Happpy Birthday Baby

I stared out the window of my corner office. It was a dismal day, typical of February in DC, with the weather forecast calling for icy rain. I made a rude sound and wondered if I could get myself assigned to Majorca. Surely someone would be vacationing there who needed assassinating?

Maybe it was an age thing, I thought morosely. I glanced at the calendar on my desk and sighed. It hadn't miraculously changed in thetime I had been looking out the window; it was *still* February 25th.

By rights, I should have been retired from the field five years ago but ... What was on file with the WBIS was what I wanted them to have on file. According to my records, last July 4th I had turned thirty-six. And I was actually the big 4-0 today.

Yeah, it was my birthday.

Before I could continue mulling over all the reasons why I hated birthdays, my phone buzzed, and I picked it up. "Yes, Ms. Parker?"

"Mr. Vincent, I have Quinton Mann on line two for you."

I licked my lips and looked at the phone contemplatively. Quinton Mann, Deputy Director, Operational Targeting, of the CIA. Why had he called?

The CIA got the jobs the FBI wouldn't dirty their lily-white fingers on.

And the WBIS got the jobs the CIA wouldn't handle.

There wasn't any love lost between any of us. And that was the way it was.

Until that shit, Bonfiglio, who played both sides against the middle, shot Mann in that damned warehouse. Bonfiglio paid for it, of course. No one fucks with my operations.

I'd always had a dossier on Mann; I had a dossier on all the agents, officers, and operatives who were likely to cross my path, and even those who weren't likely, but things had changed after that. I started keeping a private dossier on Mann, one that no one else knew about. I told myself it was strictly to keep track of the opposing team, so to speak. The more you knew about the way an agent, officer, or operative thought, the more likely you were to outthink him.

Then I found I couldn't get him out of my mind. I needed to know ... everything, and not just what I'd been able to get from hacking into his files. What was his favorite pony's name? Who were his favorite authors? Why he got that B+ in English lit his last year in college instead
of his usual A.

And did he prefer blondes or brunets?

I even went so far as to disguise myself as an old school friend and interviewed his mother, and wouldn't the shit hit the fan if he ever found out about that. Not that he would. I was too good at what I did.

I wanted Mann, not as in 'dead or alive', but as in 'in my bed,' and that wasn't acceptable. Oh, not because he was a man. The WBIS had instituted a policy when The Boss took over fifteen years before, and as a result, an active agent's sexuality was taken out of the equation, as that pompous asshole James Adams liked to say, and the agent was able to function at the peak of his ability.

No, the problem wasn't that Mann was a man. The problem was he was CIA.

I took a deep breath, then punched two on my phone. "Vincent."

"Vincent, this is Quinton Mann."

"So my secretary informed me. My, my," I said in my snidest tone. I was not about to let a Deputy Director of the CIA know I was caught short by his call. "The CIA's golden boy is calling the WBIS? To what do I owe this honor?"

I could have been referring to the state of the weather. "I need to see you. Are you available for dinner?"

The sound of his voice alone had my cock hardening, and the unruly thought flashed through my mind, 'I'd *love* to have you for dinner!' The image of him bent over a dinner table and me pounding into him made my cock even harder.

Shit! That had never happened to me before. I controlled my cock, not the other way around.

I pushed those thoughts and images out of my mind and concentrated on the matter at hand. He wanted to meet for dinner.

My mouth was dry. This would be an ideal opportunity to learn more about him. And by extension, the CIA of course. I cleared my throat, and made a show of loudly turning the pages on my daily planner, knowing the sound would be picked up over the phone line. I was a busy man, after all, and I wanted that to be plain to him.

"Hmmm. I have a 5 PM meeting ... " Someone who saw that the necessary funding for the WBIS was unobtrusively filtered into our coffers and who was becoming recalcitrant. As senior special agent in charge of this matter, it would be my job to show him the error of his ways. "... but after that it looks like I'll be free." I couldn't resist adding, "And don't bother asking who I'll be meeting, or why."

"Of course not, Mark. I know you wouldn't tell me, anyway." There was a smile in his voice, and I stared at my phone in shock. He called me by my first name! "Would you meet me at Raphael's?"

