Suddenly Last Summer

My name is Dan Morton. I am single and a junior partner in a large CPA firm in San Diego, where I have worked since graduating from college two years ago. I live in a neat condo complex close to the beach, with a nice exercise room and pool. The exercise room is important to me because I'm into body building -- not extreme stuff - just good muscle tone.

Most people here are close to my age and one of the other junior partners at my firm, Billy Walker, has a condo here as well. Billy's wife, Catherine, is a gorgeous brunet who wears a string bikini around the pool. I am not the only guy who drools over her fabulous figure. Catherine is shy and retiring and Billy tends to dominate her, but they seem like a nice couple.

Billy has been with the firm for a year and some of our people think he's an arrogant little bastard. Maybe because he's so smart! Graduated at the top of his college class and knows the laws and the regs better than anyone else in the firm. And he's a hard worker.

One Sunday afternoon we were enjoying the sun, lounging poolside. I was trying to admire Catherine's figure without being too obvious about it. She was a brunet, five-six, about 120 pounds, with a really neat ass, and boobs that looked like they were about to break out of her bikini. Her skin was tanned to a lovely golden bronze, and you just knew, as you looked at her, that when she was naked there would be sexy stripes of pearly white skin that had been shielded from the sun by those tiny pieces of cloth. She was drop dead gorgeous!

She looked even better after her husband pulled her into the pool. When she got out and hurried, shyly, past me to get her robe, the water had made that white bikini almost transparent and I was treated to a delightful view of two large nipples and a thick hairy beaver. Billy checked out my eyes as I admired her.

I shot a few frames of video of that figure when I thought she wasn't looking. Billy took some video of me after I bragged about my skills as a diver. I practically belly-flopped! Billy told everybody about his trip to Denver the previous weekend for a tax seminar. Catherine had gone with him and they had taken in a performance by Cirque du Soleil.

It was a lazy afternoon sipping vodka cocktails of one sort or another. There was something about lazy afternoons in the sun that made vodka the best drink. I had a steak in the frig to grill on my balcony that night and a good bottle of Williams Selyem Pinot Noir -- too expensive to serve to crowds on my income, so I drink it alone or with a special guest. Tonight I was alone. I picked up my video camcorder from the table and headed upstairs.

When I got inside my condo I turned the camcorder on to see how my pictures of Catherine had turned out. In the viewfinder replay what I saw was a picture of my lousy dive. I had picked up Billy's camcorder by mistake. It was a Sony just like mine, sitting on the same table.

I wanted to see that dive again so I backtracked and hit replay. Shit! What I saw was Catherine Walker, naked in bed, getting fucked by a big stud!

I hooked up the camcorder to my computer and downloaded the entire video file. Then I went to the beginning and watched the whole thing. I had wondered what Catherine looked like naked, and there she was, stark naked in spike heels, walking across what was obviously a hotel room to get in bed. Those magnificent, milky white breasts contrasted with her well-tanned body. She had a lush, curly-haired, brunet beaver that almost completely covered her clit.

Catherine staggered a bit as she got in bed. She looked like she had been drinking a lot. Then this big stud -- he had to be six-three -- came into view. He had a cock on him that would qualify him as an actor in a porn movie. It was hard and sticking straight out. He walked up to the bed and got in next to her. Catherine rolled over on her back and spread those lovely legs. The stud crawls between her legs, shoves that monster into her, and starts banging away. Catherine's big boobs jiggled as he fucked her.

Her legs were wrapped around his waist and the milky white triangles on her ass looked so sexy that I started to get a hard on. He was hammering her like a whore. Her legs, high in the air, were bouncing rhythmically as they fucked, her spike heels making the picture all the more obscene. It couldn't have been more than five minutes before he groaned and pumped his load. Then he lay there for a minute before he rolled off of her.

The cameraman -- I assumed it was Walter -- moved in close between her wide spread legs for a shot of thick, creamy cum dripping out of that hairy pussy and running down to her asshole. The stud had obviously pumped a massive load. Then the picture suddenly shifted to me on the side of the pool preparing to belly flop into the water.

