Lagoon of Dreams

Chapter 5-1

Chapter 5

Terrence Graham had come home from the war to find he’d inherited the family home but not much money for its upkeep. He cashed in his G.I. life insurance and added some amenities in the form of an enlarged kitchen and adjoining bathrooms for each of the guest bedrooms. Work was completed in the spring of ‘47, and he and his wife Eleanora opened Terry’s Guest House. It was a quaint little inn with a nice-sized dining room off the kitchen on the first floor and a lounge at the front of the house. Four guest bedrooms were on the second floor, and Terry and Eleanora lived up on the third.

Eleanora was at the reception desk when we entered. “David!” She smiled, came around the counter, and hugged me.

“Should I be jealous, caro?” Dr. Avila stood by the door.

“Not at all. This is Eleanora Graham, our hostess.”

“Ah. Forgive me, dear lady.” He swept off his hat, took her hand—neatly edging me away—and brought her fingertips to his lips.

Eleanora looked from Dr. Avila to me, then smiled. “Another one, David?” She freed her hand and patted my cheek. “Wicked boy.” Originally from Hollywood, she had a very relaxed attitude toward other people’s s****l preferences, which was fortunate, since I sometimes brought men here for casual s*x. She walked to the rear of the reception desk, where she took a key from a hook on the wall. “Your usual room.”

“Thanks, Nora.” I winked at her and strolled toward the stairs. “Coming, Doctor?” I glanced over my shoulder to see him click his heels together, give Eleanora a continental bow, and saunter after me.

We entered the room, and I’d barely had time to close the door when he caught me, drew me into his embrace, and kissed me. I loved kissing, and he made it worth my while. His mouth was as lush and soft as it looked, and he nibbled and nipped at my lips. The heavy weight of his c**k pressed against my groin, and my own arousal grew.

He released me and stepped back, and I moaned a protest. “Patience, caro.” He stripped off his shirt and opened his trousers, freeing the thick bulk of his c**k and his heavy, low-hanging testicles. The doctor’s body, unlike that of all my previous bedmates, was starting to relax into middle age. The hairs on his chest were shot through with silver, which had not yet reached his head. Crow’s feet defined the outer corners of his eyes, while deeply etched lines bracketed his mouth.

He pushed on my shoulders, obviously wanting me to kneel before him and suck his c**k into my mouth.

I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t kneel, and I wouldn’t perform oral s*x, not after that time with Justin. If my partner du jour chose to go down on me, I made it clear I wouldn’t reciprocate.

The stubborn set of my jaw—I could feel it—as well as my deflating erection gave him the message loud and clear.

“No, caro? You don’t know what you’re missing—lovers have told me I taste sweet as honey—but very well, there are other things.” He pulled my polo shirt up over my head, keeping my arms trapped in its confines, and ran his hands all over my torso. He searched out the erogenous points that would have me a whimpering mass in his arms. I bit my lip to stifle a groan as his fingertips tangled in the fine hairs of my underarms, and he tugged gently at them.

After he let my arms, still imprisoned by my shirt, drop behind my back, he became busy with the button that fastened my trousers, letting the backs of his fingers graze over the hardness hidden by the material.

He unzipped my trousers, and with a slight push, sent them sliding to my feet. “Sit, David,” he ordered hoarsely, and I dropped down onto the bed. Dr. Avila got my shoes and socks off, and then my pants and shorts. He pushed my knees apart, and settled himself between them.

I had never had a s*x partner who restrained me before, and now that I was satisfied he didn’t expect me to fellate him, I was unbelievably aroused. I found my c**k straining toward his mouth. He probed the slit with his tongue, then lapped at the clear bead of precome pearling at the tip.

Breath was whining between my lips and I struggled to keep my eyes open, needing to watch him do this to me.

“Do you like this?” The warmth of his breath washed over the moist head of my c**k.

Well, yes!

“Caro?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“And will that persuade you to fellate me?”

Heat rushed up over my face “Is that what you expect before you’ll f**k me?” I’d never had any desire to do that, and if I refused to do it for Justin, who I’d loved and who knew enough not to push me to perform the act after I’d said not again, why would I do it for anyone else? I started to pull myself free of my shirt. I wasn’t as much a prisoner as he might have thought.

“Never mind. Não é importante.”

I stared at him from under my lashes, and he gave a quiet huff of laughter, then rose and stretched forward, leaving me nowhere to go but backwards onto the bed. It was an uncomfortable position, with my arms beneath me. I tugged my shirt, and it stretched enough that my arms, while still secured, were now at my sides.

“In the front pocket of my trousers.”

“What, caro.”

“Condom.”

That seemed to give him pause. Would he object? Most of my partners did, but once they realized I’d walk out if they didn’t use a condom, they capitulated. However, he simply said, “You come prepared.”

“I never leave home without them, Doctor. There should be some lotion in the bathroom.”

“You’re very familiar with these facilities.”

“I am. Does that disappoint you?”

“On the contrary. That makes things so much simpler.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

He laughed and went to retrieve the small bottle. When he returned, he was naked except for the condom. He sauntered to the bed and lowered himself so he covered my body with his.

That was better. Now I could concentrate on how the rough hairs on his lower body abraded the skin of my groin and thighs.

“Please.” I rocked up to deepen the sensation. I didn’t mind begging for that.

Dr. Avila angled my thighs over his shoulders and leaned down to take my mouth in a kiss that mimicked the act we would soon be engaged in. As he thrust his tongue in and out of my mouth, licking and teasing my tongue, he stroked over my hole with slick fingers, circling and driving me wild with tentative dips that barely breached the tight ring of muscle.

I was still restrained by my shirt—it only had so much give—and I mindlessly enjoyed what he was doing to me, so much so I would have hovered on the brink of orgasm for as long as he permitted, because unlike all my other bedmates, it was he who controlled everything I felt. I writhed and twisted against him, trying to get his fingers, his c**k, something into me, to no avail. But finally, he removed his teasing fingers and replaced them with the broad head of his condom-covered c**k; finally, he slid deep into me.

I worked an arm free of a shirt sleeve so I could wrap my fingers around my c**k, and I began to jerk myself off as he plunged into my passage again and again. It was nice.

He kissed me as if he was starving for the taste of me—such a notion was highly arousing, but on a mental plain. As I rubbed the pad of my thumb just under the cut crown of my c**k, the knuckle of that thumb brushed over the fair trail of hair that led from my navel to my pubic bone, and as usual when I stroked across that part of my body, I found myself catapulting into the midst of my climax.

I clamped down my inner muscles, and that triggered Dr. Avila’s orgasm, and he stilled, filling the condom in my ass with his heat. “So snug. So perfect,” he murmured, and he nipped my earlobe. He continued murmuring what I assumed were s*x words in liquid Portuguese—please God they weren’t words of love!—as he sank down onto me, letting my legs slide off his shoulders, and with a satisfied grunt, he tried to pull me into an embrace. Casually, I slid away from him and shook my other arm free of my shirt.

“Tell me, David. How did you become interested in ichthyology?”

Odd question after such an enjoyable encounter. I shrugged, exhaled, and closed my eyes, intending to relax for just a moment.