Thursday, May 23, 2024

Neverend (Part Three of Three Parts) blog post #652

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Our last episode ended with Bobolink Marco to his idol’s home with the clear intent of having sex with him. Would it end well, or would shame and mortification set in. Let’s find out.



I parked alongside Marco’s Camaro in the driveway and got out. My resolve—faltering until then—strengthened under his brilliant smile. As I stood waiting for him to key the front door, I felt as if the entire neighborhood watched from behind closed blinds and knew exactly what we were up to.

Once the door closed behind us, Marco turned and pulled me into his embrace. The kiss surprised me… I didn’t know men kissed. But I liked it. Felt it… probably more than with my last girl.

He pulled away, still clasping me in his arms. “Any second thoughts?”

“After that?” I asked, panting slightly.

He pulled out hips together. “Guess not, from what I feel down there. What say we go to the bedroom and take a good look at one another.”

Hip to hip, arms slung around our shoulders, we made our way upstairs to his bedroom. As dazzled as I was, I couldn’t help but notice the house, the place where he lived. His core, his den… his lair.

Attractive overstuffed couch, sleek, modern matching recliners. Good art on the walls, a blend of old European figures, attractive landscapes, and not-too-far-out modern. But once through the threshold of his bedroom, all that went away. To this day, I couldn’t tell you the color of his duvet. He moved behind me, pressing himself against my buns, and began a long, slow inventory of my parts with his sensitive hands. Each touch was more erotic than the other until he reached my crotch. When he held me in both hands, my legs went weak, and I was near to fainting.

“Nice,” he murmured as he nibbled at my ear. My ear loved it.

His fingers unbuttoned my shirt, then explored my chest sensually. I thought he’d never get to my trousers, but an eon later, he fumbled with my belt buckle. I was lost. No one had ever touched me, explored me, measured me in such a manner.

After he pushed me naked onto the bed, he performed his own strip tease, almost driving me wild. Finally he settled on the bed beside me and spoke.

“You are one sexy man.”

God! I couldn’t possibly hold a candle to him. No hint of hair on the chest, wisps peeking from his armpits at times. A black thread beginning below the navel that wandered south before blooming into a lush black bush. A throbbing—

He interrupted my inventory by rolling atop me. “You ready for this?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“Then here we go.”

He took control. I was his slave, his helot… his pin cushion to penetrate as he wished. I was lost to time and space, existing only in sensations, some painful, some exquisite, some painfully exquisite… and some merely overpowering. He achieved release and continued without pause. I achieved my own volcanic detonation only once, when he came deep inside me.

Never had I experienced anything remotely close to the experience.

Still lying across my back, he dropped his head onto the back of mine and fought for breath.

“Well? H-how was it?”

I clasp the arms enfolding my neck. “Like nothing else.”

“How do you feel?”

“Exhaused, enervated. Like coming off a high.”

“No regrets.”

“No! None. Well, maybe.”


“I wish it would never end.”

“Doesn’t have to.”

I turned beneath his weight, and we lay belly to belly. “Do you mean it?”

His grin almost cost me my senses. “Absolutely. I’ve been watching you… wanting you all semester. I was almost hundred percent sure you were who I wanted.” He planted a quick peck on my nose and continued. “And after that demonstration, the almost went away. I’m sure. I want you to move in with me.”

I thought my heart was failing. My hearing gone. But he was sincere. I moved out of the dorm that very afternoon and felt as if I were home. He was unstinting with his generosity and unfailing with his attention. I had achieved Neverend.


The year passed rapidly… far too quickly. The most glorious year of my young life. I graduated and took a job in an art gallery where I learned about selling art, not just creating it. As a part of the deal, the gallery featured my work, so I accumulated some commercial success, as well.

But the most wonderful part was Marco. Beautiful, sensual, athletic Marco. He was perfect for me, as I hoped I was for him. Neither of us could go out in public without being hit on… by members of either sex. But he was all I wanted; no other man nor woman held any interest for me beyond merely social.

I think I sensed a change in our thirteenth month. A young, sandy-haired engineering student from our alma mater began showing up in too many of our social engagements then. A fortnight later he—Glendon Marx was his name—frequently visited our home. At first with others, and then alone. Soon, instead of Marco and Bobolink, it became the two of us and Glendon. It was always Glendon, never Glen.

Frankly, I liked the kid, so I didn’t become alarmed until too late. First, I came home from the gallery and found them in the den having drinks together. Then it was in the pool where Glendon’s fair skin played well against Marco’s Mediterranean tan. My lover did free-lance advertising, and worked from an office in our home.

Of course, my suspicions rose, but surely Marco, who was as attentive and athletic as ever in private, would never jeopardize our Neverend. Still, as Glendon remained ever underfoot, I couldn’t contain my jealousy. At work, I imagined all sorts of shenanigans going on. Yet Marco was as attentive and energetic as ever, which undermined my building doubts.


I fought my devils until I could no longer fend them off. I feigned illness one day—only half false since I was worrying myself sick—and left work early one afternoon. Glendon’s red Ford coupe was in our driveway, alerting me to his presence. No surprise. That was what I expected.

Entering the house as quietly as possible, I found no one in the den… or in Marco’s office. No one in the pool. I glanced upward. The bedrooms? Only place left.

I went up the stairs, avoiding the squeaky step near the top of the flight and paused. Then I heard it. Glendon’s sharp gasp and then a moan, then something that sounded suspiciously like, “Oh, Marco!”

Walking down the hall, I entered our bedroom’s open door to a sight I will never forget. A naked Marco lay atop an equally naked Glendon, his strong legs wrapped around Marco’s trim hips as my lover thrust against him.

Unobserved, I backed out of the room and returned to Marco’s office where I took the pistol he customarily kept in his right hand desk drawer and started back up the stairs, pausing only when I heard shouts of exhilaration. They had climaxed. Glendon held semen that was by rights mine alone. He had stolen from me.

When I entered the room, both were startled, but neither seemed nonplussed. Marco gave one of his slow, tremendously sexy smiles and spoke in his throaty baritone.

“Come join us, Bobolink. I’m sure your presence will revive us. I’ll bet we make one hell of a sandwich.”

Had he not spoken, I’m not sure what would have happened. If Glendon’s features hadn’t held such a look of triumph, perhaps I’d have walked away. But I didn’t. I raised the pistol from behind my legs and pointed it at Marco’s broad, sexy chest before pulling the trigger. He merely looked astounded.

Glendon managed to get out of bed and head for the bathroom before I shot him in the back of the head.

Then I put the barrel in my mouth and pulled the trigger again. A click and a nothing. It either jammed or held only two bullets. I sank to a sitting position on the floor and alternately studied my hands and the little steel revolver until I heard the front door crash open and heavy footsteps on the stairs. The nosy next-door neighbor must have heard gunfire and called the cops. No matter. Neverend was gone now. Shattered. Destroyed.


I turned from the gray concrete wall and looked through the black, iron bars of my cell. Marveling at the strange calmness that claimed me, I wondered if it would endure when they finally came to deliver the final Neverend to my life. And would I still hold the image of Marco’s broad back as he plunged into Glendon’s fair flesh and eternally wrestle with the question of whether it was monstrous or erogenous


Looks as though all of Bobolink’s supposed Neverends failed him. But this final one might just be the one that holds. Not all stories end happily.

 Until next time, stay safe and stay strong.

Now my manrra:  Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

Please check out my BJ Vinson murder mystery series starting with The Zozobra Incident and ending with The Cutie Pie Murders. 

My personal links:

X: @dontravis3

See you next time.


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