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Subject: story: M/M, "Deductible?"
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story: MM, "Deductible?"

Usual warnings apply: no one under 18 admitted without parent or 
guardian, for external use only, void where prohibited, shake well 
before using, und so weiter.

DEDUCTIBLE?

by Felix Lance Falkon

Archiving permitted; re-posting is permitted; but only 
if you include this statement of limitation of use. The 
author forbids you to make, distribute, or sell multiple 
copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format. 
However, individual readers may make single copies of the 
story for their own, non-commercial use.

Copyright (C) 1997 by Felix Lance Falkon.

=========================================

     ``Okay, Lance,'' said Christopher, running his fingers through 
his crisp blond hair, ``your records are in pretty good shape; I 
won't have any trouble doing your taxes now. Your publisher pays by 
check -- and you've got copies of all the checks _and_ the deposit 
slips. You've got all the usual business expenses covered -- postage, 
paper, a few phone calls. And of course there's the depreciation that 
you professional writers can take on word-processing equipment. But 
this one that I've just found . . .'' The young accountant pulled out 
a sheet of paper, flattened it on the desk, and looked up at his 
client.

     ``Oh, that's for Jake,'' said Lance. ``He's -- he's kind of a 
consultant.''

     ``No bills? Receipts? Things like that?''

     Lance shook his head slowly. ``He's strictly cash. In his line of 
work -- well, I don't think anybody's ever asked him for a receipt. 
And since I write gay porno -- uh -- maybe we'd just forget about 
it.''

     ``If it's a necessary business expense, then it's deductible,'' 
Christopher said firmly, ``just as travel expenses are for people who 
write travel guides. Now, just what kind of personal services does he 
perform?''

     ``Well, it's sort of hard to explain.'' The writer licked his 
lips. ``I mean, it's one thing to write about it, but _explaining_ . 
. . Look, maybe we should drop the whole --''

     Christopher heard the doorbell chime.

     ``Damn, I forgot.'' Lance jumped to his feet. ``Jake couldn't get 
here yesterday, so he's coming in today instead.'' He glanced out the 
window. ``Yep, that's him.''

     ``So let him in. _I'll_ talk to him.''

     The doorbell chimed again. Lance hurried to the front door, 
opened it wide.

     ``Hi, Lance.'' The visitor's voice was deep; Christopher saw that 
the visitor himself was an impressive specimen: big-boned and tall, 
magnificently broad at the shoulder, narrow at waist and hip, with 
muscles that rippled under tanned skin and tightly stretched T-shirt; 
yet he moved with almost feline grace as he strode into the house.

     ``Hi, Jake,'' said Lance. ``Christopher's working on tax records. 
Maybe if you could come back in about --''

     ``No, no,'' said Christopher. ``This is perfect.'' He turned to 
the splendidly muscular visitor. ``Jake, I want to find out more 
about the consulting services you've been providing to Mr. Falkon -- 
to Lance.'' The accountant turned to the writer, said, ``You said you 
have to drop something off at the Post Office before it closes. You 
do that while I talk with Jake. We'll get this straightened out in a 
flash.''

     ``But . . .'' Lance glanced at his watch. ``Well, okay then,'' he 
said doubtfully. Christopher saw Lance grab a manuscript box from his 
desk, him glance worriedly at Jake, and hurry out the door.

     ``Now, about this -- uh -- consulting --'' the young accountant 
began saying, but Jake was already striding across the room.

     ``Be with ya in a sec,'' said Jake. ``Gotta shower. Just got in 
from the gym -- real hard workout today -- got a contest coming up.''

     ``But --'' Christopher followed Jake, who was stripping off his 
T-shirt as he strode through the bedroom.

     Jake tossed his shirt aside; at the bathroom door, he stopped 
long enough to unfasten his belt. He turned back, handed Christopher 
a brown envelope. ``Here, take a look. Just picked it up at 
Eddie's.'' He stepped out of his trousers, hung them on a chair, then 
strode into the bathroom, leaving Christopher holding the envelope.

     ``Things are going too fast for me,'' grumbled the young 
accountant. He scowled at the bathroom door, which Jake had left 
open. Christopher heard the shower start. ``Too _fucking_ fast,'' he 
added as he sprawled on the bed and pulled a magazine from the 
envelope. He flipped it open without looking at the cover. He started 
to leaf through the magazine idly, then stopped and stared. Yes, that 
page _did_ show one man ripping off another's clothes. And the next 
page showed them half naked -- and a couple of pages later, both men 
were completely naked, and one was forcing the other to the floor and 
-- Christopher fumbled for the next scene -- climbing on him with his 
cock up hard, just as if he was going to -- Christopher turned the 
page -- yes, it was rape. Christopher paged slowly through the rest 
of the story, then started through it again.