"Certainly, Mann." I wasn't ready to relax my guard. He was still CIA. "What time?"

"Seven. Will that give you enough time?"

I considered the man I would be seeing at five o'clock. It would be more than enough time, but Mann didn't need to know that. "Better make it
eight." After all, I didn't want to appear too eager.

"Fine." His tone was almost caressing. What the fuck was going on here? "I'll see you at Raphael's at eight, Mark." The line went dead.

He hadn't told me where Raphael's was, and I wasn't familiar with it, but before I left for my last meeting, I would know everything about the restaurant, down to how much the owner had left on the mortgage and if he'd had to grease someone's palm to get his liquor license.

But the thought that went round and round in my mind was that he called me Mark. Fuck. I was Vincent, or Mr. Vincent. Or even 'that sociopathic son of a bitch,' according to certain members of the intelligence community. No one called me by my first name, not even me!

I wondered why Quinton Mann, of all people, wanted to see a simple WBIS agent like myself for dinner.

I pushed the unexpected invitation from my mind - I had work to do, after all - and pulled up the Senator's file.

My Dream of Mark

By: Garry

My Dream: I was working for the city of Vancouver as a drafter. I had lived in Vancouver over six years and was getting tired of the crowds and just the big city attitude. I didn't know what would happen if I said I wanted to leave but I approached my boss oneday and told him I would like to quit work to move to the prairies. I didn't have a job lined up in Regina or anything. I was going to leave and figure out what to do once I got to Regina. I had never even been to Regina before.

I was surprised when my boss told me there was a position available if I would like to take it. Of

coarse I jumped at the opportunity. I put in my one month notice and worked that day. The month seemed to fly by and it was the last day of work. The employees or my employer didn't put anything special on my last day of work. I just got some cards and well wishes. That night I packed and the next morning after breakfast headed to the airport. At the airport I saw Mark and his wife or was it his girlfriend. They were to accompany me to Regina to help me set things up at work for me. I had seen attractive looking men before but Mark had to be the best looking man I had ever seen. I didn't know what it was to be gay I just knew I liked looking at men and wasn't interested in looking at women. I hoped I would grow out of my fantasize with other men. However I had wished that as far back as I could remember. By far Mark had to be the best looking man of all the men I had seen. I tried to imagine Mark in the nude and to feel his

cock. It must have been huge just by the his big bulge in his dress pants. I tried to look away from Mark but couldn't.

It seemed like we had just taken off and then we were landing. I had planned out using my last cheque how much money I had to find an apartment and get settled in. Now on the airport bus across the isle from Mark and Janis I figured out in my head how much I could afford for an apartment for the month. It would have to be furnished to a certain extent until my furniture
arrived from Vancouver. I wasn't paying attention to where we were going and I had felt the bus come to a stop. "Here we are." Mark, as hot as ever, said and got up along with his wife and headed off the bus. I kept thinking how lucky Janis was to have Mark all to herself. I followed Mark and Janis off the bus and into a motel lobby. It was a quant motel but knew I couldn't afford to stay there even one night. I would have to find an apartment right away.

I don't know why but I followed Mark after he got his room key to his room. I guess I had planned on hopefully leaving my suit cases with Mark and Janis while I looked for a rooming house to spend the month. "The wife and I will be in the other room." Mark said once we got into his room. Why don't you take a shower so you feel refreshed after the plain ride."

"That would be nice." I said and started to take off my clothes in the bedroom beside the washroom. I was completely nude when Mark came into the room. Janis was still in the other room and for some reason I didn't expect her to walk into the bedroom.

"Could you take this cord and plug it in for me up by the bed board?" Mark said handing me the plug.

"Sure." I said and I got on my hands and knees and crawled to the top of the bed and plugged in the cord.

I had no idea what I was plugging in. Just then I heard a birring sound and something on my left ass cheek.

"What are you doing?" I asked

"Shaving your ass cheeks I think it will look better." Mark answered

For some reason I can't explain his answer seemed okay and I braced myself on my hands and knees while he shaved my ass cheek. It seemed like a crazy idea though. He was finishing shaving me and I was about to get up when I realized Mark was over top of me and his hard cock was rubbing up and down my ass crack. I didn't say anything but wondered how Mark could be doing this with his wife or girlfriend in just the next room.

