THE GENTLEMEN'S CLUB
Benjamin

Written by Lady Poetess
egiggles at moose-mail.com
http://www.asstr.org/~bbp

Please do not reproduce on any website without permission. This
story has no resemblance to anyone dead or alive.

PROLOGUE

It was a perfect day for a wedding. Not exactly a legal wedding
for homosexual marriages were still shady when one considered
their legality, but nonetheless the lucky bridegroom Casey Affleck
didn't care. He watched as the man he had chosen for his mate
walked down the lawn path. John Denvers was resplendent in his
simple yet elegant dark brown suit, with soft silk white shirt
that only highlighted the golden shine of his short gold hair and
iris eyes.

Casey Affleck felt like the luckiest man in the world.

At that moment there was a shout, followed by screams of outraged
horror. He watched, mouth wide open, when a Mercedes crashed
through the neat hedge. A disheveled looking Ben crashed the car
right into the wedding cake reception desk, toppling it. Ben, the
Affleck black sheep, clambered out of the car, shouted something
to John, which Casey couldn't hear above the commotion.

His guests scattered, not far enough to witness another Ben
Affleck debacle, of course. John's face paled, and to Casey's
surprise, started to run the other way.

"Johnny!" Casey shouted after his love.

Ben jumped, falling heavily onto John. They fell heavily and
rolled along the lawn, shouting no doubt obscenities as they
wrestled each other. Then came another car, this time a Jaguar,
thankfully through the more conventional route - down the road -
and Casey saw Jeremy Northam, Ethan Hawke, Stephen Gately, and
several of Ben's friends. They bundled a struggling John into
Ben's car, and took off.

"My wedding," Casey said belatedly. He wondered if he could get a
refund from the caterer.



ONE

John Denvers, actually Matthew Paige Damon, cursed foully from
beneath his gag. Trussed up in the most undignified manner in the
back of his nemesis' car, he could make outraged sounds.

"Whoa, cut down on the bad words or I would have to wash your
fucking mouth with soap," Ben Geza Affleck said easily. "You
really think I would stand by and let your get away with it?"

The thought of what Matt almost succeeded in doing made Ben's
anger surge up all over again. Matt alias John Denvers alias Peter
Josephson alias a million other names had cheated seven other
gullible queer heirs to various fortunes in the last five years.
It was plain luck that Ben discovered Matt's real identity, hell,
Ben even saluted the man for being intelligent enough to con so
many victims, but family was family. Even if the Afflecks had
disowned him, he wouldn't see them fall.

Looking at the rear mirror, Ben could see why Matt was so
successful though. Matt was handsome, but his face lacked any
distinguishable trait. Ben had compared various snapshots of Matt
in his various incarnations, and if Ben hadn't spent nights
memorizing every possible trait of Matt's bland beauty, he
wouldn't have recognized him. Matt's nondescript face was his
greatest asset - that face was almost elastic in its ability to
carry off disguises properly. A moustache, some stubble, and a
simple earring could change Matt into another person entirely. The
only way Ben could recognize Matt was through those vivid eyes and
the sheer electricity that surged through Ben's senses every time
he was in Matt's company.

He had first seen "John" when Casey introduced them. Casey was the
only person who still talked to Ben after the debacle with the
Foster account. And Ben had fallen right in lust with John at
first sight.

Even now, Ben felt his mouth dry as he watched Matt. The struggle
had hiked Matt's shirt out of his trousers, exposing pale expanse
of well-defined abdominal muscles. Matt's gold hair had fallen
over his eyes, and the man's pale face was flushed. Ben liked that
rosy hue in Matt's face, and he would give anything to see that
rosy hue on Matt's face when Ben finally took Matt.

Oh yes, he had no qualms about fucking Matt first to get the man
out of his system before handing the man to the cops. Matt wasn't
a delicate virgin; the man was a cheat, a gigolo.



Matt stumbled when Ben pushed him into the living room. He had
never been to Ben's house before, which was three hours outside
LA. Nice, he thought stupidly, taking in the simple masculine
furniture and sparse ornamental decoration. No prissy abstract art
or sculpture like Jonathon's pad. Ben's place had the bare
essentials - Matt saw two plush sofa, the largest TV set he had
ever seen, a sophisticated video and laser player, some great
stereo Matt vowed he would take along with him when he left, and
surprisingly, a wall lined with a full bookshelf.

Nice. Then all admiration of the house left him when Ben lifted
him and slung him over his shoulders like a bag of flour.

