The Senator's Boy (closed for tamgreen)

[tamgreen]

Tommy barely breathed while he waited for a response. Would he get one? Would he ever hear from Damien? Was it over? Holy shit - after all that he hadn't even gotten any pictures and couldn't prove, even to himself, that today had happened at all. What if he started to doubt his own memory?

This string of panicked thoughts passed through his mind in the space of a single breath, and Damien's response came quickly.

awake and hard for you

Tommy bit back an excited chirp and curled his toes in excitement. Awake! And hard for him! And actually responding to his text! Tommy's thumbs danced across the tiny keyboard, sending a rapid-fire series of texts:

omg really?

really really wish I could be there

home in bed and missing you and thinking about you, ALL of you! Especially some parts

guess what I just did - hint I made a big mess, wanna see?

In his excitement, Tommy didn't wait for a response. He whisked aside any thoughts of this being a potentially bad idea and immediately sent the photo he'd snapped of the spectacular splatter of cum across his front.

look what you inspired - and I put my fingers way up my butt, and it was awesome, are you proud of me?

He grinned at his phone and sat up in bed, too charged up now to feel tired. He wiggled his toes again and waited for another response.

 

[ericrodman101]

As soon as Damien pressed send he regretted it. Not that he didn't want to hear from Tommy. To the contrary he wished the boy was here with him now, naked, in the hotel bed where they'd fucked this morning and again this afternoon. Lying in the dark, alone, unmotivated by an evening with the country club crowd and Susanna's 'you fucking pig' still spooling in his head, Damien wished for a hard cock and a willing twink like nothing on earth.

And just as completely he knew the risk, knew that he couldn't have it all, that life would have to change, should have changed, but would have to change from now. It felt like New Year and making resolutions, but a hundred times more urgent. What senator got away with a lifestyle like his? What senator got elected? If he'd been careful up to now, Damien knew he'd been lucky as well. And Paul, who knew what he was like even if he didn't know all the details, could be relied on. Indefinitely? Time would tell.

So tired and drunk and mulling over the shitty mess which was his life, Damien stretched out in bed contemplating what lay ahead, and played with his cock. And try as he might to tell himself it was time to act differently, time to think with his head for a change, he also knew the instant Tommy's text buzzed into life, that he'd throw it all away, risk everything for his own gratification.

awake and hard for you

Jesus Christ! What a fucking idiot. Texting that to a kid in who knew what condition, what company, what circumstances? For all Damien knew Tommy had told his parents everything and was sitting in a police station somewhere with a counsellor and the sex crimes squad setting up a honey trap.

Damien cringed inwardly, then curled up into a ball waiting for it all to come crashing down.

And then his phone buzzed again. Tommy, spilling his heart out from his lonely bed. And then the pic. Tommy covered in cum. Fuck!

I put my fingers up my butt...are you proud of me?

Proud? Damien looked down the bed at his cock, pointing at the ceiling. Proud didn't cover it. Rampant maybe.

You're my guy. Wanna lick that cum

Damien pressed send and waited, feeling the seconds drag. Come on Tommy, text me...what are you doing man? Text me.

He played again with his cock, waiting in the dark, trying to remember the last guy he'd fucked, trying to picture his face and his cock. But all he could see in the dark was Tommy, dark hair, sad eyes, smooth chest, long cock greasy with precum...he looked at the cum splatter picture again. Texting wasn't enough. Damien decided to call.

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy grinned gleefully at his phone. Even Damien's simple, brief responses took his breath away.

You're my guy.

Oh god, was he ever. And oh god, did he ever want Damien here now to lick him clean, and then get him dirty again. This seemed like a great response. He started typing it, and then gasped when the call came through and his phone vibrated in his hands.

He answered the call approximately half a second after his cheerful ringtone sounded and waited a brief moment to make sure there were no sounds to indicate his parents waking. The house remained silent, and Tommy exhaled with relief.

"Hi," he whispered, pressing the phone to his ear. With his opposite hand he gathered some of the mess of cum on his stomach and licked his fingers, the subtle but distinctly wet sound of it coming through on Damien's end.

"Sorry I have to be quiet so my mom and dad don't wake up," he added. He took a breath to say something sexy, maybe ask just how hard Damien was, or if he was touching himself, but Tommy could only manage a soft giggle. It somehow wasn't as easy to do this over the phone as it was in person.

 

[ericrodman101]

"Hi...." Tommy's unmistakable whisper. Then Damien heard a sucking sound. He imagined Tommy was licking cum off his fingers. Fucking hot...... And then some gobbledygook about his parents. Damien was too busy stroking himself to hear.

Silence....

"Hi..." Damien whispered back eventually, listening for Tommy's breathing or sucking or anything. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a laugh.

"Tommy....." what to say next? In the back of his head Damien was still concerned that Tommy might not be alone, and the whole thing a stitch up.

"Are you alone, Tommy?"

Damien heard a sort of 'mmmmm'. The phone was deathly quiet except for Tommy's breathing and Damien's, echoing back in his own quiet room.

"Tommy, I loved the pic you sent me of your cum splattered all over your chest. You know I just wanna lick it all up and then kiss you so we can both taste your cum. Would you like that?"

Just breathing, although heavier and less regular, as if the young guy on the other end of the phone was struggling to maintain composure.

"Tommy, I'm lying here stroking my cock while we're talking, stroking myself, but thinking it's your hand on my cock. Fuck, I'm hard for you, Tommy. I am so ready to do the things we did today all over again. Tommy. Would you like to do those things with me again? Would you?"

Silence and breathing. Damien understood what might be going on with Tommy, but hey, not one word.

"So Tommy, how about we both stroke our cocks and pretend we're stroking each other? And when you are good and hard, send me a pic of that strong, young, tasty cock so I can see what I've been missing? Yeah?"

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy's ear tingled with warmth as the soft sound of Damien's hushed voice reached him. He could hardly breathe now, hardly think. Damien was saying his name, over and over, and each time it sent a shiver of pleasure through his whole body.

And oh god, it was actually turning him on - he'd just cum a few minutes ago, after so many other cums he'd lost count today, and fuck if the mere sound of Senator Damien Hale whispering his name through the phone, just as if they were next to each other in bed, didn't bring fresh life into his resilient 18-year-old cock. He swiped his palm through the remaining mess on his front and used it as lubrication as he coaxed himself back to full hardness. He tried to follow along with Damien, listening to his breaths between words, to the subtle shuffling noises indicating a rhythmic movement.

Every action and fantasy Damien described made Tommy throb. Every goddamned sexy question brought him closer to his pleasure. He pictured everything vividly. He answered each query in the safety of his own mind: fuck yes god fuck fuck Jesus fuck yes yes!

