Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

I arrived at the Tree of Idleness and took a quick look around, but I didn't see Paul D'Alessandro anywhere. I turned to leave, but there he was, carrying a net bag with a few provisions in it.

"I knew you'd come back," he said with a smile. "I do not play tonight. It is one of my off days. I live up there, though," he continued, pointing to the two stories of flats above the restaurant. "You come with me?"

"Yes," I answered, the guitar music already starting in my head and my mind going back to that other Tree of Idleness and that other guitar player. I was prepared for him to then say, "And you come for me?" as Jalil had done. But he didn't. He was more direct than that.

"And I fuck you, yes?"

"Yes."

"You stay the night, and I fuck you all night?"

"If you wish," I answered.

"Do you wish?"

"Yes . . . I think so."

We sucked each other off as we slowly undressed, discovering each other's bodies. Me in awe and a little frightened of the size and thickness of him—but quickly in heat over the hardness of his body, sinewy and lithe, not an ounce of fat, the muscles well defined and the veins popping out on his arms with no layers of fat to go through. His legs were strong. I suddenly felt I knew what "all night" was—that he could go all night.

"Where? The bed?" I asked, motioning to a twin bed in the corner of his studio room.

"Not the first time," he said. He moved a straight chair with arms in front of a full length mirror on the wall next to the entrance into his kitchenette. He opened a closet door half way across the room. Another full length mirror was on the inside of the door. I could see that being positioned at the chair would mean that much of what happened between the mirrors could be seen in the mirrors. This alone made me tremble.

"Lean into the chair," he said. "Your hands on the arms of the chair, legs spread, please."

When I did so, I could see that I was able to use the mirrors to watch what was happening both at my front and at my back. D'Alessandro knelt behind me. I felt my butt cheeks being parted and then his tongue at my hole. I watched a hand come between my legs and take my cock and he was milking me while he tongued my hole. Occasionally he'd let loose of my cock and give my balls attention. And periodically he also pulled my cock back through my legs and gave it suck.

I sighed, enjoying the view and the sensations and the buildup of it. This was what Jalil never did. There was no buildup. This had me in heaven—well, almost heaven. Why had I been resisting this, I wondered. I can't believe that Adrianna would object. She had known that Jalil was fucking us both. Was it just that the experience with Ralston and then Jalil had been so traumatic.

I came in a flow that was more calming than explosive. Paul laughed and took my cock in his mouth and cleaned it off. He bounced up and went over to the counter dividing the kitchen from the main room.

"Five," he said, counting out the condom packets on the counter. "I like your body. It gives me so many ideas. I wonder if this is enough."

"I have more in my trousers," I said.

"So, you knew."

"I had hoped," I said. He laughed and rolled a condom on his cock, which was looking both formidable and mighty proud. As he moved to me and put his hands on my hips, I murmured, "Music. Could we have music? Your music, please."

"So you want to fuck to music, do you?"

"Always."

"And mine? Nice that you want it to be mine. I'll give you extra good fuck for that. And good music too. The flamenco style of bachata I told you of. Good fuck music. The song 'Mon Amor.' I'll put that on."

The music started and he was close behind me again. During the initial, soft part, he entered me, slowly and deeply, while I took heavy breaths and groaned and set myself rigid.

"Relax," he whispered in my ear. "Just relax. I have far to go yet and I want to take you fully. Just relax. I'll make sure you don't fall." He moved a strong, broad hand to my belly and palmed me there, giving me support. He was holding the root of his cock with his other hand, rotating it in my channel, helping me to open to him, pulling deep groans out me, flying me to heaven.

When he had bottomed, he just held me there, both of us panting, waiting for I knew not what.

And then I understood. The music moved into the passage where the beat picked up and the music became more insistent, louder.

My belly still palmed with one hand, he cupped my chin with the other and arched my back to him. And then, right on the beat, he began to pump me, faster and faster, right with the music, bottoming deep on the down beat, pistoning me while I moaned and grunted and cried out to him on how high I was flying, one with both him and the music.

Before the music ended, with both of us ejaculating simultaneously, I realized that this was exactly the same song that Cal Ralston had first fucked me to.