Author: admin

I took his cum on my cheek, wiped it off with a Kleenex from my jeans pocket, and stood up from the park bench, ready to move on after he paid me. Instead he motioned me to sit on the bench beside him and, after passing me the two tens he’d had folded in the palm of one of his hands, stuffed his cock back inside his trousers fly and zipped himself up. He put an arm around my shoulders along the back of the park bench, used that hand to turn my face toward his for a kiss, and stroked my bicep with his fingers while we kissed.

“Can we just talk for a few minutes?” he asked.

“Sure,” I answered, thinking this might lead to an opportunity for a couple of more bills from someone I wouldn’t have to do a buildup with.

We were sitting within the shelter of a large pine tree with sweeping branches and looking out on one of the large open spaces in the center of Patterson Park in southeast Baltimore, not too far from the inner harbor, which then, in the early seventies was under robust redevelopment into a showcase city center. Redevelopment hadn’t reached this far out on Eastern Avenue yet, though.

The park wasn’t exactly deserted this hour before twilight, but there were many private places, like this bench, where men could meet for a tryst and not have a great risk of being seen or interrupted. This was a well-known place in Baltimore–the gay bar district was close by–for just exactly what I was doing here with a guy who called himself Tom and who I had met right here, less than twenty minutes ago, and had walked by a couple of times until we were both comfortable that the other one knew what we were here for and were interested. He’d wanted to talk before I gave him a blow job too. Often it was a quick suck and no talking. But this guy wanted to talk. He obviously wanted company as badly as he wanted sex.

He wasn’t really named Tom, of course, nor was the name I gave him, Dane, my real name–although it was close enough–but we both knew how it was with names. About as far as he’d gotten in revealing who he was was that he was a businessman in Baltimore for a couple of days on business. He was wearing a suit, which gave evidence to that. I just told him I was taking a year off before resuming school. I was dressed like a student would be.

We sized each other up. I could tell that he was attracted to my blond, curly hair and blue eyes and to my body, which was muscular, but toned just right for my size–not threatening but certainly not bringing “weakling” to mind. For his part, he was probably in his early forties but was trim and good looking enough. Not a standout, but definitely not a throw away. And he was dressed for success. Even was wearing a tie out here in the park, though it was pulled down from the knot. His suit coat was draped over the back of the bench beside him. His shirt cuffs were rolled up on his forearms, which showed a matting of curly black hair. I think he might have just come from meetings.

“Just out of high school?” He’d asked when we were sitting on the bench, sizing each other up.

“Yes,” I’d replied, “but I took a year longer at that than usual. I have trouble applying myself, they told me.” I didn’t tell them that I’d gotten set back a semester and moved to another school just because of that business with some guys on the football team.

“I want to go to college,” I said, “but I’d like some time off first. I’m kicking around the East Coast.”

“Where have you come from?” he asked me.

“Pennsylvania. West from here.” I didn’t tell him it was from a small farming community near Pittsburgh. I’d learned fast not to tell the guys I ran across everything about me. I’d also learned to make them come up with any suggestions. Which, of course, Tom had eventually. He obviously had wanted his cock polished. He seemed proud of it, and he had a good reason to be so.

“If you’re just drifting around, how are you covering your expenses?” he asked. “You doing odd jobs here and there? Is that enough to get you by?”

“I worked for a landscaping company while I was in school,” I answered. I let that cover what I could do to earn money here and there while I traveled. I didn’t mention that I had money stashed in a locker at Penn Station up on North Charles Street, enough to see me by for several months of travel on the cheap. That’s because I had, indeed, worked for a landscaper while going to school.

“But is it enough to see you by?” he asked.

“It’s never enough, of course,” I answered. He was angling for service, I could tell. That was what I’d been hoping for when he said he wanted to talk. I figured he had the money and was good for it.

That’s when he worked his way into telling me what I could do for him to earn some money. After all the roundabout talk, when it came down to it, he was very direct.

“I have this problem,” he said. “It’s called an ache in the balls. I’ll give you twenty dollars to suck me off.”

My response to that led me to kneeling between his spread thighs, unzipping and fishing his tool out, and giving him a twenty-dollar blow job while he leaned back in the bench, arms stretched along the bench back in both directions, and moaned his pleasure. I knew how to give a man pleasure with a blow job. I had developed the skill with the guys from the football team.

“Such a soft mouth,” he said, his voice dreamy, his eyes closed. “Yes, there, like that. Again, please. Ahhh, shit. Fuck. Oh, Christ. Is that a bead you’ve got in your tongue? It’s driving me crazy.”

Yes, it was a bead I had pierced in my tongue.

He’d come quickly and hadn’t make demands for me to deep-throat him. Very polite about it, he was. He moaned as I licked it off, and he remained, leaning back, eyes closed, and dong hanging out of his fly, as I made to rise and leave.

“No, please, not yet,” he’d said, opening his eyes and motioning me to sit on the bench next to him. That’s when he’d said, “Can we just talk for a few minutes?”

I’d thought that would be it; he hadn’t mentioned going any further. But I began to wonder about that when he wanted me to sit and make out a bit with him and “just talk” after I’d sucked him off. I did a bit of a look around on where we could go if he wanted to fuck me. He was nice looking and built well enough and his dick was nice, but not frightening, so I was willing to do it if he offered at least fifty. I could see that, in back of us, there was an ideal spot–hidden under the sweeping pine tree branches, the ground under there covered with pine needles.

That isn’t quite what he wanted, though. He was nuzzling the side of my neck and had his left hand on my thigh, when he whispered in my ear, “I’ll give you another ten if you let me jack you off.”

He did it right there, right then. He pulled my face into his for another round of kissing, while he unzipped me, freed my cock, and stroked me to an ejaculation. It was kind of nice, and he wasn’t at all dominating or threatening. He might have been perfect if I wanted it soft, but I was sort of partial to getting it rough.

“What are you doing for the rest of the evening?” he asked, after he was done and he’d pulled a package of Chesterfields out of his shirt pocket, offered me one, and then lit us both up with a flashy silver lighter. “Do you have plans? I don’t have any meetings tonight and am foot loose. There’s a club here–the Apollo Club–up, just off Eastern Avenue, in the Canton district I’d like to try out. I’d rather not go alone. We could stop in someplace for dinner, my treat, and then take in the club.”

“That sounds good,” I said.

“And then . . . maybe . . . I’m staying at the Belvedere on North Charles. Do you know that hotel?”

“No, I’m not from Baltimore. I’m just passing through.”

“But you might be willing to go to a hotel room with me?”

“Yeah, sure, if–”

“Maybe for, say . . . a hundred dollars.”

“OK.” I would have gone to the hotel room with him for less. I would have gone just to be able to sleep in a hotel room, even if there was a guy on top of me doing pushups on my body. This guy seemed a little soft to be doing pushups on my ass, though.

And that’s where, I guess, my Goldilocks story from the early 1970s started. Well, a bit after that. The deal with Tom didn’t go much further. But it was Tom who took me to the Apollo Club.

The Apollo Club was in a row of townhouses a block off Eastern Avenue that had been converted into various commercial enterprises. The club was in the upper stories of one of these row houses and there was a separate entrance to the basement with a sign, Nate’s Gym, over it. I was later to learn that these were connected businesses. The Apollo Club was a gay bar and music venue and the gym was for the club’s members–one membership card covered both, and there was an internal staircase between the floors as well as the separate outside entrances.

The main club room took up most of the first floor of the building. There was a bar at the side, a group of tables at the street side of the room, a raised stage for the bands at the back wall, and dancing and swaying space in between. The dancers took a position near the tables and the swayers lined up in a semicircle in front of the stage.

The band that night was one called the Drive Shaft, which was an OK name for a band playing gay clubs up and down the East Coast. They played loud rock and they were the personification of rockers–long hair, garishly colored tight pants, high-top boots, no shirts, and headbands. I think they were picked to be in the band as much for being hunks as for their music ability. I was taken with both. They definitely were studs and the music was about the same level of competence as the band I had done some singing for back in Ivywood, Pennsylvania. It wasn’t so much that it was great, as that it was familiar and made me a bit homesick.

Tom was sitting back in his chair, butt on the front edge, at one of the tables. Most of the clientele was younger than he was and I’m not sure that the Apollo Club was what he was expecting. I was up with the swayers, right in front of the lead singer, gyrating to the music and lip-synching his songs whenever he was doing one I knew. I caught his eye and he caught mine and we swayed and sang together, cutting the rest of the room out.

Next thing I knew there was a late forties, balding guy in a cheap suit, a shirt open down to his navel, a hairy chest, a thick gold chain around his neck, and a collection of chunky rings on his fingers putting a hand on my shoulder. I looked around, but he was looking up on the stage. I did too and saw the singer giving him a nod.

The man leaned in to me and yelled in my ear over the noise, “You a player, son? For men?”

“Yeah, sure,” I yelled back. Why not? We were in a gay bar. I really shouldn’t have been in here because I wasn’t old enough to drink. Of course I’d had a couple of beers already. But I was gay and I fucked for money, so that part wasn’t anything to hide.

“Want to meet the band?” he asked.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

“They’re off in another ten. Come on back to the lounge, where they unwind. I’m Ed, their manager.”

