Reunion in Staten Island 2
Two guys continue their relationship
There have been lots of requests for a sequel to Statie Island Reunion. This is pretty much stand-alone, but it is helpful to have read the first story first. All characters and places are fictional despite apparent references to reality. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. ©2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.
It's late Friday afternoon. Mom left for Ft. Lauderdale yesterday after closing on the house. My meager possessions had been moved (by me) to a storage locker on the Island on Wednesday afternoon. I had supervised the move of her stuff on Thursday and she had stayed the night with a friend. I had taken two and half days off from work at F&B and would pay the price--with long Saturday and Sunday hours.
I can't believe all that has happened in the last two weeks. Mom is gone and will play very little role in my life in the coming years. I've got a new apartment--across the river near Battery Park--I get to move in next weekend. I haven't even seen it yet, but Billy showed me a few photos. It's going to be a big step up from my last place. It's a high one-bedroom with a river view. I'm temporarily staying with my high school buddy on the Island. Billy is a monster--6-4, at least 220 with muscles on muscles. At heart, however, he's a nearly hairless teddy bear. He's real light skinned (but deeply tanning-parlor tanned) and blonde--and except for his pony tail, he could pose for Mr. Clean--the big-chested, smiling genie. Except MC doesn't seem to be carrying anything in his tights in the ads. Maybe MC is in drag. But that's not Billy's problem. He's hung. And we are fucking up a storm! I'm getting off every day, often twice. I've never had so much sex before in my life! Some mornings I can barely make it to the gym. He's definitely a powerful fucker! And insatiable!
We had met almost a month ago on the boat when we were both returning from Manhattan, late. I had had a really dry period in my social life and a particularly bad day. So had he. I had been working and billing unbelievable hours. In fact, in the past year, I'd only had a few dates and only one had ended in bed. (And if was with a young lady who piked me up and whom I never saw again.)
He me for a drink, seduced me and I fled his apartment after he jerked and sucked me off.
I was up most of that night trying to figure out what I was and what I wanted. There was no question that I was attracted to him even though I consider myself hetero. Physically, he's a dream. We've got a long history. And I loved everything that he did to me. I wanted him to take over and fuck me. But, I was scared. So I ran. During the night I did my "lawyer thing"--examining the pros and cons, the consequences, the risks. And it was the early hours of the morning that I realized that my life was empty. I lived only to work. Here I was in my late 20s with nothing to do that I considered fun. If I didn't watch myself, I'd be an old man, without the ability to enjoy. Maybe rich. Maybe respected. But lonely and unfulfilled. I decided to go for it. Not just a toe in the tub. I was going to plunge in the cold river. Either I was going to enjoy the water--or I was going to drown. So I txted the next morning that I was taking him up on his invitation to join him for pizza and.... After that night, Billy really started to fill up my time--and my ass. Then I turned the tables. I was having the best time of my adult life. Fuck the world! I'm getting laid. Fucking this Adonis. And loving it!
Maybe you don't remember me from my last story. I'm Kyle Maddox, born and bred in New York--in fact on Staten Island, the "lost" borough in the City-that-Never-Sleeps. I'm a lawyer--fourth year associate at Fuller & Brush. Specializing in finance and financial litigation. I'm about 6 even, with professionally barbed black hair, cut reasonably short, deep blue eyes, a swarthy chiseled face with a thin Roman nose. I work out regularly, and I'm in shape--about 175-180. I'm a real head-turner (that is, if I ever get away from my desk). Until a few days ago, I assumed I was totally hetero. I certainly acted macho-alpha.
Oh, in case you're interested (Fuck, what I am saying, if you're reading this in Literotica, of course you're interested), I've got a nice-sized banana dick with a hood, framed in DIY sculpted curly black pubes--but otherwise pretty hairless. My one indulgence is custom made clothes. And my tailor knows that I need extra room inside the right thigh! (It's a standing joke between us. Or maybe it's a "hanging" joke!)) It's not unusual for there to be a recognizable bulge on the inside right side--which I don't try to hide. Obviously, I've got a sense of humor--and I've been known to crack up a serious discussion with an off-hand comic observation.
None of my dates had ever complained that I wasn't big enough or talented enough.
The first weekend that Billy and I spent together was, I thought, a fluke. Then things just started to happen. Unexpected. Definitely unplanned. We were in his bed most of the time we were together. I couldn't get enough of his dick. And it turns out that he's vers--and was just as interested in mine. We were definitely porn material. He had definitely opened Pandora's box, well maybe not her box, but certainly my chute--to the possibilities. And I was learning all of his pleasure points and vulnerabilities. He's got one of the tightest holes that I've even had my dick in. And my banana taps his sensitive nut like they are tailor made for each other.
