Triangulation

"I know you'll leave me. You're just waiting for us to get back to Manila, and you'll leave me."

Stanley was curled up in the fetal position on his berth in the compact cabin of the Bayliner 2855 yacht. He and Lance had been anchored off the Hilton Cebu Resort twin towers in the Philippines for two days, and Stanley had been drinking himself beyond pout and into a blue funk for three.

"Please, baby, please don't be like this. You know I wouldn't leave you; you know I couldn't leave you," Lance murmured.

He sat on the berth beside Stanley and laid his hand on his lover's belly. This had always worked before. It wasn't unusual for Stanley to sink into this mood, if not often this deeply, and the drink always made it worse. Ever since Stanley had passed his fiftieth birthday, he had become convinced that Lance, now half his age, would leave him—that his money wouldn't be enough to hold Lance. Even Lance's suggestion that they take this around-the-world trip, just the two of them, alone, most of the time on Stanley's streamlined yacht, hadn't reassured Stanley.

"I've grown so old," Stanley moaned. "Old and dumpy. I saw the looks you were getting the other night at that club in Manila. I knew they were thinking 'How can such a well-built hunk like that be with such an old man when he could be with me?'"

"No you're not too old, Stan," Lance said, the exasperation in his voice clear. "You still have the looks of a model. And here. I grab you here and you are hard as a rock." He had placed his hand over one of Stanley's nipples and squeezed on Stanley's well-worked chest muscles. "And you're still flat as a board here." Lance put his palm on Stanley's belly again. "And you still can get it up here." He grabbed Stanley's cock through his Speedo. "And you still have the sweetest one of these I've never known." Lance was sliding his hand under the rim of the Speedo at the small of his back.

"No, no, no," Stanley cried out. He jackknifed out of the fetal position, pushed off of the bed and away from Lance. "You wanted this sort of vacation because you are embarrassed to be seen with an old man like me. No, I know you'll leave me in Manila. I might as well throw myself off the boat now." Then, grabbing up an oversized beach towel, he flounced out of the cabin and to the bow of the boat, where he laid the towel on the sharply raked windscreen of the cigarette boat and laid down on his back, wanting the sun to bake the liquor out of him while he watched the twin towers of the Cebu Hilton and the activity on its beach.

Only a moment later, Lance popped out of the cabin, a panicked look in his eyes. His eyes wildly scanned the water, looking for a sinking suicidal Stanley, until he saw that Stanley was sunbathing instead on the bow of the boat.

Mad now, having had enough of this, Lance slipped off his Speedo and came around to the bow and stood, legs spread, between the sunbathing Stanley and the vista of the Cebu Hilton's busy beach and two tall hotel towers. He took his long and thick cock in his hand and wagged it at Stanley.

"Suck this!" he demanded. "Can't you see that it's hard for you?"

"What?" Stanley opened his eyes. And then he opened them even farther, focused on the midsection of his naked horse-hung young lover. "Lance," he cried out, "What are you doing? People will see you."

"People will see us, Stanley. Not just me. You said I would be too embarrassed to be seen with you. I'm going to fuck you right here, in full view of everyone in that resort. That's how embarrassed I am to be seen with you. And if you won't suck me, I'll blow you." With that, he knelt between Stanley's legs, stripped off his Speedo and inhaled Stanley's cock.

"Oh, god, Lance, oh god," Stanley cried out. His hands went to the back of Lance's curly head and held him close. "Oh, god. All of it . . . yes . . . yes. Oh, god."

Changing to fisting Stanley's cock, Lance started moving his lips up across Stanley's belly and up onto his nipples and to his lips. He was writhing around on top of Stanley, getting as close into him as he could.

"Lance! Not here. In the cabin. We must go below. Oh . . . ahhhh." Whatever else Stanley was going to say was muffled as Lance brutally attacked his mouth with his own.

After working his mouth until Stanley was almost out of breath, Lance broke away. "No. Here, Right here, Stanley. I'm going to fuck you for anyone to see who wants to see. I want you now, here. I love you. I'm never going to leave you. You couldn't get rid of me if you wanted to."