"Yesss," he finally managed to exhale shakily into the phone. "Want... all of that. You... us. Need you. Getting hard. You make me so hard. Thinking of your cock. Hang on."

He broke into steady panting as he stroked himself harder and faster, ignoring the fact that his balls actually felt sore from overwork. Once he felt his cock was at peak "strong, young, and tasty", like Damien wanted, he carefully snapped a closeup shot of it, a little half-dried cum still lingering in the modest little crop of hair at the base.

After texting the picture to Damien, he pressed the phone back to his ear: "Sent - look at my cock. Look what you did. I came like less than five minutes ago and I'm ready to go again. Believe me when I tell you you're a fucking god, Senator Hale. I can't wait to feel your mouth on me again."

Tommy bit his lip and held his breath for several moments, once more worried that his parents might wake - so far he was hearing nothing from the house. He relaxed and trained his ear to pick up any and all noises from his phone as he continued to jerk himself off.

 

[ericrodman101]

Damien broke off the call to examine Tommy's latest picture. Fuck! The boy was an adonis. The young cock looked exaggeratedly large at that angle, red and veiny and juicily slick. And Damien could even make out the dried cum knotting the hair at the base.

"More please," Damien whispered into his phone. "More pics of your gorgeous fucking cock."

The senator stroked himself again, imagining Tommy arranging himself for the next dick pic. He wondered what Tommy's room was like. Clean and antiseptic from his mother's close attention or a fetid dump like Damien's had been at that age. He closed his eyes and imagined being alone in Tommy's room, surrounded by the cum drenched debris of an 18 year old's obsessive masturbation, just like he remembered. When Damien was 18 he could smell his room even on the landing, a cloud of semen scent constantly hovering at the top of the stairs leading to his attic. His parents rarely ventured up into the roof, letting him live the debauched life he chose, bringing his college friends back, men and women, but mostly men, watching porn, emptying his cock, fucking on the bed, the floor, the chairs, even the window ledge, piles of steaming underwear, the flatscreen blaring the sounds of carnal pleasure. How the fuck did the neighbours not complain, let alone his long suffering parents?

The house had long since been sold, his parents passing away. There'd be a a plaque there one day, Damien liked to think. 'Childhood home of Damien Hale'. But what would he be remembered for?

Another pic pinged into his consciousness. Damien 'mmmmmed' into the phone in anticipation and pressed 'open'. But before he could enjoy this latest cock-swelling delight, there was a commotion in the hallway. Someone, probably drunk, was falling against the walls and calling out incoherently.

And before he had time to even take stock, they were banging on his door.

"Damien, you fuck! Open the door!"

Jesus, Susanna......

Damien leapt to his feet. His phone slipped away into the bedding. He made an initial grab for it, but unsuccessfully.

"Damien, you cocksucking fuck!"

Naked, he ran to the door and opened it. Susanna fell into his room, and lay at his feet.

"You stupid fucking bitch," he said as loudly as he could under his breath. "Do you want to wake everyone? Get security here? Jesus!"

Susanna tried hard to stand, but fell back onto her ass. She still looked beautiful, even in this state. Her eyes were suddenly aware of his nakedness, his proud penis, shining and slick even in the moonlight streaming in.

"Who have you got in here, Damien? Who are you fucking. One of your fucking twink bumboys? Who?"

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy writhed with pleasure at Damien's whispered request to see more of his cock - his gorgeous fucking cock! He sighed warmly and thought about how to take a more enticing picture. He'd certainly never done anything like this before, but fortunately, Damien seemed easy to please.

Deciding to give him a different angle, Tommy placed the phone beneath his hard cock this time, with a suggestion of his tight balls swelling in the bottom of the frame. In the background of his upstanding shaft was his flat stomach and chest, and way back, slightly out of focus, his face. He hadn't been thinking about his face being part of the picture, but it was there peeking past the shaft and showing a pleased, perhaps even proud smirk despite the blur. A few dark strands of sweat-dampened hair had fallen across his face, obscuring it ever so slightly.

He sent the picture and held his breath for Damien's response. But instead, he heard some banging and commotion in the background. Tommy exhaled and then quickly gasped in another breath.

"Damien - what's going on?" he whispered urgently. "Should I hang up? Shit...!"

Damien's phone having already been dropped and lost in the tangled sheets, Tommy found himself alone. His heart thumped. Shit, shit, shit. Had he gotten Damien in trouble? Had he gotten himself in trouble? Would they be caught? Oh god, why had he sent those pictures? What if someone recognized him? If they ended up in some kind of scandal story in the news, it would end both of their careers. Not that Tommy would be losing much. But if he lost Damien over this....

Shit!

A female voice - was that his wife?

"Who are you fucking. One of your fucking twink bumboys?"

Tommy's heart dropped. He felt a burning in his throat. Just how many "twink bumboys" did Damien have? It wasn't as if he didn't know perfectly well that Damien slept around plenty. It wasn't as if he hadn't suspected earlier that he was just one of many. But dammit, Damien had really made him feel special. Loved, even. He felt so stupid and naive.

He told himself to hang up the phone, but he couldn't manage it. He had to listen. He had to know more about Damien, about his wife. And despite the feelings of heartbreak and worry Susanna's tirade had inspired, Tommy found that he was still hard as a steel rod.

And why wouldn't he be? The darker side of his mind reminded him of his fantasy of Damien's wife being so mad about him fucking around with an eighteen-year-old boy. It was coming true, right at this very moment, and Tommy was here to listen in. He pressed his ear tightly to the phone as his hand continued to stroke himself, slower now, leisurely working up to edging.

The question was, did Damien know he was listening? What if the whole "we both fuck who we want" thing Damien had told him about his relationship with his wife was a lie? What if Damien was about to grovel and assure his wife there was no twink, and that he loved her? What if he fucked her to make her feel better? Ugh! Tommy couldn't think of anything more repugnant than the man having sex with his wife. If that happened, he'd have to hang up the phone for sure.

 

[ericrodman101]

Damien stood and watched Susanna flailing around. Should he help her up or just leave her there on the floor? She was grabbing at stuff and kicking out, making way too much noise for a hotel at 2am. He put his hands under her arms and helped her to a chair.

"Why the fuck did you come back here?"

She looked him up and down, slowly, her eyes lingering on his lower half before ascending to his face.

"I came back," Susanna slurred, "because I am fucking lonely." She started to sob.