I looked over at the tables to see what Tom was doing. Tom wasn’t sitting at the table. I don’t know if he just went to the john, or was at the bar refreshing our drinks, or had had enough of the club and had left. And I would never know, because I was following Ed through a beaded-curtain-covered doorway at the side of the stage and back to a dressing room with couches for lounging–and, as I found, for fucking.

There were five guys in the band, and, as far as I know, I sucked and was fucked by all five of them over the next couple of hours. Thanks to a stash provided by Ed, I was high after the first fifteen minutes or so, so I couldn’t be sure. Before that fifteen minutes were up, though, I had the lead singer’s dick inside my ass and the drummer’s dick in my throat–at the same time. They had lines of cocaine set and I was offered that, but declined. I didn’t decline the reefers, which must have had something stronger than pot involved, the poppers, and the bottles of assorted liquor they passed around.

The lead singer held me in a standing clutch as soon as they entered the room, and we kissed as we felt up each other and he got my jeans and bikini briefs off. Then he had me on all fours with my mouth on the drummer’s cock, while he mounted and fucked me doggie style. He was replaced by the bass player, and after that it got fuzzy. Ed, the manager, was floating around managing, or at least functioning as a gofer.

I woke up in the morning, hung over, in a cheap hotel room. A neon sign running alongside the uncurtained window on the outside was flickering in red. I could see a lit R, followed by an unlit I, and then a lit L and E. Presumably the sign continued above and below the window. I was lying on top of the sheets, naked, on my back, my legs spread and bent. A hard pillow was stuffed under my tailbone. Ed, the manager, also naked, was sitting on the side of the bed, leaning over the nightstand, and taking a line hit of cocaine.

From the soreness and spasms gripping my channel I knew I’d been fucked royally–often and recently.

He rose from the bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom. From the back, he looked a bit pear shaped–but not too bad. His ass was fat. I heard him pissing in the toilet and the toilet flushing and then he was walking back to the bed. He had a beer belly, but again not bad for his age. He looked maybe five months pregnant. His chest was hairy and his pecs on the verge of going flabby. He was still wearing the gold chain. He had wisps of brownish hair combed over a bald spot on top of his head, but not enough to fool anyone. If he’d had the hair on his head that he had on his chest and his bush he’d be OK. He was stroking himself and I couldn’t see what he had to stroke, which wasn’t a good sign for him, but it meant I wouldn’t be taxed–or hadn’t already been taxed, I guess. From my position on the bed, I’d have to assume he’d already fucked me–along with some country’s army. The last I knew it had been dark and I was in the club. Now it was light and I was in his bed.

He dropped his hand as he approached the bed. He’d managed to stroke himself to an erection. He couldn’t have been more than four inches, but they say if it’s enough to reach the prostate . . .

And it was enough. He came onto the bed, grabbed my ankles and wishboned my legs, crouched over me, thrust up inside me, and began to pump me. Yes, he must have been inside me at least once in the night. It felt squishy inside my channel from an earlier deposit or two–recently–and I’d remembered being douched late the night before. The band had thought that was amusing. I grabbed his biceps, such as they were, with my hands, moved with him, and made the noises of pain-pleasure I knew were expected of me. We both managed to come. He came quickly but held inside me and worked my cock until I’d come for him.

It was pretty much like that for the next five nights. He paid me fifty a day plus meals, minor drugs, and a few hours of sleep time in this luxury hotel.

When we’d “done it” the first morning and he was sitting on the side of the bed, smoking, and I was propped up against the headboard, also smoking–his smokes–he said, “Last night you indicated you had some experience working with a band.”

“Yeah, back where I came from I was in a band,” I answered.

“If you’ll be in my bed every night, we can take you on to help carry, set up, and tear down the instruments. Free food and booze. Coke and pot if you want it–if you let the band members do you too–and fifty a night. Interested?”

“Sure, what’s not to like?” I said. The translation for that was that it would be a string of days I didn’t have to dip into the stash I had in the locker at the train station.

“Oh, and you’ll get a club card too. There’s a gym in the basement. You’ll have plenty of time to work out there if you want. And your bod is so nice that I’ll bet you work out a lot.”

With that, he took my cigarette from me, stubbed both mine and his out on the surface of the nightstand, climbed on top of me, and fucked me again. He must have been extra horny that night, because there were nights he couldn’t get it up at all. Even when he did me twice, though, he couldn’t manage more than ten or fifteen minutes at a crack. He became my “too soft” Baltimore experience–not as soft as Tom, but not as nice either. By the second day I was regretting that I hadn’t gone to the hotel room with the businessman named Tom.

I, however, did like to work out in the gym. I didn’t think much at the time about him giving me a club card that included the gym, but that turned out to be the best thing that Ed, the band manager, did for me.

* * * *

The first time I saw Frank he was fucking a guy on a bench press at Nate’s Gym. It was the sort of place where that went on in the open and no one was shocked–more like everyone stood around watching and chanting “Fuck ’em, fuck ’em. Give it to ’em good.” And Frank was certainly fucking the guy hard. The guy was on his belly on the bench, which rose in incline under the bar hung in the stand at the end of the bench. His feet were pressed into the floor on either side of the bench and he had his tail raised enough to give Frank a good thrust angle. His arms were raised over his head, his fists gripping the bar. He was screaming bloody murder about Frank killing him, and, indeed, from what I could see of Frank’s weapon, pulling out of the guy’s ass, thrusting home, and then withdrawing to the bulb, and thrusting to the quick again, he could kill a man with it. He was hung like a bull, thick and long. His low-slung balls make a slapping noise on the guy’s inner thighs as Frank plowed him.

Even though the guy was complaining about the fuck, he held himself in place for it, so he must have had at least mixed feelings about it.

Frank was covering the guy from above, crouched over him, trapping the guy’s fists to the bars by his own fists. He wore brown leather driving gloves on his hands, the kind that left the fingers exposed. Frank’s sinewy-muscled legs were bent and pressing the other guy’s legs to the sides of the bench, and his feet, in gym shoes without socks and planted just to the outside of the other guy’s bare feet, were being used to leverage the rapid stroking of Frank’s cock. The bottom wore only a jock strap. Frank also was only in a jock strap, but his pouch was tucked up under his balls. Frank’s butt was tight, buns of steel. The cheeks were contracting and expanding in synch with his vicious thrusts.

Man was that guy getting fucked. I shivered from imagining it happening to me. I wanted to pull my eyes away from it, but I was mesmerized. The bottom was making a lot of noise, the signals on how well he was taking it and how much he wanted it mixed enough that no one was moving to extricate him.

Frank looked to be in his early fifties. I asked and was told that he didn’t say much but that he apparently was a cop and pretty high up in the rankings. He had been a Marine, I could tell–or had wanted to be one. The Semper Fi symbol tattoo on his bicep wasn’t the only clue to that. He had a buzz cut of graying stubble; the demeanor of command and purpose; a mean, piercing stare; and he was a man of steel–muscular but not muscle bound. Hard as steel, veins popping out all over his smooth body other than the trimmed salt-and-pepper bush, sinewy and gaunt. Each muscle was perfectly defined, hard, and no bigger than it needed to be to get the job done.

I was also told that he came and went as he liked, did as he wanted, and picked out whoever he wanted and fucked them to a puddle of whimpering Jell-O. He certainly did that that night to a young, twenty-something guy, who was more pretty than handsome and with a bit more meat on him than necessary.

Frank was fucking the guy when I came to the gym and still fucking him when I left. I left, that first afternoon I tried out the gym after Ed had hired me and between gofer jobs he gave me in the early afternoon and having to help set the band up in the evening, thinking I wouldn’t be back, that Frank was too scary. But I couldn’t help thinking about him all evening, and, of course I was back in the gym the next afternoon.

Frank was there too, working out hard. I am almost ashamed to admit that I flirted with him. I worked equipment near him and gave more ogling attention to him than anyone else working out. He noticed, and gave me some hard looks. He was zeroing in on another young guy, though–a different guy from the one he’d fucked the afternoon before. He did come over to spot me a time or two and stayed around long enough to feel me up, get my hand on his crotch, and growl in my ear, “You get a ticket to cum. Gonna spike you into next week.”

I gave him a shot of the bead in my tongue, teasing him, and he gave me a harder look, knowing what I was telling him I could do with that.

Fool that I was, I didn’t perceive the danger of him happening until the next week, and I figured the band would be on its way somewhere else by then.

When I went to the shower, I didn’t see him still on the gym floor–or the guy he was working out with either. I discovered they were in the sauna. I opened the door to go in, only to see that Frank had the guy bent over on a shelf and was doggie fucking the other guy. He was grasping the guy’s hips and pulling all of the way out of him before slamming all the way in him–again and again. The guy was jerking and wailing with each thrust. I fled back to the shower and then out of the gym.

I had reason to put Frank into the back of my mind that evening because it was Saturday and the club was crowded during the performance sets. I helped set up the band and then stood in the wings while they were practicing an hour before the doors of the club would open and they’d start performing. When the lead singer started into his songs, there I was, in the wings, singing a harmony backup line in a low voice. I didn’t realize that Ed, the manager, was standing beside me until he put a hand on my arm and said, “That ain’t half bad, Dane. (I hadn’t told him my real name either and, as he paid me under the table–or, in my case, under the sheets–I didn’t see the need for him to know that much about me.) You didn’t tell me you could sing like that.”

