary school became, like art before it, a tight rigorous working bond between himself and the subject, not quite an obsession, but on some days indistinguishable. He was aware of the drive within him to master the subject, to scratch the itch, and had a sense of humor about it sometimes but didn't appreciate others who remarked about his consuming passion to be number one.
The meal that he served to John and Jayden began with an appetizer of delicate watermelon froth on an ultra-whipped passion fruit cream base with two super-thin crunchy lemon wafers, then a cold soup not unlike gazpacho with vine-ripened tomatoes, peppers, limes, salt, strained, then 3 mini-brioche bun sliders with trimmed Impossible Burger roasted burgers with creamy aioli, crunchy thin daikon slices and butter lettuce and thin-sliced vine-ripened tomato, followed by freshly-baked apple cake with vanilla ice cream and Frango mints. Ryan served a French Burgundy with the burgers and bottled ice-water on the side. A plate of cheeses and fruit followed that with coffee.
The conversation after dinner in Ryan's living room revolved around food, then money, then art. Somehow Ryan hadn't mentioned his art training or degrees and they hadn't asked, but since art was a huge piece of the Schuyler Foundation's 'business', the subject arose.
It became quickly obvious that Ryan knew a lot about art, way more than the average culinary student. It was Jayden who addressed the elephant in the room.
"Ryan, most people don't know as much about art provenance and national patrimonies, not even the words. Where does your knowledge core come from?"
"I have a BA in Art History and a Master's in Art Provenance and National Patrimonies from Cooper Union."
"That would explain that," laughed John. "I was beginning to think that you were, at the very least, very well read on the subject. The Schuyler Trust owns a good deal of the art in the Cooper Union's museum."
"We are very interested in art education and the Trust has felt for decades that parking some of our art where students can actually see it and study it does everyone a favor at some level."
"I didn't hear you say where your BA in Art History is from."
"After attending Mason Academy, I got that degree from the University of Southern California."
"Top ten art history schools in the US lists USC," said Jayden.
"They put us through it," said Ryan. "One earns that degree after a fair amount of hard work."
Jayden looked at John and got the nod. Understanding the question was never an issue with Jayden and John.
"Ryan, would you be interested in working with one of our art historians and security team double-checking our catalog versus inventory in museums in many countries?"
"There would be a salary, of course, and great benefits, travel using our fleet anytime, the opportunity to write papers and do research if you wish, and all the support help you ask for. You would have the opportunity to compare our collection to national patrimonies and add that data to our catalog and make recommendations about what level and form of provenance data should be included in our catalogs.?"
Jayden continued, "To my knowledge the Trust has never included provenance data in detail in the catalog. John and I could use the advice. You could consult with global experts with an unlimited budget to come up with your recommendations or come up with your own plan."
Ryan was stunned. "As long as I can finish my culinary school and work on the museum project simultaneously, that sounds like a dream come true. I could keep my apartment in Soho."
John interjected. "We can supply a limo to take you around the city so you can work while you wait in traffic. Safer than the bus or subway."
"If you are in a tearing rush to get to Teterboro to get to one of the Gulfstreams to take you to Europe or to go back for an Ohio visit or wherever, you can call for the helicopter to pick you up at the heliport, much closer and faster, no limits."
"If you decide to take the museum gig on, let Jayden know and he'll hook you up with our current art historian who would, by the way, work for you, and the Schuyler Trust travel office branch at the museum."
"By the way, those who work for the Schuyler Trust don't pay for investment services; neither do their families. Joe might appreciate the investment expense savings too."
"Before you take the job, however, you should know that the first year might involve some European travel. Have you visited the Louvre?"
"I spent a long time at the Louvre as an intern from Cooper Union... just got back last March."
"Many of our objects of art are in numerous museums around the world, lent temporarily and they will need at some point to be checked personally against the Schuyler Trust's catalog," said John.
"By the way, I can't speak for Jayden, but the meal was fabulous in design and execution. We haven't been out of the museum to eat in a private home for so long and this has been really nice. Thank you for the great food and hospitality. Hope you can work on the art with us. No rush to let us know."
"Jayden and I plan go hiking in the Grand Canyon in a few months. We'll do the mule/tent thing and all. If you'd be interested in coming along, let us know. It might be fun just before the mule points itself down and after it gets level again, anyway."