Unfortunately, Billy's Dad is in hospice, near the end, and Billy has been stepping into management of a large New York contractor. After only a couple of days, he asked me to help out with some of the legal and financial stuff. He must be really desperate to want me to help so soon. I don't have the time unless Thorpe becomes a firm cient. So, he and I put together the rudimentary basics of the company's history and a general outline of the scope of its legal needs over the next year or so. Most was pretty routine negotiation with banks and owners and preparing bid documents. But he also wanted me to manage sub contractor agreements and labor and license issues. And the kicker, he wanted me to supervise the financials. It would be a full time job.
I brought the company, Thorpe Contracting, to the firm and requested permission to take on the representation. My supervising partner was surprised at my apparent client generation skills, but really suspicious. (I think he was also reluctant to lose my slave labor for his clients.) He wanted to see financials, and when they were produced (unaudited, a year old and really a mess), he said that IF we decided to take them on, there would be a required advance retainer--maybe a $100K against future billings. He made some remarks about my inexperience in construction law matters, but agreed to send the client information forward for a "conflict check"--after he saw that Thorpe had paid more than a million in legal fees the previous year. They were potentially a big client--although fairly small by F&B standards.
A few days later, the proverbial hit the proverbial. The conflict check showed multiple conflicts (with older banking clients--one was the principal financier of the largest construction project they had going at the time) and a significant range of complaints and lawsuits--most recently concerning a portion of the building collapse. The decision: no way was F&B going to take on the representation. It was too "dirty." (He actually used that word!)
I called Billy with the news. He refused to talk on the phone. "Let's get together to discuss this."
"I'm in the final stages of packing myself and Mom. I really can't for a few days."
Actually, I was pleased to have a few days. I hadn't yet made up my mind about his suggestion that I leave the firm and join Thorpe. I needed to consider what working together might do to our quite satisfactory developing relationship. And my lifeplan.
"Well, you're moving in with me on Thursday after the movers empty your Mom's place. We can talk then. If you're still coherent, that is." Then he laughed that deep basso profundo of a stage villain who had some tracks in mind that he wanted to tie me to. Or maybe some bedposts.
And so Thursday night I arrived at Billy's third floor apartment (with the "view"), lugging a suitcase and a hanging bag with suits and shirts. We had decided I'd move in with him in what was theoretically his extra room until my apartment was ready. We both knew that was not going to happen. It was after dinner, but I hadn't eaten. And I was rank after the hot day of moving without AC in the hot and muggy summer. So Billy motioned me to strip and shower while he warmed the ever-present leftover pizza.
I joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, wearing only a damp towel and a smile. The pizza was steaming hot. Apparently so was he. He stood behind the stool as I ate, close enough that I could feel his heat and his hard-on. Then the hands came around and started massaging my pecs. A thumb and a finger circled and squeezed my sensitive nipples. Another untied the towel. "Fuck, how do you expect me to eat, stud?"
"I've got some sausage that I'd like to to try. It's all organic and very tasty. But in my room. New rules. If I'm gonna be your boss, we fuck. Then I buy you dinner. I've been storing up for three days. I'm dripping just feasting on your body." With that, he spun the stool around, grabbed my butt and carried me to his bed.
I protested that he wasn't my boss. But he quickly retorted that he sure was. And he set out to prove it.
Seconds later I was down and he was spread on top, his head to my dick, squirming around to feed me his cock. Then he moved with more agility than I would have expected, and he was on all fours with his cock and balls hanging above my face like the salami in the Italian deli just down the street. He lowered and I opened to catch the first drops of his precum. When all 225 of him was poised over me like that, I surely felt the overload. He really was big. And his balls hung like big ripe peaches from the top of his tree. He was definitely the boss. Did I really think I could handle this guy? I'd be his sub in two weeks. I reached up and held his cock in place as I slowly licked and teased the glans. Then I swallowed and took him in my throat. Fuck, he was following every move. My own was deep inside his mouth. I was on the bottom but I was orchestrating. Was this a paradigm for our future relationship? Would he take my advice as willingly as he swallowed my cock?
I decided to test. I spit him out and grabbed his balls, licked them, then grabbed and tugged. He howled, but he moved off, slid down beside me. "Why'd you do that?"
I spooned him and pulled him into my gut. I really didn't answer. I didn't want a discussion. I wanted to fuck. "I'm gonna drive, boy. Open up."