“I told you I knew bands–that I’d been in a band,” I said. “I was the lead singer.”

“Let’s get you out there behind Snake and see what you can do,” he said.

Snake didn’t mind and we sounded real good together, and suddenly I wasn’t just a groupie helping to fetch and carry for the band. I was singing backup in the band as well. Later, in the lounge, Snake gave me a lot more respect than he had before when he fucked me. But he did fuck me. Ed was the same old Ed that night, although he’d drunk enough that he couldn’t get it up at all. Instead, he lay there beside me, close, jacking me off. By thinking back on having watched Frank plow two guys, I managed an ejaculation in Ed’s fist.

I avoided the gym the next day, but I was drawn to it on Monday afternoon. And I knew as soon as I entered that today it was going to be me. I hyperventilated, but I didn’t flee. It was like a moth to the flame. I knew I was going to be burned to a crisp but I wanted it so bad.

Frank came to me, just in gym shorts and sneakers without socks as soon as I entered the gym in shorts and a T-shirt. His body was magnificent, especially for his age. Hard as steel, both threatening and enticing. Rock hard pecks, with veins running along the surface and nipples bulging out. He came to me and pulled my T-shirt over my head, exposing my torso.

“I’ll be spotting you today, and I’ll want to see the effect of the individual exercises on your muscles.” It seemed like a logical reason and he did seem to pay attention to the definition of my chest and arm muscles, moving his half-gloved hands over them as I exercised on the chest press and lat pulldown machine. The feel of the leather of the gloves on my flesh made my skin tingle and my cock pay attention. I could tell he was hard too. I knew this would end with him fucking me. I knew he knew he’d fuck me. But I knew he wanted something else too.

“You still got that bead in your tongue?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered, showing it to him.

“Good. We’ll make use of that later.”

I was trembling when he slid my gym shorts off, leaving me only in a jock strap when we moved to the leg press. Once again he said he wanted to be able to feel my muscles–my legs and glutes–while I was working them. Once again there was logic to it. But we both knew he was undressing me, preparing me for him to cover and fuck me right here on the gym floor with all the other guys watching and cheering for him to drill me a bigger one. Already they were beginning to gather, to lick their chops, to move their hands to their own crotches.

I was on the incline bench press, lifting a bar bell, when he grasped my waist between his hands and started to turn me on my belly, in the same position I’d seen him fuck the guy a couple of days before. I balked, though, which surprised him and he let loose of my waist and I rolled off the bench and away from him.

“OK,” I said in a strangled voice, “but not here. Not in front of the others.” I scrambled up and headed back to the locker room area and the showers. Frank caught up with me at the door of the sauna. He pulled me inside; slammed me down on one of the shelves, taking the breath out of me; and hooked my legs over his shoulders as his face buried itself between my thighs and he worked my cock and balls and ate my ass out. Moaning, I just lay there for him, not offering any resistance, holding his head between my hands. The men who were in the sauna moved away from us, but they stayed in the sauna, all of them watching us closely. More men, ones who had been on the floor when Frank had made his move and who knew I was going to be fucked, crowded into the sauna to watch.

He was huge, entering me. There would have been nothing he could have done to prepare me fully for mounting. He didn’t half try. He obviously enjoyed being the battering ram at the gates. He invaded me without mercy, reveling in my cries, ignoring my beating on his chest, waiting for me to surrender and to go limp, a whimpering, conquered captive. He was only half way inside me when I reached that stage. When I did and relaxed and went limp, I discovered that I opened for him more easily, and he slid in the rest of the way more easily and began to pump me.

He didn’t finish me there, though. To make his point and to wipe away all thought that I had any say in this, he’d been pumping me for ten minutes or so, when he rose from me, pulled my limp body off the sauna shelf, and slung me over his shoulder. He handled me like I was weightless, and I was too cowed to resist him in any way. He walked through the audience in the sauna, which parted for him to pass and followed him back to the gym floor. He put me down on my belly on the incline bench press, lifted my hands to grasp the bar bell overhead, bent my legs so that the balls of my feet pressed into the floor on either side of the bench, and mounted and thrust inside me from above. It was the same position I’d seen him fuck the guy in that first day. It was the position I’d tried to resist to avoid the audience earlier. The audience gathered just as before. He was making his point of who was in control. They began to chant for my destruction, and he proceeded to do just that.

He fucked me on the bench for a good twenty minutes. Near the end I was open enough to take him without much pain, and the pleasure of it rolled over and over me.

Then he fucked me again in the shower, against the tile wall, me plastered to his chest, my knees hooked on this hips, and him showing his phenomenal strength by holding me prisoner and sliding my back up and down on the slick tiles with the strength of his up-thrusting cock.

“Time to make use of that bead,” he said, as he forced me down on my knees in front of him. “Clean it, and make love to it with that bead,” he growled. I did, and he managed another afterglow ejaculation down my throat. He left me in a puddle on the shower stall floor, moaning under the cascading water. The watchers at the entrance to the stall followed in his wake when he left. No one helped me up, dried me off, or gave me assistance as I painfully dressed in the locker room to leave.

I was back in the gym the next, Tuesday, afternoon. I was determined to deny him, to get a little of my own back. He had been too hard for me, too much. I wanted to tell him so. I wanted him to want me again and for me to say that no one should be treated the way I was–that he wasn’t that good, even though, truth be known, he was that good. I entertained the possibility of letting him fuck me again if he promised not to be as brutal as he’d been. It wasn’t long before I’d moved to moaning for him to fuck me again. This despite having already categorized him as “too hard.”

But, although he saw that I was in the gym, he ignored me and was working on spiking another guy who, as far as I knew, was in there for the first time. The fucker ignored me. I was just a one-time piece of tail for him. He was hard, unyielding, cold steel.

I had been warned beforehand by the guy at the check-in desk that it was all the conquest and conquering for Frank. One time and that was it. I hadn’t absorbed that. I had thought it couldn’t possibly be true for me, but it was.

Deflated, I went upstairs to the club to start setting up for the Gear Shaft’s sets that night only to find their gear was gone.

“I let them go early,” Mark the club manager said. “I have a more popular band coming in earlier than expected. They didn’t tell you? You’re not with the band permanently?”

No, quite clearly I wasn’t with the band permanently.

* * * *

“They didn’t tell you they were pulling out?”

I looked at him–seeing him for the first time. He’d been there, of course, moving around, overseeing everything, but I hadn’t scoped on him before. I wondered why not. The man was a hunk and a half. Late twenties or early thirties and really built. Now that I thought about it, I’d seen him in the gym, working out, and he’d been bloody beautiful. Blond, curly hair and blue eyes. A lot like me, I guess, but more powerfully built. I’d first thought he was a bouncer here until someone told me he was the manager. Someone else said that, no, he owned the place. I hadn’t given any thought to him beyond this. Until now.

“No. I haven’t been paid either,” I answered. It didn’t occur to me that this Mark guy would think that we were talking about more than a couple of hundred dollars. His response was immediate and sympathetic, though. And he put a hand on my forearm that almost made me hyperventilate. The man was beyond sexy.

The question remained whether he was . . . but, then, if he owned a gay club and gym chances were good that he was gay.

“That’s tough to swallow, I know,” he said. “Say, I’ve heard you sing with Gear Shift and I’ve seen how you work with getting the amps set up and working. As you know we have a house band here. You could work with them until you decide what you want to do.”

“Thanks, that’s generous of you, but–”

He interrupted me, though, and came in close, and gave me a look like I’d seen several times before. “I know what you did for the band and for the manager. I can offer you a place to stay too–for certain services rendered. My digs are up on the third floor of this building. What say you come up there for dinner with me and we’ll discuss the possibilities?”

He took his time preparing me, lying on top of me between my spread thighs lengthwise on his sofa, with my shoulders propped up on the sofa arm. We kissed, with lots of tongue, while we felt each other up. He sucked me until I moaned and I sucked him big and throbbing. He wasn’t as big and threatening as Frank was, but he was way beyond Ed. A great cock, really, built to stretch and dig but not to threaten to split or come up into the back of my throat–a real pleasure tool, and he knew how to use it. By the time he did use it, stretching me internally to deep moaning and taking me to heaven, I was begging for it. And he gave it–on the sofa, in his bed, in the shower, in his bed again. He was insatiable and so was I. We fit together perfectly. And he varied it. He could be the lover, but he could give it to me rough too when I begged for it–and he loved the bead in my tongue.

Like in the Goldilocks story, Ed had been too soft; Frank had been too hard; Mark was just right.

He was just right through the rest of the summer and well into the fall as I worked with the house band on stage and he worked on me in his bed. And he was just right when I was “discovered” and offered a band of my own. And he was just right when he came to New York with me and became my manager and opened another club–and then one in Chicago and Houston and San Francisco. My band played in them all, and he fucked me in them all.

He is still just right forty years later when we are both retired and enjoying the high life in Jamaica. I still have the locker at Penn Station in Baltimore and we still call Baltimore our home. I never got farther than that on my own on my precollege journey. For that matter, I never got to college. But I’ve traveled the world with Mark since we met. I still keep that original amount of money I brought with me from Ivywood, Pennsylvania. It looks like a pitiful amount now, but I mark my life a success because I’ve never had to dip into it.

