Reunion on Staten Island

Reunion on Staten Island Ch 03

Two old friends are really enjoying the City

All characters and places are fictional despite apparent references to reality. All characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18. I think I've had more specific requests and proposals for more on these two guys that ever before. So I've added another chapter. Thank you. ©2024, Brunosden. All rights reserved.

Sometimes you never know where life is going to take you. A little over a month ago I was an associate grunt in a downtown lawyer factory, slaving six days a week, 12 hours a day, while commuting by ferry to the Island where I was living my mother. I wasn't dating much, and it would be a couple of years before I knew whether partnership was a possibility. I was drifting, over-worked, unattached and unfocused. And I needed to find a place to live.

Then it all changed. Mom moved to Florida--as we knew she would after Pop's death. I ran into a high school team-mate on the ferry whom I hadn't seen in ten years. He seduced me. Fuck, did he seduce me! He converted me to an avid fan of his team in less than a day. I couldn't believe what I had been missing. I left the firm. I took a job with the major Manhattan construction company that he now ran after his Dad's death. I'm VP and General Counsel--whom he insists on calling his consigliore, despite the fact that he and I are only half Italian. I moved into a terrific one bedroom with RVU, and he's been mostly coming home with me on weeknights. I guess it's really "our" apartment now. Then we head to the Island (Staten, not Long) to his place for weekends of workouts, TV, beer, and non-stop sex. In a month I've gone from celibate hetero hermit to macho homo stud. My balls are working overtime to produce enough stuff to meet his insatiable appetite and my desire to use it. And, fuck, life is so good!

And I'm luvin it. I've been grooming the Italian stallion-gigolo look for years: tall, dark, muscled but slim-hppped, tanned, bedroom eyes, black styled hair and custom suits. All to go with my good-sized hooded dick. And now I've got someone who appreciates all my work. He's so into me that I'm into him anytime I snap my fingers. My life is almost balanced for the first time. Well, maybe not balanced. I'm spending more time in bed or thinking about sex than anything else I do. I'm an addict. I'm 18 not 28. I can't get enough ass. Can't get enough dick. Can't get enough Billy.

It's Wednesday morning of my third week at Thorpe. Billy is beside me in my new king. He's on his belly with his head buried in a big soft pillow. His legs are spread and he's still got the little pillow under his gut that positions his ass for me. It puts his love nut at exactly the right place for me to drill him to an anal orgasm every time. I don't think he's moved since last night. Of course, after I spent about an hour pummeling his ass and filling him with my spunk late last night, I just spread out over him and held him to the mattress, my hooded cock buried deep inside, plugging him tight. We all know, however, that one only stays hard for so long. Ultimately, I slipped out and reluctantly rolled off, leaving one leg possessively over his thigh. But he was asleep and didn't move.

I think I'm gonna pick up where I left off. That ass is just too ripe and too hot to ignore. Look at it pulsing in all its rosy juiciness. Billy's squat routine has been merciless--and it's definitely paying off.

I slipped off the covers, added a little lube to my cock and massaged a little into his ass. I could tell he was still asleep, but he must have been dreaming as he wiggled his glutes provocatively without opening his eyes to accept my fingers. I moved over him, positioned and pushed. I bottomed in one thrust, squeezing by his prostate with my right-bending banana dick. He whispered, "Oh fuck, not again. I've created a monster." But, I could picture the smile even if his head was buried in the pillow, and he spread his legs further apart and I dropped in deeper. He wanted it as much as I did. I pulled back and stroked a few times until he started raising his ass to meet me. He was definitely awake now.

I reached under, used one hand to cup his balls and feel the turmoil inside as his little swimmers warmed up for the race and the other to fist his steely porn-sized dick. The veins were already popping. I started to stroke in time with my plunges. He moaned again and lifted himself onto his knees to give me room to plunge more deeply and to really handle his meat. I could feel the throbbing expansion. He was building to a huge climax. Seconds later, he exploded on the sheets--three, four, five times. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now that's the way to wake up!"

"And good morning to you stud. This is the third set of sheets already this week. I need a raise to pay for the laundry."

"A raise? I've already doubled your income. And this place isn't costing you shit. You've taken possession of my ass like it's your own. You've got it made, boy. Actually, you've got me made. You can take your fuckin' raise out in trade."