Damien crossed his arms. "Don't give me the fucking lonely act. You know the deal. If you want to stay the night with me, that's fine. We play the loving husband and wife, like tonight at the dinner. Or you go home and fuck the pool boy. But you don't cause a scene. Ever."

"Fuck the pool boy. Ha! And drag you off him first."

"Well whomever it is then. Tennis coach? The girls' teacher? Your shrink?"

Susanna laughed scurrilously. "You've been making a list then, you shit?"

Damien stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed, hoping to feel his phone bite into his ass, but no luck.

"Don't be so fucking melodramatic. We fuck who we like. It's worked fine up till now. Why the problem?"

Susanna tried to stand, but thought better of it. "Because I'm the one playing the good little wife and you're the one off to Washington. When we all know it should have been the other way round."

"We all know?" Damien countered. "We? Just be patient. You'll have a turn."

"Patient!" Susan a looked around as if trying to identify something to throw. Or drink. "For all I know I'll open National Enquirer in the morning with you and your bumboy on the cover and we'll both be sunk. My turn will be selling Amway in Silver Spring while you rediscover yourself in the fleshpots of Bangkok."

For the briefest moment Damien contemplated moving to Bangkok and getting wasted while fucking himself senseless in the boy bars off the Patpong Road.

And Susanna picked up on his hesitation. "See. I know you too well, Damien Hale. I know politics is just one of your primal instincts, like twink fucking, like....oh what the fuck?"

Damien smiled. Susanna would be sober in the morning and what she'd remember of this speech, she'd dutifully forget, do her make up, don the right gear, deliver the girls to school and smile for whatever camera or constituent or cause required it.

"And yours," Damien said. "You've got just as much invested in this as I have. I go down, you go down. It's a promise."

As he watched her lips form the words to respond to the threat, he moved a little. His phone dislodged from the bedding and dropped to the floor with a bang. Susanna didn't appear to notice and Damien did what he could to keep his eye on it without looking at it directly. Had Tommy heard any of that and was he even still on the line?

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy's hand paused on his cock. He didn't catch every word, but he was more or less able to follow the conversation. So they really did have an "arrangement". But what was the woman's problem? Was it just that Damien preferred young men? Was she some kind of homophobe? Was she jealous? Did they feel anything for each other but contempt?

Did they both actually fuck the pool boy?

Tommy sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn't sure whether this was still fun or not. Susanna seemed to be painting Damien as some kind of out of control twink addict, and he was hardly denying it. Tommy was just one of an endless series. As soon as there was a more accessible, more fuckable boy, Damien would forget him. He felt ever more foolish for thinking otherwise.

But he could still salvage a fantasy from this, from Susanna's outrage about her husband's sexual tastes. He could imagine her walking in while he was fooling around with Damien. She would freak out, be disgusted by them. They would laugh and keep fucking - there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

THUNK!

Tommy gasped and pulled back as Damien's phone hit the floor. Hesitantly he pressed his ear to the phone again to see if the call was still active. What were they doing now?

 

[ericrodman101]

Susanna didn't find the words she was looking for, but just mouthed soundlessly until falling back into the chair and weeping again.

Damien, stark naked, hands folded across his chest, viewed her with suspicion. He knew Susanna was genuinely upset to a point. I mean, she's pissed, he thought. But it was a well worn act, albeit always accompanied by alcohol.

"It's a shame you drink," he said, "and get yourself into this state."

She looked up at him with her red eyes, looking even more crestfallen if that was possible.

"We had a good marriage, didn't we? A good sex life?"

"Sure," Damien said, "and an understanding. I don't know why you are revisiting this. Especially tonight. Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed, you cocksucking fuck," she said with a new lease of life. "You're off to Washington in the morning and I'm off to parents' day at the girls' school. On my own!"

Fucking parents' day. Damien had forgotten. Or Paul had. It wasn't a good look, missing a family function, especially the first family function after the victory. Tongues would wag.

"I can see you're worried now," she said. "Not so fucking clever now, are we?"

He felt like shutting her up, rubbing her nose in it, the stupid bitch.

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it?"

Wrong question. Open ended. Inviting a response he might not predict. First rule of politics broken. And with Susanna who was smarter than any politician he'd encountered, including himself. He watched Susanna stand, apparently unaffected by what she'd drunk, and walk over to where he stood. Her exaggerated, sexy walk, still in those heels, still in that dress showing too much of her luscious cleavage. He knew what was coming, but a good half second behind it actually occurring. In one move Susanna planted her lips on his and grabbed his cock tightly, as much her captive now as her lover.

"I want you to fuck me, Damien," she said, pulling her face back an inch or two, but tightening her grip on his cock. "I want you to fuck me. Not make love. Fuck. A transaction, a political compromise, a way out of a fix. You get my drift? I don't care how, I don't care if you cum or not, but sweet Jesus, if I don't cum then we'll keep fucking until I do. And if you don't care for my offer, then you can pack your bags and explain why the guy in those photos fucking the twinks on the beach in St Martin looks a lot like you."

 

[tamgreen]

You're off to Washington in the morning and I'm off to parents' day at the girls' school.

Tommy gulped. Of course... Damien was off to Washington. Because he was a senator now. And he barely had time for his kids. His goddamn kids. There would be no room for Tommy in this mess of baggage. This game of mutual threats and guilt between man and wife was getting steadily less and less exciting. He knew he ought to hang up and quit eavesdropping on this trainwreck, but he hung on a little longer out of morbid curiosity.

It went quiet for a bit, and then Tommy heard subtle noises he could have sworn were kissing... or more.

Tommy gritted his teeth. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. He might have if he could afford a new one.

Then Susanna was... blackmailing Damien?! Holy shit! If she had pictures and could use them to hurt him anytime she wanted, he'd have to keep her happy constantly.

"Bitch," Tommy hissed, and quickly ended the call before he had to overhear her getting the orgasms she was extorting from her husband. Or before he destroyed his phone in a fit of anger.

Tommy plugged his phone in to charge and cleaned up his remaining mess of congealed cum before rolling over to face the wall. He tried very hard not to cry. Being heartbroken was stupid. Damien had fucked his wife, and plenty of twinks, long before Tommy had entered the picture, and he'd keep on doing both. He would probably have a whole new collection of Washington twinks and tell them all he loved them.

He sniffed and cursed himself and reached down to squeeze his cock, which by this time was totally deflated. The best he could do now was try to forget everything.

 

[ericrodman101]

Sunday dawned darkly. Damien noticed the light through the shades several times before he woke fully. And even then he kept his eyes pressed shut.

Try as hard as he could, memories of last night intruded upon him like someone using an electric drill in the next apartment.

