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Subject: Ali Baba and the 40 Wrestlers 3 Ali Baba and the 40 Wrestlers 3 This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have, comments send them to yahoo or aol If you enjoy these stories. Please consider giving a donation to Nifty! Butch and Fred were surprised. Mandelbaum had been a constant in all my sexual connections. He was a firm believer in the “family that plays together stays together,” theory about sex. At the Ajax Arms we had alternated going to open houses and exchanged notes afterwards. He made recommendation of men I would enjoy, and sometimes brought someone home to enjoy him with me. Hot and exciting sex is not true love, but it can fill a gap. I didn’t love Butch and Fred, but I enjoyed them. The sex was incredibly intense. We became friends with benefits. Sometimes the friendship is more important than the benefits, sometimes the benefits are mind blowing. Junk Yard Dog was a popular wrestler before my time in the 70s. He was bad boy; the sort of man the fans’ loved to hate. He did well for a while, but when his career began to fade, he discovered his business manager was a crook. He worked in health club, but that didn’t work. Junk Yard was ugly. He claimed he wasn’t that ugly, but he admitted that he could pass for ugly if necessary. He did security for a while, but he had a stroke. His left side did not work quite right. I didn’t know if he was gay, but he really needed a place to live. Need trumps lust in my thinking. At first, he stayed with me in Mandelbaum’s room. He was Mandelbaum’s size too, so he could wear his clothes. I was slightly uneasy about that. I talked to Saul about it. “Don’t worry about it. His mother escaped from Poland with wearing a boy’s tee shirt and boxer shorts. She used her clothes to bribe a guard. He had a daughter her size. She gave every wearable thing she was done with to charity,” Saul explained. Mandelbaum dressed well, and his clothes combined with a good haircut, had a good impact on Junk Yard’s attitude. He looked in the mirror and saw the man he once knew. It helped that in our little group he was well known after he had been on the streets for a while where he was a nobody. Malcomb O’Brien was a retired physical therapist, who was the lover of Max, the Mexican Giant. Max was slipping and slept most of the time. He saw Junk yard as a project. He wanted to get his left side working again. When Junk Yard had his stroke there had been no therapy. Malcomb was a mellow man who had a good with older men. Junk Yard liked the therapy which was like his old exercise sessions. He quickly got back into the routine. It didn’t take long to get his left side functioning again. The therapy seemed to retrain muscles, and since Junk Yard had been a muscle man, that was good for his attitude. He felt more like his old self. There was another beneficial side effect of his therapy. He was feeling good, so I took him to one of Sunny’s open houses. The was looking much better and his fellow wrestler like seeing him. To be strictly truthful, they discovered his stage name could have been Fire Hose. The hose was attractive and of considerable interest. Junk Yard made a discovery too. The Fire Hose was in working condition and was self-starting. Mitch the Magnificent made the discovery. Since Junk Yard had been out for action for a while, his orgasm was spectacular, and several men were able to share his cum. Junk Yard was shy, but he made a lot of friends at the party. It’s hard to suck up a man’s load and remain aloof. Junk Yard was happy when he returned to sleep. He was always shy, but men sought him out. His face wasn’t any more attractive, but his cock added a special something to his facial features. I admit I felt differently about him. We were sitting on the porch of my house in the cool after a thunderstorm. He asked me if he was a nuisance, sharing my apartment. He thought he needed to do more. “You are easy to live with and you don’t bother me at all,” I said. “Did it bother you when Mitch did me?” “Not at all, it was fun to watch you enjoy yourself. How long have you been out of circulation?” I asked. “It’s been years,” he said. “I can’t tell you how many. Things are bursa escort really fuzzy.” “I hate to sound superficial, but your cock isn’t fuzzy at all. It looks like a baseball bat,” I replied. He came closer to me and whispered, “Are most of the guys here playful?” “It seems that way to me. Most of the guys are friendly. I hope you have noticed that?” “I seem to be mostly preoccupied with my own problems,” he said. “That’s wrong. I spent most of the time feeling sorry for myself.” “It’s not what you did yesterday that counts. It’s what you do tomorrow,” I said. “I don’t think I’m gay, but I had a good time at the party,” he said. “I always associated that stuff with losing.” “You didn’t lose often, did you?” “I only lost to one guy, Chuck. He was sort of my best friend,” Junk Yard said. “Maybe it’s time to make some new friends,” I said. The next day we had a problem, one of our men went wandering. Chris was 80, but had been fine, except for a bad memory. He didn’t know where he was, but he thought it was nice at the Atlas Arms. He liked to talk, but once you discovered that you didn’t need to listen, it was fine. He went to the restaurant, and the pool where he like to watch naked men. Once and a while he would lick your cock if you got close. A half dozen men fanned out to find him. We had no idea if he remembered about cars and traffic. Somehow Junk Yard found him five blocks away in an alley beside what seemed to be a meth house. Chris couldn’t recognize he was in a bad place. Junk Yard knew the situation. He had my cell phone and called me. I called