I've been sent to a three-day conference designed to share ideas about revitalizing the flailing newspaper publishing industry, and it's going to be filled with heady lectures, great panel discussions, and a last-night dinner dance. It's also held near the University of Wisconsin campus ... home to 41,000 undergraduate and graduate students of which about 43 percent are MEN!!
I went on the Web to look at the convention site ... the Monona Terrace Community and Convention Center which is an ultra-cool facility designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and only about a dozen or so blocks from the edge of the U of W campus.
I'm traveling with three other employees of the paper ... Gwen, a 43-year-old wife and mother who is more excited than me to be escaping Ohio (and her family) for adventure, is the only one going I consider a friend. The other two are higher-ups ... I'm not sure I had ever seen them before the airport. At least the paper is giving us each our own accommodations, but it's at a Motor Lodge about 15 minutes from the convention site so we're all going to be crammed into a little rented sub-compact several times each day. Oh, well ... I really want to learn something on this trip, and maybe have a little fun along the way.
DAY ONE
We were 10 minutes late for the opening breakfast ... a guy named Sid in our group had an "intestinal issue" this morning, thus our tardiness. After a continental affair, we were welcomed and thankfully split into smaller groups with all management types hustled away to a separate set of meetings. Bye-bye, Sid.
During two morning sessions, Gwen and I ... we were approaching this like a comedy team ... learned about ways for not letting the Internet run the "flesh and bone" newspaper out of business and how to attract new readers with polls and contests. Gwen also doodled over 100 names for male genitalia on her conference workbook. I've never confessed my homosexual lifestyle to Gwen, but what an odd thing to be sharing with a male co-worker. Oh, shit, I thought, I hope she isn't making a clumsy pass for a steamy entry in her middle-aged memory book!
Lunch was on our own and Gwen and I strolled over to the beautiful and nearby state capital building and found a gyro vendor ... a surprisingly young and buff gyro vendor. He was of Mediterranean decent, with olive skin and wavy, dark brown locks. His nose was wide, as were his overworked biceps which threatened to bust the fabric of his pale green polo shirt. I know Gwen was telling amusing anecdotes about her last time away from family, but I was watching Gyro Boy's every sultry, cat-like move.
The afternoon ... which actually ran until nearly 6 p.m. ... consisted of more seminars and an actual demonstration of new software that made it much easier to file stories from our laptop systems. I really tried to pay attention because this was something that would help me do my job more efficiently. Gwen was a better sport during the afternoon ... she really enjoyed a section we attended about using area high schoolers as effective interns and gauges for popular culture reporting.
After the last session, Team Gwen and Me met up with Sid and the other attendee from our paper, Terry ... a pushing-50 white guy with bad breath that was evident from 20 feet ... at our rental in the parking garage. Terry's friend back in Ohio had grown up near Madison and had recommended a great steakhouse for dinner. I had wanted to explore a bit, but I was honestly just hungry and tired. The steakhouse turned out to be awesome ... one of the best filets I've ever had ... a
nd we even saw several individuals with conference name tags still pinned to shirts and blouses. Mine dangled from a lanyard, always the trendsetter.I think I was in bed by 10 p.m. and had one rubbed out and was asleep very shortly after.
DAY TWO
Sessions ... lunch ... sessions. Lunch, today, however consisted of a small group of weekly paper publishers who talked about their unique place in the media pecking order. These moguls tossed out some pretty fabulous advertising ideas and I saw nearly everyone scratching furiously in their note books or actually texting their home offices.