Ryan sat kind of amazed. The richest people on earth save the young people who had inherited Alain Industries perhaps, had enjoyed a meal at his apartment. What were the chances?
"I'll have to do some thinking about the art projects. That's a lot of work to mix in with the rest of culinary school."
The telephone call that rang at 3 am the next morning eclipsed everything else. Joe had complained of chest pain at 11 pm. He told Payne and David that he was having trouble breathing and felt pressure on his breastbone. Then he told them he loved them, and the words turned out to be his last; his skin went a pale blue color, icy cold to touch and when David took his pulse, he couldn't find it and Payne called 911 and together they started CPR.
The paramedics arrived, started an IV, took an EKG, continued CPR and transported Joe to the nearest cardiac hospital. He was pronounced dead at 2 am, probable cause: myocardial infarction...heart attack.
David was the steady one for Payne, who fell apart. Ryan kept thinking that this was some kind of dream and he would wake up and it wouldn't be there. All Ryan could think about was getting home to check it out for himself. He called NetJets and arranged for a flight home the next morning to Columbus and asked David to come get him or have him met at the Columbus FBO.
The flight home was surreal, all the great service mixed with a respectful silence from the crew who expressed their condolences and tried to help him be comfortable, an impossibility given his mental state. If I had let the culinary and the art projects alone, he thought, and gone to med school, even physician assistant school, Joe might have been treated sooner."
"When he got home, he made the mistake of saying so and David sat him down and told him had he been the greatest cardiologist in the world, there was no guarantee he could have saved Joe, let alone happen to be there at the crucial moment.
"Everyone has their appointed time," said David, "and this was Joe's time. He didn't ask for the MI or do anything wrong and neither did you."
"The event involved a huge piece of heart muscle that died very quickly, probably a clot or blockage in the left anterior descending coronary artery, known to kill within minutes to hours after it hits."
"You needed to come home and I am very glad you did. After the services and any other changes, you must consider going back to New York and finishing your education."
"Joe would have wanted that for you. He would have been horrified if his death threw you off your path to any adverse extent."
"Payne and I cannot replace Joe and will not try. We are more than fortunate to have you for a son, and we are so lucky to have your support. Payne and I will miss Joe's cheerful face, his passion as a lover, his good common sense, his generous nature, but we have you."
Joe's will was read two days later. There weren't any surprises. Joe met with his attorneys regularly. All of his estate minus funds for a gift to Ryan passed to David and Payne. David had, in addition, his original five acres.
Both husband's names were already on Joe's bank accounts as co-signers. They had instant access to his money which, in effect, was their money. The investments in the will were divided between David and Payne. Joe and stated in the will his wishes that they would in turn pass remaining funds and investments to Ryan in time.
As a special gift, Ryan was given thirty-five million dollars in a trust. The trust funds were to be used to form a company controlled by Ryan; start-up capital for a company to make drones.
Joe left a letter to Ryan which was not read out loud but merely handed to Ryan along with the written wish that he would form an intelligence unit using drones that his company made.
He recommended that Ryan hire a variety of people from young to very old to monitor parts of Ohio's metropolitan/suburbs/rural areas to assess crime in Ohio which Joe felt extended up to the highest levels of government...
Joe felt that the people had lost control of the pursuit of happiness and that a certain political party was perpetuating its hold on the state by improper census, wildly political gerrymandering and widened Ryan's potential scope to raising money to elect candidates who were alert to the danger to democracy these abuses presented.
After the memorial services were held, Ryan flew back to Manhattan. He wanted to chat with John and Jayden...and perhaps Valentine and family as well. Ryan's nature was to do whatever task he was given as well as he possibly could. It was a built-in thing with him.
Ryan told John and Jayden about the death of one of his fathers and the company that Joe had asked him to form. He told them the general outlines of the project which was all he knew at that point.
"I am going to continue what projects I can, but the kind offer you presented to me may have to be altered or delayed or if you need it done sooner by someone else, then I will stand aside."
Jayden looked at Ryan for a long while, then turned to John.
"I think we need to consider adding a very large sum to Ryan's seed money and take Ohio back. We can delay the catalog project by a few years, Ryan. Finish your culinary school so you have that off your list."