the other guys and we converged on the alley. There were about six men facing Junk Yard and Chris. They had no idea they were outnumbered. The drugs must have clouded their perceptions. We were far enough away they didn’t see us. One man came at Junk Yard with a knife. Junk Yard kicked him in a special place. A second man ran at him. Junk Yard picked him up an tossed him at the other guys. I think they had figured the situation when they noticed us. That coincided with the sound of sirens. One of the neighbors called the police. They eventually tried to tell the police that a bunch of older men tried to beat them up. The neighbor had a video on her phone. Our little event caused a search of the meth house, so it was a successful ending. We didn’t need to do detained statement since the video showed it all. The video hit the local television news and Junk Yard was the shy heroic type. He saw his friend was in trouble and came to his aid. “I’m not violent, but sometimes you need to take out the trash,” he added to his brief remarks. Two weeks later three more meth labs in residential neighborhood were out of business since the neighbors said enough is enough. We returned to the Atlas Arms and Junk Yard was a hero. Chris didn’t know what was going on, but he liked the attention. Junk Yard took my advice, he relaxed and made some friends. He felt like a star again. It seemed as if most of his friends came with benefits. It seemed odd to me, but when men age, it can be difficult to stay erect. Many of the former tops seemed to like it in the ass. Junk Yard liked to help them. Chris seemed to think Junk Yard was his father, so Junk Yard moved in with Chris. That worked out well. Chris could be a little willful at times but seemed to believe daddy knows best. I met Chris’ younger daughter. She said their father was no saint, but Chris finally had the kind, friendly father he lacked when he was young. The Atlas Arms never advertised for tenants. I assumed that the people who needed to know knew. The gay telegraph worked well enough for others to know. We were not a nursing home, so some potential tenants needed more help than we could provide. Junk Yards exploits gave us some publicity. That did little for me, but the men liked it. Taking down a meth lab made the men feel good about themselves. In a pinch, they could be useful. Some of the neighborhood groups invited resident to community events. When you were having a street fair or church fund raiser, have a few hulking former wrestlers around, tended to calm some of the wilder elements. The gay telegraph provided contacts with worthy people. The most important was a man named Eustace Miller. He was a slight, bird like man who ran a nursing bursa escort bayan home. His nursing home tended to serve gay men and women. It wasn’t gay only, but it was a place where elderly gay men could feel comfortable. You didn’t need to stay in the closet. He was owner and CEO. The assistant manager was a nurse practitioner and professional tennis player, George Brown. He had been injured on his way up to the major tournaments. George was the sort of man who was stuck with a bunch of lemons and opened a lemonade stand. After getting his degree he came out as a gay man and gained weight. He wasn’t fat, but he had the physique of a brick. Eustace was the special friend of a wealthy owner of nursing homes. His homes were filing cabinets for old people. Eustace was intelligent, a whiz at business and sex crazed. Eustace turned to nursing homes into caring places while making more money and taking his patron’s cock up the ass every morning before breakfast and again just before bed. Eustace was a good judge of character and a straight shooter. He provided a good working environment for the employees while being profitable. George was his first find. Eustace knew about the Atlas Arms and saw the articles on Junk Yard and Chris. He wants to know if he could be of help with Chris. “I was wondering if Homestead Manor might be a good place for him?” he asked. I told him I didn’t think that was necessary, but it might be in the future. “You might not be aware of this, but I have a foundation which allows us to provide financial help for men with financial limitations,” Eustace explained. “Some of our residents have lifestyle problems which limit their family’s desire to support them. We are in a part of the country religious beliefs seem to exclude charity.” “I think we serve the same group of people,” George added. “We run a number of homes, but most are all but exclusively female. Men are rare and men with alternative lifestyles even rarer. My specialty is in geriatric nursing.” “My residents are largely older wrestlers and athletes,” I explained. “Junk yard was one of my favorites when I was younger,” George added. “You were the best of the peak-a-boo wrestlers. I almost, but never did see your equipment. Was that by accident?” I smiled. “Hell no. I knew my audience,” I said. Eustace had to go to another appointment, but George asked if he could meet Chris. I took him to Chris’ apartment. Chris was alone and we had a good conversation. Good isn’t exactly the right word. Chris was always pleasant and seemed alert. After ten minutes, his mind wandered, and went off unexpected directions. Junk Yard returned and George told him how much he had enjoyed seeing him on television. The professor came by to take Chris to the swim team practice. After he left, George told him he was a nurse. Junk Yard was immediately suspicious. George told him Chris was in good shape. He was reverting to his childhood but showed no indications that he had changed. He was not irritable or nasty. “Is that your experience with him? I’ve only seen him briefly. You know him far