Well, no, I mark my life a success because I met the “just right” man–Mark.

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     I almost couldn’t believe it. Most days for me that start sexually frustrating unfortunately  usually end the same way, but here I was more turned on than I’ve been in my entire life, about to take it up a notch. I should’ve played the lottery that day because my luck was definitely at an all time high.

     We kept our lips pushed together as our tongues danced and played as I started massaging his bare stomach, inching ever so closer to the promised land. I wanted to feel his cock from the second he stepped out of his car at the park, now I was centimeters away but oddly taking my time, running my hands through his pubes and the insides of his thighs. It was easy to tell that he was loving the way I was teasing him by the moans and the way he kissed my neck. Id known him for all of half an hour and shared no more than a few words but there was no question that I’d never been in perfect sync with anyone sexually in this way before. It was truly amazing.

      I would’ve loved to kept the making out and exploring each other with our hands going, it was like nothing I’d experienced, but I couldn’t be without his cock for another second. I separated our lips, removed my hand from his pants and  pulled them down to his ankles as I dropped to me knees to finally give him a proper greeting. If I were to design my own dildo it would be a mold of this guys beautiful rod, it was absolutely perfect! My intention was to lick and tease it a bit first but I was like a junkie finally getting his fix and made all eight inches of his perfect cock disappear down my throat. I held it there in my mouth and salivated getting it nice and wet as I grabbed his firm ass and pulled him deeper into my mouth.

      I tried my best to relax my throat muscles so I could keep him in my mouth as long as possible but unfortunately I was starting to gag a little so I had to come off of it. I gripped the base of his shaft the way I like it done to me and started devouring his mushroom tip like I was the hungriest man of all time finally receiving nourishment. Hearing how much I was enjoying worshiping his cock turned him on even more. He ran his fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp as i alternated between slow sensual licks and rapid fire assault on the back of my throat. The call and response between us was perfect motion like a master bluesman making his guitar cry and sing.

     His cock was oozing precum so I started at the bottom of his shaft and milked all I could get out and rubbed it on my lips, I could feel him staring so I picked my head up so he could see me lick it off my lips. I wanted so bad to keep working his cock with my mouth until  the full capacity of seed in his balls was in my mouth and down my throat, but he didn’t want to cum yet and pulled me up off of my knees and started kissing me again even more intensely than before.

       He slid the waistband of my shorts down and I stepped out of them as they hit the floor. We went at each other like lions fighting over a kill. Our dance kept edging us closer and closer to the bed and we simultaneously fell intertwined  onto the mattress. I rolled over onto my back, pulled him on top of me,  wrapped my legs around his waist, grabbed the back of his hair and pulled him in closer. We took turns being the aggressor. One of us would relax and submit while the other had their way and then flip scripts over and over.

   I opened my legs and he started working his way down, kissing all over my chest, my stomach, my legs, and finally my cock. I had to push him away three or four times so I didn’t cum. I was in a state of bliss and euphoria that was totally foreign to me and no way was I ready for it to end. He lifted one of my legs and rested on his shoulder and licked up and down the underside of my shaft and balls before lifting my leg and wetting my taint with his tongue. 

      He started moving lower and lower and I knew what he wanted so I flipped over and arched my back to give him full access to his destination. He never missed a single beat as he spread my cheeks and started licking and wetting and probing my tight little willing hole with his tongue. I couldn’t take much more and almost demanded immediately that he get inside of me but I could tell by his verocity that he was into what he was doing so I tried to relax and enjoy it, and enjoy I did!

        His rimming me had pushed me to a whole new level and I could see a spot the size of my fist on the sheets underneath me from leaking so much precum. He finally let up and got behind and pulled me hips into his crotch and started grinding into me. My ass was soaked with his spit and he took his cock and slid it up and down my crack driving me even wilder. He asked me if I wanted him to fuck me and I didn’t say a word, I just pushed my ass into him and grabbed his ass making it abundantly clear that I was past ready!

       I would have been happy at that point  if he just rammed it home and fucked my brains out, but I should’ve known by now that I was in store for something much better than a simple pounding. He reached into his night stand and grabbed a bottle of lube and got his cock good and ready before lubing my ass up nice and wet. Finally the moment I’d been waiting for and I felt his engourged head knocking at my back door. I tried to push into him to get all of him inside me but it was his turn to tease me now. He pushed his head in and pulled it back out several times, and made me wait for him inch by inch for what seemed like a beautiful eternity. Finally I had all of him inside me and I almost came right there, but we were so in sync he just stayed inside me and didn’t move until I was ready to continue. He started slowly pulling his cock about half way out and back in as I started moaning like crazy. I had no control whatsoever of what came out of mouth or what noises I made, I was completely in uncharted territory. 

      His strokes got longer and faster until he was finally really fucking my ass good. My body had pretty much gone limp at that point as he pulled my hips into him and thrusted inside me in perfect rhythm. I was getting pounded so good that my knees colllapsed and I was lying face down flat on the bed with him holding himself up with his arms over me as he buried his dick into my pussy. I pushed my ass into him nice and tight and worked onto my side while he shifted in position behind me never slowing down. We fucked laying on our sides for a while and I had my leg threw up and over his legs so I could turn around now and then to face him. He was hitting my prostate perfectly and like it or not I could feel it on its way and I knew there was no holding it back this time. I yelled “oh fuck I’m going to cum!”, he knew just what to do and sped up as my asshole started contracting and squeezing his cock. I could feel his cock swell inside of me at that moment and start pulsing violently as he grabbed my cock and caught my seed in his hand. 

        I still didn’t want this to be over but I was absolutely spent.  He kept his cock inside of me and spooned me until he went soft and slipped out. I could feel his hot cum inside me and leaking out out of my asshole and it felt incredible. We showered together and acknowledged how rare and amazing everything had been before we exchanged numbers and parted ways. I bypass the park now when I get horned up and go straight to the source of the most eye opening experience of my existence.  

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THE PAINT JOB (PART 3 of 4)
by Robert Furlong

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dirty-shorts.tumblr.com

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“So… onto the first consummation,” I suggested, pausing for the two men to reposition themselves and sit alongside each other on the couch.  “In this painting, Adam is… er… making love to Stephen.  Am I okay to describe it like that?”

I’d expected Adam to haughtily inform me that one man doesn’t make love ‘to’ another but rather that their sex is collaborative and their love fully reciprocal.  Or some variation on that general theme.

But instead Stephen giggled and surprised me by blurting out, “Oh come on… can’t we just call it ‘butt-fucking’?  I mean, that’s what we’re going to do… fuck each other’s butts.”

“Sweetheart, we’re talking about our wedding night!” Adam cooed.  “It’s our special joining… the fulfilment of our vows!”

“Yeah, I know… and it’s going to be a really amazing experience for us both.  But ultimately, you’re going to fuck me up my arsehole and then I’m going to fuck you up yours.  So why not just cut to the chase and call it what it is?”

I suppressed a chuckle.  I was so pleased that Stephen had opened this can of worms rather than me.

“You make it sound crude,” Adam argued.  “It’s a very beautiful moment… the connecting of our bodies.”

“And it still will be!  I’m just suggesting that when we’re describing to Michael how we want him to paint the two stages of our consummation, it’ll be quicker and clearer if we just say which of us is fucking the other up the bum!”

“It would indeed be rather less confusing,” I chipped in.  “Referring to it as your ‘special joining’ and ‘anal union’ is very poetic, but I would appreciate a little more clarity.”

“Very well,” Adam nodded.  “In that case painting four is to show me fucking my new husband up his rather gorgeous butt.”

Stephen chuckled.  “So Michael… I don’t know how much you know about gay anal sex…?”

“I certainly wouldn’t claim to have an encyclopaedic knowledge,” I admitted.

“Well, to get my bum used to Adam’s cock, we have to start out looking kind of… well… inelegant, I guess you might say…”

“Inelegant?” I asked.  Was this going to be something about shit again?

“Yeah… I need to loosen up… relax my muscles to receive him…”

“Oh, I see,” I muttered, not really seeing at all.

“I have to squat really low and push my bum right back,” Stephen explained, standing up and bending almost double so that his arsehole was yawning open like the mouth of a deep dark cavern.  Adam stood up behind him with his big cock looming forwards towards the hole that his fiancé was so immodestly offering.

He went on, “Adam will enter me in this position until my backside is used to his length and girth.  Then we’ll get on the bed together and make love properly.”

Adam nodded.  “It takes about a minute and is fairly standard in same-sex coitus when the man penetrating is… well… as generously endowed as I am.”

“I see.”  I wouldn’t like having to go through a palaver like this every time I fancied a shag.

Stephen smiled up at me, still bending so low that his face was going purple.  “I’m just telling you this because we really don’t want you to paint us having sex like this.  Some men like the position but for us it’s purely functional.”

I asked, “So how is this… er… ‘pre-fuck’… if I can call it that… different from your love-making?  How will I recognise the part you want me to depict in the painting?”

“The two things are completely different,” Adam snapped.  “Our actual consummation will express our love and our passion.”

“Perhaps it would be clearer if you show me,” I suggested, thinking they would get on the couch together and pose for me their more sensual way of making love.

