Part 4

Joe finally let me off his lap a minute before the lights were turned back on. I stood up, moving away to give him room. I tend to think he probably could have stood up without grabbing hold of my belt to steady himself, but I didn't feel like complaining.

We went out to the lobby and collected our instruments from where they were crowding the ticket seller's booth. I waited while Joe schmoozed with the giggling woman for a few minutes, and came away with a couple of free passes.

As we left, I said, "Joe, do you do that with everybody?"

"Do what, Jer?"

"You know, the..." I winked, leered, and gave the best imitation of his smile that I could. Probably looked like I needed a bromo.

"Well, yeah. Ya gotta use what ya have ta make it in this world, Jer. God blessed me with a certain amount of looks and, if I may say so myself..."

"You will, anyway, so you may."

"As I was sayin', a certain amoutn of 'It'. Who am I to not use what God gave me?"

"Hm. I see. So you're on a mission from God to make time with everything that has a pulse, as long as you can get something from them?"

"No, Jer. Only the attractive ones."

This was probably one of the few times in his life Joe was being totally honest. I should have turn and run, but right about then he squeezed my butt, so it looked like I was on the attractive list. Of course, at the time I had no idea how long that list was.

We went by a delicatessen, and I longingly examined the knackwurst and pastrami piled behind the glass at the counter while Joe whispered with a large, evil looking man near the back door. That, apparently was the bookie.

I could hear phones going off back in the room behind him. When someone slipped through the door, I could catch a glimpse of long chalk boards, files with letters and numbers that chronicled the loss of major portions of finance for the people of the neighborhood.

I'd given almost all my cash to Joe, but I still need something in my stomach. I... ahem... had hopes for later, but I needed protien.

A plump, fair haired young man with a round, shining face, leaned on the glass case, watching me drool. He was wearing a pristine apron and his shirtsleeves were held back by bright pink garters. "Something I can do for you, dollink boy?"

I blew out a breath sadly, eyeing the corned beef. "Cheese sandwich?"

He stood back, hands on slightly rounded hips. "A cheese sandwich he wants, yet. What are you, a mouse?"

"A broke one."

"Oh." He jerked his head toward where Joe and Mr. Evil were still talking. "So, Mister Hot Pants has latched on to you?" I shrugged, smiling sheepishly. He sighed. "Bubbeleh, I'm not saying Joe isn't a sweetie, or attractive. But he's more of a mamser than a mentsh. You could do better. Now, I got a cousin named Albert. Lovely boy, and a dentist, yet!"

Joe came over. "Feivel, are you tryin' to matchmake for another of my fellahs?"

A (I believe plucked) eyebrow arched. "So? Like you'll miss one?"

Joe put his arm around my shoulders. "This one, I would miss. What are we havin' for supper, Jer?"

Ah, I saw that the meal was up to me. Okay, well, not like I hadn't expected it. I started to open my mouth, and Feivel said, "What with what you left him? Babkes, you'd have. But, I can't let such a little dumpling fall away, can I?" He started building sandwiches.

"Better be careful," Joe teased. "Give away the store and Yani will kick you toches."

Again the eyebrows arched, and the hand went to the hip. "Listen to the goyim boy trying to talk Yiddish. He might try, but he loves this toches too much to do anything bad to it. Besides, dollink, this old girl hits back."

Mr. Evil blushed. And grinned. Suddenly he didn't look so ferocious.

Feivel held out a bulging paper sack, but when Joe reached for it, he snatched it back. "Grabby! Keep your hands off this. It's for bubbeleh. If he wants to feed you, then he can." I accepted the bag with muttered thanks. "It's nothing, dollink. Just make the rat beg for it." He winked. "All of it, see?" I blushed, but winked back.

There weren't too many of us brave enough to be so open about our... er, preferences. Feivel might be fluttery, but he had to have a lot of guts.

My place was only a few blocks away from the bookie joint/deli, but that was some long blocks schelpping our cases. I was worn out by the time we made it up the three flights of stairs to the rat hole I was calling home.

Joe stowed his sax in the closet with my bass, the two instruments snuggling together like they belonged that way. I'd scarcely dropped the groceries on the table and gotten out of my coat. By then, Joe had kicked off his shoes and socks, hung his jacket over a chair, and was taking off his shirt.

I stared. He hesitated. "You don't mind, do you? I don't usually bother with a shirt unless I'm goin' out. I think there's a little nudist blood in me somewhere."

"No. By all means. Be comfortable. Take off anything you want." He stopped while he was still wearing the strappy, ribbed cotton undershirt. Damn it.

On the plus side, he took off his pants. I started to try to control my breathing as he stood there in his boxers, folding his trousers neatly. "You got a coupla hangers, Jer?"