"Fuck are you ever tight. I would swear this is your first time. If I didn't see the gleam in your eyes when you first saw me I wouldn't be doing this. Do you want me to stop?" Mark asked.

"No keep pumping your dick into me. It hurts like hell but your so hot looking. I never imagined my first time would be from such a hot looking guy. But what about your wife? I asked.

"She may look hot and all but she doesn't put out anymore. She sure did before we got married. Fuck all this talk I want to screw you." Mark said.

"Oh yes push it into me." I said and held my breath feeling the pain increase as Mark held my hips and I could feel his cock push further and further up my ass hole nice and slow. Then I felt his balls against my ass.

"You're the first guy I ever fucked and wow your terrific. I shouldn't have tricked you, but for me it was worth it. Is it worth it to you?" Mark asked.

I felt Mark's cock deep in my ass pressing against something that was making my cock hard. "You bet it's worth it. Wow, I never expected this before. You hit something deep in my ass." I said

"I noticed your cock is rock hard." Mark said pulling out of my ass. I felt Mark's hand close
around my hard cock.

Mark pushed back into my ass a little faster. His cock felt so good in my ass, but wished I could look into his sparkling hazel eyes as he fucked me. "Oh you feel good. I wish I could look at your great body while your pushing your cock deep in my ass." I said.

"No problem. I'll pull out and you turn over and I'll lift your legs up in the air and screw you." Mark said.

"Really wow." I said feeling Mark's cock slide out ofmy ass. No sooner than he was out of my ass I rolled over on my back and started to lift my legs in the air. Thank goodness Mark helped me raise my legs over my head.

Once he had my legs over my head he said when I get up and start pushing my cock in your ass let down your legs so they droop over my shoulders. I never did this but it sounds like a good idea. I get to fuck you and you get to look at me fucking you." Mark
said.

"Oh this does feel nice." I said looking up into Mark's eyes as he pushed more of his cock into me. I couldn't help moaning with lust.

"Your ass is so tight." Mark said. "I always wanted to fuck Janis in her ass but she wouldn't let me and I didn't want to push it."

Mark was sliding his cock slowly in and out of my ass as he looked down at me. I could see a wild side of him coming out. "Fuck this is good. Really good."Mark said over and over.

"Yes, oh yes Mark fuck me hard." I said

Mark was pushing his cock in and out of my ass faster and harder sweat was dripping off his chest on to me and mixed with my sweat. He kept humping me over and over. I could feel my cock rock hard and wished I could jack off I was so horny, but Mark was leaning over my cock.
My balls were full of cum I could feel them. Mark slammed into me again and suddenly I felt my balls explode sending my cum up and out of my cock.

Just as I exploded my cum all over my stomach Mark moaned. "I'm cummin. I'm cummin. Thank you. OH thank you. How can I thank you?"

"The next time you get horny remember where I am and screw me again." I said.

Boy in the Mirror

He stands before a dusty mirror. It is candlelight night. He is blonde. He is looking at himself. He is in a Roman villa that is old and ancient in disuse. He is bending over slightly. He is boy. He is thick blonde hair. His body is a stream of beauty made human. He is pale. He is slightly shy. He is wearing only white briefs. His back is a small comma. You can see his spine shadows in it. His chest is thin. His nipples are pale. He is pulling down his briefs, keeping his eyes on his reflection in the mirror. His face is kind. It is delicious. It has pale lips. And blue eyes. He is pure innocence. He pulls down his briefs after a single silent sigh. His hips are rose buds of winter when you remember them a long time later.

He steps out of his briefs. He is ecstasy. He has a certain air about him as though he could be anyone he wanted, but he chose to be himself. He stands now, after the briefs are off. He looks at his face in the mirror. His chest, the chest of a child. His abdomen, the abdomen of a child. Thin. And wanting so much. He looks down at his penis and balls, which the mirror does not show us. He stands straight. This is me, he thinks. He is a precision that has come to find out he has a body. That he approves of this body. That it makes him somebody. For the very first time perhaps.

