Flip and Trey Redux Ch 06

Flip and Trey Redux Ch 06

Big events in Mobile

The story continues. Flip and Trey have agreed to marry in Mobile and, for the time being to remain in New York. This chapter is more or less standalone, although you may not get the full richness of the character development contained in the previous chapters. The story is fiction. All characters, places and Broadway shows are fictional, even if they have accidental relation to reality. All characters engaging in sexual activity are over 18. © 2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.

It ultimately turned out that a trip south for the engagement party was not going to happen on Christmas Day or that weekend. Holidays are hugely important in New York, and not only for the department stores and shops. Hotels and Broadway Theatres raise their rates to accommodate the growingly important "Holidays in New York, THE Christmas City" travel trend.

The producers of the Phantom prequel in which I was starring, including of course my upstairs neighbor and friend, Brent (with the biggest ownership share), had pleaded with the cast not to take time at Christmas. Both Christmas and New Years Day occurred on Thursdays this year and both four day weekends were sell-outs. And so, with some reluctance, I agreed to stay in New York and on stage for all performances until Saturday January 3—when an unusual matinee had been scheduled (as well as that evening).

We planned to leave for Mobile early Sunday—since Trey's Mama had decided to hold her annual Christmas party on that Sunday night "to close the season with a Champagne Supper". She had carefully avoided mentioning that an important announcement or celebration was planned. But, that didn't stop her from arranging what she claimed would be the most memorable night of the season.

Thus, Trey and I spent Christmas with Brent and Kirk. Kirk and I both had performances Christmas Eve, but earlier than normal, starting at 6 and matinees on Christmas—but no evening performance. Southampton was out, given the timing (and maybe the fact that the weather had turned cold and grey), but Brent had always had his coop professionally designed. So we planned late dinners on Christmas Eve and Night, but had declined breakfast on Christmas day. We planned to spend that in bed, cocooned in each other, delivering gifts of ourselves.

Brent had hosted his office holiday party and three client events. We had attended two of them. There were three "designer" trees, one celebrating Broadway, one New York and a third, a tall thin "private" one, carefully placed in their bedroom, the pleasures of male on male sexuality. Wreaths hung in all the windows facing the Park. Thick white candles, like erect penises, were placed suggestively in the bottom of each wreathe. Poinsettias were everywhere and candles replaced most lighting. It was festive and sexy with class.

I had carefully indicated to Brent in advance that we were not "spending the night." And so no expectations were raised about a repeat of our orgy.

The last few weeks, since we had decided to join "legally" together had been incredible. We both relaxed into an easy relationship. That didn't in any way reduce our libidos. In fact, the reverse was the case. It was sort of like that couple that have decided to have children. So they give up the control and fuck like rabbits.

My favorite time of the day became the early morning when I would wake with Trey in my arms, nestled into me warmly. Fuck, I couldn't get enough of him. His cut and toned body. His long straight dick. And that ass! Shit, we're talking Michelangelo on steroids.

I was tempted, all the time, by fellow actors on stage and groupies who waited at the stage door. But, it made no impression on me whatsoever. I had my guy waiting at home.

He adapted to my schedule, ready to receive at night—or to pitch if I needed that. But, mornings were mine. We'd wake, not too early. Although his business was thriving, it was based on the theatre—and no one functioned before eleven.

So mornings were ours. Today was typical. I woke first, marveling at the warm hard body molded into mine. Of course, I was hard and ready. My dick was always planted between his thighs, inches away from the tunnel of love. He sensed my awakening and my arousal, squeezed his muscled thighs tightly and pushed his ass deep into my gut. I breathed deeply, pulling in my abs to bring him ever closer to my cock. The tip nudged his balls and he murmured in approval.

I pushed him forward into the warm duvet. He knew the routine. His left leg moved forward as he rolled a quarter turn into the bed. The move flexed his glutes, deepened the indentations and opened his crevice. I drew down the duvet, exposing that rosy bud, centered on that incredibly hard and muscular ass. I needed a taste this morning. So I jackknifed, grabbed the cheeks and separated and my tongue emerged to bathe his rim. I tasted myself, a bit stale this morning, but nevertheless reeking of sex. I had penetrated and filled him the previous evening and held it inside until we had dropped into slumber. When I did, he had shivered in pleasure and nestled deep into me. We had slept in a loose embrace, disconnecting much later in sleep. But the cold December night had kept us huddled.