"We will provide the limousine service, the helicopter service and the access to the Gulfstream fleet now to speed things up at your Ohio project. I want to help you with this. If you need other improvements in transportation, infrastructure, buildings, equipment, computers, please think of us. The Schuyler Trust has supercomputing equipment that isn't working at full capacity right now and we will give your IT people unlimited storage and bandwidth. Just let us know when and where and we'll give you the how."
"My one suggestion is that you build dedicated fiber-optic circuits which provide fantastic data security. I would avoid the Internet backbone which our own government monitors through multiple agencies on a regular basis."
"If you need an ISP for some reason, build your own like a data fortress with the best bonded people and connect it to your own fiber. We can help you with the Schuyler trader global circuits if you wish."
John thought for a minute and did the signature 'nod' of his head. "Ryan, if you decide in the future that your project needs extra funds, we can throw in three billion into an Ohio Trust, the annual income some years might equal $300,000,000 depending on the markets. If the principal is guaranteed to return to the trust after 10 years (depending on factors and conditions we build into the documents of the Ohio Trust), we should be able to get some work done."
"The three of us should meet for dinner, trading locations each week, on Saturday night to plan and talk."
"Would that fit into your schedule?" asked Ryan.
"John and Jayden looked at each other while they both nodded.
"We'll come over and not talk at all if you are doing the cooking. We'll be too busy eating."
The administrator of the culinary institute sat in his office the next week looking over accounts receivable. The restaurants that hired his students paid the institute for their services. Those funds along with tuition helped to buy the electricity, buy the food used at the institute, pay the teachers and insurance, etc. It was the etc. that the administrator was personally interested in.
His own board-approved salary was in excess of $300K each year with great benefits.
The overall profits to the owners had flagged a little in the last five years but they hadn't complained, now confined to nursing homes and having no family to speak for them.
Mr. Smith's secretary, Blanche Myers-Hicinbotham knocked on his door and announced that the owner's attorneys had arrived for a short visit. Surprised, he looked around the office. It was neat, clean and not showy.
"Have them come in, Blanche, what are you waiting for?"
Two attorneys, business-like, well-dressed, professional, thanked Mr. Smith for seeing them on short notice. They knew he didn't have a choice. They presented their credentials to Mr. Smith, the documents that proved their right to speak for the owners.
Mr. Smith began to read...
"There must be some mistake! Who are these people?"
It was a rhetorical question. He knew exactly who and what the Schuyler Trust was. A cold chill trickled down his spine.
One attorney replied, "The previous owners, the Gambles, have sold this Culinary Institute, lock, stock and barrel, to the Schuyler Trust as of the first of this month. The present Board of Directors has been partially replaced by Schuyler Trust members representing the new ownership."
"On review of your $300K salary, we note that your profits have been declining, not justifying that salary. The Schuyler Trust values your community connections and will provide support for this business in return for a temporarily decreased salary of $150,000 per year, more in line with recent performance."
"The Board salaries have been reduced and a sweeping look at Institute expenses is underway, including the interesting amounts paid to certain persons for personal expenses by yourself, not family members. We are aware who cashed these checks and have interviewed her and the ladies she works with and are aware of the precise nature of the activities that render them personal to you."
"You have a choice to reimburse the Institute those funds in full over the next three months or we can find another Administrator, in which case you will be explaining to your spouse why you don't have a good job anymore. If you choose to accept your new salary, we will review it annually."
When the attorneys first started talking about his salary, Mr. Smith brushed his knee against the panel under his desk that he used to summon Blanche to interrupt him for 'emergent calls', a ploy he used to get rid of unwanted visitors.
The rest of what they had to say to him stunned him and he quite forgot to brush that panel again. The result was that the connection from the hidden microphone on his desk to Blanche's desk remained open and she heard every word.
Blanche wasn't stupid. She and Mrs. Smith were high school chums and she saw no reason on earth to withhold Mr. Smith's philandering ways from Mrs. Smith if it would benefit herself or Mrs. Smith.
She bent to her computer and printed out Mr. Smith's appointment calendar for the last two years to two empty USB flash-drives.
When the Schuyler attorneys came out of Mr. Smith's office and the inner door shut to his office, she handed them one of the flash-drives with its dates and times.
"I've suspected he's been spending company money for a while for theses rather personal appointments of his. Here's your proof. Dates and times."