I smiled without moving, enjoying the continued quiet milking of his meat as my cock plugged him tightly. "And I'm worth every dollar--and drop--of it. Let's shower, Billy. We need a workout today, and then we'll need another shower. First we rinse off and deodorize the spunk; then we can take care of the sweat. I'm meeting with the last two sets of law firms today. One in the morning; one in the afternoon. Sometimes I think that before you hired me, you were working primarily to support a bunch of lawyers and their children's education. They've got you by the balls, Billy."

He looked down under his belly and laughed. "And you don't?"

"Let me know anytime you want me to cease and desist."

Reluctantly, I released his dick and balls, tapped him hard on the butt, stood and headed to the shower. We washed down quickly, donned workout gear and headed for the condo gym. It was late by New York standards--8:30--and so it was pretty quiet. We pushed each other into tough routines--particularly the squats which had become a vital part of our lives. Neither of us wanted a flabby partner. An hour later we were pumped and tired.

We got to the office at 10, only a little later than normal. I was dressed in one of my drop dead Italian suits--if I was meeting with lawyers, I'd certainly out-dress them. Milly gave us the look, fully aware that we had probably fucked before arriving. But, it wasn't really a disapproving look. She was really pleased at the changes I was making. Billy was morphing from project manager to CEO, delegating increasing responsibilities to a really good team of guys (and two young women, both ex-Army officers who didn't take shit from anyone). And he hadn't gone back to the pony tail or the ear stud. Several times a week he even wore chinos instead of jeans, but complained incessantly that if they were tight enough to show his ass, his cock had nowhere to go. We were going shopping for some of the new pants with stretch--next weekend--I decided. I wanted my "boy" to show off his booty....and his dick. After all, they were mine now.

The office was shaping up. (Not my office which would take another two months. It was the old story of the cobbler's kids' shoes: there was never time to do the reno of our own space.) We had hired another bookkeeper and computerized spread sheets and financials were beginning to appear. Our banks were really pleased. And I had prepared and was enforcing a "code of conduct" for outside council which required detailed computer-generated billing with cross-referenced time sheets (which I knew all firms produced but hated to share with clients), limited the number of attorneys who were able to bill on any one matter and set rigid standards on estimates and who could permit those estimates to be exceeded. The first round of monthly billings weren't in yet, but I expected that just these small changes would cut our legal bills by 20%. (For a company spending millions, that was a lot.) The next step would be to enforce hourly rate competition by getting the firms to "bid" on our business. Having worked on the other side, I knew all the tricks.

I met with the first firm--one that handled most of our certifications, inspections, filings, unemployment and worker's comp etc--the routine stuff of any business that is tightly regulated by the bureaucrats. It was crap work. Most should be done by young legal assistants with minimal supervision. We needed a firm with a good legal assistant program that knew how to manage it. Crawford was not it. It was a small family firm, top-heavy with partners and almost no legal assistant hiring or training program. I explained the new regime. The two partners (brothers) hemmed and hawed for a half hour. They knew they couldn't meet the new budget at their hourly rates and were reluctant to hire assistants. Then they offered to take Billy and me to Fraunces Tavern, one of the oldest and most expensive martini-lunch spots downtown. I knew of course that if we went, the lunch bill would end up on our next monthly--and the hours the partners spent entertaining us with stories would also be charged at full rates. I begged off. "Sorry, I'd love to. But, I'm still overwhelmed here. Let me have your plan for handling our work--and an annual budget within a couple of days, please. I'm pleased to have met you. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Milly, I knew was listening and knew what I was doing. She watched as they left. Then I walked up to her desk. "I'm going out to get a sandwich. Can I pick one up for you?"

She smiled. "Kyle, you're my kind of lawyer. I'm guessing they're toast. So maybe a toasted cheese with tomato to celebrate."

"You're a cheap date, Milly. Could you call the placement firm and ask them to send us a few legal assistants to interview? I think we're going to be doing this work in-house."

She nodded and flashed her two or three carat ring, obviously challenging my "cheap" comment. She wasn't cheap anything!

I ate lunch at my desk although I didn't get much done. Billy called me in to his office as I finished the BLT, closed and locked the door and pointed to the sofa. "Siddown and spread'm. I know what I'm havin' for lunch, boy." I protested weakly while I unzipped and moved to the new leather sofa. Then I realized I had on good wool trousers, so I peeled them off. He moved in between by man-splayed legs, and he did indeed have a keto, high-protein snack for lunch. He knelt, positioned my cock with his big half-back hands and moved in for the feast. His tongue pushed the hood down as he laved all around. Then he teased and sucked me in. Fuck, his technique was professional. I wondered how many guys he had done this to. A combination of deep suck, restraining taint pressure and hand job with a threatening poke in the anus finished me off. He backed off, my cum slipping from the side of his iips, quite pleased with himself. "We're goin' out to dinner tonight and I can't afford two big meals in one day."