Matt shouted in outrage, but the gag was in the way. Besides,
thrill tingled through his spine and aroused his libido at the
thought of Ben's deceptively lanky frame hiding such strength. And
then Matt could feel Ben's well-muscled shoulder under his
stomach, and his knees rubbing against Ben's hard chest through
the smooth silk of Ben's shirt. It was all Matt could do not to
pounce on Ben and do something shocking when Casey first
introduced him to his brother. Ben had finished a round of squash
in the club, and Matt couldn't helped staring at the hint of hair
protruding from the collar of Ben's shirt and the sweaty, hard-
muscled thighs exposed thanks to Ben's shorter than short squash
shorts.

Even then, Ben oozed quiet strength and sexual power. The way
those thighs moved when Ben ran across the court teased Matt's
dreams nights after, making his asshole throb and his thighs ache
to feel those powerful thighs between his. Casey's fucking soon
turned into painfully frustrating sessions of fantasizing, where
Matt would have to bite his tongue from screaming out Ben's name
when he came.

Now, horror and embarrassment suffused him when he felt his cock
swell against Ben's chest, right under Ben's left nipple. He
couldn't help it; he pressed his bulging crotch against the man.

He came to his senses when he fell facedown on a bed. Ben's bed?
The thought almost made him cream his pants. Then outrage of
outrages when he felt cold steel closing around his wrists, then
ankles. He was handcuffed spread-eagled to a bed.

"There, that will keep you busy for a few hours while I figure out
what to do with you." Ben smiled nastily then ripped the gag off
the Matt's mouth.

"Fuck you!" Matt yelled, struggling at his captivity. "I'll get
even. When I get out of jail I'll put a fucking bullet through
your pathetic skull."

"You may just get your wish, the jail part, you sorry son of a
bitch." Ben's expression turned almost cruel as he sneered. "And
quit that macho blustering. May I remind you that you are at my
mercy at the moment? Hell, I could put a bullet into your fucking
miserable head and no one would prosecute me."

"Fuck you."

"I can hire lawyers to defend me, make it a case of self-defense.
Hell, I can just hide your body and none would be wiser. I don't
think anyone would even care. You're just a low-life, good-for-
nothing parasite." Ben smiled. "Ouch. You look murderous. Did I
hit a nerve?"

"I'll get you for this," Matt said.

"No one messes with my family, Matt. I can't allow that. Nothing
personal, actually."

"Your family doesn't want you," Matt shot back, trying his best to
sneer. "They all think you are a good-for-nothing motherfucking
moron."

"Well, this motherfucking moron owns your ass, Matt. You'd best
remember that and be nice to me." Ben straightened himself. "You
want coffee?"

"What are you going to do with me?" Matt couldn't help asking when
Ben made to leave the room.

"Beats me," Ben said honestly.



TWO

Ben couldn't sleep that night. He was intensely aware of Matt in
the room next door, and his cock knew it too. It stood proud and
tall, urging Ben to take what was so close within his reach. And
why shouldn't he? Matt was a liar, a nobody. Still, Ben felt a
twinge of conscience. Sure, he screwed around; when one was rich,
willing lovers could always be found. He wasn't a very nice man,
he had seduced and used and discarded. But the thought of using
Matt was strangely repulsive even to him.

Ben groaned, pushing his erection into the softness of the
mattress, a sad substitute for a hot tight ass, really. No one had
ever driven him so close to madness like Matt, not even when Ben
was fifteen and would fuck anything that moved. Ben had been in
perpetual horniness ever since he met Matt. Other men couldn't
reduce his edge, hell; these men weren't even close substitutes.
He wanted Matt, only Matt, and no one else and damned if he knew
what was so special about Matt.

Ben gasped, spreading his thighs and raising his buttocks. His
finger pushed through the tight ring of muscles guarding his anus
as he ground his cock into the mattress, imagining Matt spread
wide open in invitation under him. He would sink his cock into
that delicious dark hole, and he would just fuck them both until
nothing else mattered but fucking coming.

He felt warmth seeping under his stomach, and groaned when he
realized that he had ejaculated onto his bed. Shuddering with
pleasure, he gasped, pushing his finger deeper up his anus,
pumping short thrusts. He kept coming for what seemed like hours,
until he buried his sweat soaked face into the pillow, feeling his
balls twitch as his cock spurted the last of his semen.



