The Brownstone: Charles

(Author's note: This is the third installment in the The Brownstone series. The first two installments are The Brownstone: Michael Ch01 and The Brownstone: Michael Ch02. I hope you are enjoying the series!)

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I woke up to sounds coming from downstairs. Michael was stretched out across me, his head planted firmly on my chest. I didn't want to wake him, but I could tell from the enticing smells wafting into our room that dinner was nearly ready. Gently I shook him awake letting him know we weren't alone.

"Peyton is here, he's brought dinner" I said. Michael started to move away from me but suddenly I didn't want the bubble to burst on this time we had together and pulled him back into my arms, he more than willing receded. Sighing I turned to Michael and gazed on his beautiful face. "It's Thanksgiving...we have to have a proper meal...we have so much to be thankful for."

The dinner was all that and more.

"What would you like to do now Michael?" I asked leaning back in his chair after eating way too much. It was one of those moments in life that couldn't get any better -- something I had been having a lot of the past few days.

"Hmmm...I think I'd like to suck your cock until you cum in my mouth...just like you did last night." He said with a hungry grin on his face. Like any nineteen year old that just discovered fucking all Michael wanted his life to be about was sex, sex and more sex.

I couldn't help but laugh and immediately regretted it when Michael looked at me crestfallen. "I'm not laughing at you," I said, "I'm laughing because I can't even begin to tell you how much I admire an insatiable man -- especially the one that is sitting across from me!"

Michael rewarded me with an eager ear-to-ear grin. "I don't know how much it is being insatiable or how much it's just you...because right the only thing that is making me hard is you Charles."

"Well then Michael, I'm thinking that if you want to suck my cock you are going to have to do something that would earn you the right to suck it." Michael gave me a curious look. He had no idea what I wanted him to, but I could tell he was game for anything.

We were still in the dining room. Peyton had retreated to the kitchen and was busy cleaning up. Michael looked around the room trying to think what he could do to get my attention. After a lengthy silence he stood and walked to where I was sitting. He was so close I had no choice but to push my chair back a little so he could slip between me and the table. Without a pause he unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them. I gave him a slight wave of my hand letting him know the shirt had to go also.

Michael's cock was just inches from my face. At first I thought he was going to simply give me a close up view of him masturbating his now hard cock but a moment later he reached behind him and picked up the bowl of whipped topping Peyton had left to go with our desert. He held the bowl out to me and asked patronizingly nice for me to hold it for him. I couldn't help the smile that touched my lips.

Slowly, using just one finger Michael pushed his cock towards the bowl dipping just the head in. He let it linger for a moment before pulling it out, letting me see his cream dipped head before he pushed it towards my lips. Happily and definitely greedily I flicked my tongue across the head of his cock licking every drop of the topping off him. When I was done he pulled away and dipped into the bowl again, this time allowing more of his cock to be covered in cream. Again I didn't hesitate when Michael returned his cock to my mouth. We repeated this several times with me surprising him with how much of his cock I could take in my mouth.

"The hell with this," I finally said pushing him back on the table, his ass teetering on the edge as I poured the entire bowl of whipped cream on him slathering his cock, balls and ass with the topping. I pulled my chair back to the table leaning in between his legs and methodically began licking him clean, first his cock, then his balls and then his ass. Michael moans drove me to want to give him more and more pleasure.

"You are the best desert I could have... fuck...it would be so easy for me to just fuck you right now...but I really want this big beautiful cock of yours to cum for me again Michael." Michael continued lying on the table hoping, I think, that I would change my mind and take him right there. "I just can't decide how I want you to cum."

"What are my choices?" He asked, trying to push his ass closer to my mouth, he too wanted more.

"You can masturbate for me and I could lick your sweet juices off your body..." I said flicking my tongue against Michael's twitching hole. "...or I could suck you off and eat your delicious cum right from your slit..." My tongue flicked out again, this time the tip pushing at his hole. "Or you can fill me with that fat lovely cock and fuck me until you shot your load deep in me..."