"Are you suggesting that I don't produce enough cum to keep you happy?" He looked away without comment. I'd have to do some internet research to see how I can increase my spunk output. I didn't want my guy going hungry.

"I've got a minute. Do you want me to do you?"

"A minute. Fuckin' A. Do you think I'm 18? I need more time than that. I think I'll wait until later." I could see he was still stiff behind the chino zipper, but I pulled my pants back on and left, "Your choice, boss."

The afternoon was far less satisfying, but nearly as important. Dawson and Emory was the quintessential large, politically connected firm in the City. Politicians routinely waltzed in and out of spots in the firm and elected or appointed office. Most construction in New York is politically charged: there are limited spaces, less air space every year, and many who want to call a halt to all new construction in the City. Only about one in three projects get approved. And Thorpe needed at least one or two major new projects a year to stay in business. D&E held the key to much of that. They didn't bill on an hourly basis--but based on "success." And the bills were high. They were a de facto 2-3% partner in the profits of virtually every major building contractor in the City.

Thorpe was an important client for D&E--but the relationship was symbiotic. Without D&E, Thorpe might not survive. So my job was delicate: try to get a handle on what they could do and whether there was a way to improve our ROI. I had no expectation that we'd pay less; I only hoped we'd get more. They sent a partner and a senior associate, about my age, to talk. The partner did most of the talking, but I knew the briefing memo and most of the work would be done by the associate. I had decided Billy needed to be involved in the meeting. It was that important. So he was there too.

Much to my surprise, the meeting went great. The partner had known Billy's Dad and respected him for his integrity and pragmatism (Read: willingness to make the right political contributions). We reviewed recent work and suggestions were made on projects that we might consider. But throughout the meeting, the associate, Jacob Neusner, kept eying Billy, then me. Often his eyes were glued to my dick outlined in my right pant leg or Billy's enormous basket. Fuck, he was gay! I knew we were eye-candy, but the guy was almost indiscrete. He was about our age and in shape, although clearly not a candidate for Mr. America. (Or even Mr. Staten Island.) He had short, buzz-cut dark brown hair, emerald green eyes with long, almost feminine lashes, and a slim build with long beautiful manicured fingers on hands that were very expressive when he talked. I looked down at his shoes--narrow but probably size 13s. So I was definitely curious.

The meeting ended on a good note, late in the afternoon. I thought we'd continue to get our share of the projects, and now D&E knew that Thorpe had an in-house lawyer who knew the ropes. The partner pled that he had an uptown engagement and had to run. He told Jacob to find a cab. He needed the limo to make his next date--which was not at the firm. Probably his Fifth Avenue mistress. And that's when it hit me! I wanted to fool around with Jacob, and I think Billy did as well. It was 6, early for New York, but the end of our day. Without asking Billy, I casually suggested that traffic and taxis at that time were impossible. "Would you like to join us for a drink, Jacob? My apartment is nearby and I've got a really good bar--and a view of the sunset. We'll get you home later when you want to."

Jacob was tentative, but after a repeated invitation and Billy's encouragement, he accepted. Billy gave me an evil eye, but no one had said that we couldn't play with others. New York was such a big gay sandbox. So we walked to the condo--Jacob walking between us.

It was my first chance really to view the condo through another's eyes. It was a special place. We were on 38, on the west side of the building. Only much lower buildings were in front of my windows. There was no balcony, but we had grouped leather living room furniture in creamy white around a large LED with larger floor to ceiling windows on either side. We had three views: the game, the traffic on the Lower Hudson and the Jersey skyline--which was almost all new thanks to redevelopment. The setting September sun would bathe it all in a golden glow. The condo was a gem, only one carat, but Tiffany.

Billy slipped into the bedroom--which immediately alerted Jacob to the fact that we lived together in this place--at least as roommates. He emerged a few minutes later in cut-off jean shorts and a tight tee, barefoot, and displaying a remarkable physique. His package was huge behind the bleached and whiskered denim of his buttoned fly--and he had left the top one provocatively open. He grabbed the drink I handed him and plopped down next to Jacob, a naked thigh touching Jacob's pant leg. Jacob took a deep breath and a deeper drink of his cocktail. (What the fuck was Billy doing?)