Matt couldn't sleep, not when he knew Ben was next door to him.
Hence, when Ben pushed open the door, Matt thought he was
dreaming. Ben was nude, gloriously nude, and Matt gulped. Taut
muscles tensed in Ben's chest and stomach and thighs, making him
look like a bloody marble Greek statue. The jutting penis from the
thick dark pubic push looked hard enough to rival Greek statues,
the proud smooth tip moistened with shiny sheen and the thick
veins standing out clearly. Matt wanted to howl when his lust
pitched at the sight of creamy semen generously slathered on Ben's
lower stomach and caught in the pubic bush.

"Obviously you've started the party early," he managed to say.

Ben didn't answer. He reached for the side table and took out a
pair of scissors. Cold fear slithered in Matt's senses. "Ben, be
reasonable," he said.

"Shut up," Ben said huskily.

Matt watched, entranced, as Ben placed the scissors on his chest.
Snip, and Matt's first button was gone. Snip, snip, snip, one by
one, and Matt watched as Ben cut open his shirt. "Beautiful," he
heard Ben murmur, then he groaned when Ben parted the ruined shirt
to touch Matt's chest.

"That's what Casey say," Matt couldn't help saying.

Ben gave a feral growl. The violence took Matt by surprise. A loud
rip, then Ben stripped Matt entirely nude, and pain wracked Matt
the moment Ben shoved his cock up Matt without any preliminaries.

"Fucking hell, at least use a rubber," Matt gasped as pain warred
with pleasure.

"Fuck rubber," Ben said, pushing even deeper up Matt's deliciously
tight and slippery passage. "Fuck you."

"Get off me! Damn it, I refuse to fuck you without any rubber."

Ben paused, every muscle tensed in barely contained violence. "I
don't have any rubber," he growled after a while.

"You're kidding," Matt said.

"Ran out and I forgot to buy some more," Ben said. He looked at
Matt, his well defined square jaw tensed. "Please don't tell me
you're this fucking anal about rubber. Not now."

"You damn right I am," Matt shot back even as he instinctively
tightened his grip on Ben's cock.

"Yeah? Then why are you gripping my cock like a fucking vise?" Ben
gave a short rough thrust up; Matt gave a keening cry of pleasure
when he felt that cock rubbing his prostate. "Fuck the rubber. I
wanna fuck."

"I can't stop you, can I?" Matt gasped out when Ben gave another
thrust, the cock spearing him deeper than anyone else ever had.
"Oh!"

Ben's abrupt withdrawal had him crying out in bereft
disappointment. He looked at the man in stunned surprise.

"Never let it say I'm not politically correct," Ben managed to
say. He looked at his cock then at Matt. He pointed a shaky finger
at the man. "But you're not getting away with this. You're still
going to get fucked one way or the other."

"Ben."

"What?" Ben shouted.

"Come here."

"Why?"

Matt laughed. "Don't looked so fucking suspicious. Come here. Sit
on my chest."

"Ah." Ben climbed back on the bed. "I see."

Then Matt had his mouth closing on Ben's cock, cleaning him, and
Ben saw nothing.



Ben awoke when he felt someone sucking on his morning erection. He
lay back, enjoying the mouth's expert suction and licking. The
tongue on his cock lapped at the slit that was even now leaking
clear drops of lubrication in anticipation of a great royal fuck,
lapping at the juices as if Ben was a fucking lollypop. Then the
tongue was rimming the sensitive underside ridge of Ben's cock,
the rough texture of the tongue driving the sensitive nerves in
that area crazy. Warm lips rubbed his cock shaft, the tongue
tracing the prominent veins, then down. Ben had freed Matt's feet
last night, which Matt was using now to move lower down Ben's
body. Then the mouth was backing up. This time Ben couldn't take
it any longer. He pushed himself up, and deeper into Matt's
throat. One thrust, two, then he was spurting like a geyser into
Matt's mouth and down the frantically swallowing throat. Matt's
fingers dug at his steel-hard buns, and then Ben was ejaculating
again, an encore clearly appreciated by Matt judging from his
delighted murmurs.

"Sure you don't me up here," Ben asked, letting one finger trace
Matt's pucker lazily when they were both sated later. "There's
only so much blow jobs can do to us both, you know."

Matt licked at the trace of his own seed at the right edge of
Ben's lips. "I don't want you to feel dirty and degraded when you
realized you've just fucked a low-life con."

"Ouch. But we both need this. I want you," Ben said.

Matt felt a warm glow in his chest when he heard Ben's heavy
earnestness in the last three words. "You want me?" he asked
stupidly.

"Ever since Casey brought you to the club. There's something about
you that make me hard. I'm still hard," Ben whispered. "See?"

"Maybe if you release my hands I can kiss you."

