Rick woke up alone with a pounding headache. His mouth tasted like a cat's litter box. Painfully bright sunshine leaked through the heavy curtains.
He groaned and threw off the covers, then stood up and stumbled naked to the bathroom. One thing about expensive tequila—the hangovers wasn't as bad as the ones he'd gotten from the cheap shit in the early days. He took some aspirin, drank three glasses of water, brushed his teeth, and then climbed into the shower.
The water was cold, but warmed up quickly. He held his head under the stream for a long time, then straightened up and muttered "Hello Computer" in a thick Scottish accent.
"Yes, Master." The computer answered with Igor's voice from Young Frankenstein.
"Play Sunday Morning Coming Down."
The opening chords of Johnny's Cash's version sounded. Rick groaned and shook his head. "Make it Kristofferson. Album version."
Kris Kristofferson started singing. Rick sang along as he soaped his body, mumbling the first verse, getting stronger and clearer on the second, and pushing into the "On the Sunday morning sidewalks" chorus in full voice.
He followed up with Willie Nelson's Bloody Mary Morning, paused to wash his hair, and then sang Two More Bottles of Wine with Emmylou Harris while toweling off.
When he left the bathroom, he was feeling better. Country music always cheered him up. His first paid gig had been playing guitar and singing harmony in his older brother's western swing band, when he was 12.
Rick came from a musical family. His mother was a church organist and piano teacher. His father ran a music store and played guitar in a rockabilly band. His brothers and sisters all sang and played at least one instrument.
He'd played saxophone through middle and high school and started his first band, The Third Coast Rockets, when he was 14. Their set list was heavy on Bruce Springsteen and ZZ Top, but included everything from David Bowie and Queen to Berlin's Take My Breath Away and Thomas Dolby's She Blinded Me With Science. The band members were too young to play bars, but they got steady bookings for school dances and private parties.
Still naked, Rick walked through the bedroom and into his little private writing room. It held a digital piano, a small desk, and an acoustic guitar leaning against a love seat.
A bottle of golden tequila sat on the desk, beside an empty crystal tumbler. Rick made a face and returned the bottle to the small bar in the corner.
He took a machine rolled joint out of a polished wooden box on the desk, but then dropped it and settled on the love seat. He closed his eyes and sank into the cushions, thinking about Dale Wood, his boyfriend.
Three months ago, the band had hired Dale to play Rick's sax and keyboard parts live. He and Rick had fallen into instant lust. They were great in bed, but the rest of their relationship was nonstop drama. Rick was a tomcat and Dale was insanely jealous.
Their fight last night had set a new record for craziness. Dale thought Rick had had sex with Jack Hammer yesterday. Sure, he'd spent several hours alone with the hot detective, but that was business. Literally, life and death business.
That was too bad. He was attracted to Jack and he could tell it was mutual. Maybe after this was resolved . . .
Dale had finally stormed off to his own quarters and Rick had hit the tequila. Now, it felt like a Bloody Mary Morning. Or maybe another Tequila Sunrise.
Rick sighed and shook his head. It'd been years since he'd gotten hammered like that. All the stress of releasing an album and getting ready for a tour was bad enough. Add the tension with Dale and a potential assassin . . . He reached for the joint, but then changed his mind and dropped it again. He picked up the acoustic guitar and ordered the computer to play Tequila Sunrise.
He strummed the guitar and sang along with the Eagles, trying to forget about everything else. Maybe when this was over, he'd put a low-key country rock band together and play some bars. Get as far away from the rock star trip as possible.
The song ended but Rick continued playing, just fooling around with chords.
"Uh . . . Hi." Dale was standing in the door, dressed in a bathrobe. Like Rick, he was tall with long curly hair.
Rick put the guitar down and looked at Dale silently.
"I'm sorry," Dale said. "About last night. I got a little crazy—"
"More than a little," Rick said.
"Well. Yeah." Dale untied the bathrobe's belt and pulled it open. "I know." He was naked under the bathrobe. He slipped it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His cock—even bigger than Rick's oversized pole—was still soft, but already long and thick.
Rick shook his head. "I'm not sure I can take this any more." Despite himself, his own dick was getting stiff. Dammit! Dale always did this to him.
"Please." Dale sank to his knees in front of Rick. "Give me another chance." He wrapped his hand around Rick's rapidly-swelling member.
"No." Rick put his hands on Dale's shoulders to push him away. "I don't want—"
"Your cock does." Dale bent forward and took Rick's hard-on in his mouth. He swallowed most of its length, then pulled back and kissed its bulging cock-head. "You do."
"Fuck . . ." Rick groaned.
"We'll get to that." Dale caressed Rick's rigid shaft. "But first, I'm going to suck your cock." He swirled his tongue over Rick's knob, probing its dripping cum-slit and stroking its deep furrow. "Your hot sexy cock."
Dale kissed, licked, and sucked his way down and back up Rick's rod a few times and then moved to his balls. He took one nut in his mouth and sucked it hard while stroking its wrinkled flesh with his tongue. Then, he gave Rick's other ball the same treatment.
"God," Rick whispered. Dale was 15 years younger than Rick, but was the most skillful lover he'd ever had. He licked the underside of Rick's balls and moved on to his taint, dancing his tongue teasingly close to Rick's anus.
"You like that?" Without waiting for an answer, Dale clamped his lips around the groove between Rick's knob and shaft, then tongue-lashed his cock-head.
Rick moaned and bucked his hips, pushing his painfully hard pole deeper into Dale's mouth.