After the last session of the day ended, we returned directly to the motel where I had hoped to commandeer the rental and see if I could dip my toe in some warm pool of trouble. Madison sits on an isthmus, after all ... gorgeous lakes on three sides ... how hard could it be to find a little "wet 'n' wild" man-on-man action? But the Fates are cruel ... Gwen and Terry actually begged me to let them come out and play; Sid was going to call his wife and grab dinner at a diner just down the street. So after changing into a pair of olive cargo pants and a tight black sleeveless tee, the three of us went to an Italian restaurant ... the kind with kitschy violinists and even a waiter who sings opera if requested. The food was beyond good ... I had ravioli stuffed with four kinds of mushrooms and a light salad. Terry got this giant plate of heavy-looking fettuccine alfredo. I actually have to admit that Terry, when dressed down in jeans and a short-sleeved hoodie, was pretty hot! And maybe the garlic and herbs would tone down his halitosis. Gwen ... poor Gwen ... drank most of her dinner and about an hour later I was in a men's room stall holding her hair while she forcefully emptied the almost-all-alcoholic contents of her stomach. Terry agreed to see her safely back to the motel; I opted to stay out and take a cab over to campus to check things out. As we got Gwen secured behind a seatbelt in the backseat, Terry came closer and said to call if I needed a ride or anything. I realized then that in a game of Rock/Paper/Scissors, Terry's breath would beat them all hands down ... thank God Gwen was nearly comatose!
There was still plenty of light left when I reached the capital building area. The cab dropped me off on Dayton and I proceeded down one of the precise-grid streets that is closed to automobile traffic. Restaurants and pubs were noisy with patrons, as were outdoor cafes and curious little shops and boutiques. And besides all the foot traffic, bikes, 'boards, and 'blades abounded. I walked for blocks and blocks ... winding my way through pedestrians and crisscrossing trendy urban blocks. Occasionally, I just stopped and sat on a bench or grabbed a water at a cafe and watched all the terribly attractive young men walk or roll by. I even followed two frat dudes all the way to the shore of Lake Mendota to a spot dubbed "University Bay" ... I hoped maybe I could watch a little necking or maybe even a clandesting BJ. They kept wandered further west, so I gave up and retraced my steps back to those first few blocks where the bars were located.
Suddenly, on my right, I noticed a wide set of stairs that led up to a second floor of a building ... neon signs for "pool" and "billiards" glowed warmly. I love to play pool and I hoped that some buff U of W students did as well. I entered the noisy place and was thrilled to see so many young people. There were jock types ... some with obvious girlfriends ... and hippie types and biker types and even a few stoner dudes. It was like a buffet of beefcake. I think I was actually licking my lips when I saw this older black guy waving at someone behind me. I continued to scan the room like a raptor for prey when I noticed the black guy was still waving in my direction. I turned my head and was confused that nobody was behind me or really that close to the doorway.
I swiveled back to face this guy and saw that he was pretty cute, even though he seemed a little out of place. He was probably in his early 40s, and he wore colorful board shorts and a crisp white t-shirt. His chest was meaty but nice, and his waist looked like he worked out but carried around some extra pounds ... but it looked really good and natural on him. His hair was cropped short and his eyes were a strange mix of brown and amber. Under the blue fluorescent lights, his skin was a lustrous ebony.
Some new arrivals came through the door so I moved a few feet forward to accommodate them. And damned if being a little closer didn't make this blank guy look familiar. I continued to close the distance and the connection clicked. "Evan?" I asked. "Evan Gordon, right?"
"Got it in one try, hotshot ... how's it hangin'?" We bumped fists like two good friends (which we weren't) and he motioned to the stool opposite him at his bar table. I got as comfortable as a tall person can on an uncomfortable elevated chair and asked him what in the world he was doing here in Madison.
"You do remember that I worked at the paper where you work ... and that I left for another newspaper job ... and that there's a newspaper conference in town?"
I smiled sheepishly to cover for my stupidity. Evan and I had crossed paths for only three weeks before he left our paper to take a top management position at a small daily in Illinois that was closer to his aging parents. I remember Evan as being a very friendly, easygoing guy with a sweet wife and a young son just starting junior high school. His going-away party had been my first chance to meet everyone at the paper. "Yeah, I remember the 'quitter' who left to report about cornfields and scarecrows!"
"That'd be Iowa and Kansas a couple states over," he grinned, taking a long sip of his beer. "In Illinois, we write features about county fairs and petty crime." I laughed along with him and stopped a passing waitress to order a Sapphire martini.