He dreams of love. A different kind. He has seen so much pain. He wishes to be alone. He studies his face, pretends to shave, pretends to be a man and not fourteen. He stands unashamed not. The shyness is still with him. But he loves being naked. Being naked with the man who has just left the room. Who has been naked when the boy was clothed. The boy dared not look at the man, naked, shaving. He must not be bothered by the young man's casual nudity. He is after all still a boy. Of dignity. And propriety. He talks to the young Italian man as the man finishes shaving and dressing. The man goes to lie on the bed. The boy holds onto the bed post. Talking. Shyly. Talking like to a friend. "Would you be my friend?" the boy asks coquettishly. The man says something inconsequential. Wanting..waiting...thinking why do I have to wait?..thinking everything lost and won at this moment at the same time.

And when the man leaves the dusty tired bedroom of this rubble of a palace, the boy goes to the mirror and imitates the man, pretends that he too is shaving. Then the idea, then taking off his shirt, slowly, luxuriating in it, This is sex and not sex. This is who he is. This is a boy discovering the uncharted land of himself. He does not know he was trying to seduce the man. He does not know as he is bare chested, and as he begins the long slow dive
to remove his pants, that he has always been a sexual child. That his face is like summer directly after an tremble ice floe winter. He looks almost in a splendid pain. As he has almost always looked like that. The shy awakening of awareness of awkwardness. The shy longing as he stands without briefs, and looks down at himself. Thinking: this is mine. This is me. And he turns from the mirror for a moment to the bed where the man has lain moments before lain. Then hurriedly back to the mirror. He is safe only in the scope of reflection. He is perfect. He is always surprised by the world. He is always surprised by people. He sees delicately and more deeply than he is aware of. His back is straight. His hips are small crescents. His crack is a merry doorway, waiting. His penis is hard. It is of coral, as is the rest of him. He takes it in his left hand and holds it, touching the hood of it, feeling the shaft of it,
holding his balls in the palm of his other hand. Small balls. Little pubic hair. He has a thick heft of hair on his head, as though stolen from a golden coin that used to be the sun before it died in retrospect of failure in the match against this boy. He is quiet. He has been silent most of his life. There is fear in him. There is need of fear, considering what has happened to him. It is boy examining boy. It is nakedness as bold and loving and afraid as the whole of galaxies.

He begins to masturbate. His hips move as he slowly moves his crotch inward and outward. He is rose bud. He is the first thing he sees in the morning. He is not obsessed with himself. He thinks, I am beautiful, he thinks, I am average, he thinks will someone love me?, the man?, if he ever returns? He wants to educe himself. He wants to lie on the bed of dust and age and masturbate, really for the first time, that has a meaning, that is more than just an incredible good feeling. He wants the man to walk in on him doing this. His face is perplexed. He is lost. He is lost. The wilderness of woods that surrounds this broken down palace. He is afraid of what has happened. And what will happen next.

He wishes to be naked all the time. He wishes to say, see me and desire me, and I will say--no. He wishes a girl with him. He wishes to be naked with her. He is so tentatively here. He is no longer bundled child, but he is not adult yet. There is such serene silence on this hot bug filled summer night in this sweaty cramped room. He wishes to die. He wishes to live forever in exultation. He wishes to smile one of those teary smiles he is so self famously for. He
wishes to stay. He wishes to run away. He wishes to be made love to. He wishes to hit someone. Or have someone hit him. He puts both hands on his hard on. He
strokes it masterfully. Warm. Hard. Blood like an ocean flowing madly in him. Fully. Completely. He looks in the mirror at his face and his mouth goes ooooooo. He is so excited. He closes his eyes in the candle lit darkness of the room. He cums. Spurting. Splattering. On the mirror. He does not smile. He is beyond that now. He has never smiled much. But now he is just a boy delivering a paper in the fourth form.

Come now. No. Stay away. I shall stay here naked, with my come running out of my penis, and on to my flat abdomen and down my left leg. I shall stand here and be a British boy with a high piping girl voice. I shall stand here like an orange waiting to be dressed then unpealed by hands other than my own, which he finds a disturbing thought. I shall stand here and be me. I shall be a painting. I shall be a statue. In front of a prominent building in Rome. People will love me with their eyes, for centuries. And with their hands and bodies too? That he is not so sure he wants.