Want a hint of how far in the gutter my mind was with this gorgeous man around? For a split second my overheated brain told me he was asking about my balls. Sanity prevailed, though, and I got him two hangers from the closet, so he could put up his suit neatly.

"Jer, would you please take somethin' off? You're makin' me feel under dressed, here." When I hesitated, he came over and pulled off my tie. "There. That's a start. Now, go on."

He stood there, watching me, while I slowly stripped down to my underwear. I was wearing a thermal underwear, and he cocked his head at it. "I get cold, okay?"

He shrugged. "I didn't say anything. So," he rubbed his hands together. "How do you want me?"

You know, I always thought that having all the blood drain away from your brain into the Southern parts of your anatomy would hinder your brain functions. I must have been right, because all I could manage was, "What?"

"The begging. You know, for my dinner? How do you want me to do it? Big puppy dog eyes?" No puppy dog in the history of the world ever had such large, liquid blue eyes. "On my knees?" He dropped to his knees, hands flopping in front like paws. "Panting?" He let his tongue loll out and panted.

I almost came in my shorts. I quickly snagged my robe off a chair and put it on. "For heaven's sake, get up and eat."

He got up. "All right, Jer. But I usually do my eatin' from that position." He rummaged in the sack. "Hm. Ham and liverwurst. Here..." He handed me a sandwich. "You have the ham, I prefer sausage."

"Excuse me." I left the room for the bathroom down the hall, moving faster than a flapper's fringe when she does the Charleston. Once there, I wet a rag with cold water and stuck it down my pants, desperately trying to wilt my rampant hard on. No such luck.

Finally I gave up and went back to the room, trying to hold my robe so that it didn't look like I was smuggling a Louiseville slugger.

The liverwurst sandwich was gone, and Joe was sprawled out on my bed, licking his fingers. "You wasn't sick, or anything, were ya, buddy?"

"No, no. I'm fine."

"Good." He got up and came over to me. "Otherwise it'd kinda crimp things tonight, wouldn't it?"

"Uh..."

Joe pushed his hands inside my robe, laying his palms flat against my chest. "Ya know, Jer, you really must be cold natured." His fingers found the thrusting knobs of my nipples, and he stroked them through the thermal fabric. "if you're so cold wearin' this blanket that your nipples still get hard." I groaned. He moved in closer with an angelic smile. "Unless maybe it ain't the cold that's makin' 'em stiff, but maybe the heat?"

He kissed me, running his tongue over my lips. "Joe, I..."

"Tell me what you want, Jer."

What I wanted? Well, there was a switch. I was surprised. I'd gotten the impression that Joe, as self centered as he was, would be a selfish lover. It looked like I was wrong. "I...don't know."

He pulled back a little, but his hands never stopped doing magic things. "Jer, don't tell me you're a virgin. Not after that lap dance you gave me at the show."

"Oh. No. No! I'm just... um... well..."

He smiled again. "Shy?"

I sighed. "Well, I'm not sure if that's the right term. I am standing here with a man I met less than four hours ago playing with my nipples."

"You're shy. That's so sweet. Just tell me if you want to top, or bottom."

"Joe, if what I wanted out of life was to lead, I wouldn't play the bass. I'd be in front of the band, waving a baton." He started to say something, "And don't you dare make a comment about what type of baton I'd be waving, or I'll smack you!"

He laughed, pulling me into his arms. "Oo, I just love a tough cookie!" He kissed me again, and this time I opened my mouth and let his tongue slip in. Ooo. Whuff. Let me tell ya, despite what he told a certain blonde a few years later, Joe knew how to kiss. Very warm and wet, soft when it should be, hard when that would make it better. By the time he was ready to come up for air, he knew the inside of my mouth better than my dentist ever thought about.

I was just kind of hanging in his arms by then. The only part of me that seemed to have a bone left in it was my cock. That was harder than a chorus girl's heart. Joe held me up with one arm around my waist, and jerked the robe off, then plastered our bodies together and dived in for another kiss. The hard bulge of his erection pressed firmly to mine. As he ground his hips against me, I felt a warm, spreading dampness on the cloth over my dick, and wondered vaguely if that was his pre-come, mine, or a combination.

He growled against my mouth. "Jerry, are you gonna take off that outfit, or do I peel you like a banana?"

I pulled back a little, and started to take off the top. I was startled into getting it tangled over my head when I felt him jerk my bottoms down to my knees. My prick was so rigid that it smacked me in the belly. Then, before I could sort myself out, my cock was enveloped in the hottest, wettest place it had ever been.

I jerked, and yelped, and Joe laughed. I... you... he...

Have you ever had someone laugh while they have your hard prick in their mouth? Hm, well, if you're a woman, I suppose not. Although given what happened later... No, I'm not gonna go there yet.