He wiggled his ass in contentment. I pulled back and aimed, adding a bit of lube from the bedside tub of pleasure. I positioned at the entrance to paradise—and lo and behold, the gate opened and enveloped the tip with its tight compression, rolling the hood back into a nice ridge. Trey sighed in pleasure and pushed back again into me drawing the glans to his prostate. My own arm reached around and grasped his erect pole, already moist with his morning pre-cum. I held him tight, lunged and bottomed, scraping his love nerves as I passed. He gasped in pleasure. We froze, enjoying the union.

A few minutes later, he began to squirm and I started to pump, slowly moving onto his back to assert my dominance. I felt his pole hardening, the abs tightening and then the pulse and then the spasm. He was there already. So I speeded up, plunged hard, stiffened my legs to achieve maximum size and penetration and emptied as he filled my palm with his spunk. Had it only been eight hours? Fuck, our balls were working overtime. That was for sure. And our bed reeked of sex, the musky odor of masculinity.

He whispered, "Fuck, Flip. Everyone should wake up this way—particularly on cold winter mornings. Good morning, love."

This would be our last slow late morning for a few days. Tomorrow we were leaving for Mobile. I had two performances that day—but then would have three days free. We showered, had a light breakfast and I left for the theatre. I knew Trey would spend a few hours on business, and that he had a few last minute things to wrap and pack.

The trip was, of course through Atlanta, and miraculously was on time. The flight was nearly empty. The holidays were almost over. People were going home to get ready for work. Trey's sister picked us up and brought us home to a late brunch. The day was sunny and surprisingly warm. We had left the cold grey of New York for 65 degrees and sun.

The plantation had been "refreshed"—as Mama said. The tree (artificial) stood tall and beautifully decorated with heirloom glass ornaments in the foyer nestled into the circular staircase well. We noted several unopened boxes under the tree—presumably for Trey, and perhaps me. But, the greens were new, poinsettias were in bloom, and vases of fresh red roses had been placed everywhere.

I realized that the sun room/recreation room that spanned the rear of the old house had been artfully designed to flow into the deep yard facing the golf course. French doors were all open and a large tent had been added to hold the party. Mama was going big!

I had heard from my brother Edward. He had actually decided to do a long weekend and had arrived a few days earlier. He was staying with a fraternity brother, working in Mobile. There was no mention of his significant other, so I assumed that his earlier predictions hadn't panned out. I'd have to warn him about Mama and Trey's sisters.

We mostly relaxed during the afternoon, although Trey's Dad was anxious to talk about the marketing reception for the new products that were being developed. Four different off-Broadway stages had now installed the system. All three had been in performance for three months, and a few small glitches had been worked out. In the spring, two Broadway theatres, two in London and the Papermill Playhouse in New Jersey were going to install—between productions. We'd have eight installations of various sizes and complexities operating by April.

We relaxed in the afternoon in Trey's room and bed. You can imagine how we accomplished that. The party was early and Mama had declared "Black tie optional"—not because she expected many of the men to appear in tuxes, but because it gave their women the opportunity to show off new gowns and old family jewels. After a long and sensual, shower, we donned matching tuxes in midnight blue, with shiny black lapels and long ties (bow ties make my face look like it's being strangled). We cut quite an image. As we reached the base of the stairs, Emily attached small red rosebuds (which she proclaimed meant our romance was "budding" but "consummated").

Edward was one of the first to arrive, and I made the necessary introductions, noting immediately that Mama, Emily and her sister were all very interested. He wouldn't have much time to cruise that night! I was correct. When he and his special friend had talked about the party, she had been horrified that he would be attending one of those "utterly sinful" celebrations of an impending illicit union. They had argued. The argument went wide and wild, with comments and accusations about their own wedding and desire for children—including the church that would be used and the religious education she planned for the kids. She had been adamant. And he realized that when she learned anything about his past, he was toast. So he used the occasion to call it off. He was free again—and enjoying that freedom. Later he confided she had been a vanilla sex kind of girl, and he was bored.