While I waited for my drink, we passed the time with me filling him in on people in Ohio and how I was enjoying my growing career. In turn, I asked him how the conference was treating the "management" and if his sessions were worthwhile. "I've actually got a notebook full of ideas to take back and explore. My team is actually pretty progressive for a small paper and I think if we throw it all against the wall, a few good things will stick."
I was about to respond when my drink arrived. The buxom server placed it on a napkin and I was about to grip the stem of the martini glass when a thin and pale man-boy with ultra-spiky hair and a flawles
s youthful complexion stepped up to the table, lifted my glass, and downed half its contents. "What the fuck, dude," I screeched, "you get lost on the way to your own fuckin' drink?""Hey now," Evan said calmly, lifting his hands like he was a referee separating two prize fighters, "he's with me and I'll gladly get you a fresh drink." He turned his attention toward the slim Asian fellow and narrowed his eyes. "Say you're sorry, Retro!" Retro?, I thought, what kind of name is Retro? The hunky stud ... maybe 20 tops ... muttered something, but it was lost in the background noise. He retrieved my glass and began drinking more gin as he wandered off to wave to a few friends and watch a nearby pool game finishing up.
"Thanks for the refill offer, but I probably should be heading back to the motel," I told Evan as I shifted my weight to stand. "Do you remember Gwen Fischer? She's here at the conference too and had a lot to drink tonight with dinner. I sent her back to sleep it off ... and you seem like you've got your own employee to babysit." With that remark, I motioned with my head back behind Evan. He turned in his seat to see Retro hassling some guy about who got the pool table next. Evan just turned back with bright eyes and a wicked smile ... bright teeth against killer dark skin. Yum!
"Well, Retro's a local so he doesn't exactly work for my paper," Evan answered, lowering his voice as if telling me vital secret information ... I had to actually lean closer to hear ... "but I did pay him for the whole night!"
Suddenly all the noise in the room receded to a spattering of hushed words. Paid for him all night, I thought to myself, like a hustler?
"I think I got that wrong," I said before the silence at our table grew uncomfortable. "You 'paid' for him like in 'renting' him ... like a rent boy?"
Evan's golden eyes sparkled and he practically bellowed his reply. "Damn, you do have superior reporter instincts, sport." He leaned back into a boisterous laugh. "See, when I go away for business I try to play the way I can't at home. And you," he added, "always seemed like a young man who could get behind playing some hard ball if it involved your own balls!"
So, one settled check and a 20-minute cab ride later, I was standing in an alley behind a Mexican restaurant. Retro, who looked like a well-muscled fashion model in his dark jeans and tight t-shirt and vest, unlocked a small unmarked door and flipped on a switch that lighted a view of a narrow staircase. Evan and I ... in that order ... followed the slim, sexy waif up the stairs and into a very spartan apartment. There was a decent TV, a coffee table with some porno mags, and a mini-frig filling the main room. Dead center was a lumpy-looking king-size mattress.
I was about to question Evan about the intelligence of this encounter when Retro noisily threw his keys on a pass-through counter connecting the living room and darkened kitchen. "The place isn't much, but the rent is cheap and when I'm late the guy that owns the cafe downstairs lets me blow him for a little extra time," he said, but it was mostly muffled because Retro was pulling off his shirt, revealing a sculpted and hairless torso. I think my mouth unhinged a bit when he kicked off his expensive sneakers and shucked his pants in a practiced move. Before me stood a hot Asian boy shifting his weight from side to side as the obvious bulge in his royal blue designer briefs grew and twitched.
Again, I wanted to question Evan about the sense of all this, but when I turned to my left, he was already peeling off his own shirt, revealing a smooth chest capped with large, aroused nipples. A trail of wiry hair split his slightly puffy abdomen and descended into his pants. Fuck it, I decided, and furiously began to toss off clothing to catch up. Minutes later, the three of us stood in a circle on the springy mattress completely naked, using our hands to caress each other's stiff bones and fondle our ample ballsacs. As I looked up, I saw that Evan and Retro were already tongue wrestling, sloppy noises filling the mostly-quiet apartment. I smiled and quickly dropped to my knees to inspect Evan's chocolate pole.