Lance quickly worked his mouth back down Stanley's torso, and after giving his cock a little more loving, Lance put his hands under Stanley thighs, rolled them up, and was diving into Stanley's hole with his tongue.

As Lance stood back up, his hands still lifting Stanley's thighs up and spreading them wide, Stanley looked down at him. "God, Lance. You're so hard. You're huge. I never know how I can take all of you."

"You always take all of me, Stanley. You've got the sweetest ass. I'm hard for you. You make me hard. Can't you accept that?"

"Yes, yes. I . . . Arghhhh!"

His ass had accepted all that Lance had for him again, and Lance was fucking him hard, power driving up between his spread thighs, pushing his back up and down on the raked windscreen of the yacht.

* * * *

Will Thruston worked hard on the key mechanism of his tenth-floor Hilton Cebu hotel room door. He was in such a state that he was doing more cussing at the unresponsive lock than effective key turning. Once in, he tore off his shirt and threw it on the bed, headed straight for the minibar, grabbed a beer, despite his intent never to take anything from an exorbitantly expensive hotel minibar, flipped off the cap, stumbled out onto the balcony, and stood at the railing, trying to gain control of his anguished trembling. He stared hard out onto the yacht basin, trying to calm down, trying to tell himself these things happened, that it didn't mean anything.

But this was the third time this week. He had to face that maybe he was growing unable to get it up. Maybe he was losing it altogether.

Business hadn't been all that good this week. This afternoon's trick, who he had cultivated for nearly an hour in the hotel bar before landing him, had been ugly and pudgy. And he had to have been at least in his mid forties. But Will couldn't let that turn him off. Most of the marks at this hotel were ugly and fat and old. The younger guys here didn't have to pay for it. And Will only did it for the money.

Everything had worked OK at the start. The guy was half drunk when Will helped him to his hotel room. And he paid up front—what Will asked for without haggling.

Will had planned to fuck him in the shower and then again after the full body massage he had agreed to as part of the price. Lucky, he hadn't told the trick of these plans, though.

The man had been more than ready for Will. He was half hard before they got into the shower, and Will had gone down on his knees in front of the man while water was cascading over them and gotten him to jack off with a minimum of mouth work on his dick. And the guy had gone hard and come again when Will had turned him belly to the tiles and given him a full-tongue rim job. Then Will had planned to fuck him from the rear, but he hadn't been able to get it up. It hadn't helped that the pudgy guy had already hardened and come twice. Will felt emasculated by that. Twenty years older than him and able to spout out twice in an hour when he himself couldn't even get it up. And the worry about it probably didn't help either. As a substitute, he'd finger fucked the man while covering him close from behind for a while, which seemed to satisfy him.

The full body massage on the hotel bed went OK, too. And the trick hardened and came again while Will was giving him a hand job. Still, Will himself hadn't hardened up. Maybe part of that was that the guy gave Will's cock no attention at all. He seemed happy for Will to be making all of the moves. This was both good and bad. Good because the guy didn't seem to notice that Will wasn't aroused; bad because Will had promised to fuck him.

Will's flexible dildo came to the rescue. The mark was so mellow when Will had jacked him off and then turned him on his belly and rubbed down his back and legs, that when Will at last mounted him, the guy didn't seem to notice—or care—that it was a dildo working inside him rather than Will's cock. The man went to sleep, and, having already been paid, Will quickly dressed and left him there.

And he'd come straight back to his own room. Worried and mad, but mostly scared. Was he finished? Would he ever be able to perform again. This was his "career"; he was a hotel stud for pay. A good-looking hunk hanging around the pool, waiting for an old rich lady or a middle-aged businessman wanting to be taken for a ride and willing to pay big bucks for the fuck. If the hotel got any inkling he was having trouble stepping up to the plate, they'd toss him out on his ear. They didn't keep around any duds to fail to service their rich patrons on demand.

Three more swigs from his beer bottle and Will was able to actually focus on the magnificent vista of the Hilton Cebu seascape laid out before him.

Oh, my god, what was that? Surely not. Will reached for his binoculars and trained it on a gleaming white, sleek cigarette boat yacht anchored off the beach.