Blanche next called Mrs. Smith and set up an appointment for lunch Friday next.
Ryan was called to the Administrator's office a week later and given a new schedule.
"The new owners of the Culinary Institute wish to accelerate your studies here. We have designed a new curriculum which intensifies your learning pace, brings in more teaching for more hours per day, identifies what you already know and puts the focus on things you don't know, arranges testing schedules on weekends by computer and by cooking."
"We think you have the choice of finishing your certificate here in six months instead of another year if you wish to go the accelerated route."
Ryan told the Administrator he would have an answer that week and returned to his 'sauces of India' module. At the end of the school day, he looked around the classroom and looked, really looked for the first time at his fellow classmates.
"Before I hire anyone for anything, I need to know that the person wants or needs the job. Enough to do boring or risky or dangerous things, that is."
If people are to work under stressful circumstances, they either get enough money, enough satisfaction, enough power or accomplish some deep goal inside to still want that job badly. Conversely, there are reasons why someone would want a job that don't match the above; to infiltrate, to learn information they don't need to know or share, to frustrate the purpose of the job.
For some, the very young or very old, the infiltration risk might be less, they might have less need to frustrate the goals of the work. At the same time those age ranges might be less likely to enjoy the power or need the money unless... an idea hit him.
Why couldn't he interview and choose his employees based on their specific need, money, power, need for satisfaction to right a wrong? This had to be a key. If he chose employees at random with obvious needs and filled them, they might be more likely to be loyal.
He needed the process to be personal.
Unaware that he was re-creating a Schuyler Trust historical process, he began to look with fresh eyes at those around him. The delivery lady from Instacart that brought his groceries, bringing an accurate, hand-picked order to the apartment within a short while after his order on the app, nose-ring, attractive, good figure, short blonde hair.
The stock clerk at the A&P, fit, good-looking, busy, serious, great butt, probably 18, up and down ladders, his dads would think he was sexy...
Ryan's cock twitched and Ryan got the shock of his life. What the fuck? He didn't swing the direction his dads did. He didn't notice those kinds of things. What was going on?
Maybe he, Ryan, was stressed out over all of this and his reactions weren't his usual. Ryan looked away and paid for the items at the counter and on the way out heard a little commotion behind him. He glanced around and saw the stock clerk clinging to the bottom of the ladder, apparently having stumbled and missed a step as he descended. His face was tight, and he couldn't step on his left ankle without grimacing.
Ryan continued out to the street. The kid should watch where he's going. Inattention caused accidents, right?
The next day after class Ryan got to thinking about paying attention and the A&P incident came to his mind. Again. He'd thought about that stock clerk's butt a couple of times that day and the thought made his groin ache and his cock twitch both times. Now that was just plain nonsense, Ryan thought to himself.
I'm straight, not gay. My dads are gay, and that guy would be somebody they would look twice at and talk about.
Once during the day, an image of his dads, naked, in bed, with that stock clerk, one dad kissing one cheek, the other dad kissing the other cheek came into his head. He could feel his face turn bright red.
His lab partner in Chinese sauces looked at him. "Do you have a fever? Your face is beet-red."
Ryan brushed it off and managed to focus for the rest of the day, that is, on culinary arts.
Once home, he remembered he needed baking soda. He'd forgotten to get baking soda. There wasn't much left in the fridge and only two boxes left in the pantry. One could never have enough baking soda. He was always needing some. He'd stop by the A&P.
Ryan entered the store and made a beeline for the baking aisle finding the familiar boxes of baking soda, turned and nearly crashed into stock boy.
"Excuse me, I almost crashed into you."
"I wouldn't have minded. You're the most handsome man I've seen in this store."
Ryan looked into blue eyes framed with light red hair, a full mouth, smiling, great teeth, smelled fragrant minty breath as Ryan inhaled, looked down to see a muscular chest and looked back into those blue eyes.
"I guess I could back up and see if I like crashing into you."
"I couldn't be so lucky."
This time Ryan looked down further and saw a firm, thick tube extending down the clerk's pants on his left side. Below that were two bulging sacs which must be the guy's balls, Ryan thought. His first reaction was physical. His own cock didn't twitch.
It went erect pretty quick and they stood face to face in the baking aisle at A&P. Independent of location and position and aisle, these men were ready to fuck.
