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My name is Clivedon Wilhelm Van Der Hoeven, generally known to my family and friends as 'Clive'. I'm thirty-four and everyone tells me I still look twenty-one. Trust me; it's all in the genetics. My paternal grandfather died at eighty-seven and people were amazed to discover his true age in the obituaries. He looked fifty with not a line or crease on his face and a full head of silver grey hair.

I have a Ph.D. in Chemistry, a Master's in Chemical Engineering, and another Master's in Mathematics. My undergraduate degree is in Chemical Engineering with a second major in Mathematics. While studying at university I fell in love with teaching from my part time work as a university tutor and assistant tennis instructor. When I began my teaching career I was also hired to coach tennis and I've been doing it for twelve years now at one of the state's best private academies. My parents are still waiting for me to quit teaching and join the family firm in the more profitable career of engineering. Right now, I just enjoy teaching too much to quit. I can see an end in sight, though. Every time I have to deal with school violence I think about my luxurious oak paneled office in Dad's office building. And every time some dumb ass government politician fucks education over I swear I've worked my last year in the field. My teaching co-workers think I'm an idiot. Most of them would leave in a heartbeat if they had my opportunity.

I maintain my Professional Engineering license by providing consulting work for my family firm at least 10-20 hours per week. Dad insists I stay current as I'm one of his heirs to the family engineering firm. I have one brother, Brad, who's two years younger than me and also works in the firm. At age 32 he's been married and divorced three times and thankfully has no children because he's completely sterile as a result of an illness he had when he was twelve. His marriages have all failed because when Brad realized he really could not get a woman pregnant he turned into the biggest pussy hound the world has ever seen. It's impossible for him to be faithful to one woman. He thinks he has to try to fuck every woman he likes, kind of like the dog that pees on every bush in his neighborhood. After a fortune in divorce settlements and legal fees, he's decided he's finished with marriage. Apparently, plenty of women are content to provide him with regular fucks with no strings attached. He struts around like he's Charlie Sheen. Fortunately, he's not into drugs.

My summer teaching break had ended and I was in Albany, New York for a week. I was at another of those annual state teacher's conferences where educators meet to try to solve the unsolvable problems of instructing the pupils of our country. Each time I attend one of these ass wipe things I come closer to just calling the principal and quitting on the spot. I'd been selected as one of two representatives from our county. It was the first week of August, pre-planning was to begin at the end of the following week with a new school term to begin on the last day of the month. Typical half assed affairs, the last time I attended one of these conferences there was a fuck up and I was not included on the list of conference delegates nor was a hotel room booked for me. It was such a royal mess that I actually was able to get out of attending.

Check in time was after 4:00 PM on Sunday evening. I arrived at 5:30. After checking into my room, I was surprised to discover it only had one king sized bed. How many hotels are left that have rooms with only one bed? Maybe a honeymoon suite. I laughed to myself. Perhaps they assumed newlyweds would be too busy fucking to notice the piss poor décor. I figured I must have been given a single room because the other delegate was female or wasn't going to show up. That was not unusual either. Better than the year I attended with Harvey Wilkes, the band director at Cambridge Academy. Harvey spent the entire conference in the hotel room totally pissed out of his mind on vodka. By the end of the week I was beginning to feel inebriated from sharing the room with him.

I undressed and got into the shower. After a few minutes I heard the room door open. Surprised, I thought perhaps I had forgotten to lock it. In the far reaches of my mind, I also considered a break-in. I wrapped a towel around my waist and ran out of the bathroom. I was somewhat stunned to see Bill Purefoy, the head football coach of our school, as he threw his two suitcases on the bed.

"What the hell's going on, Clive? Surely these assholes don't expect us to share the same bed! Motherfucking goddamn shithead assholes!"

Bill was totally pissed off.

"You're covered in soap, Van Der Hoeven, and dripping all over the goddamn floor! Finish your shower while I go see that little pansy faggot at the front desk to fix this fuck up!"

