Finding Tim
by Charlie
Episode 222 - Chuck
This is Merle Robert Reed, Jr. I'll be your narrator for this episode. I'll bet you haven't a clue who I am; perhaps I'm new to the story. Well, since I'm a Junior, I have the same name as my father, and my wonderful parents, Merle and Tina, decided that I should be called Max. I've had an interesting role, or roles, in this story, but this is the first time that Charlie's trusted me to actually write something. Hell, he's trusted me with his dick often enough, why not his story? Simple, for Charlie this story is as much a labor of love as his going to bed with Tim every night. OK, Charlie, I'll try not to screw this episode up.
Previously I've been referred to as both Max the Stud and Max the Arranger. It's in the latter mode that Charlie's invitation has been issued, but I won't promise that Max the Stud will stay out of the picture. I assume that would be your preference. If you didn't like a little porn thrown in you wouldn't be reading the story, certainly not for over two hundred episodes.
This all began with a telephone call in October of 2008. It was from Jimmy Lawson the partner of Olympic diving medalist, Chet Thompson. Just as background, I'll remind you that Jimmy was twenty and I was twenty-five, both legally of age, and both very much in the years of maximum virility. After he had told me who was calling, Jimmy said, "I have a problem I need to discuss with someone, and several of the people around here have told me that you're the best person to talk to. Can we get together some time?"
"Sure. When?"
"I'd like to take you to dinner, just the two of us. You name the place."
"There are only two places I'd be willing to be taken to in this city. If you're a normal college student, take me to Jerry's. If you want a steak dinner, then the Dakota Steak House."
"Which would you prefer?"
"I like both. Which would your wallet prefer?"
"I like you already. Jerry's."
"You live in one of those new, as yet unnamed, houses behind The Hideout, right?"
"Well, it's certainly not a new house, but that's where I live."
"It's new to the Gang. I'll pick you up at 7:00 this evening."
"I'll be watching Chuck dive. Can you make it 7:30?"
"Sure. Or 8:00 if that's better."
"I'll be out front at 7:30."
I'd met Jimmy a few times, but we really didn't know each other that well. I had no idea who he had talked to that had suggested me as the person to address his question to, but considering my (well-deserved) reputation, I figured that the question must be about sex. As far as I knew, he had a good relationship with his partner, and I wondered what might be on his mind. In any case I was on time, and he was standing out in front waiting for me. I knew enough of Jimmy's background that I shouldn't get out of the car and offer to help him with the rather high curb in front of his house, but it wasn't easy to watch him shift his weight several times in order to get down the curb. He got in, all smiles, and said, "That isn't fun, but I'm looking forward to a nice dinner as compensation."
"Hi, Jimmy. You certainly don't seem to have any trouble talking about your disability, do you?"
"What's the point of avoiding the subject. I live with it every day; it's part of me. It doesn't bother me to have other people talk about the obvious. And if I start it, then they're less uncomfortable mentioning it. We are going to get a curb cut in front of the house."
"That's good. OK, to change the subject. What're we talking about tonight? I doubt very much that it's about your health or your diving, because there are many other people who could be more helpful with both."
"Sex. But beyond that, let's wait until dinner. I'm told you're quite the ladies man. True?"
"That's up to someone else to say. I like the ladies; I like men as well."
"I think I'm almost completely gay, although I'm well aware of the mantra of the Gang that there's likely to be gay and straight in everyone."
"Is the subject tonight about finding out if that's true in your case?"
"No. I'm not the subject tonight."
The rest of the ride consisted of small talk and soon we were at Jerry's. I was welcomed like a long lost cousin, and was equally effusive greeting Jerry. I introduced Jimmy, but Jerry was well ahead of me.
"I've met Jimmy. Fred, and others, have brought him by and introduced him. He must be quite a guy to be that popular in your crowd."
"He is, Jerry. Can we find a quiet table? Jimmy wants to talk."
"Sure. Over in the corner."
As soon as we were seated and our order taken, I asked, "OK, what's up?"
"I'm concerned about Chuck. He lives with Chet and me and knows we're having wonderful sex."
"Would I be correct that not only is he aware of your sex, but enjoys watching as well?"
"How in the Hell do you know that?"
"From that response, I would guess that I'm right."
"You didn't answer my question."
"There aren't many secrets in the Gang. I've heard Sid's description of his painting session with you. I understand that was your first time to have Chuck watch you, but I'm guessing that it wasn't the last time. Right?"
"Yeah, right. Chet and I don't mind, and Chuck seems to get a bang out of it. But he insists that watching gay sex isn't the same as having gay sex, and he isn't interested in having it."