     A touch on Christopher's shoulder jerked his attention from the 
magazine. He looked up. Jake had a strange smile on his face.

     ``Ya like that route, Chris?'' Jake asked.

     ``Uh -- it looks -- it's really --'' Christopher closed the 
magazine, handed it back to Jake, and suddenly realized that Jake was 
naked -- his powerful body completely bare. ``I mean -- uh --'' He 
stopped, feeling his eyes go wide. Jake's cock was big, already half-
hard, and was stiffening as Christopher watched.

     ``Suits me too.'' Jake tossed the magazine aside. ``Now let's see 
if that's as much fun as it looks.'' He turned to the bureau, 
muttering, ``Lance always keeps some my size -- ah -- here they are. 
He turned back, and Christopher saw that Jake's now-condom-covered 
shaft was all the way up. With one hand, Jake pushed Christopher onto 
the bed, the other groped for Christopher's crotch.

     ``Hey -- wait -- don't!'' yelled the young accountant as strong 
fingers clutched his cock through his trousers. Jake squeezed, and 
Christopher realized the pictures had given him a hard-on. ``But I'm 
not --'' he gasped, but Jake was sitting astride Christopher's 
thighs, peeling off Christopher's shirt, opening his trousers. The 
young accountant wriggled and squirmed, but Jake's weight and strength 
were too much: Christopher was pinned, stripped, and rolled on his 
stomach.

     Christopher felt Jake climb aboard, felt Jake's naked body press 
on Christopher's, felt Jake's arms and legs hold Christopher in 
place, locking their bodies together. The young account squirmed, but 
his own supple body couldn't match Jake's brute power. Christopher 
felt Jake hump his hips, felt something long and hot and hard probe 
his ass.

     ``Don't -- wait -- stop!'' panted Christopher, and then he was 
struggling too hard to waste breath on words. Jake's shaft hit a 
sensitive spot, slipped off, probed again. Jake thrust deeper -- 
Christopher felt burning pain. He fought to keep from yelling -- now 
fought to keep from screaming -- and suddenly, Jake was in, sliding 
deeper as Christopher squirmed. The burning pain became something 
indescribable, setting fire to Christopher's sexual equipment from 
the inside. Jake slid in deeper -- a slow, controlled, utterly 
irresistible impalement. The young accountant gave up trying to buck, 
but he couldn't help wiggling as Jake's shaft went deeper -- and 
deeper -- and on until it was all the way in, and the front of Jake's 
crotch clamped down hard against Christopher's butt.

     ``Well?'' Jake growled.

     Christopher turned his head; Jake's face was just inches away. 
``Damn you,'' panted Christopher. ``That feels like I'm getting 
fucked with a goddamn telephone pole.''

     ``Yeah?'' Jake slowly pulled back till he had withdrawn almost 
all of his long shaft, and then with a smooth thrust he slid himself 
in to the hilt again. ``Haven't split any of my customers in two 
yet.'' And he was pulling back again -- and on into a hard-pumping 
rhythm, fucking the naked, blond accountant on and on, on and on, 
while Christopher wiggled and squirmed and gasped and panted; and 
Jake's powerful arms tightened around the younger man's chest.

     For all of Jake's superb control, Christopher sensed an 
accelerating tautness in the big man's pace: the strokes came faster, 
each thrust longer. Jake's virile shaft seemed to Christopher to be 
getting even harder and hotter. Every stroke was turning him on too, 
bringing his own virile organs to a boil.

     Jake's lips were on his captives shoulder now, teeth nibbling 
gently, breath coming hard. And still the irresistible, impaling fuck 
went on -- on -- on; and Christopher realized he was helping, rearing 
up to meet every downward thrust. He tensed his ass muscles, relaxed, 
tensed, relaxed.

     ``Getting too close,'' Jake sighed, and slowed his stroke to a 
stop. ``Gotta take a break. How you doing?''

     ``B-better.''

     ``Yeah? I could tell: you been helping.'' Jake chuckled, a deep 
rumble that Christopher felt as well as heard. ``Wanta keep on like 
this, or finish up this fuck face to face, so's you can watch.''