But Adam interpreted my request differently and nodded, “Well, I suppose you might as well see it sooner rather than later.”

He stepped forwards, grabbed Stephen firmly by the hips, and then to my amazement started pushing the head of his huge hard-on into his bent-over buddy’s butt-hole.

“It resists a little at first,” he told me, as matter-of-factly as he would if he was showing me how to screw a nut onto a bolt, “but once the fat tip of it’s through, the shaft generally slides up nicely.”

Stephen gasped, “Aw yeah…” as his arsehole stretched at full gape to receive his future groom’s bloated helmet.

“This is why the rimming needs to be very thorough,” Adam smiled at me as the ridged base of his mushroom slurped through Stephen’s straining ring.  “It not only excites us both, but it means one doesn’t have to hunt around for a tube of lube.”

Adam’s long shaft performed as he’d indicated and slid more easily up into his fiancé’s bowels now that the head was inside.

Stephen called out, “Oh Jesus!” and then let out a powerful fart.

Adam chuckled, “You should expect some very boisterous flatulence when two men are occupying the matrimonial suite!”

I managed to mutter, “I hadn’t really thought -“

“With your navy background,” he went on, still sliding his cock up Stephen’s arse, “I’m sure you’re not offended by a good, loud man-fart!”

“I just never heard one during sex…”

“Well you’ll hear some absolute blasters on our wedding night!” he chortled.  “It will signify to our guests in neighbouring rooms that the consummation is underway!”

“It’s also one of the reasons for the ‘pre-fuck’, as you called it,” Stephen panted breathlessly up to me as his butt let out another rip-roarer, struggling to accommodate the huge intrusion.  “It gets the unpleasantness out of the way before we make love properly.”

“Farting isn’t unpleasant, honey!” his husband-to-be laughed.  “It’s a celebratory trumpeting to announce our love-making!”

“Adam likes a noisy blow-out when we enter each other!” Stephen grinned at me.  “It makes discreet sex when we’re staying over with friends just about impossible!”

“Okay, so I just hold him by the hips,” Adam said, returning to showing me how he loosens Stephen’s bum up, “and start sliding slowly in and out.”

He withdrew a good six or seven inches of his cock from his companion’s arse and I saw what he’d meant earlier when he’d referred to ‘a certain amount of smearing’.  He drove it slowly back in and Stephen let out another extremely loud fart.

“Bend lower, sweetheart,” he muttered to his betrothed.  “And open your legs wider… let me grind you a little…”

Stephen did as Adam instructed and contorted his body so that his entire anatomy was directed towards presenting his rear for his partner’s cock to impale.  Adam grabbed onto him more firmly and started driving himself with more force and vigour through the straining sphincter that was slowly growing used to his girth.  He swivelled his hips to make sweeping corkscrews inside the tightly-stretched arsehole, causing a few final gassy outbursts as the rectum was readied for the full-on fuck.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to paint you like this?” I asked.  “The two of you look… well… quite extraordinary!”

“Absolutely not!” Adam asserted, now pumping his cock quite quickly in and out of Stephen’s reddening arsehole.  “I imagine this is how the men on your ship used to couple up…?”

“Well, sort of,” I nodded.  “Certainly one man was standing up holding the hips of the other who was bending over.”

Stephen called up from where he was bent double, “It’s the crudest way to have anal sex… it’s how men do it in public toilets.  We really don’t want our friends to see us like this.”

“But you look so incredible together!  The way your whole body is focussed on receiving your lover’s cock… your new husband towering over you… his buttocks flexing as he thrusts…”

Adam grinned at me.  “You’re welcome to make a few sketches of us warming up like this… perhaps compose a private painting for yourself… if that’s something you’d enjoy…”

“You know… I think I would…”

“Can you paint one-handed?” he asked with a smirk.

I smiled back, by now willing to concede that I have been known to masturbate while painting my more interesting compositions.  “All of my best pieces are painted one-handed.”

“Maybe you could show me your technique during my solo sitting?”

“I paint alone,” I told him, although I admit to feeling a certain amount of interest in painting Adam posed naked and masturbating, with my own smaller cock out through my fly receiving a vigorous tugging of its own.

Then Stephen called up, apparently oblivious that his fiancé was flirting with the artist, “If you do paint us like this, you can’t show our faces, okay?”

I nodded.  “Yes… of course.”

“How’s your bum doing, honey?” Adam asked his groom-to-be.  “Feels like you’re just about ready.”

It occurred to me that if I needed to prepare my wife for sex like this, the two of us would probably have been celibate for years.

“Yeah… I think I’m good to go!  Let’s move across to the couch and show Michael how we want our fourth painting to look…”

To my surprise, the two of them stayed joined together and started lumbering across to the couch with Adam still holding Stephen by the hips.  They tottered forwards like some ungainly four-legged creature, their two bodies awkwardly pivoted by the cock lodged fully up the arse in front of it.

“My God!  Look at you both!” I cried out, my face in awe at the sight of this strange double-man.

“Yes, we’re not at our most graceful when we’re waddling around like this!” Adam laughed.

“You look… just so… I don’t know!  I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Stephen pushed himself up but stayed bent forwards.  His cock bobbed upwards, fully swollen and excited, while his balls dangled down between his two splayed thighs.

He grinned over at me and asked, “Do you mean that in a good way or bad way?”

“The best way possible!” I exclaimed.  “You look absolutely magnificent!  Two men joined together and walking around as one!”

They reached the couch and Stephen was about to climb onto it but I wanted to see more of their eight-limbed cavortions.  “Please… walk around some more… let me see how remarkable you look!”

Stephen chuckled and led Adam off around my studio, his lover’s cock held tightly within the grip of his buttocks.  They giggled as they lurched about with their arms flapping wildly, staggering clumsily forwards with Stephen’s erection out front raised high and waving from side to side.

“Promise us, please, that your studio door is locked,” Adam said, as Stephen guided their two connected bodies behind the chair I was sitting on.  “I really don’t want anyone else to see us like this!”

“Yes, it’s locked,” I chuckled, swivelling around to watch them staggering wide-legged like an oversized crab.  “But believe me… your appearance is nothing short of spectacular!”

“Material for another private painting?” Adam grinned.

“Definitely!” I smiled back.  “Faces obscured, of course.”

“You can paint my face,” Adam told me.  “Just obscure Steve’s… or how about you paint your own face in place of his?”

He laughed at how red his suggestion made me blush.  I could see in my mind’s eye the painting of the two of us lumbering around: me out front with my little erection poking forwards, Adam right behind me with his much bigger cock plugged in tightly between my two dumpy cheeks.

I thought I’d better nip this one in the bud.  Why the hell was this guy flirting with me in front of the bloke he was about to tie the knot with?

I said, “Look… I admit to enjoying watching the two of you like this but I really wouldn’t want to paint myself in either of your places.”

“Sorry,” he smiled, “I was just being silly.”

They reached the couch again and this time I let Stephen climb onto it.  Adam followed him, his knees bent and legs splayed so that their two joined bodies took on the appearance of some huge arthropod clambering about.

“I suppose if the two of you become disengaged at this point, you need to start the… er… ‘pre-fuck’ from the beginning again.”

“Not really,” Stephen said.  “My bum’s grown used to the size of his cock by now but it’s more comfortable for us both if we stay locked together until orgasm.”

As they positioned themselves on the couch, adjusting how their knees were placed and whose legs would go on the inside, Stephen asked, “Michael, did you really think we look amazing wandering around with Adam’s cock up my butt?”

“I did,” I nodded, starting a rough outline of what would be their marital bed while they readied themselves for me to sketch their first consummation.  “If I was gay, I’m sure I’d enjoy having fun with my… er… husband like that.”

“You’d walk around like that together?” Stephen giggled.

“I think I would,” I chuckled, drawing in a line to show the floor so I could maintain a sense of proportion.  “I imagine that with a bit of practice, two men could become quite co-ordinated moving around together as one four-legged organism.”

“Maybe we should walk down the aisle like that,” Stephen chortled over his shoulder to Adam.  “I think your dad would curl up and die!”

“We’d have to have your suit adjusted,” Adam chuckled back.  “Have a hole cut in the seat of your trousers wide enough for my cock to slide through!”

I found myself laughing too, enjoying their sense of fun.  If they brought some of this frivolity to the day itself, their two-groom wedding was likely to be quite different from all the others I’d known.

Stephen fell forwards on all-fours so that, with Adam upright behind him and reaching forwards to hold him by the hips, the two men looked almost like a cliché of homosexual lovemaking.

Stephen grinned over at me.  “Do you like how we look?  We’re very proud to assume this position… it’s so traditional… so classical…”

“Well, yes… but that’s the problem with it,” I mused.  “It is very… how should I put it… it’s the absolute epitome of ‘gay’.”

“Why is that a problem?” Adam retorted, throwing me a stern glare.  “What’s wrong with us looking gay when we’re having gay sex?”

“It’s a problem because it’s going to be difficult to compose the painting in a way that avoids your very beautiful lovemaking appearing like a… well… the sort of lewd cartoon you see scrawled in a bus shelter.”

Adam’s expression softened.  I’d won him over by including ‘very beautiful’.

“But like Adam explained earlier,” Stephen began, “this position… while it’s like a schoolboy caricature of gay sex… actually holds a lot of importance and significance for us.”