Anyway, it is the absolutely most incredible sensation. And I came, right then. God, talk about embarrassed. I mean, not only does it look like I have a hair trigger, but I go off in his mouth, without warning. How rude.

He didn't seem to mind, though. While I was still weakly trying to get to daylight, he grabbed my ass, steadied me, and drank down every drop. When I finally managed to rip the top off, I found him contentedly licking the last few smears off my deflating member.

"Joe, I'm sorry about that. But you..."

He patted my thigh, standing up. "Don't apologize, Jer. I'm glad you liked it. It's just that I didn't really give you much time to enjoy it, did I? Kinda unfair. Get those long johns off and get on the bed with me, okay?"

Okay? Such a mildword.

By the time I got the bottoms of my underwear off, Joe had stripped, and climbed into my narrow bed. I suppose it was just as well that I'd already come. I mean, I'd had a legitimate excuse before. It's perfectly understandable to shoot your load when someone's sucking you. But to cream just from looking at your lover lying there naked... Well, that would be a bit embarrassing.

All I could do for a minute was just gape at him. He was so perfect. He grinned, held out a hand, and said, "C'mere, shy violet."

The second I got on the bed with him, he grabbed me and pulled me under him, lying on top of me. Then he began a slow, sensuous grind. Heaven. I spread my legs so he could settle into the vee, giving him freer access, and started humping up to meet him.

While he pushed his hard cock againt mine, Joe kissed and licked every square inch of my torso he could reach. I was soon damp, tingly, and panting like a dog on an unshaded sidewalk in Georgia during August.

He whispered in my ear. "You gonna let me in, Jer? You like that?" I couldn't talk, my speech center was shorted out, so I just nodded. "Good boy. You got somethin'? I don't want to hurt you, baby." I wordlessly pointed at the night stand. He rummaged in the drawer, and came up with the bottle of hand lotion I used to keep my skin from chapping in the cold Chicago winter weather. "Oh, yeah. This'll work champion. C'mon, doll, get situated."

He helped me lift my legs up and hang them over his shoulders. In that position, I was open for him. He squirted some of the lotion into his hand, and began to stroke it along the crease of my ass. Oh, that felt good! When I felt the first tentative press at my ass hole, I pushed back on it. His finger was sliding up inside of me before Joe quite knew what was happening.

He laughed softly in delight. "Well, ain't you the eager little thing!" He started to work the finger in and out, gently at first, then with more force as I pushed and squeezed with my internal muscles. His eyes were hot as he pushed in the second finger. "You do know what you're doin', don't you?" I smiled at him. "Damn, that's so sexy."

"We've established that you're not popping my cherry," I breathed. "So how about getting on with it?"

"And you're bossy, too. Okay, sweetcheeks." He removed his fingers, and I felt the blunt, spongy head of his cock nudge at my entrance. Then he pushed firmly.

My back stiffened in pleasure as the thick staff slid slowly up inside me It scraped over my prostate in passing, making me buck and push it the rest of the way in with a jolt that made Joe gasp. "Oh, geez."

Now he was panting, and looking a little surprised. I think he had believed up until that moment that this was going to be a more of less fuck-for-his-supper arrangement. He was just realizing that he was going to really enjoy this.

Enjoy it he did. We both did. He started to fuck me with long, smooth strokes, pulling out till just his head was still trapped in my body before sliding back in. Gradually the strokes became shorter, and harder. Finally he was pumping with hard, fast jabs, our flesh smacking together. I was whimpering and moaning in ecstacy. Damn, he was good! No wonder Irma and Max and whoever were so infatuated with him. In his next life, Joe was probably going to come back as some sort of professional stud animal, bull or stallion.

And he was considerate. At least physically. Without being asked, he wrapped his still slick hand around my cock and started to stroke me in time with his thrusts. I whined, and scrabbled at him, raking my nails across his erect nipples. That made him growl, and push my knees back almost to my ears, pounding into me. I yelled his name as my sperm fountained out of me, splashing on his hand and my chest, reaching all the way to my chin. I deliberately bore down on him, milking his buried shaft with my inner muscles, and he came with a groan.

I felt the hot gush, and the slippery fluid eased his way even more, so that the last few thrusts glided, smooth as silk, as he started to soften.

At last he unbent me, lowering my legs and letting his cock slip out of my stretched hole. He lay on top of me, holding me, as I felt his sperm begin to trickle out. Joe kissed my face softly. "That was...was..."

"Tiring?" I suggested.

"Phenominal. Spectacular. Ball draining." He kissed me again. "Can you cook? I'll marry you if you can cook."

I was only half joking when I said, "I'll buy a cookbook tomorrow."