God, he'd fucked her. He'd fucked Susanna, like she'd asked, like she'd told him, like she'd forced him to do. Forced him? How else could he describe it? It was an offer, her offer. Fuck me or the photos on the beach in St Martin would be released. How the fuck could I be so careless with those photos, he said to himself, over and over, trying to keep out the light as if the darkness would keep him safe.

But it was no good. The morning forced its way into his head. Not just the light, but the noises of the day, traffic coming and going, people in the hall, plumbing, doors banging. Strange how the hotel had seemed so quiet and private before with Tommy. And now with Susanna, it felt like Times Square on a Saturday night and he, Damien, was naked and chained to a lamp post while the passing crowd jeered.

Strange how that dream came back to him as he slipped in and out of a half doze. He'd fucked Susanna like she asked. And was it so bad? It was just a fuck. She reeked of alcohol, and she was...what was the word...a bit loose after Tommy's tight ass. Oh Jesus, he'd fucked her in the ass. He'd fucked Cockette in the ass. The line sidled back into his consciousness from somewhere far, far away. Susanna's college perversions. Not just a cocksucker, but an ass on demand. What were the guys doing now, he thought. The guys who fucked Susanna and her friends at college. And who fucked me, Damien thought. Where were those beautiful young men who'd fucked me?

He dozed again, crazed images of his sex life blinking through his head like an unedited porn tape. And then woke with a start. His hand crept across the bed. Slept in, but empty. Where the fuck was she now?

Damien sat up, too quickly. His head swam and he felt queasy. She was not in the room. Jesus. And in her condition too. Her hangover must be crippling, he thought, but not enough to keep her from waking first.

And then came a knock at the door. Damien glanced at the bedside clock. 8.30. Jesus, fucking Jesus! He grabbed his robe and climbed out of bed. When he cracked the door, it was Paul.

"You OK?" his friend asked.

Damien grunted a neutral response.

"It's just that Susanna's car is parked in a garden bed. They want it moved and I didn't want a scene. Is she here?"

"Jesus, Paul, what the fuck? I don't fucking know..." He felt like throwing up.

"You look terrible," Paul said, gently pushing the door open and letting himself in. "I didn't realise you had so much to drink last night."

Damien surrendered to Paul's inquisitiveness and stepped aside.

"She's not here" he said, sweeping his arm round dramatically to prove the point.

And then they heard Susanna's sing song voice from the bathroom. Paul raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"No...." Damien said, "she's in the bathroom."

Before he could say anything else or even assess the mess he was in, Susanna stepped into the room, washed and dressed and looking like a senator's wife on the campaign trail, without a hint of last night's wreckage. How the fuck....Damien thought.

"Morning Paul," she said. "Morning darling."

She walked over and kissed Damien on the mouth. "Thought I'd pop back for some us time," she said to Paul. "But I won't stay for breakfast. Got to pick up the girls."

Susanna gathered her things, shoved them in her handbag and made for the door, opened it and stepped into the hall, then turned back.

"And I found this," she said, holding her hand out to Damien. In it she held his phone. "Who's the cute teen guy with the enormous cock?"

She threw him the phone and left.

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy was up before seven in agony, wishing the whole world would just go away. His alarm reminded him he was on the 8-4 shift this morning, and he was sorely tempted to call in sick.

He straightaway checked his text messages - still no response after he'd sent Damien that dick pic with his face in the background. If only he could take it back.

"Fuck," he sighed. He desperately wanted some word from Damien, yet was also relieved that things had gone silent. At least this way he could try to forget it ever happened rather than draw out something that would only end in more angst anyway.

He cursed again when he'd thrown off his covers and found a rock hard erection waiting for him, as if to remind him obnoxiously that there was some unfinished business. The best he could hope for this morning was quietly beating off in the shower, but he didn't particularly want to. Instead he thought about shrill, drunken Susanna clip-clopping around in her perfect Senator's Wife high heels, looking for balls to chop off and keep in a jar in her purse that she could admire between dropping her kids off at daycare and ruining her husband's life. That was an effective enough boner killer for the time being.

"What's got your mind so occupied, kiddo?" his mom asked as she drove him to work.

Kiddo - really? Did she still have to call him that when he was almost nineteen years old?

"Thinking about a girl?" she pressed, a gently teasing and perhaps hopeful smile on her face.

"A woman," Tommy said drily. He certainly was thinking of one. Of a specific one and how much he despised her.

"Oh, pardon me!" mom tittered, her expression lighting up. "You know you can talk to me about women or anything else, right baby?"

"Uh-huh," Tommy sighed. He gave her a sidelong glance, wondering if she'd be so eager to know what was going on in his head if she knew even a little of it. "Being in love really sucks."

His mom made a sympathetic cooing sound and ruffled his hair. "It sure can at your age. Just make sure you... you know... treat the ladies nicely and be... careful. Safe."

Tommy fought the instinct to roll his eyes. He thanked her for the ride and hurried inside to clock in.

This morning, the whole staff was buzzing about how some fucking idiot had parked their car in a garden bed and how they'd have to get it towed if it was still there in an hour.

Today he'd be helping serve breakfast. Tommy's stomach roiled bitterly, dreading the possibility of familiar faces showing up. What if Damien came in? What would he say?

 

[ericrodman101]

Paul followed Damien across the room until both men were standing by the window. Three floors below, Susanna's black BMW was parked in a rose bed. Two gardeners fussed about, seemingly unsure what to do. They'd placed orange road cones where the back end of the car obstructed a path, but there were no morning walkers about.

"She must have been very drunk last night," Paul said.

"We both were," Damien said. "We fucked."

"That's nice," Paul said, then laughed nervously. "I mean..."

"I know what you mean. Nice that we're pretending to be husband and wife. I don't remember much about it."

Susanna emerged from the hotel, walked decisively over to the car and had a brief conversation with the gardeners. One of them seemed to want the key, but Damien could see she insisted on moving the car herself. She looked fabulous, hair and skirt billowing in the breeze, long tanned legs peaking out from what she wore. He imagined what she was saying and how the two men would be deferring and apologising even though it was Susanna who had caused all the trouble. She opened the door and climbed in, started the car, reversed off the roses, and drove away, with no more fuss than if she was leaving any car park. The gardeners regrouped to survey the damage.

"And the cute teen guy with the enormous cock?"

Damien wondered how much to tell Paul. Not that his friend couldn't guess. The phone was in the pocket of his robe where the photos Tommy had sent were only the latest pics in his collection. What sort of idiot kept pics like that on his own phone, for fuck's sake? The phone the taxpayers would be paying for from tomorrow. Maybe he should have been more careful, but it was too late for that. More careful in college, more careful at work, more careful in St Martin, more careful yesterday. No, the whole twink thing would just have to be managed.

