Men of All Seasons Box Set

The Fine Art of Reading Riley-6

The chill of winter ate through Stone’s jacket. Snow blew into his eyes and seared his cheeks. A burning sensation moved across his bare flesh. He cringed in the snowstorm, abhorring the cold. The snow fell faster, harder, and Stone blocked his face with a gloved hand. The temperature dropped below twenty degrees, leaving him numb and bewildered. The bitter wind slashed against his body as he made his way to his next stop, continuing to run his errands. He braved the wind and cold, treaded forward, and carried out his day.

At 4832 Cullen Avenue, The Diamond Abyss resembled a sparkling gem. Glass-fronted with a jade tree covered in a variety of rings perched in one of its windows. The other window looked as if it had been decorated with raining diamonds and falling stars. Stone thought the inside of the store just as glittery with its rows of emerald watches, turquoise bracelets, ruby earrings, sapphire broaches, and pearl necklaces. Waist-high glass cases created a U-shape around the jewelry shop’s interior. The cases looked freshly dusted and sparkled. Stone studied engagement rings, Bolivia-imported gems, and emerald-cut rubies. There were silver bands, chocolate diamond wedding rings, and amethyst drop-earrings.

Dan Abyss, the owner of the store, resembled a limber fireman in his late forties. He wore horn-rimmed glasses on the tip of his nose, showcased a W-shaped mustache, and practiced being a Baptist. The storeowner had three sons who were twenty-seven: Michael, Matthew, and Marcus. The triplets worked under their father, running the business. Michael directed the opening of a second store in downtown Erie. Matthew labored in South Africa on a diamond hunt. And Marcus worked at the store in Plimpton, next to his daddy’s side, but had the day off while Stone visited.

Stone decided the perfect gift for Lance Bangle was a set of diamond earrings since his nephew had an arrangement of holes in his ears. The diamonds had to be something simple and not too flashy. He knew Lance loved earrings, wearing two or three in each ear at one time, enjoying how they shifted to and fro in the sunlight; always a conversation piece in his young world. Lance wore a variety of colors, metals, gems, and sizes. Fourteen-carat gold not chosen over silver, and vice-versa. Like the company Lance kept, he was eclectic about his ear wear, pretty much nondescript. No one could ever predict his true style, even Stone.

With Dan Abyss’s assistance, Stone looked at a number of diamond earrings. A few caught his eye. A sterling bracelet accented with two emerald clusters called out to him. The pair cost a little less than four thousand dollars, which wasn’t out of his price range. Another set of earrings that spoke to him entailed fourteen masculine-looking, gold, cross-shaped cuffs with diamond-shaped etchings, priced well above one thousand dollars. He ended up purchasing sterling silver cuffs with a wavy design in turquoise. The pair looked rather small, but quite eye-catching; pieces that could start many conversations during Lance’s Japanese travels.

Satisfied with his purchase, Stone had the earrings gift-wrapped in a rose-colored box that felt like silk. Stone exited the jewelry store and came face to face with Cameron Phillips, a thirty-one-year-old administrator at Plimpton College. Stone hadn’t seen him in a while. Cameron looked adorable in every sense of the word. The man had chocolate-colored mussed hair, a high jawline, and green eyes that sparkled like the emeralds in Dan Abyss’s jewelry store. Cameron stood at six-three and had the physique of a lumberjack, handsome beyond words, smiling, and not at all unpleased to see Stone Daye.

* * * *

Long story short, Stone had a bizarre history with the younger man, something he wasn’t proud of. The event had taken place shortly after the ruination of his relationship with Jack Panda, at the end of last summer. The temperature stayed at a solid eighty degrees for five days straight, and it sprinkled outside. Such weather did not prevent Stone from going for a walk through Plimpton Park. To no avail, Cameron Phillips had also been taking a walk at the same time. The two men decided to walk together, chat about Plimpton College, the school’s impressive basketball team, Cameron’s administrative job for the last nine years, and novels Cameron didn’t read but had seen the movies based on them.

After a two mile walk around the park, discovering hormones and an attraction to each other, Stone ended up at the young man’s Colonial-style house on the opposite side of Plimpton, naked and sweaty. Stone had been escorted to the guy’s bedroom on the third floor where the walls were covered in naked glossy pictures of men with bare chests and plump erections; vintage pinup photographs from gay magazines like Torso, Advocate Men, Jock, and Honcho.

Tucked in an eight-by-ten square foot bedroom with chipped paint on the windowsills, a broken window, and a bed that smelled of m*******a, Stone pumped the professor with his latex-covered c**k, built up a sweat with the mathematician, and eventually blew his load on the man’s chest, glazing his fuzz-covered n*****s and abs.

Their afternoon affair turned out be a one-shot deal, of course. No kissing or holding occurred during or after their intimacy. They didn’t discuss boyfriendhood or a second fling. It was a wham, bam, and thank you man kind of s****l encounter that allowed both men to get off, enjoying flesh and friction for a little more than twenty minutes.

What did Stone know about Cameron Phillips? Absolutely nothing, except where he lived in Plimpton and other minor details that really were of no concern. He didn’t know if Cameron had any siblings, if his parents were alive, or if he even liked to read fiction, let alone novels by Robert Riley. The only thing he honestly knew about the college administrator entailed the size of his d**k (seven inches long and almost two inches thick) and that he was well-built, somewhat bearish and furry, and with a lined stomach and muscular thighs. Stone also knew that the younger man preferred being a bottom, craving c**k for his ass, riding d**k after sometimes picking up strangers in Plimpton Park.

* * * *

“Stone Daye,” Cameron said, smiling outside The Diamond Abyss. He stood so close to Stone on the sidewalk, their chins and lips almost touched. “I never thought I would see you again after you diddled me.”

“Plimpton is small. Of course, we would see each other again,” Stone replied, admiring the young man from head to toe, dazzled by his chiseled frame and Abercrombie & Fitch style.

The man looked good, edible, and perfect for his s****l needs, even if Stone didn’t know anything about him, and vice versa. He was a total stranger, but still interesting. Stone didn’t know if the guy read graphic novels, painted, or was a stalker. Nor did he know if Cameron had a boyfriend, was safe to have s*x with, enjoyed fast food, or if he liked to sleep in. He couldn’t tell anyone he knew what Cameron’s middle name was, if he had any siblings, or what he was allergic to, if anything. They simply messed around once, which was impersonal but a good time for both of them, Stone guessed, and very strange.

Discreetly, Cameron reached between Stone’s legs, grabbed the man’s c**k, and gave it a squeeze. As the pretentious and forward act carried out, the college professor said, “I want you to bang me again. What do you say to that?”

At first, Stone recollected he had a million and one things to do before the book club party. But then his c**k started to swell under his khakis, and one or two bubbles of pre-ejaculate seeped out of his d**k’s capped head and decorated his white boxer-briefs, all in a matter of seconds. Yes, he felt horny and needed the company of another man. s*x could be fun with the right guy, especially Cameron Phillips and his taut and needy bottom. Because Stone couldn’t remember having s*x with a man, since he was drunk and high at the time, he decided to take Cameron up on his offer.

“I have an hour. Use my d**k the way you want to, young man.”