Clue Ch 05

Clue 05

Cam and Dec meet Rupert at home

All characters described in this story are over 18. Parts of the story attempt to duplicate the stream-of-consciousness, freedom from the rigors of sentence and punctuation grammatical rules-- popularized by the Irish novelists of the post-war perio. Cam and Dec met in Clue 01at Gaylord College, vacationed in Ireland in Clue 02 and 03, and started work at GAI Enterprises in Clue 04, but this story is more or less standalone. Copyright ©2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.

The story continues in Cam's voice....

The evening at Rupert's modern home turned out to be very strange in that it was almost perfectly normal! Given our experience at the castle with his close brother (where we had paid for our B&B with our bodies--me with Peter, Dec with his FWB, Liam--but you know all about that) and the ambiguous invitation from Rupert, our boss--Peter's "almost-twin", we really didn't know what to expect. Anything from an orgy (unlikely, given his rep for being a recluse) to a specific proposition involving one or both of us.

But, little of what we had anticipated unfolded exactly as we had expected--except of course for the game. But more about that in a minute.

Rupert invited us to use the pool and went to check on the status of dinner. Before he left however, he had proclaimed a rather specific disclaimer: he had not invited us for sex; he didn't seduce employees. It was curious that he would even think he needed to make such a statement--but probably it was CYA. Mac, probably his partner, was present and smiled throughout the declaration. This was just going to a typical suburban outdoor dinner party among two gay couples. Except that the host was a multimillionaire.

So, after changing into suits found in the pool house guest room, Dec and I plunged into the large heated pool. Neither of us was a great swimmer, but we could manage in the relatively shallow pool. So we did enjoy a reciprocal game of splashing and dunking in the warm evening--and warmer relatively shallow pool.

(It is a little known fact that most Vikings could not swim, and actually feared the water. The depths contained sea serpents and other water dragons of unknown size and ferocity.)

It felt really good to be in a casual situation where we didn't need to prove anything. I had built up a good deal of tension--assuming that we were on the Gaylord dessert cart, given our experience at Rainbow Castle. Rupert and Mac were soon back, wheeling trolleys filled with food. Mac called dinner, and we climbed out of the pool. There was a bit of very frank ogling as we emerged from the pool, shirtless and with the tight square-cuts leaving little to the imagination. But, we knew we looked good, and the experience was not new to us. We both knew we were eye-candy. Rupert and Mac walked up to us with large towels and enveloped us, holding us perhaps a few seconds too long. Wow! What next?

But, they stepped away and motioned us to the food. We grabbed tees and followed.

Mac was still somewhat of an enigma. He wasn't gregarious; in fact he spoke little. He was a good looking guy, in shape, with coloring like Dec's (pale complexion, freckles, reddish-blonde hair, green eyes, runner's slim muscles) but with a bit of fuzz on his chin, not really a respectable beard. Pretty obviously gay--and completely into Rupert--and submissive to him. He was about Rupert's age, I'd guess, but not his equal in size or demeanor or wealth. When Rupert was in the room, he absorbed all the oxygen. And Mac seemed to shrink. It was very much a duplicate of what we had seen in Ireland with Peter and Liam.

Mac was an accomplished chef. Although the dinner was simple (steaks, salads, scalloped potatoes), everything was from the finest ingredients and perfectly prepared. Rupert's wine cellar turned out to be legendary. By the end of the meal, greased by nearly three bottles of ten year old Jordan single-vineyard cab, we had exchanged far more personal information than any of us had guessed. We were beginning to feel quite comfortable--Rupert, it seemed, was a "regular guy"--not the uber-wealthy obnoxious boss--or a predator. And the image he projected to the world (a shy, reclusive cipher) was just a shell. In his own element, with just a few, he was talkative, take-charge and open.

Most of what we learned about Mac came from Perry's lips. (Mac let that secret pet name out early in the evening.) Mac was an "ancient" school chum of Perry's--from boarding school in Switzerland. He's an architect, an artist (as well as an accomplished chef), and he had completely redone the estate we were currently enjoying. In fact he was in demand for the modernization of so many of older Spanish-style homes that were in the foothills near Los Gatos. Corbels, barrel tiles, paned windows were all giving way to clean, white lines and minimalist design desired by the newly wealthy valley entrepreneurs.