"So you're here because you're concerned that, since he won't get involved with gay sex, and doesn't have a girlfriend, he isn't getting any sex at all. Would that correctly identify the reason for this meeting?"
"Max, are you this insightful with everyone?"
"Sure, that's why I'm called Max the Arranger?"
"Are you really called that?"
"Sure, and I consider it to be a great compliment."
"OK, since you so good at this, what's my, or Chuck's, next move?"
"Invite Pat Sturgis of the Circle to dinner with all three of you. Tell Chet and Chuck the reason for his visit. When Chuck protests, simply tell him to go with the flow. Lay out your concerns to Pat. See what he says. You can bet that he and I will have a chat between now and then."
"Why Pat?"
"Except for his love for Nate, Pat's very straight. He gets straight sex when he needs it, in the most wholesome way, with girls he loves, that is loves as all of us in the Gang love everyone else in the Gang."
"You make it sound so simple."
"Sex is simple, at least in the Gang. But I think you're asking the wrong question about Chuck. We can meet his sexual needs. Hell, he's probably doing a pretty good job with his hand. Do you and Chet get to watch?"
"I suppose we could, but we don't."
"Well, what Chuck needs is romance, not sex. And romance can't be ordered up by making a phone call to a couple of nice people in the Gang. Willie found a girl in the swimming pool, but Chuck isn't likely to be that lucky. He needs to get out and about, make friends, not be completely tied to a practice schedule designed by Tim. Remember, Tim had one Hell of a romance with Charlie all through his key diving and gymnastics years. There's time in the schedule for romance. Both you and Pat need to kick his ass a little about that."
Jimmy was ready to follow through with an invitation for Pat, but decided that he needed to have a conversation with Chet and Chuck first. Chet thought the whole thing was a great idea. Chuck had a different reaction:
"You talked to Max about my sex life? That's a little personal, don't you think?"
"Hey, Max is part of the Gang and so are you. There are no secrets in the Gang. Secrets would be the end of the Gang as we know and love it."
"OK, but it's going to take a little getting used to. You've been around these folks longer than I have, are you used to their ways?"
"I'm learning. And in this case I thought it was important."
"You mean you thought my sex life was important?"
"No, your lack of a sex life."
"OK, I'll admit it, you may be right. So Max suggested talking to Pat?"
Chet put in, "I'm trying hard, but there are a lot of Gang members. Help me place Pat."
"Pat was the defensive captain and safety on the Fighting Sioux football team that set all those records a few years back. He fell in love with the team captain, Nate, and they've been part of the Circle ever since. Pat insists he's straight, but that doesn't keep him from being madly in love with Nate. You figure it out."
"I long since stopped trying to figure out the Gang. You just learn to go with the flow."
"And, according to Max, the flow right now is for me to have a conversation with Pat, who is straight, but married to a man. Have I got that right?"
Jimmy answered, "You do. So, shall I invite Pat for dinner some evening?"
"What the Hell. Sure. I can't see that I have anything to lose; my privacy is already shot to Hell."
Chet asked, "Do you feel threatened by this lose of privacy?"
"I don't think threatened is the right word. I think I feel exposed."
Jimmy said, "The opposite of exposed is hidden. That really isn't an option if you're going to be a real member of the Gang."
"I know. And I could hardly have been more exposed than I was that evening with Sid, or at the numbering ceremony."
Jimmy extended the invitation to Pat for dinner. Before he could explain the reason for the invitation, Pat told him, "I know what's up. Max called yesterday and said to expect a call. He also told me to let him know if I didn't get a call."
"Any idea what Max would've done if you had told him that I didn't call?"
"He'd have goosed somebody pretty hard, but I'm not sure who."
"Well, tell him that won't be necessary, Chuck's on board. He's willing to admit to a less than fulfilling sex life these days."
"In the Gang that's an easy fix. Dinner tomorrow night, right?"
"Right. About 6:30."
"See you then."
Neither Jimmy, nor Chet, and especially not Chuck, knew what to expect at the next night's dinner. Jimmy volunteered to be the cook, since the whole thing had been his idea. He decided that this wasn't a meal to go overboard on, so he planned a simple meal of pork chops, hash browns, and peas and carrots. They had soft drinks and cheese and crackers in the living room before going into dinner.
Jimmy asked that substantive conversation not begin while he was in the kitchen, so small talk prevailed until all had been served in the dining room. Pat had been warned by Max that he'd probably have to take charge of the conversation, and he did. He started with, "Well, I'm guessing that you guys are a little hesitant about this conversation; at least that's what Max implied when he talked to me. He also said that you all were members of the Gang and you needed to get used to the frank conversations that take place within the Gang. So here goes. See if I have this right. Chuck, you're straight. None of this business of Tim and others (including me, I might add) of there being at least a little straight and a little gay in everyone. You're straight and that's it. And, Jimmy and Chet are gay. Even if they were straight, it would leave you without a partner. However, since they are gay, they're partners and you don't fit. You're not really desperate to find a partner, but jacking off has its limits, and it's time to push beyond them. Does that about sum up the situation?"
