Dylan Thomas Merriweather Iii Ch 03

This is an original work of fiction. Any resemblance between the places and persons described below to actual places or persons is coincidental. All individuals who engage in sexual activity (male to male) are over 18—as should be any reader. Final chapter of three. Copyright 2023, all rights reserved. BD

Meetings in Washington and Time with Greg

Early the next day, a car and driver were parked at the gates waiting to take Dylan to his first meeting at the State Department. He met his advisor/lobbyist at the Fairmont for coffee and together they continued on to State. It turned out that several had been arranged and the meetings were unnecessarily long—bureaucrats are always anxious to join in on a meeting (and provide comment, even if off-point, redundant, or downright erroneous)—to prove their worth, particularly with a person like Dylan with money and influence. So, over the course of the morning, Dylan met with over a dozen, heard the same platitudes and non-committal non-promises over and over. He left, convinced that State was not going to do anything about the Chinese actions in Tanzania, except maybe fire off a few requests for field reports—assuming there was anything they could do. The availability of Tanzanian cobalt to US industry was not a high property at State—where commercial interests always fell to political or humanitarian issues. If the Chinese were demanding Tanzanian slave labor to pay down the debt, State would be all over it. But, not for a commercial threat.

Dylan had a quick lunch at one of his favorite Tex-Mex spots, accompanied by a his highly-paid lobbyist, and then called on his good friend (and one-time fuck-buddy), the junior Senator from Maryland. He explained everything again. The Senator promised "letters of inquiry" to both the FTC (over the proposed merger) and State (over the cobalt issue). He also agreed to put the issue of cobalt supply on the agenda of next week's Commerce Committee meeting—of which he was vice-chair. Then, he asked when Dylan's Saturday parties were starting and he was invited to join in "about" a week. "We'll be saying farewell to Greg Andropolis, the guy I brought home from Greece. If you're good, I'll let you alone with him for an hour or so. He'll give you a ride you won't forget."

Satisfied that he had done all he could—and more than ever confident that these issues would not be resolved politically, Dylan returned home. He scheduled another top level Zoom meeting at which he redoubled Weather's future trading position authorizations in these commodities. Perhaps, no probably, these would be long term strategic issues, but in the short run, they presented terrific opportunities for trading profits. The next days would be a wild ride—in the trading market. He was going "all in" with Weather's assets and planned to make another fortune.

But, he wanted to be really all in, that is, he wanted Greg's "assets" pounding all-in him. He was aching for physical stimulation and release. So he buzzed Greg, "Meet me at Evermay, owners' bedroom, asap. I need an infusion after all the blood I gave in DC today." He walked out of his office and headed for the yacht where Greg met him with a mile-wide smile, a gin and tonic, and open arms. Greg embraced him and pulled him in for a long hug, pressing his lips to Dylan's and his hard dick to Dylan's gut.

"Looks like you could use a little lovin', Dylan—or maybe a big lover."

"Nothing little about it. I want it big and hard and fast. And now," as he led Greg quickly to the suite. "Strip. I'm going to suck you first so you can last long enough to take me to some distant sensory paradise."

"Yes, sir," whispered Greg as he quickly shed his tee and shorts and stood, legs akimbo, arms across his hard pecs, pointing his massive erection right at Dylan's gut—the pose he knew was that of the Colossus of Rhodes, (although he knew his priapic show was not "authentic" for the giant statue, only the private studies that preceded its construction). He truly was a Greek god. Dylan pushed him to the bed, knelt between his legs, swallowed, and began to suck as his thumbs and index fingers clamped hard on Greg's nipples. Greg was near pain; no, he was in pain, but the best kind. Tonight, Dylan needed to dominate before he gave himself up. He was disgusted with the humble, beggar act that the government always demanded. And he was angry that he had been double-crossed in a deal. He needed to recover dignity—and dominance. So Greg endured it. In fact, he began to enjoy the pain/pleasure of Dylan's aggressive assault on his cock and nipples. Dylan sucked and sucked and then he not so gently grabbed the base of the shaft and stroked. He reached under Greg's balls, cupped them and pulled them away from Greg's body. He did want Greg to feel a little pain. Then he sat back, took just the sensitive head between his lips and started to massage it with his tongue. It didn't take long. "Dylan stop. You've got me. I'm cumming."

"Do it. I want it all." Dylan squeezed the balls and pushed on his taint.