“Men are shown making love like this in a broad range of historical artwork from around the world,” Adam went on, straightening himself up as if proud to be kneeling behind his lover bending forwards in front of him.  “The Ancient Greeks always showed homosexual sex being performed like this, not to mention Chinese manuscripts… Egyptian parchments…”

“We’re continuing a very honourable tradition,” Stephen smiled.  “We want this to be our first consummation as a sort of nod to all the men who enjoyed it before us!”

“I see…” I nodded, envisioning a painting that looked little better than cheap gay porn.  “I just worry that I’m going to make your sex look so crass… so stark…”

“Stark or not,” Adam snapped, “this is how we’re going do it!  We’ll be proud to look back at ourselves on our wedding night making gay love in the most classical of ways!”

I realised that this was somehow a political thing for them and even though I couldn’t understand it I was going to have to make it work.

I stood up and looked at them first from behind and then in front.  “Okay… if I paint you from behind, I can’t show either of your cocks…”

“Our cocks have to be visible,” Adam insisted.  “That’s non-negotiable.”

“And if I paint you from the front, I can show Stephen’s cock but his hip will conceal yours, Adam.”

“Both cocks have to be visible.  We’re butt-fucking as two large and excited men.  That has to be very clearly shown in all its unequivocal glory.”

I sat back down and picked up my sketchpad again.  “In that case, I’m going to have to paint you side-on but I really am going to run the risk of producing something that you’re going to find… well… tawdry…”

I expected Adam to have a go at me for suggesting that their lovemaking might look tawdry, but instead he nodded and said, “Surely you’ve painted heterosexual grooms consummating their marriages from behind… brides who were pregnant… a little overweight?”

I nodded and he went on, “So how did you avoid their wedding night paintings looking tawdry?

“Mostly the way I’ve just said… by changing the angle of perspective.  Sometimes I’ve played with darkness and shadow to make the sex more subtle, but since you want both of your erections to be apparent…”

“Come on, Michael… hurry up and think of something!” Stephen grinned over.  “He’s losing his stiffie up my butt which feels kind of weird!”

I smiled back at him.  “Okay… so since I’m going to paint you both having – if I may say – stereotypical gay sex, we need to let the viewer know why this position is so important to you.”

“How do you mean?” Adam asked, slowly sliding his cock in and out of his fiancé’s arsehole, presumably to harden it back up.

“You mentioned that you own a fragment of Greek pottery showing young men indulging like you are?”

“It’s in our living room, yes…”

“How about you email me a photo of it and I include it in the piece?  Show it hanging on the wall behind you so the viewer understands why you chose such a classical way to enjoy your first marital intercourse.”

“I love it!” Stephen beamed across it.  “We could send you some other pictures too… different couples from different cultures and times all making love exactly like we will be on our wedding night!”

“Pictures of etchings… carvings,” Adam added, now working up a steady rhythm against Stephen’s bum.  “Not pornographic photos, you understand.”

“I understand fully,” I agreed, starting to work on outlining their bodies on the sketchpad.  “This could actually turn out to be a very exciting piece.  Referencing homosexual culture… showing your respect for your forebears by making love together as they did…”

“Oh, I really like the sound of this!” Stephen laughed, working his body back against his lover’s quickening thrusts.  “It’s going to be such a special painting… it might end up hanging above our mantlepiece!”

I smiled.  “And, of course, you’re adding your own personal twist to the classical pose with the inclusion of a little… er… rear smearing… I assume you still want me to emphasize that in the piece?”

“Oh yes… absolutely,” Stephen grinned over at me, now pumping his arse against Adam’s hips to make loud cracking sounds.

“But the overall theme of the piece is one of intense pride,” Adam reminded me.  “I mount my husband the way that men have known their closest companions since time immemorial, and our bearing and expressions should convey our honour and respect.”

Their butt-fuck grew faster and loudly, and Stephen kept pushing himself upright so that he could swivel his face around to kiss Adam on the mouth.

“You know, I don’t really need you to make love properly,” I told them, sketching the broad curve of Adam’s strong back and his wonderfully powerful buttocks.  “I can make my drawings without any actual sex…”

“It’ll be better to show you our movement… our muscles,” Adam grunted, now holding Stephen’s hips tightly and slamming his big cock in furious strokes in and out of his bum.

“You’ll need to see our pacing… how we work together,” Stephen agreed, reaching down to frantically wank himself off as his arse was so roughly pounded.

“Well, I’m going to need you to bend forwards, Stephen,” I told him.  “If you want me to paint you in the classical position, you’re going to have to stay in that position while I sketch you.”

I realised I sounded like a disgruntled teacher.

Stephen stopped wanking and fell forwards again, supporting himself with both arms.  Adam took his hands from his hips and moved them up to grab him by the shoulders, prompting another rebuke from me.

“Come on, Adam.  You’ve got to hold him by the hips.  I can’t draw his back if your elbows are in the way!”

This was becoming surreal.  I had two guys shagging like a pair of rabbits in front of me and I was talking to them like they were a pair of naughty boys!

They got back into the agreed position and kept fucking hard and rough.  I liked how their sweat was trickling down from their armpits – I’d have to include that in the final piece – and how Adam’s big balls were slapping up against the backs of Stephen’s thighs.

I sketched the line of Stephen’s spine, noticing how he arched his bottom up high to align his rectum to receive the hammering cock.  It gave his whole back a very pronounced curve which I would use to show how he was giving himself to Adam and, of course, greatly enjoying being fucked.

I was reminded of once seeing a couple of cats having sex.  The female had arched her back in a similar way to Stephen on being mounted by the tom.  I jotted ‘cats’ at the side of my sketch to ponder further whether I could use the observation to somehow enhance the piece.

“Fuck yeah!” Adam growled as he pummelled his future groom’s backside as hard as he could.

He turned to me and leered.  “You gettin’ all this down, mate?!  You like seein’ how a big bloke like me fucks his hubby up the arse?!”

I was wondering how I should reply when Adam’s cock went into overdrive and he started gasping and whimpering.  Stephen grinned over at me, apparently amused that his fiancé was panting and growling behind him and ramming his cock in long powerful lunges as deep as he could into his arsehole.  I found myself smiling sheepishly back at him as he received another man’s seed up into his bowels, unsure of how one should react in such a situation.

Eventually, after a long series of animalistic grunts and an involuntary fart, Adam muttered, “Jesus… I think I had a bit of a rush of precum…”

“Oh, get real, you div!” Stephen laughed.  “I think Michael’s been around enough to know when a guy has just blown his nut!”

Adam looked over at me.  “I’m really sorry, Michael.  I didn’t expect to actually jizz.  I just… well… I guess lover-boy’s butt just feels too good!”

I smiled.  “Well, I’ve got the sketches I need so you can disentangle yourselves.  I’m quite sure this one’s going to be a very moving piece for anyone who knows anything of the history of gay culture.”

Adam pulled his cock out from between Stephen’s buttocks and I looked with fascination at the sheer amount of semen covering its shaft and glooping in thick gushers out of the vacated arsehole.  I passed the two of them some tissue and they laughed merrily together at how much they’d just enjoyed the sex they’d had.  I watched them, smiling, and found myself wondering if I’d ever been so playful with my wife after we’d made love.  I thought I probably hadn’t, not even in the early days.

“So what did you think of gay lovemaking, Michael?” Adam grinned, soaking several tissues as he wiped the copious discharge from the big bell head of his cock.  “You’ve got to admit it’s a step up from watching your shipmates using each other’s bums to get by?”

“I didn’t deliberately ‘watch’ them, Adam,” I laughed.  “I only happened to walk in on it a few times… but yes… the two things were incomparable.  The two of you were both responsive to each other… you worked together as a couple.  As you said, you were making love together, rather than one man using the grip of another’s anus to essentially masturbate himself.”

“Oh yeah… nice way of putting it,” Stephen smiled, wiping his arse with a wad of tissue.  “I never really thought of sailor sex like that… I suppose it is more like masturbation, isn’t it?”

He studied Adam’s cum on the tissue he’d just wiped his bum with and then reached forwards for some fresh to clean himself off some more.  I was surprised by the colour of the semen on the tissue he’d just discarded: instead of being more or less white like the spunk I’d seen squirting from many a groom’s cock, Adam’s extremely abundant outpouring had the colour of milky coffee.

I looked over at Adam who was now wiping his ball juice from the softening shaft of his cock and realised from the darker streaks he was struggling to remove, where the discolouration had come from.

I said, “I notice that the semen resulting from anal sex isn’t white.”

Adam shrugged and nodded.  “No, it’s usually anything from a sort of magnolia beige to… well… hot chocolate!”

“You said that the semen from both of your consummations plays a very important role in the sixth painting…”

“Yeah, the post-orgasm piece,” Stephen grinned.  “We want our cocks covered in it… our butts oozing with it… thick gobs of it splashed all over us and the bed!”

“And do you want it to look white… or do you want me to show it more realistically?”

Adam paused in his clean-up, his cock now really drooping downward but maintaining its impressive size.  “That’s actually a really good question… we never discussed the colour of our spunk…”

“White on our cocks and bodies to show the purity of our bond,” Stephen chuckled, still wiping his bum with his cock raised high and expectant in front of him.  “But for anyone who looks between the two grooms’ legs there’ll be a rich chestnut froth pouring out of our arseholes!”