Shit! What the hell was this? It surely was not professional porn, because the lighting and shaky camera views were clearly amateur. It was a "quickie" in every sense of the word, because Catherine had no orgasm, it only lasted a few minutes, and the stud simply pumped his load and quit. Neither of them said one word. What the hell was it?

I needed to get Walter's camcorder back on that table before he missed it. I went out on my balcony and saw everyone in the same places they were when I left. I headed back down to poolside and casually replaced Walter's camcorder on the table. Then I mixed another drink and sat down. If anyone noticed my absence they probably thought I went upstairs to take a crap.

That night I watched the video several times. There was no personal interaction between the stud and Catherine -- he just fucked her. There was only minimal response from Catherine -- she looked like she was drunk and just laid there and serviced that big dick. There was no conversation at all. What the hell was it? Not sex for money -- even with that there would have been more interaction.

I was curious enough to pursue this, but how? Without being able to explain why, I decided the best place to start was Catherine. I took the next afternoon off and carrying my computer I rang Catherine's doorbell. Fortunately she was at home.

"Hi Dan, what's up?" Catherine said when she opened the door.

"Got a few minutes?" I asked.

"Sure, come on in," she said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you. I have something to show you," I said putting my MacBook on the coffee table.

She joined me on the couch. I opened the lid and punched up the video. The first scene of her starkers walking across the room began to play.

"Oh my God!" Catherine exclaimed loudly. "Where did you get that?"

I proceeded to explain what happened Sunday. She listened quietly and then started to cry softly, tears running down her cheeks.

"It's so terrible no one would believe it," Catherine began. "It's a long, ugly story. Billy and I got married during our senior year in college at NYU. It started right after that."

"How did it start?" I asked.

"It was at a frat party, right after we got married. There was a lot of drinking and pot. I got stoned and went upstairs with Billy and another guy and ... well ... I was so drunk that ... well ... I passed out and got laid by Billy's buddy!"

She looked down at the floor, then up at me and continued.

"The same thing had happened to one of my girlfriends. It's not very nice, but ... well ... accidents like that happen at college parties when you get drunk and stoned. But, looking back, I don't think it was an accident because it didn't stop there. Billy kept trying to get me to do it again. Sometimes I'd flirt with a guy or even a little more, but Billy kept telling me to go all the way. He was so hateful when I didn't, that finally, I just got drunk and did what he wanted a couple of times."

"When we got out of college and came out here to San Diego, he didn't ask me to do it here. But when we traveled he'd try to meet a guy at the pool or in a bar and then he wanted to take him up to our room. He got mean when I didn't do it. I have done it maybe three times on trips since we got here a year ago."

"This video," she said, pointing to my MacBook, "was taken last weekend in Denver. It's the first time he wanted to take pictures."

It was a tale so strange that it was hard to believe. What the hell was wrong with Billy?

"I'm gonna show this video to Billy," I said.

"Oh God no! Please don't! He'd kill me if he knew I'd told you about this," Catherine said.

"I won't tell him about you. I'll just tell him the truth about how I picked up his camera by mistake. I just want to find out why he's doing this."

A couple of nights later I invited Billy up to my place on the pretext of picking his brain about the tax seminar he had attended. After I poured him a drink, I told him about bringing the wrong Sony up to my room last Sunday. He became very quiet. I pulled out my computer and started showing him the video. After a couple of minutes I turned the computer off.

"What's the deal Billy?" I asked him directly.

His response was so unexpected that it threw me for a loop. I had expected anger or fear or shame or anything except what he said next.

He laughed. Then in an almost conspiratorial way he winked at me.

"She's really good in bed. Want to try her out? She'll do it if I tell her to. You'll enjoy her. And from looking at you in bathing trunks I'll bet you've got a big one!"

I stood up and walked to the window and looked down at the pool, thinking. There was something wrong here. Billy went from offering me his wife to talking about the size of my dick. What was it? What was going on? I stood staring out at the pool, my mind a blank. Then suddenly -- out of nowhere - it hit me! Looking back I call it my Tennessee Williams moment.

Tennessee Williams was gay and a lot of his plays contained gay themes. One of his best was the one act play "Suddenly Last Summer" which had been made into a movie starring Elizabeth Taylor and (of all people) Montgomery Clift. It was a play in which a beautiful woman was used by her cousin as a lure to attract men for homosexual encounters.