"No." Ben smiled roguishly, a sight Matt found irresistible. "Like
I said, you're a con."

"No shame in that." Matt said easily, lying back and running his
toes along Ben's hairy leg.

"So why con?" Ben traced the gentle curve of Matt's back. "Broken
family?"

"You've been watching too many talk shows."

But Ben knew. He had read Matt's juvenile records, obtained via
less-than-legal means. Matt had been raised by an abusive step-
uncle that threw him out into the streets when Matt was twelve.
Matt had been arrested for everything from shoplifting to
prostitution to extortion. At fifteen Matt was sent to a
corrective facility. "Maybe I have," Ben agreed.



THREE

Ben looked at the wide display of condoms in the supermarket. He
shrugged and swept six boxes into his cart. "Good day to you," he
said cheerfully to the young boy watching him in awe.

He felt on top of the world, if truth were told. It was stupid
really, but here he was, shopping in a supermarket for the first
time in his pampered and spoilt life, and he was enjoying it. He
added to his purchases a carton of milk, some chocolates, and two
tubs of pistachio ice cream. For added measure he returned to the
aisle and added in four more boxes of rubber.

"Egads, you're shopping," he heard a familiar voice.

"Well, Greg, there's always the first time." He eyed Greg's cart.
"Cooking spree again?"

"Cheaper than therapy." Greg lifted one eyebrow at Ben's
purchases. "Ten?"

Ben blushed, fuck, he actually blushed. Maybe ten was pushing it a
little. "Yeah, ten," he said in a tone that dared Greg to
contradict him.

"Any chance you're using it with the con you holed in your place?"

"I see Jeremy's been blabbing again."

"Hey, it's none of my business. Just wondering, that's all. I'd
hate to see the man get hurt."

"The man? How about me? It's my family he's trying to cheat," Ben
said.

"Hell, the way your family cut you off for losing a contract, I'd
say good for this man." Greg smiled, his otherwise bland features
now basking in beauty that entranced his partner even today. "Just
be careful."

"He's nothing to me," Ben insisted at Greg's retreating back.

"Yeah?" Greg looked back, mischief in his eyes. "Think about it.
You're allergic to dairy products. So why are there two tubs of
ice cream in your cart?"

"Actually they are for - shit." Ben looked at his cart in horror.

No, he told himself as he drove home in reckless speed. No way, no
fucking way. He was buying ice cream because he felt like it, not
because Matt mentioned in passing that he loved this sort of ice
cream. Although an insidious part of him whispered gleefully that
if Matt wasn't anything to him, why the hell was he worrying?

Why indeed? It was with desperation when he burst into the room he
still held Matt captive and said, "Let's fuck."



Ben stood, stupified. Matt was free, sitting calmly on the bed.
"You're free."

"Of course I am," Matt said.

Fuck. No wonder Matt had insisted on Ben going shopping earlier.
Ben stupidly left Matt to his own devices. He stepped into the
room.

"Hey, don't move." Matt lifted a pocket knife. "I'd hate to use
this on you."

"So you expect me to let you walk out of here?"

"Won't hurt, will it?" Matt buttoned up the shirt he was wearing,
Ben's shirt actually, and dusted his trousers, again, Ben's. "If
you don't mind standing aside, I'll get going - aaggghhhh!"

Ben lost control. He threw himself at Matt, right in the path if
the sharp-looking blade. He felt brief savage satisfaction when
Matt - perhaps instinctively - threw the blade out of his way.
They fell onto the bed, Ben on Matt. Ben looked into Matt's fear-
filled eyes, and pushed his now increasingly hardening cock at the
man's crotch. "I won't let you get away from me," Ben said, his
voice hard. "Not when we have unfinished business."

Matt's eyes had taken on a glaze of desire mingled with
reluctance. "Don't do this to me, Ben, please." When Ben pulled
his trousers down, and Matt's, he shut his eyes. He waited, then
yes, he heard the ripping of a silver foil, he felt it, the weight
of Ben's body settling on him, their still clad upper body
breathing as one, then he felt it, the heavy tip of Ben's now
rubber coated cock nudging at his entrance. Then Ben's wide thick
shaft pierced him, impaling him. Matt spread his thighs and
clasped Ben's body, lifting his lower body off the bed to allow
Ben to bend forward to plunge deeper. His hands gripped the hair
on Ben's chest, moaning in need as he felt the rough hairy mat of
Ben's crotch pressed against his balls.

"You okay?" Ben asked.

"Yeah." Matt swallowed. "Just give me a minute to get used to
you." His hand groped the top of the bedside table. "Just a
minute." His fingers closed around the vase.