“Ugh… that’s gross!” Adam laughed.  “It’ll look like we’re relaxing after our wedding night sex by basically shitting ourselves together on our bed.”

“It won’t look like that at all!  It’ll look like butt-cum and it’ll show that we’ve just finished fully inseminating each other!”

I coughed and cut in, “It’s a very important piece and I think Adam’s right to suggest we minimise any risk that it looks disgusting.  The connection between the whiteness of the semen and the sanctity of the bond is quite a common one in post-coital pieces so I suggest we stick to that, with perhaps a few darker flecks being visible on the anal discharge for those who would know it would be inaccurate not to show it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Adam nodded.  “Our friends will know that butt-cum is rarely white!”

They stood in front of me, Stephen’s cock standing fully erect and Adam’s cock flopping down over his nuts and starting to shrivel.

I said, “I can probably leave the sketches for painting number five until your wedding night.  I assume you’re going for a similar configuration, only with Stephen… er… bringing up the rear, as it were.”

“No, we want a spooning pose for that piece,” Stephen smiled.  “Kind of like doggy, but we’ll both be upright and kissing.”

“Like you were when I… er… intervened just now?”

“Yeah, just like that.  But showing my cock up Adam’s butt and the two of us in the middle of a really explosive climax.”

I felt a surge of disappointment.  Their position was too different from the sketches I’d just drawn.  I was going to have to get them to pose again.  At this rate I wasn’t going to get home tonight much before nine.

“Very well,” I said, mustering up as much fake enthusiasm as I could.  “In that case, I’ll make us all a cup of tea while the two of you prepare yourselves for the fifth painting.”

I went through to the little kitchenette which adjoins my studio and switched the kettle on to start making us a brew.  I’d expected that Adam and Stephen would get into their chosen spooning position together on the couch, with perhaps Stephen using my absence to coax his lover’s cock hard again ready for me to make my sketches of them feigning the point of their mutual orgasm.

However, when over the roar of the kettle I heard the blast of an extremely powerful fart, I realised that the two men were preparing themselves in a more involved way.

I walked back through to the studio, intending to tell them that actual penetration really wasn’t necessary for these preliminary sketches, but when I saw Adam bent fully forwards with Stephen slowly working his now extremely excited cock up his arse, all I could manage was a stupefied, “Wow!”

The bigger, more assertive man was being penetrated by his younger and less imposing lover, and it made for a truly sensational sight.  Adam offered his bulky, muscular rump to Stephen with delighted eagerness, and I noticed that his cock, while still hanging low between his legs, was starting to bulk up again as it slowly came back to life.

He let rip with another roaring fart and the two men giggled together as the smaller man’s cock slowly slid into the huge puckering arsehole.

“Adam’s farts are really, really loud,” Stephen laughed across at me, perhaps a tad unnecessarily.  “If the second consummation starts at about four in the morning, I reckon his arse is going to wake up the whole hotel!”

“I’ll be pleased if it does,” Adam declared, just as his backside gave out an almost deafening discharge.  “It’s a beautiful moment for us both… why shouldn’t our guests hear me heralding that it’s underway!”

“Won’t you be embarrassed?” I asked.  I’d have been mortified if our guests had heard me farting on my wedding night.

“Why should I be?” Adam asked.  “Our friends and family will hear that we’re joining as one for the second time of the evening.  Those who know us well will also know that I’m the much louder partner when it comes to our coitus.”

He let out another raucous back-blast and then gasped, “Aw… yeah!  The feel of your cock is getting me hard again!”

I watched his big cock slowly rising upwards again, growing thicker and longer as Adam responded to the feel of his future husband’s manhood slowly pushing up into his bum.  Stephen reached forwards and held Adam tightly by the shoulders, using them as leverage so that he could drive his thick girth as deep as the twin bulges of his balls would let him.

“You look stunning like this,” I told them.  “Showing you connecting your bodies together would make a really arresting painting!”

“Honestly, no,” Stephen grinned, swirling his cock round and round to fully open Adam’s sphincter.  “A couple we know, Matt and Paul, had their consummatory painting done with two of them in this position… Matt taking Paul’s cock.  I thought it looked cheap!”

“Was that the set with the jockstraps?” Adam grunted up from where he was bent fully over.

“Oh yeah,” Stephen chortled, now sliding his cock back out of Adam’s hole, oblivious to the unpleasant colour smeared down the shaft.  “In the first painting, they had their wedding suits laid out next to them on the bed and they were clinking their champagne glasses together wearing a pair of jockstraps!  I mean, what the hell was that about?”

Adam laughed back.  “Were we, like, supposed to think they’d got married wearing these two massively bulging jockstraps under their suits?  And if they did, why?”

I wondered if other gay couples were so bitchy about each other’s wedding paintings.  Whether Matt and Paul, or some other pair of men, would privately ridicule Adam and Stephen for choosing the set of paintings I was about to produce.

Adam’s arse let out a much more modest hiss of gas and he announced, “I reckon I’m ready, bud!”

He pushed himself up a bit so that his cock, now huge again, bobbed up in front of him.  Then they started waddling across to the couch joined together at the hip, this time with Adam’s great erection out front, swaying from side to side as it led the way.  

Adam giggled over at me, “You love watching us tottering around like this, don’t you?”

“I really do!” I admitted, chuckling at how amazing they looked.  “It’s like you’re one big creature… your cock is sort of feeling its way forwards like some enormous proboscis!”

Adam guffawed and wagged his huge hard-on from left to right.  “It’s sensing something… which way does the four-legged man need to go?”

The thin slit at the tip peered around as the long stalk behind it swung around from side to side, before Adam thrust it forwards pointing towards the couch.  “Target located!  Come on, we’re heading this way!”

Stephen roared with laughter and said, “See if we can co-ordinate our movements… okay, so right leg, left leg… right leg, left leg…”

They lumbered forwards, moving their legs in unison and swaying their arms up and down for balance.

“You’re like a centipede,” I chortled.  “Well, a small part of a centipede…”

“We should get some buddies to plug in behind us,” Adam grinned as he clambered onto the couch.  “See how many blokes we can get moving together at once…”

“Aw yeah!” Stephen laughed, taking care not to slip out from between his buttocks as he followed behind.  “Not exactly an activity for our wedding night, but a good game for a weekender!”

“I really don’t want to think about that,” I laughed, finding myself drawn to do the exact opposite.  “I think I’ll go and set our tea to brew while the two of you get into the position you want for painting number five.”

As I got three cups out of the cupboard, I wondered why I was rather enjoying seeing these two men having sex in their different ways.  I wasn’t turned on as such, although I admit I’d grown a semi when Adam had offer me a sniff of Stephen’s backside, but I was finding this far more interesting than I might have imagined.  A part of me – a small part but a very audible voice in my head – was wishing that I’d played around more with my crewmates in the navy.  I couldn’t help but wonder how exciting it might have been to have tried doing some of the things that these two men were showing me.

I put three teabags in each of the cups and then I thought, fuck it, let’s use the teapot.

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To be concluded

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The sun was bearing down on me through my Grandmother’s car window; the beams were blinding. I squinted up and down the street, looking for my the familiar looking building I called my home. The car swung widely to the left into my drive way as I immediately hopped out of the car. I looked at my watch: 5:34 p.m. I thought it was later, due to it being Daylight savings time, but the day was still dwindling.

“Oh, Grandma! Here’s the flyer to my play!” I handed her the sheet with the musical advertisement.

My grandmother smiled and thanked me as she waited for me to enter the house. I grabbed my keys and unlocked the door and waved back to her as she backed out of the drive way.

Turning around and closing the door, I made way to my bedroom and greeted my brother.

“Everything alright, Ty?” I asked, taking off my shoes and jacket.

“Yeah, I’m waiting for Avant to come over. He said he’d b-“

“Avant?! Coming here? When?” I asked anxiously. Every time I was near Avant, something just happened to me, and I knew it would never change. I tried to avoid being around him to prevent anything happening between him and I, but he always toyed with me and I always enjoyed it to the fullest extent.

“He said he’d be here an hour ago.” Ty said, looking at me, not noticing my anxiety. “Be listening to the door so whenever he gets here he won’t have to wait ’cause it’s kinda cold outside.”

I immediately made my way to the bathroom. My heart shape faced was capped by my curly, thick afro. My bronze skin was contoured on my face and my medium-thick lips sat perfectly curled at the edges. I smiled at myself. I was doing it once again. Preparing myself for something that I knew would never happen – but I always had hope. I turned sideways to look at my shape. I had a teeny gut, but it was proportioned by my pompous ass cheeks which lay naturally plump and curved on my back. I immediately ran to the kitchen to grab something to drink, as I was getting quite hot with all the thoughts flying around in my head when I was suddenly interrupted by the doorbell. I slowly turned around with butterflies in my stomach. I began to run-slide down the shiny flooring of our hallway and halted in front of the shiny wooden-carpeted stair case. I then began walking towards the door slowly and asked who it was.

“It’s me.” A booming voice rang out. I closed my eyes and opened the door.

Looking back at me was Avant, with his semi-goofy smile and food in his hand.