Rupert (Perry)and Peter had been deliberately separated at the age of 12 and 13--their father convinced that Peter's bad-boy antics were rubbing off on his younger sib. (And maybe, Da was trying to prevent Peter's budding gay tendencies from influencing his younger brother--as though mere example could determine gay-ness.) Peter had been sent off to Scotland; Rupert, to Switzerland. But the separation had brought them closer together than ever. Both had become regular telephone bros, computer engineers, and both had succeeded beyond expectation. Each was an investor in the other's successful business.

It was also pretty obvious that Perry and Mac were indeed friends with benefits--and probably much, much more. Rupert had managed to keep his private life very secret--from his associates at GAI and the press. Their hands drifted to forearms or thighs over and over during the meal. And Mac stared periodically into Rupert's deep blues. But, it was obvious: Rupert was still very much in the closet except to a small circle of friends, and presumably his brother. Curious that he had been so open with us. Or at least that he let Mac show such attachment. But then it turned out that he knew both of us pretty well.

Dec and I talked a little about Gaylord--but of course, Rupert knew it all. We confessed to being recent friends and tried to make it clear that we were a committed couple. I noted that Rupert blew the comment off with the remark, "But you guys are only 22 years old. You can't possibly know what you want in life. You're still at the time of experimentation. Fuck, I'm 34--or will be next week--and I don't know what I want yet. Mac and I are in an open relationship. And away from the Valley, I can--and do--play an anonymous game. Regularly. You guys need to open up a bit. You're way too young to settle down--or your relationship will not go the distance unless you sample the field. You're entitled to shop the whole restaurant menu before you settle on one regular meal."

Mac seemed to pale at frank statement of Rupert's life philosophy. It appears that he's more into Perry than the reverse. Or maybe it's a case of unconscious self-denial. But, to us, it signaled that Rupert wouldn't "mind" having each of us in bed if we were so inclined.

After dinner, Rupert suggested that we try out the latest version of Clue which GAI had published the previous month. Rupert didn't have the PG version however. He had the X-rated version (marketed, it turned out, by Peter's online company which did not disclose a relationship with GAI). We walked over--and the game looked remarkably similar to the board and set up that we had used for months at Gaylord. The playing pieces, about 2" high each, were a little less risqué--not dildos, but small figures of gym-built hunks clad only in jocks--the jocks in contrasting bright day-glo colors outlining exaggerated, but cute little bubble butts and prodigious baskets. Each was beautifully sculpted and rendered. Rupert handed us each a pair of flip-flops--"so we were all equal"--thus artfully suggesting that it was "Strip-Truth or Date-Clue" as we had played at Gaylord. It seemed he knew all about the extra-curricular activities of his students. I began to wonder how many closed circuit cameras had been placed in Gaylord's spaces.

Clue had not been modified significantly from the version we had used at Gailord. Rupert and Mac were very good. In fact, Rupert was clearly an expert at game theory, coding and algorhythms. It was close, but I prevailed in less than an hour of play. By then, all of us were nude or nearly so. And Rupert had enjoyed every second of our collective disrobing. And he had "charged" dearly for clues with dares that involved stroking, lips and lap dances.

I looked over at Dec; then back at our hosts. "I guess he's mine for the night."

"Not that I didn't expect it to be. In the future, you should take my advice and try some other flavors. You are the winner, and you get to choose your prize. I'll respect that tonight."

We rose from the table to leave, but Rupert continued, "You guys have had a great deal to drink. Shall I call a car? Or would you like to use one of the guest suites?"

Rupert had not claimed either of us, but I guessed he wanted another crack. Giving us a room for the night would do that. Nevertheless, I accepted for both of us, and Rupert pointed to the large suite adjoining the pool room which opened to the garden--the one where we had found our suits. "Use that one. And unlike my brother's castle, to the best of my knowledge, our rooms are not haunted by sex-crazed spirits." He smiled and chuckled to himself. Clearly Peter had shared everything about our visit. He rose from the game table, grabbed one of Mac's cheeks and headed him in the other direction. "See you in the morning, boys. Sleep well. Or whatever."

We walked over to the well-appointed suite. Everything we could want or need had been provided. An unseen hand had pushed the day beds together and prepared the king bed, toiletries were set out, bottles of water were on the nightstand--together with an assortment of flavored lubes and wraps--certainly a full-service accommodation. Rupert knew we were staying.

"So what do you think, Dec?"