And if Paul was going to manage it, Damien would have to come clean. No secrets. No surprises. Just one of those things like allergies and phobias and old wounds. 'The Senator likes to fuck twinks,' Damien imagined Paul saying to someone who needed to know. 'Don't worry. It doesn't affect his ability to do his job. Just so long as he gets to relax after a hard day of campaigning, with his cock up an 18 year old's ass. Do you have any young guys available for the Senator? He's not fussy. And he'll be eternally grateful....' Fuck!

But Paul was ahead of him. "Damien, I think we need to talk...about...you know. Your personal habits."

Damien laughed loud and long, until he coughed breathlessly. "Man, that was priceless. My personal habits."

He smiled at his friend, but Paul looked grim.

"I thought that maybe you had things under control. No? But something has happened. Last night? A kid on the staff?"

Damien didn't need to nod or affirm. This was why Paul was the guy to run his life. He knew everything or could work it out. Damien was a little disappointed that he was so predictable, but then he and Paul had been buddies for a while.

"OK," Damien said after a long pause. "Over breakfast?"

"Jesus. Not in the dining room. We'll order room service and talk here."

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy was starting to think everything would be alright. It was coming up on 9am and he hadn't seen Damien or Susanna. Probably Damien had a flight to catch or something. Tommy also had a relatively simple task this morning that involved minimal interaction with diners - he was going back and forth from the kitchen to the breakfast buffet, monitoring what needed replenishing and occasionally restocking items.

However, he remained distracted, and at one point while hurrying into the kitchen he accidentally went in the Out door and collided with a waiter, causing him to drop a tray and swear at him bitterly.

"Sorry... I'm sorry!" Tommy babbled, frantically ducking down to help clean up the mess and nearly headbutting the guy in the process.

"Just get out of my way!" snapped the waiter.

"Tommy, for fuck's sake!" one of the kitchen supervisors barked. "Get your ass over here!"

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek and humbly obeyed, trying not to knock over anything in the process.

"I can't have a clueless kid running around here like a headless chicken right now - there's too fucking much to do and I don't have the patience. I'm switching you to room service duty, presuming you can roll a goddamn cart in and out of an elevator without overturning it! You think you can handle that?"

Tommy nodded vigorously, not trusting his voice at the moment.

"And tie your hair back, or I swear to God I'll shear you myself!"

Tommy backed away from the kitchen supervisor now brandishing a butcher knife at him and quickly pulled his hair back, securing it with an elastic band around his wrist that he'd meant to use earlier and forgotten about. In a few minutes he was pushing a cart holding a hot breakfast for two under freshly polished stainless steel domes. He checked the delivery ticket as he got into the elevator. Was he just paranoid or was that room number familiar?

"Oh god, please no...."

As soon as he stepped out onto the correct floor, he knew it was Damien's room. Delivering to Damien and that fucking bitch seemed like about the last thing he could handle right now. He could just about abandon the cart and quit his job right now rather than face them. What if they were still naked in bed? The whole room would smell like sex.

Tommy braced himself and just determined to get this over with. At least he might get a decent tip.

Holding his breath, Tommy knocked on the door.

 

[ericrodman101]

With little coaxing, Damien told Paul everything. His friend looked stern, nodding and holding his chin, but saying almost nothing. And when Damien had finished, Paul just stood by the window, staring at something outside.

Damien waited patiently for Paul to speak, but in the end, the silence got the better of him. "Jesus, Paul. Say something. Anything. Am I a fucking idiot or what?"

"You're a fucking idiot," Paul said without looking away from the window. Then more silence.

"And...."

"And what?" Paul said."I mean, what else do you want me to fucking say? It's OK? I'll manage everything? You just keep fucking anonymous twinks and I'll make sure there are no consequences?"

Paul turned, and rushed furiously across to where Damien sat on the end of the bed, swinging his legs under the robe.

"You are a fucking cunt, Damien," he said, poking his finger at his friend, landing several pointed blows on Damien's chest. "A fucking, shitting cunt. It's like Susanna said to you, if you go down, she goes down too. Well, so the fuck do I. Do you have any idea how unbelievably fucking stupid you are? I mean, anyone might have fantasies, might even have indulged them at times. But the rest of us, Damien, the rest of the entire fucking population of the entire fucking world have grown up and learned self control. Do you understand?"

Damien nodded. "Sure. And keep your voice down." He wanted to say more, but Paul was just too upset to try to find the right words. The silence didn't work either.

"Is that all you can fucking say?" Paul said. "Sure, like you've acknowledged everything in one word and now it's OK? Fuck! And you want me to keep my voice down? I haven't even fucking started yet. Jesus, jesus, fucking jesus! I mean, where is this kid? Has he told his parents? The police? Management? Posted it on fucking Facebook? In a sexual relationship with the junior senator from Maryland?"

Paul returned to the window.

"Well, not as far as I know," Damien said. But on reflection, what he knew was mostly guesswork. And Tommy might be 18, but he was no hard head, no man of the world. Damien was almost one hundred percent sure Tommy had been a virgin twenty four hours ago, and now he was an active cock sucker, his ass had been digitally penetrated, he'd been deep throated, and he'd swallowed a lot of cum. "I mean, I haven't actually stuck my cock up his ass, if that makes any difference."

Paul gave him a withering look, walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Damien stopped swinging his legs and thought about the seriousness of the situation. He was wondering how quickly he could get a flight out when there was a knock at the door and a familiar voice called 'room service'.

When Damien opened the door, Tommy stared back. Damien smiled, hoping to have it reciprocated, but his young friend frowned.

"Hey big man," Damien said. "What good luck that you're working on room service this morning. I am so glad you came by. Bring the trolley inside and stay for a moment. We need to talk and there's someone here you need to meet." He swung his eyes towards the closed bathroom door, hoping Tommy would understand.

 

[tamgreen]

Seeing Damien's face again filled Tommy with a chaotic cocktail of love, lust, and anxiety. He gulped and rolled the breakfast cart inside the room. The door clicked shut behind him. Why did he feel like he had walked into a trap?

Hey big man.

Just the thing Damien would say. Tommy stared back at him with curiosity and a mild degree of suspicion. Had Damien just been stroking his ego all along to earn his trust? Had Tommy been played, naive, inexperienced 18-year-old that he was? Did Damien play all his twinks like this, in who knew how many states and countries? God, it still made him melt, but now he wasn't sure what to think.

There's someone here you need to meet.

Tommy's eyes widened in alarm.