Chuck replied, "That's about right. Jimmy may be a little more worried about me that I am myself, but I'm not a virgin, and I'm ready to stop living like one. At the same time, my practice schedule is grueling and I haven't found a girl that I'm interested in."
Pat turned to Jimmy and Chet, "OK, you two, does it sound to you like Chuck's telling it like it is?"
Chet said, "Yes, I think he's being honest with himself as he answers."
Pat said, "Good. Now I want to push a little where you wish I wouldn't push, but I'll remind you that the Gang isn't real happy with secrets."
"Ask away."
"You said you aren't a virgin. Give us some details. Before that, tell me whether those details would be new information for your brother, and for Jimmy."
"Chet and I haven't had secrets; I don't know what he's told Jimmy, but Jimmy and I haven't talked about my sex life, other than the fact that I'm completely straight."
Jimmy said, "Chet hasn't told me anything. Whatever Chuck tells now is going to be as new to me as it is to you, Pat."
Pat said, "OK, Chuck, we're waiting for a complete sexual history."
"God, where to start?"
Pat replied, "Kindergarten, if you were playing doctor back then. Otherwise, whenever that sort of thing got started."
"I'll try. My first memory of anything sexual goes back to elementary school, third, fourth, fifth grade–I don't remember. Boys in my class (most of us had been together since first or second grade, so we knew each other pretty well) began to get physical with each other. We groped genitals, which we called squirreling, and goosed each other as we roughhoused. The sexual aspect of roughhousing seemed to increase its frequency. Eventually it included unzipping a guy's fly, opening his belt, unbuttoning his pants, and so forth. Eventually someone's pants and underpants got pulled down and the squirreling was now directly on his dick and balls. If you had a crowd of boys, kind of in a circle, the kid in the middle could've had his pants pulled down and people nearby never be aware. Somehow we realized that we had to give a kid a chance to get his clothes together before we broke up the circle."
"Did this lead to other things?"
"Of course. Our school was in the corner of a park, and after lunch we could roam the entire park–but couldn't leave the park, a rule that seems always to have been followed. There was shrubbery at various places and in those areas nobody could see what was going on. Eventually it became a custom that after lunch some boy would be pushed, shoved, or taken out to the bushes and pantsed. For some reason, I was the first victim, and it made me quite enthusiastic about seeing to it that others got the same treatment. Of course, each successive boy got it a little worse that the one before. Getting stripped completely naked sort of ended the fun–and I will have to say it was fun. No one kid bore the brunt of it, and even the boys who got stripped seemed to enjoy it. There was one exception. One boy, who had been sort of a leader in pantsing me and a few others at the beginning, couldn't take it when his turn came. He cried like a baby and threatened to tell our teacher. We reminded him of his role on previous days and told him to shut up. From then on he was excluded from nearly all the activities of the boys in our class."
"Were girls ever involved?"
"Oh, God, no. We talked about sex with girls, dreamed about it, but nothing ever happened in elementary school."
"How about middle school?"
"Not really. Some of the boys bragged about adventures with girls, but I really think it was make believe. I certainly had none, and nothing more with boys, either."
"High school?"
"I didn't really date in high school until I could drive, about the middle of my tenth grade year. I dated two or three girls that year, but there was nothing serious, or sexual. My junior year I dated a really nice girl named Sam–for Samantha. Our first date was the homecoming dance in the fall, and by Christmas we were pretty serious. Nothing had ever been said or done about sex, however. Early New Year's morning, after we had been to a very late party, and I had driven Sam home–just so you know, neither Sam nor I drank a drop, our parents knew it and trusted us, so my driving her home late wasn't a problem for them. We were parked in my car in front of her house. I leaned over to kiss her and as I did she put her hands on my genitals. I was startled, and backed off the kiss. She said, 'Don't you think it's time we did more than kiss?'
"I wasn't quite sure what to think. She continued, 'A lot of the girls are talking about sex with their boyfriends. I don't believe all I hear, but I'm quite sure that we're behind the curve. Now, unless you stop me I'm going to open your pants, pull them down, and play with your dick and balls. I do know what you have inside there. Then you're going to pull up my skirt, pull down my panties, and play with my cunt. And I do believe that you know what you'll find in there. Then we'll talk about where we go from there.'