Dale kneaded Rick's nuts and tickled his taint while he bobbed rapidly over his stiff cock, taking it deep in his throat.
Rick gripped the back of Dale's head, preparing to fuck his face. Dale pushed his hands away and continued sucking his cock aggressively.
The tension in Rick's balls was building rapidly when Dale released his throbbing cock. "I'm going to do something different for you." He slipped a pillow under the small of Rick's back, then lifted his legs and set them on his shoulders. "Something I've never done before."
"What?" Rick slouched further down on the love seat, pushing his butt over the edge.
"You'll see." Dale lowered his face between Rick's buttocks. "You've got the sexiest ass," he whispered. "All that working out." He showered Rick's butt cheeks with teasing kisses, approaching his crack and then moving away again.
"That's good." Rick gripped his rock hard cock and ran his fingers up and down its swollen shaft. "Really good."
"I'm just getting started." Dale blew on Rick's asshole, sending erotic shockwaves from his anus to his raging boner.
Rick's cock throbbed as Dale kissed, licked, and nibbled around his asshole, gradually moving in. Rick pushed his butt back into Dale's face.
Dale kissed Rick's butt cheeks and licked up and down his crack, gradually approaching his puckered hole. Rick moaned and squirmed as Dale's flat tongue stroked his asshole. It was hot, wet, and insistent, sending firebolts of sexual energy through his body.
Dale pointed his tongue and pressed it into Rick's anus, gradually teasing it open. "That's so good!" Rick gasped. This was the best rimjob he'd ever had. "Do you like doing this?" Dale had obviously done this before, but Rick was happy pretending this was his sexy partner's first time. He let go of his hard cock and gripped his butt cheeks, opening them wider and giving Dale even better access to his anus.
"I love eating your hot ass." Dale gripped Rick's stiff dick and stroked it slowly while pushing his tongue in deeper, fucking Rick's pucker like a wide flat super-flexible cock.
"Man!" Rick moaned. "I never . . ." Dale's squirming tongue in his asshole and his hot hand stroking his throbbing pole had pushed him to the edge. "Oh fuck! I'm gonna—" The cum burst from his stiff cock, splashing his belly, chest, and even his face.
Dale buried his tongue in Rick's ass and jacked his dick roughly, keeping him coming.
Rick pushed Dale away. "That's enough!"
Dale stood up and then bent over to kiss Rick passionately. He tasted his own male musk when Dale thrust his tongue into his mouth. "That was so hot," Dale said.
Rick laughed. "Pretty good for me, too."
"I can tell," Dale purred. "All that beautiful cum." Dale kissed Rick again and then licked the cum off his face. After that, he licked up and down Rick's torso, cleaning the cum off. Every drop.
"You're really good." Rick sat up and wrapped his fingers around Dale's rigid pole. "I never got off like that before."
"It was sure fun," Dale answered. "Making you shoot like that."
"Know what I want now?" Rick stroked Dale's hard-on slowly, running his fingers over its broad head and smearing the precum leaking from its tip.
"It better be a good hard butt fucking." Dale pulled away and darted out of the room. He came back a moment later, carrying a squeeze bottle of lube. "Because, that's what you're getting."
"That'll work." Rick lay back on the love seat and folded his knees against his chest. "Give me your big hard cock."
Wordlessly, Dale knelt between Rick's spread thighs, spread a thick line of lubricant on his finger, slipped it up Rick's asshole, and worked it in and out. Rick's cock—still hard even after his orgasm—jerked in time with Dale's sliding finger.
Dale pulled his finger out, lubricated his stiff pole, positioned its head at the entrance to Rick's puckered hole, and pressed forward.
Rick tightened his ass muscles, resisting as Dale's broad cock-head stretched him open. Dale smiled and pushed harder, gradually going deeper.
Rick gasped as Dale's swollen knob pierced his tight anal ring. Dale paused for a moment, then drew back slightly before continuing forward, slowly stretching and filling Rick's asshole. He stopped with his full length up Rick's ass and his balls pressing against Rick's butt cheeks.
He looked down at his dick buried in Rick's ass with a half-smile on his face, then pulled out slowly and pressed back in, just as slowly.
Rick's stiff cock jerked as Dale fucked him, relentlessly sliding his swollen pole in and out of Rick's tight ass. It wasn't rough, the way Rick usually liked it, but really exciting in its own way.
He thought about Jack Hammer, with the hard muscular body and military bearing. He could tell the hunky private eye was a guy who'd pound him mercilessly and then welcome the same rough treatment. That would be so good. Maybe when this was over . . . If he was still alive . . .
Dale was starting to breathe hard. He picked up the pace, pulling out and then slamming home, bouncing his balls against Rick's buttocks.
Rick looked up into Dale's face. He was still looking down at his steadily-sliding pole and wouldn't make eye contact.
The tension in Rick's balls built steadily. It had almost reached the boiling point when Dale grinned and drove in deep. A hard hot pulse of cum splashed Rick's anal walls. Abandoning restraint, Dale hammered Rick's ass, shooting each time he hit bottom.
Dale finally finished. He pulled out and stood up, then looked down at Rick with the same half-smile, turned, and walked through the door into the bedroom, waving his ass seductively.
Rick sank back on the love seat, thinking about a phrase from a Doors song: "Smug with semen." That was sure how he felt right now. Once again, he wondered what it would be like with Jack Hammer. He had a really nice crotch bulge and a cute butt . . . as cute as Dale's retreating ass.
Rick's cock was harder than ever. He picked up the lube and followed Dale into the bedroom.