     Christopher nodded. ``Sure -- I'd -- I'd like to watch.'' He 
felt Jake withdraw, then relaxed as Jake flipped Christopher onto his 
back. Strong hands gripped the naked blond's knees, raised and spread 
them wide. Wide-eyed, Christopher watched Jake lean forward and 
settle his waist down between Christopher's thighs, felt the rigid 
shaft probe, felt himself being impaled again on Jake's quivering, 
rock-hard cock.

     ``Okay?''

     Christopher nodded. ``It's -- different. And watching you . . .''

     ``Yeah, I know.'' As he bent his arms and lowered his chest onto 
Christopher's, Jake pulled back, slid in all the way, pulled back 
again -- and on into a smooth, hard-driving rhythm.

     ``Hitting me just right -- _really_ turning me on now,'' 
Christopher panted, curling his hips up to meet each stroke.

     ``Yeah?'' Still pumping his hips, Jake straightened his arms, 
raising his torso clear of Christopher's. ``Some of the guys who -- 
who use my services like getting raped all the way to the end, but I 
could sort of _feel_ --''

     ``-- plugged into me like this --''

     ``-- that you're more into ordin'ry sex.''

     Christopher felt himself grin as he tightened his ass muscles 
around Jake's shaft and studied Jake's broad, powerfully muscled 
chest. ``There's nothing ordinary about you, stud.'' A few more 
strokes -- Christopher tightened his stomach muscles, raised his head 
and shoulders, spread his thighs still more, and caught a glimpse of 
Jake's shaft on the up-stroke, saw and felt that shaft drive into his 
own body on the downward thrust.

     Another stroke -- another -- and Jake was pumping harder -- 
faster -- until suddenly Jake was all the way in, his superbly 
muscled body tense and quivering. For a breathless moment, Jake's 
cock squirted out a swirling, slippery load of cream, and then he 
dropped his chest onto Christopher's and went limp.

     Minutes later, Jake growled, ``You didn't come?''

     Christopher shook his head. ``Almost, though.''

     Jake slowly rose onto hands and knees, pulling out his still-hard 
cock with a wet slurp. He shifted himself backwards until his head 
was right over Christopher's rigid cock, then lowered his muscular 
torso onto the blond man's legs and pounced, open-mouthed, onto 
Christopher's hard-on.

     Christopher watched intently, watched and felt Jake's powerful 
arms wrap around Christopher's thighs, watched Jake's head bob up and 
down, felt Jake's lips and tongue work on Christopher's shaft, felt 
hungry suction take hold and pull him towards his own pent-up 
eruption. His hands moved to Jake's shoulders and gripped hard. 
Christopher watched a moment more, and then his own shaft erupted.

     And, as Christopher's glands jetted their swirling load up into 
Jake's mouth, Jake hungrily sucked it all down, swallowed, and sucked 
still harder. Spent, Christopher let his head and shoulders fall back 
onto the pillows as he felt Jake suck the last drop of sperm from 
Christopher's shaft.

     A moment later, Jake released Christopher's still-hard shaft. 
``Well?'' asked Jake.

     ``Wow. Couldn't you tell?''

     ``Yeah, you did sorta get carried away. Lot of it, too; you 
oughta get your pipes cleaned out more often.''

     ``You -- you got it all down?'' Christopher raised his head, met 
Jake's gaze.

     ``Of course I did.'' Jake licked his lips. ``The guys that use my 
consulting services, they get turned on more if I swallow it all, so 
-- I swallow.'' He grinned and licked his lips again. ``Don't tell 
anybody, but by now I almost like the stuff.'' He touched 
Christopher's still-hard shaft, and asked, ``Soon's I re-laod, wanta 
see how I taste?''

     * * 

* Later, a long, comfortable while later, Christopher was lying on 
Lance's bed beside Jake, both still naked, Christopher's head pillowed 
on Jake's big, warm shoulder. Christopher heard footsteps, looked up, 
and saw Lance's amused grin. The writer had returned.

     ``I thought you were just going to ask questions,'' said Lance, 
peeling off his own shirt.

     Christopher yawned and stretched his lithe body. ``So did I, but 
Jake here --''

     ``I know, I know,'' sighed Lance, unbuckling his belt. ``He does 
tend to -- uh -- pounce to conclusions, so to speak. He's not cheap,
and we get together every -- so, is he deductible or not? ''

     ``He explained everything when he finished -- ah -- pouncing,'' 
said the naked young accountant. Beside him, Jake's warm body snuggled 
closer. ``There should be a way to list him as a deductable expense 
on _your_ income-tax return, and I'll work on that later. Right now, 
I'm trying to make him deductible on _mine.''_

     =============================== THE END =========================== 

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