"Mmmmm....I think I want to fuck you," Sitting up suddenly, he grabbed my head and drew me to his mouth kissing me roughly. His tongue was hungry and wanting. "and also cum in your mouth." He whispered in my mouth.

"Then that is what we will do." I helped him off the table and we quickly made our way back to the bedroom.

In the bedroom I stood silently by the bed. Michael had already taken his clothes off in the other room, but I was still dressed. My controlling side surfaced for a brief moment when I blurted out for him to undress me. Standing in front of him, eye to eye, Michael licked his tongue over mine. When my mouth gaped open slightly Michael took advantage and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth biting it gently. I opened my mouth more, wanting to feel his tongue against mine again. Michael sucked my tongue into his mouth dancing it against mine. Without breaking the kiss he moved his hands to my shirt and seemed to work feverishly to get it unbuttoned. What he lacked in finesse he made up in having raw sexuality. My shirt dropped to the floor and he knelt down in front of me. The bulge in my pants grew exponentially. I looked down on him, his eyes raised up to meet mine. He was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. His fingers fumbled at the zipper and it seemed forever until my pants and boxers fell away but soon enough my rock hard cock and balls were in his sights and he took full advantage, sucking the head and as much of the length as could into his mouth.

"Fuck... Michael...what are you doing to me...." I reached down and ran my fingers through his hair, pulling his head closer sliding more of his cock to the back of his throat. I had a firm grasp on his head as I starting stroking in and out of his mouth.

"I don't want to cum right now Michael...I am enjoying your mouth too much...I love how much of my length you are able to take in your mouth. I feel like I can almost slide down your throat, and maybe one day I will." My eyes were still locked on his and I could see the total supplication written on his face -- he would do anything and everything I asked of him. Nothing in my entire life felt as right as it did at this very moment in time. "Also, I need you to fuck me first. I want to taste your cum sliding down my throat."

Reluctantly he liberated my cock from his mouth. I turned to the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of lube. Squirting a liberal amount into my palm I turned back to him and motioned for him to stand. His eyes fixated on my hand as I directed his cock to my hand and slid it across the pool of lube. My fingers wrapped around his cock coating the head and shaft.

"Lay down" he said pulling the covers from the bed. A part of me wanted to laugh at how he was trying to be so assertive, so dominant, with me, but I knew he wouldn't understand why I found it humorous. I did what he said, letting him take the lead, to see how far he would go with it. He moved between my legs, spreading them and drawing them apart. Moving closer I felt his cock touch lightly over my twitching hole. Fuck...I couldn't believe how much I wanted him!

"Relax" he whispered. He moved closer to me. He pushed my legs forward as far as they would go and held himself still for a moment, his eyes locked on mine. "I'm going to fuck you now" he hissed in this voice I hadn't heard before and without hesitation he slammed the entire length of his cock into me.

I moaned, no I screamed, so loudly the hairs on my arms stood up...the pain, no the pleasure rippled throughout my body. This beautiful beautiful man had no idea just how much pleasure he was giving me. Michael moaned too, mouthing that he loved my 'gloriously tight ass' that surrounded him. He never took his eyes off of me and the moment he felt me relaxing and my moans starting to subside he pulled out of me quickly. I felt cheated and empty. Michael could see that and had a knowing grin etched across his lips and a second later he slammed back into me again.

"Fuck yes! Michael, fuck my ass...I want to feel you fuck me like I've never been fucked before...shove that fucking hot cock all the way into me..." I let my commanding words drive him harder and deeper into me, pounding my ass unrelentingly. Sweat was dripping off my body and all I wanted was more.

We were both panting hard, his hard body riding itself deeper into me. I realized in a moment of clarity just how attuned I had become to this man so quickly, I could both see and feel his need to cum on his face and through his body. He was trying to hold off as long as possible -- was it for his pleasure or for mine...I didn't know, I didn't care. I sat up, I could see his body shaking uncontrollably as he hurriedly ripped his cock from my ass, took his cock in hand and pushed it to my mouth just as he erupted, sending wave after wave of his nectar in my mouth. I eagerly lapped up every drop of his hot juices.

