Luther Ch. 03: The Power of Money

"When are you gonna fix breakfast?"

"When are you going to untie me and take your dick out of me?"

"Now you know that ain't gonna happen for a while," Zack said. "You can feel me hardening inside you. You know we're gonna fuck again. I was just tryin' to make a joke here."

"We have time for chocolate chip pancakes or a fuck, Zack," Cliff Trent answered, "And you're hurting me, making my body go numb, you big lug."

"Sorry 'bout that. You picked me because of how big I was. What I got swingin'. But what would you choose?"

Cliff gave Zack a withering look and a groan, and Zack then shrugged and took much of the weight of his body off Cliff. They were in their queen-sized bed in Cliff's apartment. Cliff was on his back with his wrists tied to the brass headboard above his head, and Zack was on top of him, deep inside Cliff, his cock recovering from their early-morning fuck. Zack moved his legs from on top of Cliff's and planted a knee on either side of Cliff's thighs. He lifted his chest and propped himself up on his elbows on either side of Cliff's chest. He pulled his pelvis back and rammed it forward, deep inside his partner's channel, snapping Cliff's head back and causing him to raise his own pelvis and grind the heels of his feet into the sheets.

"Oh, fuck!" he howled. Back and ram, back and ram.

"You. I'd choose the fuck!" Cliff cried out. He looked down the line of the mammoth, but ripped, chocolate-brown chest and flat belly to where he could see the root of the black cock assaulting his channel and the black balls slapping against this thighs. "Oh, yes, fuck me!"

Back and ram, back and ram. "Four. When I hit sixty, I want you to come," Zach said, with a laugh. "I'll shoot off at seventy. Then we'll have chocolate chip pancakes."

A half hour later, Cliff Trent stood behind the kitchen counter, in an apron and nothing else, and shoveled pancakes onto Zack's plate with a spatula.

"Hey, these don't have chocolate chips in them!"

Zack had showered and dressed in his brown sanitation worker uniform and his big construction boots. He was only working a half shift today. If he was working a full shift, he would have been out of here shortly after five and Cliff wouldn't have gotten the two morning fucks. But if Cliff hadn't gotten the two morning fucks, he wouldn't be standing in his kitchen shoveling pancakes and worrying about being late to his own job.

Zack would tie him up and fuck him again in the late afternoon after Cliff got home from his own job as a social worker. The chocolate monster's big dick was the reason Cliff kept him around. After their afternoon session and a dinner fixed by Cliff, Zack would be off for his night job as a bouncer at a club. When Zack got home from that, he'd wake Cliff up giving him his night fuck. This had been going on for three months. Cliff was getting worn out, but he was a happy worn out.

And this morning he had to get to work on time. Some old lady was coming in to complain about what some young neighbor of hers was doing. Cliff long ago had stopped thinking his job was either important or fulfilling. Zack was filling. That's what Cliff looked forward to these days.

"I didn't have time to look for chocolate chips," Cliff muttered. "You're lucky you got pancakes rather than warm toast. I haven't even had time to shower yet."

"But you like walking around with the swishy feeling of my cum inside you, don't cha?"

"Let's not be crude, Zack," Cliff said. But he didn't answer the question. Zack was a big-volume ejaculator?he did everything big?and, yes, Cliff did get a little thrill from walking around with Zack's cum inside him. "You eat that and stay out of the way. I've got to shower and dress and go listen to an old busybody lady tattle on her neighbors."

"You'll be home by five, though?"

"Yes, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good. I'll be waitin' for you."

I sure hope so, Cliff thought, but I don't know how much longer we can go on like this.

* * * *

Luther watched Cliff Trent climb the stairs to the front porch at the Pink Poodle. He was distinctive, because he looked like he was here on business other than buying antiques. His jaw was set tight. Alfred thought he was a disgruntled customer he couldn't quite place. Tim thought he was a process server. Luther thought he'd be nice looking?looking like a possible friend?if he wasn't frowning like that. And when he saw Luther, through the window, standing in the dining room furniture room, the man frowned more deeply and looked away.