Ben's rough fingers closed over his. Ben's eyes were inscrutable,
however. He brought Matt's hand to his lips, and slowly kissed the
knuckles one by one. Matt's breath caught. Ben's warm breath on
his skin was an immaculate feeling that inexplicably caused Matt's
eyes to water. Then Ben was kissing him, lips to lips. When Matt
opened his mouth, Ben's tongue slipped in. Matt welcomed him,
kissing Ben back. Then Ben began pumping, slowly, the long shaft
withdrawing in agonizing slowness until Matt wanted to scream.
When only the tip of Ben's cock was submerged in Matt's pulsing
anus, Ben slowly plunged back.

"I can get used to this," Ben murmured.

"Don't stop or I'll kill you," Matt said, his hands now gripping
Ben's hard buns, urging him on in his steady pumping. He felt the
man's heavy balls slapping against his buttocks, reveled in Ben's
harsh features as the man tried hard to control his rising orgasm.
"Faster, damn it! You're killing me."

"Always willing to oblige," Ben panted, and Matt screamed.

He didn't stop crying in unbearable ecstasy when Ben rammed home
hard. The man was like a fucking sex engine, his hips slamming
into Matt's crotch with sex wet slapping sounds as his cock
steamed, coring Matt again and again until Matt thought he would
burst into flames. He arched his back, pushing down on Ben's cock
until the man's balls were squashed tight against his buttocks,
then up when Ben withdrew.

"Wait! Damn it, you are so tight my fucking rubber is falling
off," Ben gasped. "Let me pull out and put it back on."

Matt pulled Ben's face to his and kissed him so hard their lips
bled. "Fuck the rubber!" Matt told him. "Now pump me!"

Ben obliged. The rubber fell off halfway, and Ben paused only to
pull the thing off, and then it was his turn to cry out at the
incomparable sensation of his naked flesh submerged in Matt's wet
heated hole. He looked at Matt apologetically even as his balls
lifted the moment he buried his now unsheathed cock to the hilt,
and then he was orgasming uncontrollably, coming in long, spurious
spurts in that spasming ass that wrung every last drop from him.



"You want money? Is that why you con?" Ben asked when he could
speak.

Matt looked at Ben questioningly, his own hair askew, his breath
barely under control. His asshole still felt as if it was on fire.
"No, it's for charity. Of course it's for money, asshole."

Ben looked at Matt, his face solemn.

"What is it?" When Ben just kept staring, Matt poked a finger at
Ben's hairy chest. "What, Ben?"

"I have money. Lots of it."

"So?"

Ben took a deep breath as if steadying his nerves. "Why not make
me your mark instead? Try and cheat me like you did Casey. Marry
me for my money."

Matt started laughing. "You're fucking funny."

Ben only stared at the man laughing. He wondered why it was as if
he had just lost everything precious to him in this world.



FOUR

"I still love him. I'll marry him."

Ben looked at his brother murderously. "He tried to cheat you."

"So? I want him. He's great in bed, and he loves watching
baseball."

"That's not enough to start a marriage," Ben said through gritted
teeth.

"So what is?"

"You hardly know Matt!" Ben yelled. "You don't even know he loves
pistacchio ice cream and thinks the best place in the world is
Marseilles. You don't know that when he wrinkles his nose, he's
upset. You don't know how much he has suffered in his past and how
he hides his pain by just ignoring it. Fuck it, Casey, you don't
even feel the maddening joy when he laughs at your jokes, the
irritation that he prefers watching the Mets more than you on
baseball night, the way you feel as if you have everything you
ever need because you make him smile? You don't feel utter
gratitude that he even knows your name because to you he is most
intriguing mix of annoyance and paradise ever. You don't fucking
know him, and you don't deserve him!"

Silence greeted his outburst.

"If you want that guy so bad, why did you haul him to the cops?"
Casey asked.



NYPD's 34th Precinct was quite startled when one of the richest
man in the world burst through the doors, looking disheveled and
harried, his tie askew. The man spotted the officer who had taken
down record of Matthew Damon's arrest.

"You! I'm not pressing charges. Nobody is pressing charges!" the
man practically shouted. "Release him, you hear me? Release him!"

"But -"

At that moment Matthew Damon walked out from the gent's room.
"Thanks but I've just about to leave anyway. Your brother's agreed
not to press - whoa! Ben, we're in a public place! Ben! BEN!"

Matthew Damon was carried over the man's shoulder like a sack of
coals, and that was the last time the con ever graced a police
station in a while.