And so Greg blasted into Dylan, down his throat, filling his mouth, and overflowing his lips. All of this while Dylan's blazing eyes and rock hard cock told Greg that Dylan was in charge tonight. Dylan held the dick in his mouth for a long time, but realized that Greg was not going to go soft. What an incredible talent this boy had!

Dylan then finished stripping and positioned himself chest down on the bed. He stretched his legs to the side and moved the bolster under his gut. Then he gripped the headboard—in total surrender. Greg knew exactly what was expected. He reached over and grabbed the lube dispenser and placed it strategically on the bed. Then he bent over and began to lick Dylan's crevice, then his rim, as Dylan began to climb the hillside of pleasure, opening and closing his fists on the sheet. Greg curled his long, talented tongue and penetrated the anus. Dylan began to rotate his hips, pushing up into Greg's tongue and taking him deeper inside. "Use your fingers. I need it deeper. Now."

So Greg lubed and began to penetrate, reaching for the p-button. Dylan felt the electric shock of prostate stimulation immediately. "Yes, right there. Harder. Keep it up."

"With your permission, sir, I'm going to use something a little larger and longer." With that, Greg pushed his steely cock into Dylan's hole and began to scrape the prostate with each stroke. Dylan rose from the bolster, pushed his cheeks into Greg's gut, seeking maximum penetration.

"Ahh. I can feel the monster. He's really stretching me tonight. Pound me. Now, Greg. Cum with me. Take me home."

"As you wish, sir." Greg knew this game: act the dom, play the sub.

Dylan could feel Greg's shaft inflate and heat, filling his cavity and sending pleasure waves deep into his guts. Dylan began to spasm, contracting his anal muscles, which pulled Greg over the edge. Dylan felt the hot, massive spurts deep inside and experienced an almost out-of-body experience—(actually an in-the-body-experience)--he felt that Greg's cum was mingling with his own inside his bowels and spurting from the swollen head of his own cock. Simultaneous hard anal orgasms can sometimes feel like that—but it takes a pro with an enormous tool and stamina like Greg to orchestrate--and a seasoned bottom like Dylan to appreciate the feeling. Greg collapsed onto Dylan and enveloped him in his strong arms and legs, squeezing him into his chest, stroking him slowly. Greg was now the dom and Dylan his willing (and very empty) sub. And, his tension was gone. With moments like these, Greg was beginning to fall for Dylan as he caressed the smaller guy into submission and protection, but he quickly swallowed the thought. He was just a toy, hired help—and he had a life back home. Dylan was good, the best he had ever had, but there would be others.

Curiously, Dylan was also beginning to feel that as the time for Greg's departure approached, their fucks were becoming acts of love. And he recognized that each time Greg took him powerfully, he finished protectively and gently.

A few minutes later, Greg got up and found the warm towels. But Dylan stopped him, "I'm going to need a shower. I don't need to wash you away, but I do need to wash away the sycophantic slime that I waded in most of today."

"I guess I need to join you—you probably have gotten that slime all over me as well," Greg laughed.

"Well, tomorrow will be better. Sandy confirmed he would be here at 4 for your work-out. And Billy Carpenter will be here at 6 on Saturday. He can sail on Sunday, but reminded that he has to be in his bunk by taps Saturday night—so can't spend Saturday night. So, lover boy, you've got about five hours to feed and seduce him Saturday before he vanishes. The fact that he even mentioned his bunk means he knows he's gonna be dessert, if not the main course. I guess you made that clear to him at the Pelican—or he's been doing research." Greg paused for a moment, obviously trying to decide whether to speak. "Do you think it might be too weird if I asked Sandy to join us on Saturday and Sunday?"

"I think I'd like to end up with one of them as a regular fuck buddy or perhaps something more after you leave next week. I don't think either of them can compare to you. But, as of now, nothing is exclusive—and I really haven't even taken Billy's temperature. I know you're already match-making for me—or at least recruiting my next top. If you decide to do it, make sure Sandy knows he will be your date, not mine. I don't want Billy to be confused. By the way, Sandy was a virgin until I took his cherry Sunday. So go easy. I don't want him going all soft and "bottomy" on me. He's a power top and I want to keep him that way for me. And I do want him tight. Make sure he understands that bottoming for you is not part of his deal with me. It will be interesting to see how two hunky tops manage to spend time together—particularly when both are into me, and one is interviewing his replacement."