"What time do you get off work?"
"I'm off in a half hour."
"Are you hungry?"
"Starving."
"I live at Nozawa-SoHo Apartments, #2200 across from Spring Street Park on 6th Avenue. Can you join me for dinner at 7:30 at my apartment?"
"In a heartbeat."
"I need to give your name to the doorman."
"Liam Reilly."
"I'm dressing casual."
"I'll leave my tuxedo at home."
"There's a great pool on the roof, heated."
"I'll bring my swimming suit."
Ryan nearly left the store without paying for his baking soda, 4 boxes worth. Once outside, he felt like he was walking on air. What a weird feeling that was, he thought. His cock wouldn't go completely down but remained thickened, just not rock hard like in the store.
Liam Reilly. Sounds Irish. Dunno any Irish sauces. Every Irishman probably makes his own. That last thought affected his cock and made it really hard again. All the way back to Soho.
Chicken salad on cold rice with mango chutney, super-chilled champagne with 5 mm super-chilled vanilla ice cream spheres assembled on the spot, the liquid nitrogen misting a little from the bucket and molten chocolate cakes with slices of melon on the side...
Liam arrived in jeans and a cotton white shirt and a bag with his swimming suit. Ryan opened the door, invited him in and gave him the nickel tour of the apartment. Dinner is almost ready.
"How's your ankle?"
Liam blushed. It suited him. "I slipped on the ladder the other day. I was looking at something and forgot where to put my foot going down."
Ryan thought about that, had an idea, and asked Liam, "What were you looking at, Liam?"
"You."
"What were you thinking about?"
"I was wondering if I had any spare fetishes or sins or inheritances coming."
"Why those?"
"The truth? If I had any fetishes to trade or sins to renounce or unmerited favors from rich relatives coming, I'd give them up to know you better. Anything."
"Ryan, I don't know you well enough to love you. At first look, however, I felt a connection of some kind probably based on your look and maybe my need. I don't have a great feel for the percentages of each, but you, sir, are one gorgeous hunk of meat and although I'm not gay that I know about, my junk moved when I saw you."
"Wow, I'm not gay either. At least that I know about."
"My dads are and the third dad that just died was their spouse too, but I never grew up thinking that one look at a guy up on a ladder (that would be you) would make me ache and my cock twitch."
"That surprised me. It made me crazy for a minute to learn that was even a thing my body knew about."
Ryan told Liam that he had known about his dads all his life. They had never hidden their bodies or their sexual activities from him. If he was in the bed and two or three of them made love, no problem. It got so he didn't watch; later years, he did. He didn't participate, obviously.
Ryan had seen all of it on the emotional level of kids who can't drink wine at the dinner table yet, knowing someday they might but not having any huge desire, actually any desire, to chug some down.
"I knew that some guys liked putting their cocks up other guy's asses and that when they did something came out, some wet, slippery stuff and when it did, my dads made good noises and kissed each other and seemed to like it and want to do it again sometimes."
"After I began to jack off, I decided that sex was pretty much them jacking off inside of each other instead of their hands. I didn't know it felt better and didn't understand the depth that love adds to the mix."
"They never put me in my room so I couldn't watch, so I guess I've seen all there is to see. I'm not sure. I've seen dicks in the mouth and in the ass. I've seen mouths pretty much everywhere. Didn't affect me."
"How about you?"
"At my house, nobody was gay. No relatives, no friends that I know about. My mom and dad don't talk about sex. I've never had the talk. I've never seen them do the deed."
"I snuck into the bathroom one day when my dad was in the tub reading a newspaper. The paper hid the door, he didn't see me come in and when I made a noise flushing the toilet, he jumped a mile high and yelled at me. I think I scared him. Now that I'm not 6 any more, I wonder if he was playing with himself behind that paper. Dunno."
"I never wanted to have sex with a girl or a boy. I love to jerk off just like every other guy."
"At the same time, at least right now, I don't want kids. I can't afford them."
They continued to talk through dinner. When they were done, they worked together to clear the table and load the dishwasher.
"Let's change into our suits and swim."
"Thought you'd never ask."