"Something's off. I'm not sure what. But, I'm pretty sure we don't have anywhere near the whole story. I'd bet that Perry will make a play for one of us before we return to the condo tomorrow. I think his disclaimers were all bullshit. If he had won--or maybe if Mac hadn't been so off tonight--I'm pretty sure one of us would have been claimed for his bed. And I'm definitely not sure about that comment that he's a free agent and presumably a player when he's away from Los Gatos."

"So what can we do? He's our boss. We need him--at least for a few months."

"But, we decided--or at least I did. Are you having second thoughts about another Peter-experience with a wealthy patron? Do you need a little variety?"

"Not really." I paused for a few seconds. Dec was obviously not ready for this discussion. But, I plunged ahead anyway. "Do you think he's right? Have we moved into monogamy too quickly? Should we consider some relaxation of our rules? Some spice? Some adventure?"

Dec didn't answer, but decided to prove something to me. He started to strip--it wasn't going to take long with how little we were wearing, but he moved into a sensuous routine. He was erect, as big as I've ever seen him, his rigid member bouncing off his cute little outie as he swayed lasciviously before me. He was clearly ready to play. "Right now I'm thinking about how that cock is going to feel in my ass." He moved up close and grabbed my own obscenely erect member through the square cut knit swimsuit. "I'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. Now do me Cam. You won me again. Just like old times. And I'm ready."

He flopped on the bed, belly down and spread. Then he pushed a pillow under his gut and waggled his incredible boy-butt in my face. I was a goner. He had me again. How could I even consider someone else? I had the most attractive receptacle in my reach. He had hypnotized me with that talented Irish ass. It was calling to be ravished.

I moved between his vee-d legs and dove in. Hands spread his supple cheeks, and my face bent into his clean hairless cleft, smelling only a little vaguely of the pool chlorine. Mostly Dec's heady muskiness. The pink rim, looking like one of those quivering sea urchins on the ocean floor, seemed to invite me in. My tongue darted out, rimmed and plunged as Dec gasped in pleasure--squirmed and started his monologue.

As I deepened each thrust and attached my lips to create suction, the words flowed, "Fuck, I love it when you eat me. Cameron Clay. You are so good to me. Sooo good. Period. Ahhh. There. Right there. Oh shit!. More. Deeper. Hotter. Fuck! Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you're good. Climb in, Cam. The space is reserved for you." With the last he pushed his ass up into my face, making a little room for me to play under his gut. I moved a hand to his rigid dick, stroked it a few times, palming the head to absorb some precum. I tasted his delicious precum, offered him a lick; then reached back to massage and cup his balls. I could feel the turmoil. He was already hosting an orgy inside. His little guys were bumping into each other and getting hotter and hotter, vying for position at the starting line. The game had turned him on. He was revved and ready, squirming beneath me, as hot and sexy as ever.

I knelt back on my haunches and replaced my tongue with lubed fingers--first two, then three, thrusting in and out, petting the love nut with each entry. "I'm gonna cum, Cam. Put CJ to work. Now." So I reached under and squelched his orgasm. He gasped, "You fucker. I need to feel you inside. Fill me up, Cam. Please."

I pushed him over onto his back and jack-knifed his legs. I aimed CJ and plunged, deep and hard, bottoming on the first stroke. His deep blues popped open. "Oh Feck! You feel so good in there. I'm so feckin' full." I drew back and pounded a few more times, but he was gone. He squeezed his anal muscles repeatedly in a milking routine he had perfected, using my dick to get off without touching his own.

He started to spasm and shoot, each time clamping down on the base of my dick buried deep inside.

That was it. He had me. I stretched out my legs to achieve push-up position and maximum depth. Our crotches were glued together. Then it flowed. Or rather, my dick exploded like a fucking volcano. And then it flowed. And flowed. Filling every nook of his being. I released his calves and his legs which surrounded me holding me tight to his chest. As his own orgasm began. Deep inside, abs drawn in tight, limbs stiff, and a keen of pleasure as he shot over and over, covering our chests with his spunk. Then, he began to sing in a deep low whispering verse. It was, I think, an old Irish romantic ballad about young lovers, meeting on the beach since both lived still at home. Just enjoying the feel of each other. Skin on skin. Lips on lips. Connected in the deepest possible way.