"What...?" he breathed, panic rising up in him. Why the hell would Damien want him to meet his wife? Was it possible they'd come to some sort of understanding after that sick blackmail act?

And was the understanding in Damien's favour, or was Damien about to throw Tommy under the bus? What could Susanna extort from him?

Tommy shuddered. All of a sudden he felt horribly guilty for thinking anything bad of Damien, and desperate for touch. Part of him wanted to strip down right now and jump Damien's bones. He wanted to rub Susanna's face in it like a bad dog. Instead he just leaned in and pulled Damien into a kiss. He didn't let it linger - he didn't want to give Susanna more photo ops to use as weapons. He pulled back, blushing, and with a small gasp, turned to face the bathroom as he heard the door open. The colour that had flooded his cheeks drained away.

But it wasn't Susanna emerging from the bathroom. It was a man. Tommy's lips parted in confusion, and then he turned to Damien with concern. Just how many people had Damien fucked in the past 24 hours?!

 

[ericrodman101]

Damien watched Tommy closely as he spoke. The 18 year old looked stunned, then alarmed, almost as if he was going to be sick. For a moment Damien thought about ending the whole thing here and now. He loved what they'd done together yesterday and he wanted to do it again as soon as possible. And more. He wanted to teach Tommy everything.

But nothing is perfect. And here they were with Paul, who knew what had happened, ensconced in the bathroom. Damien indicated as much when he glanced across, making Tommy blush. And then the young man surprised his older lover. Tommy reached up and kissed Damien on the mouth. Not a long kiss. Just a peck. Damien tried to decide what Tommy meant by it. The best he could come up with was the kiss was some sort of punctuation mark, a full stop, the end of their first day together and the start of chapter two, the part where someone else knew what was going on.

And then even as the bathroom door opened and Tommy looked towards the newcomer and Damien saw the confusion on his face, he realised what was actually going through Tommy's mind. Damien hadn't said who was in the bathroom, just that there was someone he should meet. Of course Tommy was expecting Susanna to emerge, for there to be an acknowledgment, an explanation, a scene maybe. Was the kiss some sort of risk, a chance for Susanna to be confronted?

And then Paul emerged. Older, wiser, conservative Paul. Damien tried to remember what he'd told Tommy about Paul. Indeed, what he'd told Tommy about any of his political arrangements. His mind was a blank. As far as he could recall, politics and Tommy he'd pretty much kept separate.

And even as Paul crossed the room, a neutral expression on his face, arms by his side waiting to be introduced, Damien weighed up just dismissing Tommy, thanking him for bringing in the breakfast trolley and waiting for him to leave.

But Tommy was rooted to the spot with fear and confusion, and just plain gravity pretty much.

"Tommy," Damien began, "this is my good friend and political colleague Paul. Paul Prentiss."

Paul held out his hand, which Tommy took unexcitedly, muttering something which might have been 'how do you do, Mr Prentiss', but indistinctly.

"I've told Paul everything," Damien said, watching Paul nod reassuringly. "It seemed for the best after what we did together and what might happen next."

Paul's face said 'shut up and let me talk', and Damien thought how guarded he sounded, almost as if he was readying Tommy for the brush off and the big fat check to buy his silence. And was that a such a bad idea? Why hadn't he raised it with Paul just now? And why the fuck hadn't Paul proposed it? Tommy was a great fuck, the perfect fresh, passive, blank-page twink fuck. But he was not the only fish in the sea. And if Damien was going to have to buy his silence, then he might just as well spend the money on rentboys or holidays in the Caribbean. Except that meant scheduling and taking leave and booking flights and finding the right resorts, whereas Tommy was here, standing in his room, his fuckable body barely covered by the hotel uniform. Jesus, if Paul hadn't been there, Damien would be tearing Tommy's clothes off, throwing him on the bed and exploring his ass.

Which made him hard. Damien looked down to see if his cock was tenting the robe and realising he should have dressed, and then looked up to find Paul watching him check out his own cock. Or am I just getting paranoid, Damien thought.

"Well Tommy," Paul said in that soft, firm, diplomatic tone. "Like Senator Hale said, he's told me everything and I just want to say, you can trust me to be honest with you, and discreet, and not to judge you or the senator."

'The senator', Damien thought, 'strikes the right tone. I'm not just some sleazy teen-fucker, but a senator with needs. Let's be adult about this for the good of the country'.

"Now Tommy," Paul said, gesturing him to sit on one of the two chairs which flanked a small writing desk, "Do you have any questions you want to ask, or anything you want to get off your chest?"

'Like that t-shirt', Damien thought, then rebuked himself for not taking this seriously.

"Anything at all?" Paul said. "Is there anything you need, or anything you want Senator Hale to explain about what happened. Or maybe to apologise to you."

'Apologise?' Damien, sitting on the end of the bed now, looked closely at Tommy who still looked just as confused as the moment the bathroom door opened. He was all ears.

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy sat down in the chair, suddenly looking very small. He sat very still and neat and expectant, as if he'd just been put on trial, his eyes wide, still stunned, confused, and worried. He stared at Paul, older, professional, handsome Paul, wondering if he could ask if they'd had sex or if he even wanted to know the answer to that. It was weird enough just knowing this guy knew everything about what happened.

...anything you want to get off your chest?

Had he done something bad? Was Paul expecting some kind of confession? Tommy felt like the man was looking for something specific from him and he had no idea what it was. Like there was a test he hadn't studied for, and now he was being called into the principal's office to answer for it. Not that he had much frame of reference for such an experience, having been homeschooled for many years. That sheltered life had done nothing to prepare him for adult situations or handling confrontations with authority figures. It wasn't taking much to make him fall apart.

"I...," he stammered, not sure where this sentence was going even as he began it. His wide gaze shifted from Paul to Damien. "I'm... sorry. I mean... if I got you in trouble, or something...? I swear I didn't tell anyone."

And why was Paul suggesting Damien had something to apologize for? His eyes flicked between them, even more confused.

"Should I... not have sent that picture? Oh my god..."

His cheeks went pink, and he drew his knees up against his chest, making himself even smaller. What if Susanna had seen his picture? What if she had it and was planning to use it for some evil purpose? Was something already in motion? Was that why Paul was here? Was he on some sort of disaster management mission?

"Oh my god," he repeated, on the verge of tears. "Did she see it? Does she have it? I'm gonna get fired, aren't I? Am I gonna get blackmailed too?"

The tears spilled over, to his embarrassment, and he quickly knuckled them away. He stared up at Damien plaintively.

"I just want to be with you. She's ruining everything, isn't she?"