We did have one surprise. Trey's favorite sister—Evie, the museum curator in New York with the Irish painter boyfriend (who had overstayed his student visa and was technically illegal) was there, with the boy in tow. He was a sparkly ginger with wit and talent to charm anyone. She had warned Mama that she was bringing a special "beau" and so they were prepared. And much to her surprise, they had fallen for him too. Who wouldn't? He was tall, slim, cute, smart, freckly, blond and sarcastic as hell. So typically Irish! The fact that he was thusfar and impoverished painter was not mentioned.

The party went well as, of course, we had expected. The minister of her church (which fortunately wasn't affiliated with one of the ultra-right evangelical conferences of the Deep South) pronounced a blessing and announced that he would preside at the upcoming wedding. A few of the Magraths' friends had declined to attend, but mostly without comment. The food was terrific with a spicy Cajun theme and the bars were pouring top shelf. Toward the end, Dad announced that since there were going to be two grooms' cakes, it had been decided to do one that night. The lights were dimmed and two waiters carried in an enormous cake on a silver platter. It was in the shape of a bristly wild boar, with deep chocolate icing. Inside was red velvet cake! And there was a cute twist: sitting on the boar were two Marzipan guys, one helmeted with a football jersey, clearly in the lap of the other (with a cowboy hat and arms surrounding the waist of the player), riding the boar (and maybe each other). Wow, they don't do anything by halves in this family.

Toward the end of the party, Trey got a cell txt from Brent. He offered congratulations. Then he dropped the bombs—two of them. He and Kirk had married three days ago. It was on very short notice because Brent had been notified that young twin boys were going to be joining their family in January—as soon as the paperwork was filed and confirmed. And they had decided they needed a marriage certificate to complete the paperwork. Apparently one of the parents was Brent's partner, and both had been instantly killed in a auto accident on Christmas Eve. There were no known relatives. The boys were two years old —and Brent had been their godfather and guardian. Their Montana coop would have two new residents within a few weeks—assuming child protective social workers didn't take it upon themselves to reverse a parental decision which had no other challengers.

Trey looked at the txt and then back at me. There were tears in his eyes. I felt his joy.....and his pain. They had beat us to the altar and were now expecting two young boys.

I looked over and noted that Edward had apparently clicked with Emily. They were in deep conversation in a shadowy corner, closer than any two people who weren't involved sexually should have been. I guess they were both in for a ride that evening. I should have warned Ed about the shotgun case in Daddy's closet! But, he's a big boy (and if memory serves me, a VERY big boy—Emily would not be disappointed).

Later that night, I told Trey that since it was his bed and room, I wanted him to do me, his first as my official fiancé. We both stripped. I noted a mischievous smile on his face. He stood tall, pumped, legs akimbo. Athletic masculinity personified. He pointed me to the bed and using our two silk ties, bound my hands outstretched to the brass-pipe headboard. Then he rolled me up and spread my legs, pushing two big pillows under my back. He pushed my legs up until my toes locked under the headboard bar. It's in moments like these when I realize how strong and powerful he is. All those times when he rolled over and let me fuck him had nothing to do with my dominance. He was by far the stronger, and, if he had insisted, I would be his regular sub bottom. He enjoyed being fucked—as of course did I.

Then he leaned in for his second desert of the evening. His tongue darted out and teased; then he blew over the moistened rim sending shivers. He looked up, his curly ginger hair drooping over his eyes, smiled again and reached up and around my legs to grab both nipples, holding my legs high and folded with his muscular torso. He knew my tits were direct-wired to my dick which promptly started to drip clear cum. His fingers gripped the nipples then pulled hard before spreading his hands over my pecs and squeezing again hard. My dick spasmed in response.

He bent back and his lips moved to the tip as his tongue rolled the hood back and swept the sensitive glans for every drop of precum. I wanted to pound the mattress in ecstasy, but my fists were bound to the headboard. Finally he released my legs; so I dropped my legs behind him and used my heels to pound his ass. Fuck he was good and totally in control. My helplessness and his strength were an incredible turn on.

Then, without missing a beat, he stretched over me and positioned his hard pipe at the entrance. He held it there, looked into my eyes and waited. "Beg me, boy. I wanna hear you beg."

"Trey, you're torturing me. Put him in. Hard and fast. Now. Pleeeease!!