Close to nine inches, Evan had a very slender, very dark-skinned rod. The base was much thicker than the head, like a little fuck missile, and covered in wiry pubes. He was uncircumcised with a hefty foreskin. I started chewing and working my fingers and tongue into the sensitive crevice between his skin folds and cock knob. "God damn, you really are talented, sport. Get in there, fucker ... lick out my black cheese ... sniff that black hog before you swallow it!"
Spurred on by the dirty talk, I began snorting like a little piggie and licking sloppy stripes down Evan's heavy cock. He was dripping pre-cum like a leaky faucet ... appropriate for the dingy tenament setting. Evan muttered and moaned while still kissing Retro, and occasionally he broke the liplock to urge me on with creative profanities. Soon I had a good six or seven inches bu
ried down my throat and Evan had terminated his kiss to grab my head and really facefuck me. "Take it, bitch ... take my meat ALL the way down. ALL THE FUCKIN' WAY DOWN!!" he commanded."Yeah, eat my man ... eat that dick!" Retro wasn't as good at the sex talk ... surprising for a young hustler ... but when he stood closer and began brutally whacking the side of my face with his stubby cut dick, I began vacuuming in overdrive. My lips were soon buried in pubes and abdominal flesh.
Breathing got a bit difficult, so I slid off Evan's prong and stood panting and red faced. He pulled me into a bear hug, our swords knocking about ... our nuts grinding together in sheer ecstasy. I then moved to stand beside him, our arms draped over each other's shoulders like lifelong pals, and he presented me with a less aggressive but three-times-as-sensual kiss. "Fuck, can you kiss!" I exclaimed between tender pecks and playful tugs on my bottom lip.
"I can do much more than that, buddy," he threatened with a wink of his eye.
Well, Retro must have heard that friendly exchange because suddenly he dropped to a squat and took over my ministrations on Evan's dick. This is why he hustles, I screamed in my head as, without missing a beat, Retro plunged his face forward and Evan's schlong disappeared, as well as about an inch of surrounding flesh. He's got no fuckin' gag reflex! I was just about to share this observation with Evan when, without warning, Retro released Evan's peter and took my own hard pecker in his lusty mouth and proceeded to lash his tongue all over my tool like a dominatrix with a whipping cat o' nine tails.
"FFFUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKK!!!" I moaned, "How the hell do you do that shit with your tongue?" Retro turned his eyes upward, locking on to my own gaze. He was smiling around my dick and I got a feeling that the rest of the night was gonna be without any more animosity or jealousy.
So with only good tidings, Retro continued to deepthroat Evan's and my dick alternately. Then we all got down on the mattress and formed a different chain with our bodies a bit contorted. Retro was silent except for the sounds of his tongue digging into Evan's bristly buttcrack. Likewise, I was lapping at the hairless pucker between Retro's pale cheeks. I hummed loudly, knowing the vibrations would travel inside his chute and straight to his dick, which I was milking madly. And finally, Evan was the loudest, sniffing and fingering my own shaved gash before plugging what felt like half his face up my shitter. I was close to tears ... it felt so damn good having him root around like a wild animal. It just pushed me harder and caused my rimming to become more frantic and crazed. Soon I was licking all over Retro's smooth can, licking and cooing over the sexy dimples created when he flexed his beautiful ass.
Eventually, Evan's swearing and muttering became almost deafening and he ceased his work on my hole abruptly.