Bill left the room, slamming the door behind him. I finished my shower, dressed in slacks and a pullover, ready to change rooms. I sat in a chair at the small table and used the Karaburun Escort remote to flip through the television channels. It was your typical cable television, over a hundred channels and not a damn thing worth watching. I turned the TV off and lay across the bed, falling asleep. I was startled awake by the door slamming with a crash against the wall. Bill was still furious.

"Well, here's the deal. There're no other rooms in the hotel. They're fully packed because of the conference and the pre-season football game. Of course the ass wipe manager apologized for the screw up and tried to pass the buck. I raised so much hell we're getting the room free all week and free meals in the restaurants, plus free unlimited access to their movie channels. We got lucky."

I gave him an eat shit look. "Exactly how did you manage that little coup? If you told that little shit you're the head of the New York Mafia he'd tell you to kiss his ass. Remember, I met him, too."

Bill laughed sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, the little turd really didn't give a shit but Coach Dempsey was there at the same time and he was in a foul mood and scared the shit out of the manager so he made the deal."

"Who's Dempsey? God in the flesh? I can't imagine the hotel giving a damn."

"George Dempsey is the statewide educational chairman who books hotels for all our conventions. He threatened to boycott the entire hotel chain nationwide. The manager nearly pissed all over himself. I swear he looked like he was ready to offer to suck Dempsey's dick right there in the lobby. I'll bet Dempsey stays free in the penthouse suite everywhere he goes."

I looked at Bill and snorted.

"I can live with it, but can you?" Bill asked.

"So who is going to sleep on the floor?"

Bill sat on the edge of the bed. "On the floor, my ass! You can sleep on the fucking floor if you want to be ridiculous. I grew up with three brothers and had to share a bed with a brother until I went to college. It's not like I'm gonna to rape you, stupid. I don't snore and I hope to god you don't. My wife does and just between us, we sleep in separate bedrooms and only share a bed to fuck."

I sighed impatiently. "No, I don't snore. It's just it's hard for me to sleep with someone else in the bed."

Bill cackled. "Well, that says a lot about your sex life, Clive, or should I say the lack of one. Think of me as an extra pillow in the bed."

I laughed. "I don't know if that's such a good idea. I usually fuck the extra pillow on my bed."

"Go to hell, dick wad. You try fucking this pillow and you'll go home neutered."

Bill and I continued to joust and tease in this vein for the next half hour as we unpacked and got ready for supper. Personally I've always found him to be incredibly sexy with a boyish grin and juvenile sense of humor. He's a fun person to be around and the most popular coach at our school.

We decided since he raised so much hell downstairs, it would be better to have our first meal in a restaurant away from the hotel. Give management a chance to cool down. No need to die of food poisoning on the first night. Bill drove us to a steakhouse on the edge of the city. He was often in Buffalo for other meetings or games and he'd eaten there several times before. He swore it was the best steakhouse in the whole state of New York and it was.

As we were driving back to the hotel, Bill slowed in front of an adult bookstore. "You have any objections to taking in a little porn? I don't get to do it unless I'm out of town. The old ball and chain would fucking kill me if she knew. You know how it is." He rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Has a cat got an ass? It'll be a nice way to finish the evening."

He laughed. "Nice??? You really do have a shit love life, Clive. Your life must be boring as hell. A nice way to finish the evening would be fucking a hot pussy but this will have to do."

The entrance was in the rear of the building. About a half dozen vehicles were in the parking lot.

"Let's hope we don't run into anyone we know," I said.

"If we do, just remember that they'll value our silence as much as we value theirs. Don't panic and start blushing like a girl." Bill laughed. "Anyway, you know how it goes. Men who like porn are part of a silent brotherhood."

It was a typical adult bookstore, aisles divided into sexual preferences, and a back area with peep video cubicles. The cashier was wrapping new magazines in clear plastic wrap. One other customer was in an aisle looking at magazines devoted to big tits. The owners of the other vehicles out back had to be in the back watching videos. We slowly made our way through the aisles with Bill occasionally picking up a magazine of interest. I was interested in what appealed to him, curious about his range of sexual interests. I would casually pick up a magazine in the areas where he did. He made his way through the big titty magazines looking at two or three, totally Escort Karaburun skipped the S