He bit his lip and paused his desperate babbling as he finally noticed the tent in Damien's robe. Everything came back to him then - the feeling of Damien's cock in his mouth, the smell of him, the taste of him, all the delicious things he said while they fooled around. God, he needed more of that. Soon. Now.

His eyelashes were still matted with tears, and now he was eye-fucking the hell out of Damien, despite all his worries and confusion.

 

[ericrodman101]

Damien was moved by Tommy's distress.

"Hey big man, calm down," he said, beckoning to Tommy to join him on the bed and ignoring Paul's look of caution. "You've done nothing wrong. Really. Stop crying and come over here."

But even before Tommy could react, Paul intervened, stepping in between them and speaking, still in that soothing tone, but a little more purposefully.

"Senator Hale is right, Tommy. You've done nothing wrong. And it's really important to stay calm and talk through what you want, what we all want at this sensitive time. I'm not sure what you mean about blackmail. No one is going to blackmail anyone. I'm sure whoever said that....Susanna?....OK...I'm sure if you heard Mrs Hale talking like that she was just making a joke or exaggerating a little."

Paul looked at Damien for endorsement. Damien nodded.

"Tommy, what you need to know...what Senator Hale should have told you right from the start, is that he and Mrs Hale have an arrangement....a mature arrangement....something adults who respect each other agree to do. Everyone has needs. I have needs. You have needs. And to stay happy we need to do things that make us feel good. We need to find the things we can do which please us and make the people around us happy. And that's what brought you and Senator Hale together. A sort of mutual happiness. You're both really lucky, don't you agree? Yes....? And Susanna....Mrs Hale thinks you and the senator are really lucky too."

"Really lucky," Damien said. "Happy for us."

Paul went on. "And as you know Senator Hale has an important job to do. It keeps him in the spotlight, doing good things for so many people. And not everyone feels the same way about what makes you and Senator Hale happy the way you do. Am I making sense? Yeah?"

Paul looked back at Damien again for affirmation.

"So it's important, vitally important, if you want to stay happy not to talk about this. It's your beautiful secret, Tommy. Yours to cherish. You wouldn't want to do anything to spoil that, would you? No....I can see we understand each other very well. You're a good boy."

Paul put a hand on Tommy's shoulder. Damien watched the young man recoil.

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy mostly nodded along at what seemed to be the right times, continuing to be distracted by what was under Damien's robe. By the end of Paul's speech, however, he was starting to feel a little offended. He shrank back and narrowed his eyes at the man who seemed to be going somewhere with his carefully sugared words but just ended up telling Tommy very sweetly to keep his trap shut. Damien telling him in bed that he was a good boy was quite a different thing than his PR coach or whatever Paul was saying it in this context.

"Look... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but there's no need to speak to me like I'm a dog or a little kid," Tommy sighed, wiping his face so the tears wouldn't interfere so much with his insistence on not appearing to be a kid.

"Maybe 18 is pretty young to you guys," he continued, managing to sound obstinate and nervous at the same time, "and yeah, maybe I'm dumb in a lot of ways. But I'm old enough to have an affair with a senator, I guess. And I know what I heard last night."

His eyes shifted to lock onto Damien's. "I heard a lot, and I don't believe for a moment she was just joking around when she threatened you with those pictures of you in St. Martin or whatever it was. She made an agreement with you but she still thinks you're disgusting for being into guys like me - that's pretty fucked up, and she really seems to hate you, maybe because she's jealous she's not having as much fun as you are...? I don't know. I just know she seems pretty dangerous to me. I have been freaking out a little about the possibility of her having pictures of me. It's not just about my reputation, even if it would basically ruin my life if my parents found out. I mean... really, I need a job. That's what worries me right now. I need income. I honestly suck at this job, but at least I can get good tips sometimes. At the end of the day, I don't regret what we did. And I do want more. A lot more. Just... preferably without ruining either of our lives."

He returned his gaze to Paul. "You don't have to worry about me tattling or anything. I don't even know who I'd tell. I don't want to screw myself over any more than I want to get him in trouble. So, speaking of mature arrangements and adults who respect each other, maybe you can give me a little credit. And save your lectures for your buddy who's already let himself be photographed fucking twinks on the beach."

His eyes cut back to Damien, and now he seemed to deflate a little and look humbled. "No offense."

 

[ericrodman101]

"No offence!" Paul repeated Tommy's deferential conclusion, but with a little venom.

"Paul," Damien said, seeing Tommy come down from the adrenaline of his speech making and looking like the lost 18 year old he'd been before. "Maybe Tommy and I need a little time to talk."

Paul look unconvinced.

"About Susanna," Damien said, "and where we're at."

"At?" Paul looked furious. "I've just said 'where we're at' as best I could. If what I said doesn't suit you, then say so before I finish and make a fool of myself."

Damien stood as if to walk over to Paul, but thought the better of it. He was used to antagonising Paul. It was good that one if them was a stickler for the rules, a bit 'black and white' if you like. Damien had charisma and Paul had a mind like a steel trap. A great team.

"You were great," Damien said. "Everything you said was fine. Exactly what I was thinking. But Susanna, well...you know...that's a bit personal. I just want to explain to Tommy what she meant so he isn't troubled by it. OK?"

Paul nodded, hesitated, looked at Tommy, then Damien, then stepped over to the door. "Breakfast is getting cold," he said. "You guys say what you have to. I'll be back in 10 minutes."

As soon as Paul was gone, Damien leap across to Tommy, his robe flapping open, his cock swinging. He grabbed hold of Tommy tightly and kissed him on the mouth. Tommy seemed surprised at first, but as Damien worked his tongue into the younger guy, and then is hands down his back to his ass, Tommy relaxed.

"Don't go anywhere," Damien said, laughing, going to the door and making sure the 'do not disturb' sign was on the outside, before closing and locking it. He turned back and slipped off his robe, standing naked, rubbing his cock.

"We've got 10 minutes," Damien said. "Get your lips around that. Make me cum." He held his cock up and pointed the already slick end at Tommy's surprised face.

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy had been sure after Paul's reaction that he'd made a terrible mistake in mouthing off - where had that burst of confidence even come from? That wasn't him! And did he think he knew better than two much older men, one of whom was a fucking senator? What was wrong with him? And what if he was causing a conflict between two longtime friends? How could he live with himself?

Of course, it did occur to him on some level how ironic it was that he was so horrified about the idea of getting in the middle of a friendship when he was hugely enthusiastic about interfering in a marriage. He wanted Damien, certainly, to a degree that was blinding, and he loved Damien, he was sure he did - maybe he wanted to rescue the man from the bitch that was complicating his life, and so maybe it wasn't so terrible.