Luther watched him march through the hallway and back toward the office where Tim kept the accounts.

Luther didn't have much time to think about him, though, because right behind him came that smart-looking man with the yacht, Jonathan, and his wife, Pamela. They were climbing the stairs too. And when they came in, they turned to the right and into the crystal room, although Jonathan did notice Luther standing in the room across the hall and gave Demetevler Escort him a smile and a wink and a little wave of his hand.

Luther gave a little wave back. Then he crossed the hallway and stood in the doorway to the crystal room.

"Hello," Jonathan said. "Your name is Luther, isn't it? You remember me from when we met in the marina, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is my wife, Pamela. This is Luther, dear. I told you about him."

"He's very nice," Pamela said. She had sunglasses on, though, so Luther wasn't really sure she was looking at him. He didn't notice then that she wasn't just looking at him; she was eating him up with her eyes. After getting an eye full, she moved into the crystal room.

"We're just looking around," Jonathan said. "You work here, do you?"

"Yes, sir. But I can't help you in that room. Tim and Alfred, they don't let me in that room."

"That's fine. We won't be long. In fact, we are on our way to lunch. Would you care to join us??and we can talk about you taking that cruise on our yacht. We'll be leaving for Newport tomorrow afternoon. We could take the cruise today. But first lunch."

"I don't know if Tim and Alfred will let me go to lunch. Usually they go to lunch about now. And when I'm here, they leave me in charge. I sit out on the front porch and point to the 'gone to lunch' sign on the door while Tim and Alfred are gone. If anyone wants to come into the store, I point to the sign. They lock the door, but I sit out there on the porch and am in charge while they're gone."

"Well, perhaps they'll make an exception today. Shall we ask them?"

"I don' know," Luther said, his voice giving an edge of skepticism. "I'm supposed to work this afternoon." Anyone could see, though, that he'd like the adventure of someone taking him to lunch?especially a couple as well dressed as Jonathan and Pamela.

Just then Tim came out of his office and into the hall and called up the stairs for Alfred to come down. He seemed perturbed.

"Excuse me," Jonathan said, saddling up to Tim. "We're friends of Luther here and wondered if you'd mind if we took him to lunch today. We were thinking of the Pilot House Restaurant. It's just up the street on Carpenters Lane."

"Luther to lunch?" Tim said it like he was trying to confirm that someone had declared that aliens had landed in the middle of Decatur Street. He seemed to have stopped fully processing at the suggestion that this obviously wealthy couple might be friends of Luther's.

"And then after lunch, we could come back here and do some shopping," Jonathan added.

This obviously sealed the deal, as Tim said, "It's certainly all right with me if that's what Luther wants to do." And then he called up the staircase again, telling Alfred that he was needed in the office right away. His voice had sounded like he was relieved Luther was going off for lunch.

* * * *

"There, was that cheeseburger good, Luther?" Jonathan asked. They were sitting out on the covered verandah overlooking Carpenters Lane. Jonathan had tried to get Luther to order something more exotic?or at least more like an elegant beach resort meal?but Luther had wanted a cheeseburger. Jonathan had gone for the Tialapia Francaise and Pamela the Portabella Paninni. They'd split a bottle of Pino Grigio. Luther had a Coke.

"Yes, real good, thanks."

"Did you like what you heard about our Yacht?"

"Yeah sure. You have a fuck fuck table? They are nice, but they are hard to find. It would be good if you had one."

"Excuse me? A what?" Jonathan was shocked. Pamela just turned her head back to the men and gave a little amused smile.

"A table for fuck fuck. You want me to go out on the ocean with you to fuck fuck, don't you?"

"Excuse me?" Again from Jonathan.

"When we were lookin' at the boat, you touched me on my back and you feeled me up. You want to fuck fuck on the ocean, don't you? Chuck at the H