"Okay, Retro, my little fucktoy," he said as he licked his lips and savored the combination of his spittle and the juices from my now fragrant asshole. "This is where you earn the other half of your money!"Retro apparently knew the drill very well. He scooted up to the top of the mattress and buried his face in a fluffy pillow, his ass pushed back and out to display a glistening hole that was pink and slightly irritated from my hectic rimming. Evan wasted no time going down on all fours behind the young Asian whore and notched his cockhead against the tiny, trembling boy pussy. With a slight forward thrust, Evan was in and half way to heaven. He growled deep in his barrel chest and withdrew entirely, Retro's ass lips clinging desperately to the departing phallus. Then BAM! ... that cock plunged back in almost to the hilt. Evan continued to longdick the young man within an inch of his life. And the whole time, I held on to Evan's broad shoulders and pushed him a little forward on every stroke, becoming a small part of the fuck.
On one backstroke, Evan's sizable prick exited Retro with a slight "plop." While the boy dropped his pelvis a little to rest his spread haunches, Evan scooted back a few feet, rubbing his almost-eggplant colored dick and wickedly smiling. "Your turn, stud," he said looking directly in my eyes.
Now, what a smart guy in a situation like this does is ask for a condom. And what a kind guy in a situation like this does is apply a little lube to the bottom to ease the entry. Me ... I almost kicked Evan as I jumped in, got into a squat that put a delicious burn in my hamstrings, and buried my pecker to the balls! I know Retro was experienced ... and I know Evan had loosened him up good ... but that little fucker let out a girly squeal as I sank my meat into him and quickly began to jackhammer his hole. It felt great, but I was on a time clock. The whole time that Evan had been exploring Retro's colon, I had been rubbing my shaft and it was ready to explode. I figured maybe two ... three more strokes ... and I was golden. And that was when Evan's meaty paws grabbed my arms and pulled me back aggressively, tossing my off the edge of the mattress. By the time I had righted myself, that big black son of a bitch already had his cock back in Chinatown!
I was hurting, but inspiration always strikes at the eleventh hour. I stood up and wobbled to where Retro's head rested all sweaty and mashed into the pillow. I nudged him with my foot with more force than necessary and he tilted his head to the side to see what was up. I motioned for the young man to raise up and he did. I pushed my pelvis forward and he took my throbbing member inside his spitty maul. Within seconds, I was coating his tonsils with my worked up froth. A little stream of jizz leaked from the corner of his mouth. I stooped to scoop it off with my finger before languidly placing the sticky digit in my own mouth. I dropped to one knee and lovingly cupped Retro's chin. He looked exhausted but I moved in and shared a cum-filled kiss with him, hopefully sharing a bit of my strenght with him.
The shout of "MOTHERFUCKER!!" broke the moment when Evan detonated inside the Asian. I scuttled back quickly to see dribbles of white leaking from Retro's battered sphincter around Evan's still-engorged log. It was then that I noticed a puddle of scum smeared between Retro's groin and the surface of the mattress. I think he nutted hands free!!
DAY THREE
I texted Gwen in the middle of the night and told her mostly the truth ... I had met up with an old friend and it got so late that I stayed in the extra bed in his hotel room. I also typed that I was running late and would get to the convention center on my own.
Arriving about half an hour late, I claimed the seat that my female co-worker had thankfully saved for me. She quietly asked for more details about my "old friend," but I think I kept it very neutral and not at all question-raising. Our first session on day three was a joint meeting, so I thought I might see Evan sneaking in at some point. He never surfaced, and I wasn't totally surprised because when I did leave his room after a few hours of nothing but heavy sleep, he was snoring softly. I didn't have the heart to wake him, but I did go through his wallet and take a business card that contained his cell phone number and e-mail address. What, you were thinking his money, weren't you ... hell, I'm not a whore but I know a good one!!
Anyway, during a break in the afternoon, our whole team met for coffee and discussed the idea of leaving early. The concept of skipping the dinner dance was fine by me, and Sid had called to see if the airline had any seats on an earlier flight ... they did. Actually, I was scheduled to just drop off my co-workers for their flight home and drive the rental back to Ohio. My editor back home had an interesting assignment he thought I'd enjoy and I could cover it on the drive back. All I was thinking about was contacting Evan and seeing if he was up for another round with just him and me!!
HEADLINE: Group Project Encounters TIGHT Resistance
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