And Jesus! Talk about coincidence! The name of that beautiful woman in the play was Catherine! Standing there at the window I suddenly concluded that Billy was gay. He must have started using Catherine as a lure in college, and kept on doing it after college, but now only on vacations so he could stay in the closet with all his co-workers and friends in his new home city.

If Billy were gay, there was an easy way to find out. I had had the occasional gay acquaintance in college. I was a Beta and a couple of guys in my frat were gay and this was accepted by most of the Betas as an okay thing. Several of us even made use of their services when we came back to the house late at night, drunk and horny, because some inconsiderate gal had refused to fuck. It was better than jacking off. Of course it was not something that we broadcast widely, but we did it.

After all, a blowjob is a blowjob if you close your eyes. In fact, gay guys actually give better blowjobs than gals. Most gals are just doing you a favor. For a gay guy it is the source of big time sexual pleasure and he works hard to be sure you enjoy it. A gal has to learn to take a thick one deep throat -- for a gay guy it's second nature. Besides, I have always enjoyed watching a proud guy drop down on his knees!

Now I knew what to do. I turned and walked slowly back to the center of the room.

"Watching your wife spread her legs and get fucked turned me on Billy boy," I said rubbing my crotch suggestively.

Billy looked surprised but his eyes locked onto my hand rubbing my dick through my pants. I fantasized a naked Catherine in my mind and my dick started to cooperate. Billy's eyes never left my crotch.

Slowly I unzipped my fly and pulled out a semi-hard cock. I was not small. I had over seven inches and I was thick and uncircumcised. I began to pull that big loose foreskin back and forth, slowly, to cover and uncover the moist, purple head of my dick and Billy's eyes just froze in an almost hypnotic stare.

"Come over here Billy," I said softly. "Come over and get a closer look."

Billy's mouth opened slightly and he licked his lips. His breathing became heavier and the expression on his face was slack. He was getting extremely aroused. Maybe he was fighting it but it was like fishing, and I had him hooked now. All I had to do was reel him in.

"Come on Billy," I said, almost in a whisper. "It's ready for you."

I remembered our fraternity's faculty advisor. He was an Associate Dean and he was gay, as I found out late one night when he drank too much at a fraternity party. He was a distinguished forty-five year-old gentleman with a full beard, and a wife and kids. As far as I could tell I was the only person on campus who knew he was gay. I had numerous occasions to meet with Dean Richards in his office on fraternity business and sometimes I stroked my crotch and got the same reaction I was now getting from Billy.

Dean Richards was in the closet and he was very careful. He really didn't want to suck me off in his office with his secretary a few feet away, on the other side of an unlocked door. So it was a power trip for me to make him do it. I knew he could never resist his inner demon when I whipped out that big uncircumcised cock and started to stroke it. He would stare at it just like Billy was doing now. Lick his lips and try to fight his mounting sexual arousal.

Finally, even with his secretary just outside, he would walk slowly across the room and drop to his knees before me. Sometimes, when he was about to put my dick in his mouth, I would take a couple of steps backward so he had to crawl to get it. Crawling drained out any residual manhood, and this made him a much better cocksucker. It was a power thing for me. It turned me on -- big time. It turned on the Dean too. One time he confessed that being dominated by a kid half his age "maxed out" his sexual pleasure.

My cock was fully erect now and standing straight out. I was moving my foreskin back and forth with my thumb and index finger. Billy seemed hypnotized. Then as if in a trance, compelled by some irresistible force, he rose from the couch and walked slowly over to me in the center of the room. And just like Dean Richards, his eyes never left my cock for a moment.

He stood directly in front of me for almost a full minute, looking down at my dick. I could see his pride and his arrogance and his manhood just drain out of his body. Then, with a big sigh and what sounded like a soft whimper Billy dropped to his knees. For the first time, he looked up at my face, then, closing his eyes in complete surrender, he grabbed my rock hard cock in his hand and put it into his mouth.

I knew what he would do next because Dean Richards had always done it. He moaned softly and ran his tongue around my dick under the edge of my retracted foreskin, as though cleaning out the tastiest and most flavorful treat imaginable. This was the taste that made uncircumcised cocks irresistible to gay guys. Then he began sucking and moving his mouth back and forth, taking me deeper each time.