Then I saw it...that grin again -- sending me his message -- he wasn't done with me yet.

He returned to my ass and slid back into me, only more gently this time and started over again. Long deep slow strokes. His eyes were locked on mine like he was looking into my soul. He came over and over again, deep in my ass, before his cock was done. It wasn't until he was thoroughly spent that he collapsed in arms, our mouths at each other, our bodies intertwined as one as we lay together and waited for the world to catch up to us.

I found myself oddly quiet.

"You okay?" He asked.

"To quote the sexiest man I know...Fuck yes!" I said hugging him closer to him. My hand held his, for first time since I met him, flaccid cock.

Silence prevailed but we didn't sleep. Michael's hand drifted over to my cock but he just held me, we both lacked the physical strength to do any more.

"I want you to know Michael...it's been many years since any one has fucked my ass..."

"Why Charles? You seem to enjoy it so much."

"Maybe I should tell you some more about my life. About my first time...." I whispered as my mind wandered back to 1963...

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1963

I stood naked in front of the mirror in my one room efficiency apartment. "I AM CHARLES!" I declared. My hands ran over my naturally fit body. Everything about my body was perfection. My mighty cock was at full attention. I loved everything my cock. I loved to feel my hands run over my gloriously long shaft. I loved how my balls, when full of cum hung so low, taunting me to shoot my load, like I was about to do.

My legs were slightly spread, as I watched my reflection in the mirror. My two hands stroking my cock, slowly at first then faster when I knew I was about to blow. My knees where bent slightly, the muscles in my legs rock hard. I turned slightly so I could see my firm ass. Yes it was just as perfect. My balls drew up tight and my breathing becoming labored as I added more pressure to 'that spot', on the ridge, and jerked it hard one last time as the first jets of cum shot out of my slit slamming dead on into the mirror. When I was done I walked over to the mirror and with my index finger slid a thick stream of cum and licked it loving into my mouth, yes -- not only did I have this wonderfully perfect cock, but my cum tasted great too.

Looking over to the clock I saw that I had just enough time to shower and get dressed before heading to work. I made a point of never being late. Mr. George didn't tolerate any his employees being late for work and I never wanted to disappoint him.

New York had been my home for over three years. I've lived in this utilitarian one room apartment since I had moved from Nebraska. I was proud that I had this much and was more than willing to forgo creature comforts to eventually get everything I wanted. I had put dating was on the back burner it really didn't matter anyway, although my good looks were attractive to women, it only seemed to get me so far. The two times I made it the point of clothes being shed I was literally turned away. No woman wanted any part of this cock of mine. It didn't matter to me. In fact, I always felt it was their loss, not mine. I knew how to satisfy myself and knew that with patience eventually I would find someone who would want this beautiful instrument of love I had been graced with.

There were more important things that needed to concentrate on. I needed to finish school and get my degree and keep my job. When I first started with Cecil & Company I was only able to take night classes but after a year Cecil George, my boss, finally acquiesced and became more accommodating to my schedule, allowing me to work around my classes. I still couldn't afford to take a full course load but I've remained diligent and know that instead of four years it may take me five or six years to get my coveted degree. I really didn't care how long it took, I had job security and that was all that mattered.

Mr. George had taken me under his wing from the day I started at the company and had fulfilled his promise that if I worked hard I would grow and always have a place in the company. Saying he was like a surrogate father to me wouldn't be a fair statement. My father was probably one of the biggest losers on this earth. He never finished high school. Probably the only thing he did know was how to fuck and succeeded in knocking my mother up at eighteen. At least he was man enough to marry her. We lived in a single wide trailer outside of Lincoln that was always too cold in the winter and stifling hot in the summer. Luckily he figured out how kids were conceived and never allowed that to happen again. He stuck around for a few of my formative years but when I hit jr. high he got caught robbing a convenience store and he was gone. My mother was always invisible. She went through her life without concern for anyone but herself. She would go to her factory job every day then come home and drink until she passed out and do the same thing the next day. After my father was sent to prison I was pretty much on my own. It was a no brainer what I needed to do when I graduated high school -- get out as fast as I could!