better?” “He wants to be a good boy and please his parents, especially his father,” Junk Yard said. “He thinks I’m his father, but he’s good. He doesn’t have a mean bone his body.” I had a good conversation with George. We seemed to be on the same wavelength. I suspected that was both professionally and sexually. He seemed genuinely interested. I did a little checking on Eustace Miller. His father and mother founded a nursing home and it didn’t have much of a reputation until his father died and Eustace took over management. He systematically upgraded the facilities and the reputation of the homes. When his mother died, there was a complete upgrading of the facilities and the staff. It had merger with his patron’s company. Somehow George found out about Sunny Delight’s open house and he asked if he might attend. I asked if he was easily shocked by men with free and easy approaches to life. He said no. Then I told him the event had an informal dress code. “I heard that a jock strap was standard attire,” he said. “That’s okay with me.” I replied that sometimes a jockstrap was considered formal attire. “Hot damn!” he replied. Sunny was away that week so the Bronx Bronco ran the event. George came escort bursa wearing a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. It was a hot summer day and the air conditioning was barely keeping up. George took off his shirt and was wearing a Borat style thong, that was a low cut. It covered his balls and most of his cock, but exposed hair covered body from his bush to his beard. The Professor mentioned that George had a distinctive fashion sense. George was not as muscular and bulky as the wrestlers, but he was all man. George knew how to make friends quickly and was immediately a popular guy. He was friendly but not overly aggressive. Two days later he called and asked if t had been too much. “Are those guys your harem or are they free agents?” he asked. I told him they were definatly free agents. “There was one guy there I was really interested in, I wanted to ask you about him?” he said. I asked him who it was. “Well apparently I wasn’t too obvious. It is you. At first, I thought it was just hero worship. The more I thought about you the more I liked what I saw,” George said. “I’m not available. The last few months had been bumpy,” I replied. “I figured that, but I didn’t want to plot and scheme to get you. I thought I should be direct and honest,” he explained. “I’m not opposed to plain old no-strings-attached sex,” I said. George smiled. “If that’s the way you play hard to get, I am more than willing,” he replied. He came to see me before Sunny’s next open house the next week. He asked if last week’s event was typical. I told him it was a bit tame. Sunny Delight was a sexual spark plug. The men tended to be demure when he wasn’t there. “You are new to them, that may have calmed things down.” “I’ve never been in a group like that. Was I under dressed?” he asked. “If anything, you are overdressed. The men don’t mind showing their wares,” I said. “Cock are fine, erections are better.” We walked to Sunny Delight’s apartment. The men were glad to see me and George. It was a typical summer day in South Florida, hot and humid. Sunny, Bronco, Junk Yard and Chris were already nude. Chris seemed to think he was back in school in the locker room. He wanted Sunny to get behind a locker a blow him. Junk Yard rolled his eyes. Chris was glancing at George with obvious interest. “Is it okay if I help him out?” he asked Junk Yard. Junk Yard said it was no problem, so George went over to Chris. “Are you new to the team?” Chis asked. “I’m new in town,” George replied. “I’m sort of lonely.” Chris looked as if Christmas had come early. While Chris was confused, apparently when it came to be making a pass at a good-looking man, Chris went on automatic pilot. They went in the bedroom. I talked with the Professor, Gus the Greek Giant and Miller for a while. I noticed George and Chris were still in the bedroom. I went to check and found Chis fucking George. I had never seen Chris hard before I was impressed. Chris looked me, was obviously surprised and he shot off. “It’s the coach!” he exclaimed. “Don’t worry Chris, it’s nice of you to make the new guy feel welcome,” I said. Chris smiled, pulled out of George, got on the bed and fell asleep. “There is a lot more to Chris than meets the eye,” George said. “I had plans for you and me later. I guess that off.” “If I told you a load of cum in your ass wouldn’t bother me, would you think I’m trashy?” I asked. I don’t mind a used ass.” George smiled. We had a good time at the party and a better time in my bedroom. George told me he had been surprised by Chris. “I didn’t know he could get hard,” I said. “It wasn’t that. I’m not much of a bottom. I was used to the slam-bang-thank-you-ma’am school of quick fucks. Chris had a friendly cock,” George said. “I almost shot off when he came. He was leaving a present in my ass, not dumping the contents of his balls.” George wanted affectionate sex, not only a quick poke. I am not that affectionate. I do like long sessions and don’t race to an orgasm. I like to explore and see how my partner reacts. Sometimes I try to edge and see how long he can take being on the cusp of an orgasm before he pops. That probably wouldn’t happen now. A sperm lubricated ass is a turn on and seems to push me to the edge. I was wrong about that. An hour later I pulled out of George after three full scale orgasms. Junk Yard came in looking for Chris, who was still sleeping. When he saw George with his ass in the air with my cum glistening at his hole, Junk Yard came over to him and licked it up. I was surprised. George was pleased.

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