But it was terrible, because the mere concept of stealing the man away from his wife turned him on like crazy.

Once they were alone Tommy braced himself for some sort of talk he really wasn't going to enjoy, no doubt a smooth yet dubious defence of Damien's harpy of a wife. But it wasn't that at all. Suddenly Damien was coming at him cock-first, pulling him aggressively into a sexy kiss. Damien's tongue in his mouth was worlds better than a lecture, and he sucked at it hungrily, even if he still wasn't sure exactly what was happening or why.

Tommy was on his knees before a suddenly naked Damien, an erect cock in his face, glistening with tasty precum, before he could even make sense of anything. What did sense matter anyway when he had such an important job to do?

He did as instructed and put his lips around it, sucking as if it were the only thing he'd had to eat or drink in a week. His hands slid up Damien's muscular thighs and found his round buttocks, squeezing them with the same desperate thirst with which his mouth was devouring the man's dick.

After a minute or so he popped off, panting, his eyes gleaming with lust and his smooth young cheeks rosily reflecting the same.

"Tell me things," he gasped out rapidly. "Tell me filthy things. Things you want to do to me. Tell me how much you'd rather fuck me than your wife!"

He opened wide and took in as much of Damien as possible, sucking more enthusiastically than ever. He spared one hand to reach down and haul his own rigid member out of his shorts and stroke himself as he pleasured the senator.

 

[ericrodman101]

Tommy was learning quickly, Damien thought, unable to keep the broad smile off his face. No hesitation, waiting to be positioned, guided. No, Tommy just fell to his knees, mouth open, lips apart, willing red mouth begging to be filled. The kid sucked like he was dying of thirst, his hands gripping Damien's ass. The older man felt no need to go slowly, to be tentative or preparatory. Tommy did everything right and Damien rewarded them both. He just had to keep his thoughts on the time as well.

Tommy disengaged after a minute to take a breath. Damien looked down at his red cock head bouncing before Tommy's red face.

"Tell me filthy things," the boy said breathlessly. "How you want to fuck me and not your wife."

"Mmmm," Damien said, launching in again, pulling Tommy's face hard onto his torso, feeling the boy's nose on his skin and his cock slide into the top of Tommy's throat when it had nowhere else to go. This was bliss. If only they had more than ten minutes. Like all day. And tomorrow.

"Big man, I just fucking love my cock in your mouth. You are so much better at this than Susanna. And none of that sad, drippy, loose cunt fucking to deal with. Fucking a woman is like sticking your cock into a wet flannel," Damien said. "Fucking you, big man, fucking your ass is going to be heaven."

Tommy gagged, but Damien just held him on harder for a bit. He felt as if he could fuck Tommy's throat all the way down, if only he could get the right angle. And Tommy gave every indication he was ready and willing and available for whatever Damien wanted. After that little speech Damien wondered if he'd under-estimated Tommy. But his young friend had been cock-hardeningly great. All that feisty blowback, showing Paul what he was made of. And then getting all nervy. It made raping his teen mouth all the more of a turn on.

Spit was oozing from Tommy's mouth around his cock and running down his thighs. Damien didn't want to stop, relieve the pressure, even as Tommy's fingers dug into his ass flesh and the gagging became coughing. "Erghhh, erghhh," Damien grunted, pushing harder, slamming his lower body against Tommy's face, imagining his cock deep inside Tommy like some great devilish snake winding its way down between the lips and the teeth, gliding across the tonsils, deeper and harder and fatter, like some sentient thing, a mind of its own, flicking its tongue, evil eye flashing in the darkness, overwhelming the boy and dragging Damien down with it.

"I'm gonna cum, Tommy. Hang on, big man. The senator's gonna fucking cum down your throat. Fuck!"

 

[tamgreen]

Tommy felt like he was about to die with a cock down his throat. His body protested; his throat didn't know how to handle this. There was no stopping the streams of tears and drool. He could hardly even give a thought to technique in this position - he just shut his eyes and held on for dear life. It hurt like hell, but he remained resiliently aroused. If he was going to die, maybe this was exactly the way he wanted to go. He'd be lying in the morgue with a huge smile affixed to his cold face, a stream of cum still dribbling from the corner of his mouth, and his tombstone would read, "Worth it."

Fucking your ass is going to be heaven.

Yes - that was what he wanted to hear. Damien wanted to fuck HIM, and not the sad, drippy, loose wife. And he'd said "going to be", not "would be". That meant there was intention! Oh god! When would they get to finally do it, with Damien imminently off to Washington? How could they make it happen?

Damien would figure something out. Tommy was sure of it. He regretted ever doubting Damien for a moment. This was real - sex, love, fate, everything. This didn't have to be a goodbye. It could be a beginning.

Tommy's hands squeezed Damien's ass harder. His nose was getting squished hard up against Damien's lower belly and that was so fucking hot it didn't even matter that it was hard to breathe. Was breathing important? Nothing for him to worry about - if it had to happen, Damien would make it happen. Tommy believed in him wholly. Yesterday he'd called Damien a god, and that was becoming all the more real to him.

The senator's gonna fucking cum down your throat.

Had there ever been a sexier sentence? Oh, how Tommy would have loved to have that as a sound bite to play over and over when he masturbated alone.

Thrilled to make this happen, Tommy plunged his fingers between the senator's ass cheeks and probed at his asshole while his other hand jerked his own cock furiously, wanting to cum with him. Even the incoherent grunts Damien made when overcome with lust were music to Tommy's ears, and he made strangled little noises in response, welcoming anything Damien would give him.

For a moment it was too much, and his vision went a little hazy. Some of the eager tension left his body, and he was a ragdoll being held in place by the senator's hands, a thing to be fucked. Then Tommy felt the cock down his throat swell and throb as Damien's climax hit, and he tried desperately to stay in the moment.

There was just euphoria, and a little grayness around the edges of his blurred vision. Cock, throat, drool, cum, pain, pleasure. Damien was cumming down his throat like a firehose and then suddenly his grip released, and Tommy tumbled weakly to the floor, not even aware of his head hitting the edge of the chair he'd been sitting in earlier. He wasn't aware of much of anything for those few moments, and if an entire press conference had suddenly burst through the door he couldn't have noticed. He lay there sprawled out, flushed, used, with cum clinging to his lips, and his right hand worked as if on autopilot, tugging at his own excited cock, the one bodily function he had left.

His stream of cum leaped high into the air, splattering across himself, and maybe the carpet, and maybe Damien's legs and feet - who knew? He finally took in a few deep, gasping breaths, briefly choked, and giggled incoherently.