Ryan removed his pants and shirt along with his shoes and socks. He was aware that Liam was watching him, and the gaze felt comfortable like an old friend there with him. He lowered his C-IN2 Low risers and set his 8-inch, thick cock and low hangers free. He sensed rather than heard a little gasp from Liam. Ryan walked over to the bathroom and took a piss.
Ryan put on an anatomically correct swim brief that required him to insert his cock into a cotton modal nearly transparent tube. The rest of the garment was a jock strap, essentially.
Liam stripped and put on a transparent cotton modal bikini. It hugged his ass like the skin on a banana. Ryan's heart skipped a beat and he wondered for the 10th time in two days what the fuck was happening to him.
Ryan called the lifeguard on the roof and told him he was bringing a guest. "How many people ya got up there, Bill?" ,
"Are you kidding? The place has been deserted all shift, management says I have to close early if there's no swimmers, and I was just getting ready to leave early. I'm kinda bummed. I need the hours."
"Bill, we might be able to come to a deal here. My friend and I would like some privacy in and around the pool. You need the hours. I've got a hundred bucks trying to put a hole in my jeans. What if that bill found its way into your hand and you didn't close early but put a sign on the door saying that you've closed early for the day due to, oh, a leak or a chlorine problem or whatever comes to mind."
"You're on. See you in a few. I have to stay if anyone is here though. I can lose myself in the office and not peek."
Bill met them at the door, the one hundred dollars changed hands, a sign went up on the pool doors and a hastily assembled cloth screen placed over the glass doors on the inside to foil the passers-by. Bill retired gracefully to the office and shut the door to the pool.
Ryan and Liam dove into the deep end from the side and emerged smiling, cooler, and wet. Ryan swam to Liam. "Would it displease you if I touch you?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
"Ever since I laid eyes on your ass, I've been thinking about putting my hands on it and more."
Liam reached down and took his last remaining threads off and threw them on to the concrete edge of the pool. "Why touch cotton when you can touch me?"
The two men came closer, their lips met tenderly, followed by Ryan's tongue opening up Liam's lips which parted like the Red Sea to allow the invasion. Liam tasted good and he was welcoming him, Ryan, into his mouth. Then Ryan's hands went down and around and both palms held Liam's perfect combination of firm and soft ass. Liam buried his face in Ryan's neck and inhaled deeply, then nuzzled his lips in Ryan's ear.
Liam herded Ryan as far as the edge of the pool and lifted him to sit on the side. Liam looked at Ryan again. "I'm gonna do what I've been thinking about doing for a couple of days, Ryan. If you don't want to, you'll have to let me know."
Liam's tongue and mouth came down to Ryan's nipples and Liam sucked Ryan's nipples as if he were at his mother's breast. Ryan's head went back in surprise. He hadn't ever even thought his nipples might be wired like that. He felt a jolt from his nipples to his cock, a nice shock. Off came Ryan's swim suit, flimsy though it was. Then Liam was licking the hairs down the center of his abdomen going down toward his cock and when Liam came closer, he took Ryan's flared, thick cock into his mouth and sucked it hard. His tongue rubbed against the bottom side of Ryan's cock head, a really tender spot, Ryan thought.
After a minute or two, Ryan got up and took Liam by the hand and led him over to a chaise lounge, a thick padded piece of furniture, one of many around the pool. Ryan laid back on it with his back up enough so that he was almost seated. He reached out to Liam who resumed his cock massage. Ryan leaned over him with one long arm and held Liam's ass close and tight, then he reached his middle finger into Liam's crack and explored the crack, rubbing his finger across Liam's asshole slowly and firmly. An appreciative sound escaped Liam's throat then and for the first time in Ryan's life, something clicked.
He realized he'd been working up to this moment for many years without the rush that many adolescents have because of the constant exposure to sex that he saw daily between various combinations of his dads, day and night.
It was his turn to have wine with dinner. He knew that he was going to have sex with Liam and Liam was going to like it and want more. Ryan's mind looked into a future with Liam. Ryan liked what he saw. Unlike his dads, he thought, he was a one-person lover. Liam might very well be that person.
"Liam... stop."
"What... why?"
"I want to come inside of you. I want to take your ass and make it mine. I want to get to know you better that way and every way."
Liam didn't cry much. His life had been difficult at times and Ryan would learn all of that too, but tears weren't on his to-do list very often. His eyes, however, watered, a trifle when he heard Ryan's intention. He stood and straddled Ryan.