"Yes, boss. I think I'll ask him to be my assistant on the bridge. And we'll see how it goes. I'm ready to bottom for him if that is what he wants. Or if that is what you want. He's big, but I've taken bigger. A little jealousy, assuming you get it on with Billy, can't hurt. If you decide on him, you want him to be ripe and ready. But, I think he's already hooked. You're not so hard to take, Dylan."

"God, you give me the greatest straight lines. Of course, I'm hard when you take me—and you know it. Good thing I'm addicted to your cock. Greg, your deviousness never ceases to amaze me. You'd make a good commodities trader. You're a good reader of people. Most don't understand that trading takes more than research and reading market trends; it's also about reading people and anticipating their needs—and desires, then seeming to give it to them, while keeping it all for yourself. They walk away thinking they screwed you—and then they realize who did the screwing—and they are okay with that. Because you want them coming back for more. Trading is like screwing—except neither of the partners knows who is the top and who is the bottom until the money is counted."

"No I wouldn't. I can't sit at a desk and watch a set of screens all day. I'd quickly go mad and lose all your money. I did the University routine in Greece. Papa demanded it of all his sons. But, it wasn't for me. I like the sea, boats, and people too much to do something that takes me away from that love. I'm perfectly happy steering your boat, anchoring in your depths, and keeping you satisfied. I have simple tastes."

"Well, we can see. I think we could accommodate your needs and benefit from your talents in some ways."

********

Workout and Full Service Massage

Promptly at 4, Sandy rang the bell at the gates which swung open before him. He rode his bike to the portico, left it and climbed to the door. Greg opened the door before he even reached it. "Dylan is in the gym. I'll take you there."

Dylan found the next 75 minutes to be exhausting. Sandy was a good trainer. He quickly adapted to Dylan's current condition, added a few exercises that would enhance the overall workout and pushed Dylan hard, but not so hard that he would feel more than a pleasant burn for the next day or so. All the while, he was careful to stroke Dylan's ego and much of the rest of Dylan's lithe muscular body. He was definitely a hands-on trainer "with benefits." He knew how to tease Dylan into total-body arousal. Both sported periodic erections throughout the workout.

Then it was time for the massage. Dylan stripped, showered quickly, dried and stretched out on the table. Sandy had prepared the ointments and oils, and he himself had stripped. He was well-aware that Dylan expected more than a rubdown, but he was going to do his best to provide a professional massage first. He began with careful manipulation of arms, legs, feet, hands, fingers: pressing, stroking, pulling, healing knots. Then he moved to the larger muscle groups, using his full-body strength, often by mounting Dylan's nude body.

Sandy motioned for Dylan to flip. Sandy repeated his stroking on the chest, pecs, front of thighs—avoiding any contact with the genitals. But, Dylan whose sighs became more and more sensual as the massage progressed was rampant. Finally, Sandy reached over, stroked the penis and bent over to take the cap into his mouth—using his lips to massage the shaft as his tongue stimulated the head and his hands fondled the balls. He was good; he was a professional. Dylan whispered a warning of imminent cum, but Sandy continued to suck and moved an oily finger to Dylan's anus. He reached in, tapped the prostate, and Dylan blasted. Sandy hungrily swallowed all. "That's the sweetest cum I've ever tasted."

"I don't think it's the result of my good living! I know you need release, but give me a few minutes and I'll help with that."

"I'm getting some water. Can I get you some?"

"How about a beer? The fridge is over there."

"First water, sir. Then, beer."

Both guys relaxed, nude, on the towel-covered glider on the gym balcony which overlooked the river while they sipped from the icy Fiji bottles. "This is a view that never tires me." After a few minutes of silence, Sandy reached over and began to stroke Dylan's neck. Dylan dropped his head back into the caress and smiled at Sandy. "For a hunk, you sure have soft, talented hands."

Sandy reached over and pulled Dylan into his lap and embraced him. His mouth went to Dylan's and their tongues dueled as their lips locked. Their erect cocks were side by side and Dylan reached down to stroke the two together.

"How about a ride?"

"Sure."