"Not good enough. I've heard much better lines from New Yorkers! You're supposed to be a pro."

"Fuckin' farm boy! Make believe I'm one of your fuckin' sheep—that you've already shaved clean. Put that baby maker deep inside and make some babies. You are so fuckin' beautiful, you hunky ginger. You are so hot you're burnin' me up. I bet your swimmers are wearin' red firemen's jackets. Or maybe red speedoes." All the while, I'm struggling with the silk ties on my wrists. Ineffectively it seems. And my heels are pounding his glutes. He's got me so high, he's gonna need a drone to reach inside me. "If you don't put him in, I'm goin' to heaven all by myself."

"You don't get a Tony for those lines. But, I am going to drive my pole so deep inside you're gonna feel it in your gut, maybe your throat. Maybe that'll stimulate your brain cells."

At that second, he laughed—really loud--and stretched up and hardened his square-slabbed pecs and pushed violently and deeply inside. My chute reacted by squeezing him tight and holding him there. He was so big. I was filled so tightly that I could feel the pounding of the blood in his cock. Right there, on the hard love bundle. Then he started pumping, long and hard. He towered above me, concentrating his power, eyes tightly closed. I felt his thighs tighten as he stretched long and hard over me. So I used my own leverage; I drew my legs to the headboard and rolled higher to push my butt up into him, my ankles resting on his shoulders. His arms tightened to hold me there. Then, we both lost it. I screamed in release, and then screamed again when I felt his load squirting deep inside. We weren't going to need a surrogate. He was breeding me! And I was pretty sure that everyone in the house now knew that we had just fucked—or rather that I had been fucked! Then he fell into me and my legs enveloped him. I guess being engaged was pretty good for both of us.

After the txt from Brent, I knew the pressure would be on. Trey wanted a kid or two. Deep down of course, he knew that wouldn't come from me. But, he was sure going to enjoy trying to plant one.

We had one more full day in Mobile. Trey wanted to inspect the remodeling of the fabrication plant. He had designed the changes, and the Taiwanese had financed them. It looked so different. The exterior was the same, but the interior had been re-floored and repainted. And it was now air-conditioned. There were two assembly lines with a dozen robots handling multi-tasks—as the old hands watched and controlled from pads. It was like something out of the future. Trey was impressed and on a high. He was responsible for this renaissance.

We had a big family lunch back at the plantation. Edward had either stayed over—or Emily had invited him back early. But, it was clear that she was infatuated, and he was looking pretty pleased with himself. Evie appeared with Sioban, and it was clear they had spent the night together. In fact, they had been in Mobile for a week. Sioban had had the talk with Daddy, and Momma had, in typical fashion, been adaptable—as long as her girls were happy. So maybe two of the three Magrath girls were taken.

Of course, everyone by then knew that Ed had been a star at A&M, and this was definitely a football family. We went outside for a while after lunch to toss the ball around. Casual sport turned competitive almost instantly. Soon three of us were perspiring and shirtless, a few neighbors joined us, and we even had an audience, composed mostly of teen girls. Dad held to his tee ("No one but Momma gets to see this old body.") I felt a little sorry for Sioban who had been raised on European football—soccer. It was New Year's weekend and there were dozens of games, bowl and pro, to occupy the afternoon. But Sioban was athletic, a fast learner and bright. By the end of the day, he was already using his Irish gift to make derogatory jokes about "this American game they call sport—where lawyers make the rules, call the plays and declare the fouls". "Don't these guys get to lose their puppet strings ever?" But, he threw the ball like a pro and caught several long passes. And later when we were watching the games on the LED, Evie was in his lap, whispering into his ears—explaining plays, she said.

Dinner was buffet-style with TV tables set before comfortable chairs in the rec room.

We left the next morning for New York after a long hot night in Trey's bed. The engagement and Brent's announcement (and maybe the growing success of the business) had un-caged a tiger. Trey was no longer the innocent guy I had hooked at the theatre door. He was an animal, a big strong predator, convinced that if he fucked me deep and hard enough, he'd get his wish. But, I wasn't complaining. My guy had been a little too passive for a little too long. There was no part of fucking that I didn't like. If he wanted to top and dom, who was I to complain?