"She didn't give me time to answer. Despite the fact that the steering wheel was in the way, she quickly had my pants and underpants down and was playing rather roughly with my dick and balls. I knew that I would soon come and thought about whether I should stop her before I came. I decided not. This was her game, I decided to let her play it. She did. I soon came all over me, my shirt, and her hand. 'Oh, God, what was that?'
"I said, 'I don't think you know as much about boys as you think you do. That's sperm, and it should be inside you making a baby.'
"'Help me clean up.' I gave her my handkerchief and just pulled my underpants up to cover the mess.
"The orgasm had aroused me and I was eager to proceed. I said, 'My turn,' and began reaching under her skirt. I wasn't sure whether getting semen (I had called it sperm, but I knew the difference) all over her hand had turned her on or off. I don't think she knew either, but my hand under her skirt, lifting it up, very clearly made it decision time for her. She clearly decided and helped me lift her skirt. I pulled down her panties and was confronted with the blank wall that every boy encounters on his first time: It's easy for a girl to figure out what to do with a naked boy, but the opposite is simply not true. So Sam had a second decision to make: Whether she should help me along or watch as I proved my ignorance of female anatomy. She laughed a little and then spread open the vulva and told me to stick my finger in her vagina. This was followed by a quick lesson on the clitoris and then she said, 'Don't stop until I tell you to.' Before long she shivered all over and told me to stop. She pulled up her panties, arranged her skirt, and said, 'OK, we need to talk. But not tonight. Come by this afternoon and we'll take a ride and talk.'"
Pat said, "My God, that was an interesting first time, and not that different from my first time."
Jimmy asked, "Just what did happen on your first time in high school?"
"I was part of a pretty close group of boys and girls that did a lot together. The group expanded and shrank, but generally we could count on about three or four boys and an equal number of girls when we went somewhere–often to a movie. We also dated each other two by two, and the events of those dates were quickly reported to the larger group. Petting in boys' cars quickly became routine, but as far as it was reported, clothing usually stayed in place. That did lead to my most embarrassing moment. Linda and I were sitting in the front seat of my car, parked way out in the country. My hand was massaging her front, but through two layers of clothing. She was doing the same for me. She had slacks on, and I moved my hand under the waistband of her slacks, but not under her panties. She did the same to me, but moved on under my underpants as well. That was further than I had ever gone and all at once I came–all over her hand and my clothing. I was totally embarrassed, but Linda wasn't surprised at all. In fact, she kept her hand inside my pants and massaged me for quite a while, getting my cum spread all over my underwear. When she pulled her hand out she said, 'Either lick it clean or give me your handkerchief.' However, she made it clear she didn't want the handkerchief, and she pushed her fingers into my mouth. I couldn't believe the situation I was in, but to my surprise the cum didn't taste bad. I sucked her fingers and then pushed her hand into her mouth to finish the job. Again, to my surprise she was willing and licked her hand clean. Then she said, 'Oh, boy, are the others going to enjoy this story.'"
"'You wouldn't tell, would you?'"
"'We're all meeting at Jack's tomorrow afternoon to play cards. Come and see.' To make a long story short, the next day she told the entire story. I don't know how I managed to stay there and not turn so red in the face that I might explode. However, it opened a floodgate of other stories, told by the girls at first, but then by the boys as well. It seemed that a lot had been going on in the boys' cars, and Linda's story brought it out into the open."
Chet asked, "Did it lead to more sex in the group?"
"Very much. Somebody suggested then that we play strip poker, but Jack assured us that his parents were home and might come in at any time.
Fred said that nobody ever went to the old barn on his back lot, and we could do whatever we liked there. We planned to meet the next afternoon at the barn. We warned everybody that if they came they were agreeing to play some kind of stripping game.
"We all showed up the next day, and it was Linda who sort of took charge. 'Look, we have two choices. We can either play some kind of game to make the losers (or winners, depending on how you feel about it) take off their clothes, or we can agree in advance that we're all going to lose our clothes. Which will it be?'
"I wasn't sure how the group was going to respond to that, but there was quick agreement that we'd all lose our clothes. Someone said, 'Then what?' It was quickly agreed that we'd decide that when we were all naked. 'How do we get naked, just all take off our clothes'? Linda had an answer. 'There are six of us. We count off numbers one to six. We roll a pair of dice and two numbers come up. Those two take off a piece of clothing. We'll soon all be naked.' And we were. There was some arguing about what counted as a piece of clothing, but taking a handkerchief our of your pocket and counting that simply put off the inevitable. We all got naked and simply stood staring at each other.