I put my hand on the back of his head -- not to dominate -- but to show him the rhythm I liked and to keep him taking my cock deeper and deeper into his throat. Soon, I felt a pair of big fleshy tonsils embrace the head of my dick, almost lovingly.

Okay Billy boy, I thought, you're almost there. I pushed his head harder on the next thrust and my cock hit the back of his throat. He didn't gag. Those last few inches made the difference between an average cocksucker and an artist who could transform his mouth and throat into an exciting pussy for my pleasure.

He was making wet sucking sounds now, as copious saliva began to drool out of his mouth around my dick and drip down on his chin. Billy was a sloppy cocksucker, just like Dean Richards.

I guided his head with my hand to a fast and deep and regular rhythm, moving my dick from between his tonsils out to his lips and back again. He relaxed his mouth as he swallowed me deep and buried his lips in my pubic hair. Then he tightened his lips, lifted his tongue up hard against the base of my cock, and sucked forcefully, milking my cock, as the head of my dick slipped back out to his lips. The rush of air into his mouth, as he sucked, made a loud slurping sound.

When he got the rhythm I wanted, I put my hands on my hips and relaxed. He was an artist. I could close my eyes now and enjoy his hot, sloppy mouth just as I would enjoy a dripping, user-friendly pussy. And with those full strokes, his mouth felt almost exactly like a pussy, except Billy boy was doing all of the work. All I had to do was stand there and enjoy it.

After several minutes I felt my juices start to rise and my balls lift up high and tight in my scrotum. When I was seconds away from my orgasm I grabbed the back of his head in both hands, and took control. Holding his head tightly and thrusting my hips forcefully, I fucked him in the mouth, feeling my dick hit the back of his throat with every thrust.

I groaned and pumped my load into his mouth and throat. He didn't choke, but he began to swallow, involuntarily. I held the bulbous head of my dick tight against the back of his throat and, when he swallowed, I felt his throat muscles grab my cock as though milking out as much cum as he could get.

I kept on fucking his mouth after I ejaculated. This vigorous thrusting churned up the semen into a foamy, bubbly lather that began to trickle out of his mouth around my dick, and run down to his chin, which was already dripping with saliva. It was a damn good blowjob! A noisy, sloppy, quality blowjob! Billy boy was an artist!

Finally, I let go of his head, pulled my dick out of his mouth, and stepped back. Billy stayed on his knees, panting for air. His mouth was open and there was a big puddle of thick, foamy, white semen on his tongue. His lips and chin were dripping with a creamy lather of saliva and cum.

One thick, ropey strand, hanging from his chin, dripped down slowly, and dropped onto the floor as I watched. He was squeezing a bulging hard on in his pants, and I knew he would be outside masturbating in the dark, minutes after leaving my condo. He stared up at me with the helpless, pathetic gratitude of a sated cocksucker.

I remembered looking down at the Dean on his knees, with my foamy cum dripping out of his mouth, covering his lips, and lathering up his beard like cream. His beard and mouth looked just like a freshly fucked pussy. He always got an erection, just like Billy had now and sometimes he even ejaculated spontaneously in his pants, when I pumped a big load of cum deep into his throat. "Like a wet dream," he once confided, "very messy, but when it starts I just can't control it."

I looked down at Billy. All of his arrogance was now completely gone.

"You're a talented little cock-sucker Billy boy," I said. "I'm gonna use you again."

"Thank you," he said, softly, still on his knees looking up at me, submissively. "Please don't tell anyone about this. I only do it when I travel. Nobody in San Diego knows about me except you."

I zipped up my fly and put my wet dick back into my pants. I remembered how Dean Richards always had a fresh handkerchief in his coat pocket. He would shake out that crisp handkerchief and clean my dick, so I could put it away dry. Then he would wipe the foamy cum off of his lips and beard. If I used Billy more often, I would have to teach him the proper etiquette for a well-trained cocksucker.

Billy stayed on his knees. He wiped off his lips and chin with the back of his hand. He seemed to savor the taste of my cum in his mouth.

"I hope you enjoyed it," Billy said, still very submissive. "I'll do it again any time you want me to. You can fuck me if you want to."