So Sandy reached over for a condom and rolled it on. Then he lubed himself and repositioned Dylan's legs on either side of his hips and lifted him to his chest. Sandy's hands reached under and began to open Dylan with lube as Dylan squirmed on Sandy's hard muscled chest. Finally, he lowered Dylan onto his shaft, bottoming quickly. His arms went around Dylan's back, then fell to the ass cheeks as he began to lift and pump. Dylan wanted p-contact and so he locked his hands behind Sandy's neck and stretched out backward. Yes, perfect. Sandy's big dickhead made direct contact with the prostate. Sandy's strokes became intensely stimulating, sending shocks through Dylan's gut—and dick as they rocked gently on the glider.

Then Sandy stood, holding Dylan in place so when Dylan bounced he got both maximum penetration and prostate stimulation. Soon Dylan shouted, "Now, do me. Do me now. I want to feel your heat." And of course, Sandy performed on demand. He shot several times, filling the bulb of the condom with his hot essence and then pulled Dylan into a total body contact embrace with Dylan's legs locked around Sandy's waist. Dylan's dick spouted between them, covering Sandy's chest with spunk. Sandy fell to the settee as both guys began to relax in the wonderful afterglow of good sex.

"I've got several video conference calls tonight, so I can't join you for dinner. But, Greg would like to have dinner with you on Evermay if you would like. He's only got 10 more days in the States."

"I think you must know that you've got the trainer-masseur job if you want it. The standard fees around here are $75 for a home gym trainer visit and $150 for a home massage, usually more when it's full servicea and with tip. I'd like to see you twice a week. So, shall we say $2000 a month?"

"Dylan, you don't have to pay me."

"Oh, absolutely, yes I do. If you won't take payment, then I'll find another professional."

"Okay, but we'll talk about the monthly. It does seem high to me. And I'll be pleased to have dinner with Greg. He seems like a really nice guy—and obviously he is in love with you. Shall we do this again on Thursday?"

"Yes, unless I have a corporate emergency—then I'll call. And believe me, Greg is not in love, at least not with me. He is itching to get back to his friends in Greece. He's very much a free spirit and likes challenge and variety. He no longer has either with me. I wasn't born yesterday. It's now purely transactional. He gives me what I want—and I'm usually available to him when he needs to get off."

"For a successful young entrepreneur, you sure can delude yourself concerning the feelings of the people around you. Believe me, Greg is hooked. I can see it in his eyes. By the way, is that why you need to pay me? Are we now transactional?"

"No, I need a pro trainer and masseur. And I'd like a regular fuck-buddy with whom I can go bare—and I definitely enjoy being with you. Can we try to keep the two separate?"

"We can try. But, I can read Greg. If you asked him to stay, he definitely would. He's like a puppy who's imprinted his new master. He's definitely fallen for you. You've turned a free-spirit, natural top into someone who would do anything to gain and keep your approval."

Dylan showered, pondering a bit Sandy's words about Greg, and prepared for his calls. Sandy showered and walked over to the yacht to find Greg. After dinner Greg invited Sandy for the sail on Sunday (deciding to let Dylan have his privacy with Billy on Saturday). As Sandy was leaving, Greg pulled him into a bro-embrace and planted his hands on Sandy's cheeks, inside the shorts. "I'm looking forward to having some fun on Sunday. Don't worry, Dylan won't mind. In fact, he gave me permission—and he did tell me you were a preferred top. At least for Sunday, you're going to be my assistant—and date. We'll decide then where that might lead. You can say no anytime. He may stake a claim on you in the coming weeks, but right now, he's still at the get-to-know-you stage."

"Good to know. I like Dylan, but I can't read him yet. I assumed you guys had something special going on. I certainly see it in your face when you think he isn't looking at you."

"I've been with him for about six weeks now—and I still don't know what makes him tick. He's a very complicated man with very specific tastes—that change from minute to minute—often depending on how the business is going. But, I do know he makes a lot of money and that he treats his friends—and lovers--very well. He'll never lie to you. He won't cheat on you if you get it on. And he's the best lay I've ever had in my life. What's not to like?"

"Since I'm obviously one of his potential choices for the coming months, does that mean I can expect you to give me a rough time on Sunday? If so, I think, I should pass for now. I don't need to be hazed."

"Please come. I'm not into punishing potential competitors. I think it's more like I'm measuring those that Dylan might want. We won't do anything you don't want. I'm not a monster—jealous or otherwise. I would do anything for Dylan—including keeping my hands off you and my dick out of your ass if that is what he—or you--wants."