What were they doing? God, they were fucking. An older, but very trim guy—much more appealing that any of the marks he'd been stuck with this week—was lying against the sharply raked windscreen of the yacht, and a younger hunk—hunkier than Will himself, he had to admit—was hunched between the older man's spread thighs, pounding away in his ass. Both naked, fucking, right there, not far off shore, for all on the beach and in the hotel towers to see.

Will couldn't take his eyes off them. He felt the binoculars waiver, and he had to fight to maintain focus on the vigorous fuck the young hunk was giving the older man. The binoculars were heavy in his hand, which was trembling. He'd return the other hand to the binoculars to hold them steadier, but his other hand was busy. Without realizing it, he'd unzipped himself, let his trousers fall to the floor, and he was pulling on his cock. And his cock was big and hard. His breath was getting ragged, and he masturbated vigorously. Gloriously alive again.

Maybe all he needed to do was imagine arousing bodies fucking when he was with a mark. Maybe that would keep him in business for a while. It wasn't because he couldn't get it up—because, by god, it certainly was up now! And it wanted lots of attention.

* * * *

Edward Frampton got up from the bed, finding himself unable to sleep in the afternoon despite his exhaustion, and deciding he didn't really need anything more on than his sleeping shorts in the middle of a hot Philippines day, went out onto the balcony of his thirteenth-floor Hilton Cebu hotel tower room.

He collapsed more than sat onto the patio chair. God he was tired. But then he smiled, in remembrance of why he was tired, why he hadn't gotten any sleep last night.

He'd never done anything like this before. He had heard that it was this easy in the Philippines and in some of the other resort hotels throughout Southeast Asia. But he was shocked at himself—and amused and, yes, proud of his audacity and boldness—to have tried it here. And it worked a charm.

The roomboy who had brought his luggage up to the room was slight and brown as a berry and achingly beautiful in an androgynous way. Clearly male, but as beautiful and lithe and graceful in his movements as a courtesan. In the elevator, they had chatted a bit, and Edward had been surprised to find that the roomboy was in his early twenties. He looked no older than a teenager. It was a trait of the Filipinos, Edward had noticed during his various business trips here from Hong Kong. Perpetual youth. He wished he could latch into that. He was feeling his thirty-six years. Nearly forty and nothing exciting had happened to him yet. He'd fucked around in gay bars in his twenties, but when he'd been sent out to Hong Kong, he'd become respectable—and closely watched. He couldn't get away with much of anything in Hong Kong. And, although he'd traveled to the Philippines twice before, and each time had become aroused by the small, well-formed berry-brown young men of the country, he had been too timid to act on his impulses.

Until this, the third trip. He'd been told that all you had to do in a hotel like this was to ask. So, when they'd gotten to the room and the roomboy had asked if there was anything else he could do for Mr. Frampton, Mr. Frampton told him what he could do for him and held out two 1,000 peso banknotes. The roomboy's eyes had bugged out and he'd smiled broadly.

The roomboy had proved to be very willing, very able, flexible, resilient, and inventive. He also, once naked, proved to be very desirable. The years of an adult, the body of a lithe but well-muscled, perfectly formed youth. And a well-worked hole that not only opened immediately to Edward's thickness but also was trained to make undulating love to Edward's throbbing cock.

Edward fucked him under the cascading water in the shower, the roomboy's feet leveraging off the frame of the shower door while his shoulder blades were sliding up and down on the wet tiled walls opposite, propelled by the strength of Edward's driving cock. Edward recharged quickly while the roomboy toweled him off and then fucked the roomboy from behind as he was bent on his belly over the back of the room's upholstered tub chair.

Exhausted then, Edward bedded the roomboy, who, still resilient, massaged Edward's screaming muscles, including eventually, the reawakened muscle between his legs. In the darkness of the early night, Edward drifted off, but the roomboy awakened him again within a couple of hours. Edward was stretched on his back and the roomboy was riding his loins hard, drawing yet another ejaculation out of him. Yet another fucking only a couple of hours after Edward had drifted off nearly paralyzed him. He was groaning hard and the roomboy could get no more than a dribble of semen out of him. Mercifully that marked the end, and when he woke next—to the light—and to entirely too little sleep and too much vigorous exercise, he opened his eyes to the thought that maybe 2,000 pesos was entirely too much to have offered.

