Sam stopped by this weekend to scout locations for a western that is in pre-production at an indie start-up that is specializing in streaming services. I got to know Sam when I had a PA gig for a film about cowboys and aliens. Yes, that film.
Anyway, we've been in touch off and on for over 10 years now. When I am in SoCal, we sometimes get together for coffee or lunch. He was married up until two years ago when his wife left him for a super-rich producer at one of the majors. Sam still hasn't quite gotten over the shock and sadness of that. He's a sensitive guy who has been healing slowly.
Anyway, last night Jenny and I cooked Sam a hearty home-cooked meal, filling him with steak, potatoes, wine, and chocolate cake. We topped the evening off by getting into our 'jammies and watching the classic Howard Hawks western Rio Bravo. It was shot just over the mountain from my casita so Sam thought it might give him some ideas for his location search.
We stayed up later than we probably should have, sipping cognac and swapping stories of the film projects we had worked on since first our first meeting. The laughter lasted until about 1 a.m. with all three of us fading fast. Saying "good-nites," Sam retired to the guest room and Jenny and me to our bedroom.
Jenny and I snuggled up under the covers and, I swear, she was asleep before I told Alexa to turn off the bedroom lamp. I lay there for a while, thinking about Sam. He seemed happy enough now, but I knew that he hadn't been seeing or dating anyone since his wife left him. And that made me sad.
I got up and went to the guest room. Knocking on the door, then peeking in, I saw Sam was still awake tapping on his laptop.
"Sam?"
He looked up and closed his laptop. "What's up Sparky?"
I sat on the edge of the bed, close, and unabashedly, but gently, asked far too many personal questions about how he was doing with no partner. As ever, he was laconic in his responses but eventually opened up. He shared that it was taking far longer than he thought it would to get over what had happened. He had been on a few dates that were no more serious that a tryst here and there, with a couple of generally unsatisfying sexual encounters.
Sam took my hand and said, "You know, I thought about calling you a few times, but we're such good friends I didn't want to screw that up."
"I thought the same thing, once or twice."
We sat there in silence for quite a while.
I was trying to tune in to my feelings as best I could, when I looked at the covers over Sam and noticed a significant bulge in the blanket.
I looked at the bulge, then at Sam, then back at the bulge, then back to Sam. He was blushing brightly.
"Sam!"
"Sorry, Sparky, it's your fault for being so damn cute!"
Silence again. I put my hand on the blanket over his erection -- hard as rebar.
"Okay, Sam, here's the deal. We're friends, fine, that's as far as it goes. As far as it will go. But it's almost Christmas and your cock needs attention now. I'll suck you if you promise not to make a big deal out of it. Deal?"
"Deal!"
I pulled the covers back, lubed him with saliva kisses, and took him into my mouth and down my throat. Sam has the nicest man moan! We talked and teased as I sucked, both of us enjoying the moment tremendously. Finally, as he was about to climax, he looked at me, grinning a boyish grin, and gasped, "May I cum on your face?"
Oh my god! How did he know I love it when a guy asks me that?
After cleaning up with warm, wet towels, we shared a quick “peck” goodnight and “Merry Christmas.”
At breakfast this morning we happily sipped our coffee with Jenny, cautiously keeping from smiling at each other too much.