No, for me Mr. George was more of a mentor, helping me along every step of the way. Gradually as my education and understanding of the business increased I went from mail room/errand boy to the accounting department and now, three years later, I was about to start in a newly created position of Mergers and Acquisitions Manger for the company.

The position brought with it the understanding that if he was going to have to put up my class schedule I had to work evenings and if need be late into the night to insure that the next morning there wasn't a piece of paper left on my desk and that I had completed every task he had set for me. He promised me that the first time I missed a deadline would be the last time he would ever work around my schedule again.

Cecil George was the type of man that everyone admired and looked up to, especially me. He came from old, established family money and would have never wanted for anything. That wasn't who he was and in his own way he shunned the family money and on his own he started a business that most people would have thought to be a pet project, growing it into one of the largest consulting firms in the United States.

As for the man himself, Mr. George was that stereotypical man that was forever stuck in the 1940's. He had an old fashioned demeanor about him who believed a man was the bread winner and a woman's place was in the home. He insisted on a strict dress code at work and in the three years I had worked for him, in or out of the office, I had never seen him out of his signature dark suit, starched white shirt, Windsor knotted tie and laced up always shined black Oxford shoes.

It went without saying that on the first day I showed up in my newly promoted manger position dressed in something that didn't fit Mr. George's definition of a 'proper' suit, he marched me right out the door and down the street to Barney's where he bought me two suites, four white shirts and Oxfords shoes just like his. It also was unspoken that going forward I was to always be dressed properly for work with a clean and pressed suit of clothes and spit shined shoes. Before we left Barney's that day he made me stand in front of the mirror and tie and untie my tie over and over again until I could tie a perfect Windsor knot like his. He drilled into me his first golden rule that appearance and always speaking proper English meant everything in business.

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A month had passed since my promotion. My work load had increased and I found myself working longer hour's even weekends, which Mr. George frowned upon, to keep up. Mid-terms were coming up and I needed to clear my weekend so I had stayed late on a Friday evening completing the 2nd quarter M&A report. Everyone had gone home hours earlier and I was enjoying the silence of the normally chaotic office. I was so absorbed in the numbers I didn't hear anyone come into the office until I looked up and saw Mr. George standing in the doorway.

"Working late I see." he said in his dry formal tone. Even after hours he was formally dressed and all business.

"Yes sir."

He stood in front of my desk starring down at me for a long moment when out of the blue he slammed his hand down on my desk making my heart clench and practically jumping out of my chair.

"Damn it Charles, how many times do I have to tell that when you are working here you are to be dressed properly."

He pointed his long lean finger to my shirt, indicating my loosened tie and unbuttoned top button was unacceptable. Nervously I sat up quickly and straightened the tie after buttoning myself back up.

"Fuck son, what do I have to do to make you understand?" I was staring at him in disbelief. In the whole time I had worked for him I had never heard him swear. He was pacing in front of my desk rubbing his chin like he was deciding what he should do. "Haven't I always treated you with respect? ... Why do you think you can disrespect me like this? ...I have given you so much...I have let you work when it is convenient for you... I even bought you proper clothes...and this is how you repay me?"

"I...I'm...I'm sorry sir. I promise it won't happen again." My words came stuttering out of my mouth. My confidence shattered in a blink of an eye. Fear that everything I had dreamed of was now gone.

"No it won't Charles, because I will make sure of it. Now stand up."

I shot out of my chair. "Come here boy" he said. I walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Shit, I thought, he's going to fire me, now what was I going to do.

"If you can't wear your clothes properly then you shouldn't be wearing them, take them off." He demanded. I stood staring at him, was he really saying this? Was he really going to make me do this?

"Don't disobey me boy, you don't want to make me any angrier than I already am."