It was afternoon before he could struggle out of bed. But he hadn't slept. Besides being exhausted, he was incredibly satisfied and pleased with himself. He would have to make more business trips to the Philippines.

When he felt a bit recovered, he picked up the binoculars from the table beside him and started to check out the sights around the busy hotel complex. He decided to take a sweep of the hotel tower next to his for beginners, moving up from the base. When his view reached the tenth floor of the other tower, he let out a gasp and a "Holy shit!" and had to lift a second hand to the binoculars to steady his trembling hand.

The man, a Caucasian, like him, was stunningly handsome. Edward instantly recognized him as a beefy, suntanned hunk he'd seen at the pool as he was taking a walk around of the facilities before checking in. The man had been a large dose of eye candy, and Edward had remembered thinking "trophy stud" when a beet-red European with a distinct pouch and puffy face had spoken to the young man and they'd walked off toward the hotel together.

Now he was standing at the rail of the balcony of his tenth-floor room in the other tower, shirtless and his trousers down around his ankles. He was holding binoculars in one hand, trained out to sea, and he was stroking the loveliest, hardest cock Edward had ever seen. Edward couldn't take his eyes off him, and he felt his own cock begin to renew its interest in spite of the Herculean workout it had gotten the previous night.

Edward was so engrossed in watching the young man masturbate at the balcony rail that he didn't hear the door to his hotel room click open and the roomboy reappear to make up the room.

Suddenly, a hand was taking the binoculars out of Edward's hands. The roomboy was pulling his sleeping shorts off him, and he has holding Edward's erect cock in his fist as he moved his thighs around Edward's, positioned his hole on Edward's rosy-red bulb, and started to descend into his lap. Edward threw his head back, took a pert hard brown cock in both hands, driving it like a stick shift on a sports convertible, his eyes closed but still seeing that hunk on the other balcony slowly jacking his gigantic meat off, and he sighed in appreciation of how far 2,000 pesos would stretch.

* * * *

Stanley had already come, in three jerks and heavy spoutings, as he was spread out on the window screen of his Bayliner 2855, the palm of his hands on Lance's tight butt cheeks, enjoying how they contracted with each thrusting of his young lover's rock hard cock up into him. How could he have ever doubted his Lance? It was the liquor. He'd swear off liquor for good if it kept Lance with him, in his bed, churning his cock inside him.

After ejaculating, Stanley lay back against the windscreen, letting Lance pound away inside him, knowing it would be several more minutes before he came.

Stanley loved this, but having reached his own climax, reason flooded in to struggle with emotion, and he started to worry again at the spectacle they were making of themselves. Binoculars were within reach, so he retrieved them and put them to his eyes and started scanning the beach and the Hilton Cebu twin towers, checking on who might be watching.

Lance wouldn't notice. When he was deep in a fuck like this, he became a wild, focused man, all of his attention locked on the working of his cock inside Stanley. Stanley knew this was only further evidence that he was still desirable to Lance. Lance couldn't have even gotten it up, let alone become lost in the fuck, if he didn't still want Stanley. Stanley knew he'd been such a fool to raise doubts.

As he scanned the towers, Stanley's attention focused on the thirteenth floor of one of the towers. Two men fucking. A very well presented young man, maybe early thirties, slumped in a chair, his head thrown back, a look of ecstasy painted all over it. And a small, lithe brown-bodied man crouched over his pelvis and fucking himself on a thick, long cock in long, plunging rhythm.

Stanley began to melt and to quicken all at the same time. His cock gave a lurch and came alive. He reached a hand for it, but Lance slapped the hand away and took charge of the cock himself, stroking it in fast rhythm with his vigorous fucking.

A triangulated cry of simultaneous release shot out over the Hilton Cebu complex, sending a flock of disturbed sea gulls screaming and fluttering up into the air. Five long sighs of satisfaction followed, drifting down in the lapping of the surf onto the resort beach.