Whoever and whatever sex and love might be. He holds his throbbing small still penis and he feels the cum in his hands. It is sticky and white and thick. He puts one finger to it, and then to his lips, and tongue. He feels deliciously decadent. He swallows. This, he thinks, will give me the world. Or not. He looks at the mirror. At his face. At the golden sunlight that is him. And he will wait. He will wait. Though not for long. For he needn't. And he knows that,
akimbo arms, then hands on hips, secure, insecure, and sly smile and a hand tracing his nipples and down his chest and he looks at himself in the mirror and feels--

Pride. Just as long as its his own hand doing it. But not, he thinks, for long.

First Time

A few years ago, I lived in a luxury apartment complex. Across the hall was a great guy by the name of John. John was a very well liked guy around town, owned his own business, was attractive, dated several nights a week, and enjoyed most sports. We met while golfing at the complex's course. He had a great knack for making everyone feel comfortable and ready for fun. A party seemed to follow him where ever he went. We became great, close friends--threw many arties for the complex between our suites, golfed, sailed and worked out together. We "doubled" often and Jon always had a great looking date. I noticed he never seem to click with anyone for any length of time, but there was never a lack of company for him. I liked him immensely. He was a wild little guy, bout 5'6" tall, but very well built and confident. He was also a real practical joker and, if some stunt of his was too much for me, I'd fall back on my college football days and call him a fucking tackling dummy, and try to toss him down. It was never easy to get the best of little John physically.
On his thirtieth birthday, I had a surprise party for him. We threw it at my place, and I told all the guests to bring cheap halloween wigs and gag gifts. The one thing John was sensitive about was his thinning hair. You can imagine the laughs we all had watching him open the gifts and trying each one of them on. He got right into the spirit of things and even had us trying them on. But he promised me he'd get me when I least expected it.

Weeks later, I came home late from an exhausting day, fixed a sandwich and plopped into bed to tune out in front of the Television. Except for the light from the set, my room was dark. After an hour or so, I got pretty lonely and started feeling myself. I was getting aroused, so I rolled over and began grinding my hips into the mattress. The friction of the sheets as I rubbed my swollen cockhead against them and the pressure of my hard-on against the mattress and my stomach felt fabulous. I was luxuriating in the ecstasy of bringing myself off. Suddenly the whole bed seemed to erupt beneath me, lifting me up and flinging me off onto the floor. I instantly thought of an earthquake, but the rest of the room was still. I jumped up and looked at the bed. There was that little shit John under the bed, the mattress pushed half off by his legs as he lay laughing at me on his back. he was howling, and I did a quick take on how he must have slipped into my apartment, crawled uder the bed, and waiting for just the right moment to knock me off. Then I realized I was standing in front of him with nothing on and more than half hard. Embarassed, I scream "You fucking dummy", and yanked him to his feet. He broke loose and ran for the door. A flying tackly broguht him down and we wrestled around the room until I finally pinned him down. It was wild and spontaneous, and lying on top of him naked, embarassed at being surprised with a hard-on, really turned me on. John was still laughing. Because I had gotten so hard as we struggled, I felt self-conscious about letting him up. We lay there chuckling and trying to catch our breaths. I could feel his heavy breathing as his chest heaved against my own. With me hard against him I was sure he would notice in a second that I wasn;t just still hot from humping my bed. So I tried to get up, but John saw how rigid I was and started laughing again. I did too. We fell back together, laughing into each other's shoulder about my predicament.

His hands came up and caressed me at the bottom of my spine, and I half-jokingly mimicked a passionate grind against his thighs. He rubbed both hands over the back of my ass and really seemed to be getting turned on. A nervous chuckle started in my throat, but I swallowed it in a gulp. My cock throbbed against him, and he whispered in my ear "Got you Dave."