"Linda continued in charge. 'OK, we need to pair off. We roll the dice until we get a boy-girl pair. Then we keep rolling until we get another boy-girl pair. The last two are the third pair. Once paired up, we go find a place to make out.' Fred said, 'Oh, no. The point of this was to see and be seen. There's an old mattress over there, and I brought a clean blanket and sheet to put on it. The first couple paired goes to the mattress and does their thing, whatever it is, and we all watch. Then we roll and pick the second pair and they do their thing. Finally the third pair performs."
Chuck asked, "Did that really happen?"
Pat said, "I didn't think it would. I thought everyone would chicken out. But the events seemed to have a momentum of their own. The dice were rolled and it was a doubles–no pair. Then the numbers of two boys came up. After some laughing, Linda reminded us that we had said a boy-girl pair, and the dice were rolled again. Linda and Jack became the first pair. Jack pulled Linda to the bed (we liked that term better than mattress), and they lay down and kissed, letting their hands grope their genitals. Soon Jack knelt between Linda's leg and used both hands to arouse her. She had a very obvious orgasm, and then started playing with Jack. After a while he said, 'Let me show you how.' He took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his dick and told her to pump. She quickly got the hang of it and he quickly exploded. Before anyone got any ideas, Linda grabbed a rag and wiped up Jack's mess.
"The dice said that I was up next, with a girl named Myra. She pulled me to the bed and said, 'We can top that.' I had no idea what she had in mind, but she quickly had me spread eagled on the bed, was kneeling between my legs, and licking my balls and dick. It didn't take me long to come, and I grabbed a rag and wiped myself up quickly. Myra lay down on the bed and said, 'Do me.' I replied that I wasn't really up to using my tongue, and I brought her to a climax with my fingers. I got the feeling that the sense of the group was that Myra had gone too far. The last couple gave each other hand jobs, and we all rather quickly got our clothes back on.
"On our next date Linda reported that the girls weren't happy with the events of the previous Sunday, especially Myra getting into oral sex. I had to share that the boys were a little upset as well, however, they were clear that they were ready to go where the girls took them. The girls, however, didn't take us anywhere as a group.
"Linda and I dated through the rest of the year and our junior year, and sex did finally involve our mouths and tongues. However, by the end of the year we had both decided that it wasn't a match made in heaven, and we had a friendly parting at the end of the year. We agreed to that in late April, but decided that it would be better to let it die naturally over the summer. However, sex ended with the April decision.
"I didn't date anyone seriously my senior year, and in college I met Nate before I got involved with any girl. I think you know the rest of the story. Now, Chuck, we've gotten off track; we're supposed to be hearing your story."
Chuck started, "I liked hearing yours. And I think we should hear Chet and Jimmy's stories as well. But I'll finish mine; it won't take long. I had just told you about my first time with Sam–or any girl. Sam and I continued to date, and she continued to be the aggressor in sex. Her father ran a small real estate office and she had the key. Nobody was ever in there after about nine o'clock, and even if they had come in, they wouldn't have known we were making out in a small unoccupied office in the back. With her leading I learned to enjoy blow jobs, and got over my discomfort at cunnilingus. We tried 69, but soon she arrived with condoms and we were fucking. We worked our way through a whole bunch of positions.
"As graduation approached we talked about our futures. I had a diving scholarship to Miami University of Ohio, and Sam was going to Northern Illinois University at DeKalb. We decided that we'd both be better off in college not carrying a torch for a high school sweetheart. We wrote, visited on vacations, but Sam was soon deeply involved with a nice guy who eventually became her husband. We've lost touch, but I'd like to think they lived happily ever after–with the three kids (two boys and a girl) that I knew she longed for.
"In college I had a succession of girlfriends, including another diver, a swimmer, a ballet dancer, and a couple of others. In the culture there, sex was expected, and it was virtually always fucking–usually from the first date. I was fed up with the whole scene by my senior year, and pretty much stopped dating. The scene in St. Louis wasn't much different, and I never really got involved seriously with any girl. Now I'm here. Diving is why I'm here and it'll always have to take priority over everything else."
Pat said, "Interesting story. But let me tell you something important. Love and romance can be good for athletes; just look at Nate and me. Without each other, we'd never have led the football team to its many victories."
"I'm listening, and taking notes. But right now I'd like to hear Chet and Jimmy's sexual histories. I'll bet there's a lot about Chet that I don't know."
Chet said, "I guess I'm up. But you all are going to be disappointed. Gay sex is harder to find that straight sex, especially if you're in the closet, which I was until I got to North Dakota. There were a couple of boys in Hinsdale that I got involved with. One lived nearby, but went to a Catholic high school where you can bet he was deep in the closet. Somehow we discovered each other's secret–I really don't remember how–and we spent a few Saturday afternoons together in his basement. It never progressed beyond hands, but it was my first homosexual experience of any kind. In tenth grade one of the divers was checking me out very carefully in the shower, and I guessed the reason. I waited until we were the last two in the shower and I said, 'You're gay, right?'