Finally, I pulled out and moved him to my lap. Our chests remained in touch as our lips met. We both remained hard. I guess we'll be ready for another round in a little while. And I guess I really don't need anyone else. Not when I've got such a warm, cuddly hunk to hold on to. I continued to fondle his semi as his tongue sought mine for a duel. Fuck, we were still hot and ready.

Little did we know that Rupert had been watching all of this. He and Mac had a widescreen in their room--and as we finished, they moved into an equally powerful fuck, totally stimulated by two young hunks doing it live before them. Later we learned that Rupert had a full personal library of "guests" doing it in his pool house. He was certainly an enigma. A kinky enigma.

*****

We slept in on Sunday and woke with wood. We were enveloped in the musk of our recent coupling and ready to go. I dove under the duvet and took his cock deep inside--as he did the same with mine. It didn't take long. Both of us relieved our sexual tension with two quick blows performed in a steamy, but silent, 69. Minutes later we reluctantly released our mutual hold, showered and dressed.

I noted that Dec seemed a bit off. Maybe his legs a little stiff or weak. But, when I remarked, he blew it off. "What do you expect after you've been plugging me all night?"

Although Rupert seemed to expect that we'd spend Sunday with him and Mac, we made excuses and left after a light breakfast--delicious coffee and smoothies, whipped up by Mac. Rupert seemed really disappointed--almost angry. I'm pretty sure he had plans for later that day.

But, we had work to do--and neither of us was willing to press our luck with Rupert's pregnant-but-so-far-Platonic friendship. We had to stall Rupert--until we were much farther along in the development of our program.

We did agree however that we'd be happy to be invited back "sometime." Rupert followed us out to the car and started to propose a trip (in his Gulfstream) in a few weeks--to Sedona, where he had a ranch in the red rock country. He started to wax poetic about the cool fall nights and the fragrant fires. We didn't give him time to become more specific--but knew we were treading on a mine field--he was our boss. More than our boss. He was our benefactor and held our future, at least our immediate future, in his hands. We were going to need diplomatic skills far beyond anything we had tried before. He had already laid the groundrules: Away from Los Gatos, he was a free agent sexually. Monogamy was for fools and old men. He wasn't going to pounce, but he expected us to issue the invitation.

On the way home, we talked mostly about Rupert, trying to figure out his mystery. We knew he was secretive, reclusive, gay, able to afford anything, sleeping with Mac (but presumably not committed or exclusive). Why had he opened to us--two "kids" he barely knew? Why had he taken the chance? And why had he let us go? His speech about not preying on GAI associates was probably not the whole story. Then we tried some amateur psycho-analysis. We both decided that he was probably envious of Peter, his brother. He had lived under Peter's shadow for years, but then had out-classed and out-earned him to extra-ordinary wealth. Peter seemed to be happy with Liam--and Liam seemed okay with Peter tasting forbidden fruit from time to time. They were definitely a couple, more or less committed.

Rupert didn't seem happy despite everything he had. Maybe he was trying to prove that he could excel at Peter's game (Peter's lifestyle). And maybe we were going to be the pawns. He wasn't going to rape us--but he was going to seduce us--until we gave him what we had given Peter. Rupert had to have whatever Peter had--and more of it. That was our tentative conclusion.

Then, of course, we had to determine what we wanted from all this. Could our relationship open up enough to earn Rupert's continued endorsement of our project? And if not, what alternatives did we have?

We decided that we'd have to play along--although we were going to turn into two of the hardest-to-get cock teases in California. Before we ended in his bed. It wasn't clear which of us it would be. But, by then we'd have a marketable product, the Beta of Viking Raids.

By the time we reached GAI, both of us were as tense as we had ever been--feeling like small prey insects in Rupert's complicated web of golden threads. So we headed to the GAI gym to blow off some energy before we plunged into our work. The shower was empty. So we stroked each other off under the rain nozzles. One clear conclusion: we were going to produce Viking Raids (the working title, we had given the game) in record time.

The next weeks were entirely predictable. We woke early in our condo, relieved our wood, showered and were at the lab by seven or eight. Twelve hours of non-stop design, code, review, recode, meet with associates, recode, redesign. Then an hour long workout and home to bed. Most nights we didn't even have the energy or the stamina to fuck. Dec said it all, "Fuck, Cam. We're twenty-three. Horny but tired all the time. I feel fuckin middle-aged with a frigid wife. No fun. This is not the life I expected. Nor the one I want."