I admired the waiters ass, broad shoulders and height as he leaned across our table Tuesday morning. He had a wide belly and auburn page boy haircut. A quick glance at his nametag told me he was George. He was having a bad morning and I didnt think propositioning him while standing amongst my co-workers a good idea. We played phone tag most the day when he could take calls in the restaurant and I could sneak out of my meeting.

Okay?" Tom whispered. Bill mumbled, okay, as he continued to deep throat Toms eight-inch member. It tasted surprisingly clean considering the heat. He tried to get a better angle for his oral assault on the big guy. Bill bent over about as far as he could go in the tight confines of the oven-like booth. His dress shirt grew wet from exertion and the heat. With his free hand he lifted the standing mans t-shirt and ran his fingers across the fuzz on Toms chest and belly.

Well you know Mitch -- the expressionless night-clad eyes, throbbing perfect rod and then the body of a Greek god cast in polished bronze. But the best part this time around was he wanted me! Again! But, maybe more cautiously. Once the door locked, he swung me on my back and perched over my chest. He slid the bulbous head of his cock within range of my lips and tongue, but saved the shaft to stroke himself.

"Im going to call you Ill," I slurred. "Whys that?" he asked with that grin that always seemed to grace his face when I was around. He stared at me straight on, his pointed chin and pointed nose down, showing off his buzz cut. "Well, originally when we met, I thought your name was Bill Gates. Hence you are buying the tequila tonight." Thered been shots of Jose Cuervo lined up for me when I met him in the lounge of our hotel. "Of course, your name is Gill Bates.

I turned to see the ferry departing for the far island. "No." Theyd rescheduled me for a diverted flight that would depart from Ketchikan hours later than I planned. I called Kevin to warn him Id arrive Ketchikan much later than expected. "You know Ill still be there waiting for you!" He spent a fuckless summer hiking the length of British Columbia. During several phone calls hed promised to throw me down and fuck the shit out of me. He made the same promise over the phone this night.

What were you doing out there ashivering at : in the morning?" "Didnt want my wife waking up when this rattle trap old Volkswagen van of yours came around the corner. So, I took my shotgun, duck decoys and pack out front under the eaves of the house, to wait." "Jeesus! Your teeth still chattering? I should have given you this when you got in the van. Spread your legs. Got them nice and wide? Let me check. Hold still. Here you go.

My girlfriend was coming back to town to live with me. A gay friend had accepted a job somewhere else. Coincidence? "Salt", that was his nickname, had hit on me forever. Id hinted that it might happen someday, but never committed. It wasnt that the idea didnt turn me on, but Salt positively swished when he walked. He was a stereotypic gay man -- too skinny, balding, a moustache. He thought the only reason for going outside was in case the building was on fire. He just wasnt my type.

Im out back on the veranda. Im wearing a red shirt." My e-dates name was, er, Greg. Greg said all the right things over the phone about living close and being there soon. He seemed excited too. Did I mention I wore a short sleeve red shirt? It felt kind of cool on this part of the deck in Seattle in May. I was just passing through on business. At the far end in a large sunny spot stood a big guy in work clothes -- blondish, stern and beefy.

Did I ever tell you of my Ketchikan fantasy-come-true from when I worked there years ago? Still in my early thirties, still tan from summers in the Southwest and sinewy from swinging a pjulaski on the fireline. Oh, and I was still carried just pounds on my " frame. Grey strands graced my brown hair but just enough to be distinguished. On my weekend, they flew me to Ketchikan from Prince of Wales Island and put me up in the Super .

Bill climbed the wide cedar steps leading to the second floor of Jeffs place and knocked at the living room door. Through the cut glass window in the door, he could see the raven-haired man look up startled with the knock, then heard him "Hey!" in response as he hung up the telephone. Bill could see the remains of a six pack on the coffee table and the usual bag of toys, condoms and vaseline. "Wanna fuck?" Jeff asked smiling as he answered the door and pulled Bill in with his left hand. The taller, older man grinned, thinking: "Damn, hes being subtle tonight. Maybe Ive used up the supply of wood chips hes been providing me free.