"'Yeah.'
"'Well, don't worry so am I. But I don't think this is the place to show it. Let's talk after we're dressed.' Talk led to more, but again it never went beyond hands. The next year I left for Grand Forks before we could get reconnected. Here I met Jimmy before anything else happened–well you know about my night with Chuck."
Jimmy said, "Gee, I wish I had that much to tell. I had exactly one experience before I met Chet. It was in St. Louis, on one of my semi-annual visits to the doctor and physical therapist there. I'd spend virtually all day with my orthopedist, other doctors that he'd invite in, my main physical therapist, and others that would do this or that with my leg and arm. It involved a lot of sitting and waiting, and another boy and I found ourselves bumping into each other in the waiting room, and in the therapy room (which was far from private). He was from Oklahoma, but had found his way to Dr. Wilson in St. Louis as I had from Illinois. His problems were with both legs. It's amazing how disabilities like ours can help form a bond very quickly. It wasn't long before we were opening our hearts to each other, and it turned out both of us were gay. And we were staying in the same hotel. He was staying in the room with his parents, but I had a room to myself. I gave him the room number and he joined me shortly after dinner. It was early, and I don't think either of our parents had any idea of what our plans were. But we did. I hardly had the door closed before we were struggling to get each other's clothes off. That would've been quite a scene–since of our four legs only one worked correctly–for any observer, but there weren't any. Naked, our genitals quickly became the focus of our attention. Somehow we both were inclined to use our mouths, and we finally ended up in sort of a cross between a 69 and wild sucking at random. We both came, and then we realized we had gone too fast for the most fun, but we were both inexperienced, very horny creatures, and didn't know better. An hour later, after some calm conversation, we tried again. This time we gave each other more relaxed blow jobs, trading off before we climaxed–easy to do when your previous orgasm was just an hour earlier. Of course, the sad part of it is that we couldn't spend the night together, and our visits to St. Louis never again coincided. We did trade emails for a while, but that can't last forever.
"And that's it."
Pat said, "I think I'm getting horny just listening to all of this. Nate's going to have a good time tonight."
Jimmy said, "So are Chet and I."
Chuck said, "I sure that all of you guys would let me join you if I asked, but I'm going to wait. I'm sure that Pat is about to give me some idea about how long I'll have to wait."
"I can arrange for something tonight if you'd like. Come back to The Roundhouse with me; I'm quite certain that Marge would love a good fuck. You could invite Fyn and Arnie to watch, or send them down with Nate and me."
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Of course."
"Well, I think I'd rather move a little slower. Tell me what you had in mind when you came in."
"OK, it's not rocket science. All of the women in the Gang would be delighted, even eager, to have sex with you. You are young, virile, handsome, horny, unattached, and available. But they all have their own lives to lead and it might very well be that they were doing you a favor rather then eagerly letting you into their beds. So any reasonable fellow in your, really our, situation looks for women who would truly be eager for a new and different sex partner. Who would that be? Well, a first shot would be single women, especially widows. The second would be partnered women who have reason to encourage their partners to roam from time to time."
"Wait a minute. There would be a huge age difference between me an any widows in the Gang. And I certainly don't want to be part of a breakdown stemming from a roaming partner."
"Let me explain. Yes, there's an age difference with the widows. We have two or three in the Gang, depending on how you count. Melanie and Trudi are widowed and not partnered. Trudi is sexually active and Melanie isn't, but has hinted that she'd like to be. An invitation to both of them is high on my to-do list. I'd be delighted if you would issue one of those invitations. And, of course, Beverly was widowed but has married Bernie."
"Max, why is it on your to-do list? There are a lot of men in the Gang; is it your job to keep the widows happy?"
"I'm not exactly sure how to answer that. I don't issue such invitations just to keep the widows happy. I'm looking for mutual pleasure, and believe me I get it. But, yes, it is sort of my job–completely self-appointed, mind you–to try to keep everyone sexually happy and fulfilled. It is kind of a role that I took on when I decided that I wasn't going to get married. I thoroughly enjoy it. Also, I accomplish the task as Max the Arranger more often than as Max the Stud."
"What about age?"
"Age, smage. Just ask Bernie. When he and Beverly got married in 1990 he was nineteen and she was sixty-nine. That was eighteen years ago, and they're still going strong. He's thirty-seven and she's eighty-seven, and going strong. She likes to sleep with me to allow Bernie to have some freedom to enjoy women more his own age. Bernie enjoys that, but genuinely seems to prefer Beverly. They're madly in love with each other. And that's one example of a situation in which the woman likes to let the man roam a little."