He didn't say much. Since neither had ever had a lover before, neither wanted condoms. Liam spat on his fingers and rubbed it on his asshole, then he sat down and placed his asshole to the tip of Ryan's rock-hard cock.
Ryan knew exactly what to do. He'd seen the process hundreds of times through the years. He kept a gentle pressure on Liam's hole until the muscle relaxed finally and let his cock start the journey inside. Then and only then, Ryan began to move just enough to finally sink the head of his cock inside and let Liam get used to that. After a while, Liam said "I'm ready for you now, Ry."
Ryan, with a thrill at the intimacy of the nickname, began to push his cock with his pelvis in and almost out of Liam's warm, tight, moist, tunnel. He now understood why his dads made the noises they had, why they wanted to do it again, why they appeared to like it and partially why they might like to play with each other in bed when they could have been sleeping. He felt full circle and wanted his dads to meet Liam.
But first, he had some pleasant work to do. Liam was making moaning sounds. Ryan had heard similar sounds before. Those sounds were getting more frequent and more intense. It sounded like his dads did just before they finished up and the warm, wet gooey stuff came out of their cocks.
Ryan's insides began to tense up a little and he felt like he was going to come. He'd jacked off enough to know what that felt like. He yelled quietly to Liam, "Liam, I'm going to come inside of you."
And there it was. Ryan began to pump just as Liam's ass started clamping down tighter yet. Liam's jizz flew through the air and hit Ryan on the chest. They both collapsed a little and began to kiss again.
"Do you have to leave at a certain time, Liam?"
"I live with my folks in a little brownstone just north of Central Park not far from dad's convenience store. If I stay much longer, I should call them and tell them I won't be home tonight and that I'm staying over with my lover or some tall tale. They wouldn't believe that anyway."
"They wouldn't believe the overnight stay or the part where you have a lover?"
"Yes."
"That clears that right up. Would you consider staying overnight with me. I cook a mean breakfast."
"I don't want a mean breakfast. I want a nice one. And in between, by the way, there's a bunch of things I want, and your thing is on top of that list."
"I'm not sure you didn't wear me out."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't. You were full of it and your balls are currently mass-producing another batch. If we give it a little time, we may both get lucky again during the night and maybe during breakfast and ... "
"I think I'm getting the drift here. Are you saying that once the horse is out of the barn, it's hard to get it in again?"
"No, but close. Once the horse is let into the barn, it's hard to keep him out of the barn." By the way, how did my barn feel?"
"Adequate."
"Come over here, I'll show you adequate. I just gave my ass to you and you're calling it 'adequate'.
"Your hole felt awe-inspiring."
"That's better. Much closer, fella. That just earned you a round-trip ticket back to Space Mountain."
"How did my cock feel inside of you?"
"No games?"
"I haven't thought about another guy's dick in my ass for 18 years. I haven't thought of anything else for 2 days and when you finally inserted yours, I think now I could die and go to heaven knowing that I didn't miss the goal of my life."
"My ass is yours, Ryan. Any time you want it, any way you want it, you own it.
"Tell it what to do and how often, but most of all, fuck it as often as you want and even when you aren't sure you want it. If you decide someday that you love me too, that will be icing on the cake. I loove frosting, especially yours, chef guy."
"I'm possessive man. As long as we live, my ass is yours and your cock is mine. Only mine. No errors, no repeats. That's a final. When I die before you do, you're free. If we are separated somehow, you're free."
Bill came out of the office. "I'm closing, guys. Hope you had a good swim. Why don't you dive in and rinse off, ahem, he coughed look at Ryan's chest and its coating of come. There are soft towels on the rack. You can wrap those around ya and bring them back up sometime. Don't forget your trunks, sir... there on the side of the pool."
Both of us were thinking the guy didn't miss much as we snuck down the elevator some 20 floors to my apartment and into each other arms again in the bedroom. I was thinking that I'd call my dads and tell them I'd found my lifetime person. I didn't know, yet, that Liam was stressed out about telling his folks about me. More precisely, what he thought that meant for their store, their hopes for grandchildren, their hopes for him, their hopes for someone to take over the store someday and their hopes that Liam turned out to be a good, moral boy with a good, moral family someday.