I could feel his cock grow hard beneath his pants, and I gulped again. The blood was pounding in my neck and I imagined he must have been able to hear it. I tried to pull away again and drew my knees up, but that pushed my dick across his growing hard-on, and my stomach muscles began to quiver. It was an lectric moment. The John responded--his hands slipped caressingly over my then taut ass muscles and he pulled me harder against him by the back of my thighs. He raised his hips at the same time to rub the hard ridge in his pants against me. I felt weak. He kissed my neck and I felt his cock throb against mine. The he rolled me onto my back and my rock hard shaft stood up and plopped against my belly. Cupping my balls in his hand, he gripped the base of my cock in is fist. I looked down as he began to stroke my shaft and squeeze its head. He rotated his thumb and forefinger firmly around that achingly sensitive ridge at the base of my swollen glans, and my cock pulsed so hard it lifted his hand. I groaned and he started to slip his free hand under the small of my back. I arched to let his arm go around me, and my legs slid wide apart. As he stroked down to the base of my cock, my thighs stiffened with arousal. I hoped he ould want to suck me, He rubbed my balls gently and played with the hair between my legs, then I rolled into him and felt the coldness of his belt buckle gainst the hot tip of my dick. I ached to explode but didn't know what I should do next. Trembling, I reached between us and rubbed John's cock through his pants. It was a wild sensation to feel a friend's hard cock throb against my hand while the moistness of his excitement soaked through the cloth and wet my fingers.

We were both kind of stunned. I think at being aroused like this, but we let the excitement play out. "Let's do this right" he whispered. He took off his shirt, then rolled away and I heard him unbuckle and unzip his pants. He sat up and pulled them off. I watched his bare back muscles flex at the effort. The he lay back and I could see his flat lower abdomen, the dary curly hair at the base of his long, solid cock and the untanned skin of his hips. It was gloriously different to feel him roll naked against me, feel my dick rub against his hot cock, feel my leg slip between his hairy legs
and his cool, moist hands cupping my ass and grinding me against him as I pulled him to me. He rubbed his chin through the hair on my chest and nipped the tip of my right nipple between his teeth. A sensational shock ran from there to my groin. I came instantly. In torrents!! I seemed to cum in waves forever, and I continued to throb as he ground his cock to orgasm against mine. When he came, he moaned quietly as if we might get caught by someone.

I told him I needed to clean up and got up and turned on the bathroom light. I pulled the bed together while he got up to wash himself and I began to recover some poise and started to laught about what had just transpired. "What's so funny?" he asked, and I walked to the bathroom doorway to explain, feeling a little guilty about what we had done. John was wiping his belly with a washcloth, the water dripped down to his groin and glistened in the hair there. He was still hard, and as he wiped I felt that weak feeling again. I watched him rub the cloth over the shaft of his dick. He had a Huge cock for such a little guy.
A tenseness showed in his eyes, and I looked away and stepping into the shower. "Want to do this right too?" I asked. He ducked under the spray with me. I rubbed our cum from my body. he took my soft prick in one hand and stroked his hardness with the other. I began to get hard again watching him stroke us oth. The he knelt in the spray and slid my half-hard cock into his mouth. He sucked me until I was as hard as I had been earlier, concentrating his tongue
on the tip of my cock, and all around the tip. I stepped out of the spray and pulled John more into it and knelt before him. I explored his body with my mouth. His hard cock pulsed against my chest and neck as I buried my face in the matted wet hair that ran from his belly to his groin. I took the shaft in my hand and put my mouth over the tip. It was warm, wet, tautly smooth and solid. John moaned, still softly, and slid his hands around the back of my neck. I thought he wanted me to suck him deeper and I tried to swallow the whole length of his shaft, I couldn't, so I sucked all around the tip, running my tongue around the firm ridge there as he had done to mine. I could taste a bit of his cum and began to feel hot again. I bobbed my head, sliding his dick into my mouth as far as I could go without gagging. Returning to the tip and then sucking him deeper, I got into it. I sucked and licked him firmly until he began to pump himself to his own special rythm. He came very hard, staggering against me, and moaning loudly, his prick jerking as his come spilled onto my tongue. I swallowed his warm load and then sucked him until his trembling stopped. John pulled me to my feet, and he whispered "Thanks buddy!" and kissed me deep, sharing the taste of the load he had just given me. John and I repeated that shower scene many times, and slept together whenever mutual lust presented itself. The ironic thing about my experience with John is that it was my first experience with another man. One I will never forget!!