"OK, Beverly isn't exactly a widow anymore. How old are Melanie and Trudi."
"Trudi is three years younger than Beverly. I think Melanie is about the same age. They're all in their eighties. Trudi and I had quite an affair right after her husband, Walter, had died. Walter's last words to me were to fuck Trudi good, and believe me I did. But it wasn't a Bernie and Beverly. We had a good-bye fuck about a month later, and it's only been on a from time to time basis since. I know Trudi and Beverly would like an invitation from you, and I think Melanie would as well. However, before you talk to Beverly, common sense says to talk to Bernie first."
"You seemed to imply that there were others like Beverly that would like to let their husbands roam a little. Who?"
"The obvious answer is Willie's wife, Sally."
"Why Sally?"
"Simple. Wille's as gay as he is straight. Sally's mostly straight. If Willie is going to enjoy a gay old time with a man, most likely Hardie, then he has to know that Sally is having a good time as well. In their case, I'd approach them together–and I have. I was well received, and you would be as well."
"What about Hardie's wife?"
"Connie's a Caver, or was a Caver. They have a special relationship and she's always welcome and eager. Sally didn't have any relationship to the Gang when she met Willie, so she doesn't have a support group to fall back on."
"Do you know this much about everyone in the Gang?"
Chet answered for Max, "Indeed he does, and he has a detailed mental filing system. And you can bet that the stories he heard this evening are already catalogued."
Max said, "He's right. I'm Max the Arranger. I work hard at it."
Jimmy put in, "Don't tell me you don't love every minute of it, Max."
"Of course I do. Why else would I do it? But I think I make an important contribution to the Gang."
Chuck said, "OK, I'm sold. Where do I start?"
"With whomever you like. But if I were you I'd start with Melanie. She does not now have an active sex life. There's no man in her life to complicate things. And, as one of the youngest members of the Gang, you need to get used to sex with older women, and find out that that experience can be more exciting than youth and beauty."
"So what do I do? Just call up Melanie and invite her out on a date? I've only met her when I joined the Gang and maybe one other time at Tim's."
"No, no. You call her up, introduce yourself and say, 'Max says I should be fucking you. Is he right?"
"That's pretty blunt."
"Yeah, but she'll expect anybody that Max sent to be blunt. But be romantic as well. That opening line is just so she knows what's going on."
"OK, it sounds crazy, but I'll give it a try."
Soon: "Melanie. This is Chuck Thompson, the diver. We've only met a couple of times, but Max says I should be fucking you."
"My God, I don't believe it. You actually followed Max's advice to the letter. Neither of us thought you'd have the balls to do that, though we did expect you to call."
"Max talked to you?"
"He didn't think it was fair to you to have to make a completely cold call. So he gave me some background. We were going to bet on how close you'd come to following his instructions, but neither one of us thought you follow it all, so we couldn't bet. You must be quite a guy. So, when? Tonight? I know you're a poor starving college student, so let me buy you dinner. I'll pick you up about seven. I know where you live. We'll go to Jerry's and then come back here for dessert. Than, as Shelly Berman once said, 'Coffee, tea, or me?'"
Chuck had the good sense not to ask who Shelly Berman was, and simply stammered out, "OK, seven o'clock."
Chuck had simply no idea what to expect that evening, and he hoped he was ready. Melanie arrived right on time and said, "I think we should take a little drive and talk a little; we'll end up at Jerry's."
"Fine with me. By the way, I love your outfit." Melanie was wearing a very simple, jet black dress that came just below her knees. It showed a very firm, trim waist, and a little cleavage that was framed by two very delightful, tits that were round, firm, and not too large. He couldn't tell whether the roundness and firmness were caused by a very good bra or by a very solid set of knockers. He guessed he'd find out before the evening was out. The dress was set off by a bright red scarf wound once around her neck and then draping, one end down the front, the other down the back. He noted that her shoes had one inch heels and were designed for comfort more than style. Her hair was gray and stylish. Her jewelry was very nice but not gaudy, and she didn't wear a wedding ring.
"Good, and thank you for wearing a coat and tie. So many college kids seemed to have come off from home without even bringing one. Now, let me give you some ground rules. As Max says, 'Age, smage.' We both need to forget about it. Too much thinking about age could kill the evening. And, more important, we need to forget about Max, his plans, instructions, good intentions, what-all. We're two adults on a date, we aren't responsible to anyone but ourselves, most especially Max, and we're going to see what happens. Think you can handle that?"
"Sure. And I'd like to suggest one more thing."
"And that would be?"
"We forget about personal histories, autobiographies, talk of the Gang, and all that. Tonight let's enjoy the beauty of the moment and of each other, and let all that other stuff wait until the second date. This is a date, isn't it?"