I invited Jacob ("call me Jake, please") to get comfortable. "Throw your jacket over there and get rid of that tie." And I went in to do the same--keeping my pants and button up, but losing my jacket and tie. I knew the shirt and the pants were tailored. I too was showing off and seducing, but maybe a little more uptown than Billy.

We talked for awhile, mostly comparing notes--Jacob's experience at D&E was remarkably similar to mine at F&B. He wasn't married, but bunked with two other guys on the Upper East Side--the high rent district. After the second drink, Billy pulled the same routine that had sent me screaming home weeks before. He turned the conversation to sex, learned that Jacob had no girl--and within a few minutes also established that he had no boyfriend either. But, we now knew he was gay, but that his roommates were not. Billy's hand strayed to Jacob's crotch which was bulging with an obvious hard-on.

"I'm guessing that you might like to play. Am I right?"

Jacob paused for only a few seconds. He made up his mind--and he was not shy by any means. He placed his drink on the cocktail table and his hands reached out in each direction to feel our dicks. Seconds later, Billy stood and complained, "The AC in this building is fucked! It's too damn hot in here." Then he stripped. bent over and unbuttoned Jake's shirt, taking a small detour to suck on his hairy nipples. He pulled the shirt off and started on the belt and zipper. So I stood and lost my shirt and trousers, exhibiting my obscenely swollen hard-on in my pale blue trunks. I pulled them off; my cock bounced off my abs; and, I threw the trunks in Billy's face. He grabbed them, inhaled and dropped them on the floor. And thus, in less than five minutes, three guys were standing in a three-way embrace, all stark naked and rigidly erect, positioned for a nice circle jerk, and maybe more.

Jacob was the only one of us with a good deal of body hair. He had a long distance runner's build with slim cut muscles and a much longer than average cut dick with an outsized mushroom head. But, it was nicely manscaped.

Billy, the CEO and ringmaster, took over immediately. "Lawyers have been fuckin' with me all my life. Now it's my turn." He fell back on the sofa, spread and pulled Jake to his crotch. He positioned his cockhead on Jake's lips and held his head in place. "Let's see what ya got, Jake." Jake opened, used his tongue and began to suck. One hand went to massage Billy's balls while the other began to stroke slowly. This was a seasoned sucker. Billy was squirming in pleasure--almost immediately.

I sat on the cocktail table so that Jake's fuzzy bubble ass was perfectly in line with my dick. I grabbed a condom from the box and lubed. Then, I pulled his legs up from the floor and vee-d them, putting one leg on either side of me so he was floating like a bridge between me and Billy with his crotch neatly planted on top of mine. He looked far tastier than the Verrazano. Then I pulled his cheeks apart, revealing a hairy but trembling mancunt. I opened him with a few fingers. He was tight, but by no means a virgin. I penetrated deeper and touched his sweet spot. He groaned in pleasure and uttered some incomprehensible words around the cock in his mouth that I think were something like, "Yeah, right there. Fuck. Fuccck!" Whatever they were, I assumed they were giving permission. I pulled the two fingers out, aimed, applied pressure and the cockhead popped in. Jake broke off from Billy's dick long enough to curse, "Fuck, you're a big one, Kyle. Take it easy. Go slow. But, shit, take me! I haven't been really fucked in weeks. Toys just don't count."

Needless to say I didn't go easy. He resumed his avid blow job and I proceeded to pound and bottom, before moving to a standing position while gripping his thighs to deepen my penetration into his wheelbarrow-ed butt. This forced him deeper into Billy's gut. I looked up at Billy's face. He was close, but enjoying every moment. He was murmuring encouragement and periodically lifting his ass from the sofa to force in still deeper. I reached under and fisted Jake's cock which was pouring out pre-cum. His mushroom had doubled in size and was gooey with precum. All three of us were about to cum. Jake took Billy's first shot in his throat, then backed off so Billy could spray his face. At that second, I started to spasm. Quickly, I pulled out and stripped off the condom, spraying his back with my creamy little boys. Then I released the strangle on his cock, felt the spasms and caught a fistful which I spread over his balls and gut. Fuck! The room smelled like a Bowery steam room late on a Saturday night. Pheromones and sweat filled the air. And Jake was covered, face, neck and back with spunk.