"It sure is, buddy boy, and you're just about the most handsome stud I've ever ridden in a car with. I can't wait to find out what's under than coat and tie."
"I'm hoping that you'll want to get more off than my coat and tie."
"I'm hoping the same thing. Let's turn this evening around. Come back to my house so I can explore what's under that coat and tie, and we'll see Jerry later this evening."
"I can't wait."
"You have to wait; it isn't safe to do what I have in mind while I'm driving a car."
"Pull over."
She did, and as soon as the car was stopped he leaned over, hugged her tightly and kissed her. Tongues were quickly involved, and then hands, etc. When she came up for air Melanie said, "I think it'd be more comfortable in my living room, and I think we should wait the five minutes it'll take me to drive there."
"Reluctantly, I agree."
Five minutes late Melanie drove into her attached garage and put down the door. Before Chuck could make a move, she got out of the car and said, "It's more comfortable inside."
They were quickly in her living room, on the sofa, kissing madly. Based on what they told me later, age had gone completely out of Chuck's mind. On the other hand, Melanie was thinking, "How in God's name did I every get so lucky at age eighty-six to have this gorgeous young stud so desperate for me. God, I don't deserve this."
The first pieces of clothing to go were the red scarf and his tie. There was no way to know in what order the rest of the clothes got tossed around the room, but they were soon naked on the floor and Chuck was fucking the bejesus out of her–and she was loving it, urging him on, pumping in a rhythm with his, and praying he was having as good a time as she was. And he was!
It didn't take long before they were both spent on the floor, his tongue languidly licking one of her tits–which he had discovered didn't need a bra to be round and firm. And tasty!
It was quite a while, but she spoke first. "My God, that was wonderful. If you got half the pleasure out of that that I did, we must both be in heaven. You know, I never really got a look at that thing you shoved inside me; let me have a look." With that she sat up, moved between his legs and gently fondled his penis, tickling it to keep it as hard as she could, and looking at it very carefully.
The whole process of being examined was wildly exciting to Chuck, and he had a second orgasm in her hands. There wasn't a lot of semen, but she gathered it up, divided it between her two hands, and shoved one at her mouth and the other at his. They both licked excitedly. It was his first taste of semen, and he surprised himself by licking it as fast as she had licked her share.
A while late he spoke. "I know this isn't the most romantic thing to say after than amazing experience, but I'm hungry."
"So am I. Look, just put on your pants, shirt and shoes. I'll just put on my dress and shoes. No underwear; nothing we don't need. The less we wear, the faster we'll be ready to go to Jerry's and the faster the clothes will come off when we get back. And it'll be really sexy eating dinner like that."
As he was pulling up his pants he thought, "This is the kind of stunt a couple of teenagers might do. And she's in her eighties! Max is right, 'Age, smage.'"
She thought, "Oh my God. I don't believe the last hour, and I'm already panting for the next go around after dinner. He'll make the most fantastic dessert."
Trying to articulate those thoughts, and similar ones, out loud to each other preoccupied them at dinner. Neither one of them were able to truly put into words how they felt about the evening and their anticipation of what was to come. They agreed that they'd go slower and use their mouths this time. Going slow was difficult, but they forced themselves to trade off so that orgasms would be delayed. They weren't delayed forever, as she got a lovely dessert and he enjoyed the tastes and smells of her vagina and clitoris. As they talked afterwards, they both expressed surprise at how delightful the oral experience had been, and they correctly attributed it to complete arousal.
They slept like babies, and weren't the slightest bit embarrassed to find themselves naked and entwined in her bed in the morning. For more than a week it was only Chuck's class and diving schedule that separated them. They both slowly realized that it had to end; after ten consecutive nights they slept separately, buy just for one night. About a week later they agreed that it had run its course. They agreed: no regrets, and a reprise at least once a month. They looked forward to their once a month dates, which went on about a year, but they realized they never could recreate the utter joy of the first night and the first ten days. They didn't try; they enjoyed the memory and the more slow and gracious pace of subsequent encounters. Melanie later admitted to Max that her one regret was that she'd never had such a night with Curtis. "Max, you can't believe that first night. He was like a madman, and I was Lady Macbeth. We might've killed each other; it was pure joy. Oh, thank you Max for being Max the Arranger. Don't ever stop."
Chuck's times with Beverly, Trudi, and Jane never came up to that level, but fun was had by all–especially the night the four women, Max, Bernie, and Chuck all got together at Beverly and Bernie's house. Chuck doesn't like to admit it, but the activities included a little horseplay between him, Max, and Bernie, and he enjoyed it. However, the evening ended with him fucking Melanie, and he liked that better.
Romance had to wait for the next school year.
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