I invited him in and waved at my Aunt who was backing out of the driveway. I turned as I closed the door, only to see Avant, who was staring back at me. I examined him, looking up and down. His muscular stature was seen through his jacket and grey sweatpants. His feet stood apart, hidden in his white jordan shoes. His strong jawline was strengthened by his tiny goatee; his beautiful eyes adorned by his almost-too-perfect eyebrows. His head was capped by a freshly cut tapered-fro.

“Am I gonna get a hello?” He grinned at me.

I crossed my arms and pretended to be stern. “Hello Avant.” I tried not to let him change my, but every time I was around him, his presence feminized me. His broad and proud chest stood out to rule domination over me. His broad stature exulted control over me. His dick print made my mouth water. I felt my insides warming up. Oh, how I coul-

“HELLO?” Avant’s voice grew in size to gain my attention. “You alright?”

I smiled. “Yeah.. I’m fine.” I invited him to the back with Ty so he could finish his food and have something to do. I watched as he went to the back with Ty, closing the door behind him. I immediately ran upstairs to the restroom, grabbing my phone and directing myself to the “hub”.

“I needed this quite time alone for release after all the pressure I just endured.” I thought to myself as I reached and grabbed the lotion bottle.

2 HOURS LATER……..

I waved my mother away from the driveway as closed the door behind me. I quickly ran to get on my knees on the couch to look out of the window. I felt my shorts crawl up between my asscheeks as I peered through the window shades.

“I guess I was wrong… Your ass is still as big as it was before.” a familiar voice rang out.

I turned around to see Avant leaning against the wall, staring right at my plump cheeks.

I turned my body and prepared to get up, only to be rushed by Avant who stood chest to chest with me in almost the blink of an eye.

I didn’t look him in the eye but made eye contact with his chest as I spoke to him. I laughed mawkishly.

“Yeah… A boy can eat, can’t he?” I tried to push him out of the way, but was immediately stopped by his forceful voice.

“You know why I came to see you, Taj” Avant’s voice boomed at me, “You know what I’m here for.”

I felt his muscular hand slide down my back and on top of my asscheek, squeezing slightly.

I pushed past him and walked into the hallway exterior.

“This has got to stop, Avant. We can’t keep this going forever.”

I looked at Avant grinning at me. “Alright then.” He said.

But I knew deep inside, He wouldn’t give up that easy.

“I need to use the bathroom.” He said, sweeping past me. My eyes closed. I knew what he was going to do.

I heard the bathroom door close behind me. A warm sensation began to fill my groin. I made way next to the bathroom and listened. Moments later, I heard the sounds of the porn video leaking out of his earbuds, escaping into the void of the bathroom, echoing into my ears. Then, the several clicks of the lotion bottle. My hand pressed against my semi-erection.

I pressed my ears against the slit of light between the bathroom door and the wall. The air rang with silence. My heart was beating with such intensity. I knew I shouldn’t be listening because I knew he was playing with me. He was manipulating me with my lusts. I listened harder, despite my mind telling me to leave. I still heard silence.

Then, I heard the wet, squishy, intense echo of him stroking his cock. I gasped. The sound grew louder. I felt my hand stroking my pre-cum covered dick. I bit my lip in ecstasy. I listened to the sound of his dick talking to me with each stroke. I could see his dick covered in lotion, his muscular hand stroking up repeatedly running up and down over his this mushroom tip. My hand moved up and down my cock in exact same motion. We sat there for what felt like an eternity. The stroking sped up and got louder. I heard his breath rush out of his mouth in opposition with mine. My hand smashed up and down my dick. His moans escaped into the empty bathroom and echoed into my ears. The hot rush of ejaculation rushed up the shaft of my penis. I froze as bullets of white jizz shot forth from my penis. His grunts of satisfaction filled the bathroom followed by the splats of his thick cum hitting the floor. His moans continued as I fell back on wall beside the bathroom door, sliding onto the floor.

I failed once again. I was bested by my lust for him.

ONE HOUR LATER…..

I walked into the kitchen, thinking intensely to myself. Only a few hours before he would be going home and the temptation would lay to rest.

I breathed a sigh of release. I opened the refrigerator which was immediately slammed close by an extended muscular arm stretching around the corner.

“I’m tired of waiting.” Avant said, his goof grin shining at me. “We can’t just have one more time?”

I felt his arm envelop my waist, his other hand stretching around to cup my ass.

His breath warmed my face, my neck falling victim to attack by his thick lips. A moan slipped my lips. My arms instinctively rubbed up his muscled back and gripped his shoulder blades. His grip on my ass grew tighter as I moaned.

“Please.. don’t make this hard on me.” I begged. “I’ve tried so hard to get ove-“

In an instant, his attitude changed.

“So you’ve been AVOIDING me?” His hands reached up around my neck and he pulled his face close to his. “You know I’ve come over here for a reason.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” I gasped, crawling on top of the kitchen counter trying to escape him. He pushed his lower body in between my legs, my legs wrapping his tight, muscular body. My arms wrapped around my waist.

“Yeah, you better be sorry. I’ve been hungry, and you keeping me from my food like this…” He sucked on his teeth as he shook his head at me.

“Keeping Daddy from his food will only make things worse for everybody, don’t you agree?” he asked, brushing my thick lips along my neck.

I closed my eyes, answering yes to his every question and request. His goatee scrubbed against my skin as he made kiss after kiss to my neck.

“Got something to give me?” Avant asked, still kissing on my neck.

I smiled. “Yes, I do.” I answered, pulling on his grey sweatpants. I lead him to the living room couch and pushed him down, unzipping his jacket to reveal his abs coated in his chocolate, brown skin.

He looked down at me as I got on my knees, tugging down his grey sweatpants, revealing his sky blue briefs. I could see his perfectly shaped cock. I pulled down his boxers as his thick, chocolate dick plopped backwards onto his abs, pre-cum splattering on his muscles. I licked my lips as I took an easy grip on his cock.

“You owe daddy something don’t you?”  Avant said, leaning back, his hands behind his head.

I smiled up at him, holding his bright bubble gum tip in front of my mouth.

“Yes, Daddy.” I said, sweeping my tongue across the top of his pre-cum covered tip. He flinched in ecstasy, his pelvic muscles cramping to hold in the swelling of cum. I immediately slid my head down on his cock, my spit sliding down the veiny sides of his dick. I slurped obnoxiously on his dick.

“Fuck…” He said, pushing his hips up slightly into my mouth, ” You want daddy’s jizz, don’t you?”

I nodded, my mouth full of his thick dick. I grabbed the shaft of his dick as I slurped intensely on the tip of his dick, bobbing my head up and down on his spit covered dick. His muscular hand slipped over the back of my head, forcing my head down on his cock.

He sucked air in between his teeth, grunting. “Suck on Daddy’s cock.. Fuck.”‘

I slurped up and down his cock, my mouth watering with the taste of his dick. I sucked messily on his cock, tugging his head in my mouth with my tongue.

His back began to arch up, and he lifted his ass up, pushing his dick into the back of my throat as he pushed my face down into his pelvis, my face full of his pubic hair. I loved the smell of his musky male fumes.

He twitched several times, frozen in air as he filled my throat with his cum. I swallowed each drop with delight, cleaning his cock with my tongue.

“Mmmm… Daddy’s hungry… How about some dessert?” He asked as he reached a spit covered finger back and rubbed my asshole.

I twerked my ass on his hand.

“How about some cake, Daddy?” I said, looking up to him as I licked lightly on his cock.

He twitched with each lick, and agreed as I mounted him.

He slid his veiny dick into my ass as I arched my back in anticipation. I leaned my head back, feeling his dick move up my back. I pushed myself up, staying up with my hands placed on his chest. He slid his dick up and down slowly, stretching my asshole slightly.

He grunted, his ultra-sensitive dick fucking me slowly. “Goddamn, baby. I been waiting for this for the longest.”

He placed his hand on my back, arching it, rubbing his hand down my back and onto my thick asscheek, grabbing a handful of my flesh as he fucked me.

I moaned in ecstasy, sliding up and down on his pole. I tightened my ass around his thick dick, causing him to grunt loudly. He slammed his dick into me, grinding inside of me.

I yelped, biting my lip as hard as I could as I laid down upon his chest, allowing him to repetitive access into my ass as he took multiple pounding strokes inside me.

“Please… daddy, please.” I whimpered into his ear, my body quivering with each pound.

He spoke to me through gritted teeth.

“Don’t you beg me for anything. You tried to keep yourself away from me.” He slapped my ass as hard as he could, my whimpering soon following afterwards. “I’m gonna make you take my fucking babies, you hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I whimpered into his ear. I arched my back up even higher as he longstroked his dick in my ass.

He pulled his legs up onto the couch as he sped up his strokes. I felt his dick swelling inside of my ass.

“Fuck… you wan’t that nut?” Avant asked me, grunting as he stroked inside of me.

My voice shook with each pounding, my body bouncing with each pound.

“Y-y-yes, Daddy.” I said, my head laying on his chest as he pounded me.

My body stiffened and fell victim to him as he shot a bucket of nut into my ass. The warmth welcomed me, and my body fell under his spell.

I felt his voice fly into my ears, his thick voice giving me comfort.

“Be ready, baby..” He said, his hand playing with my asscheek.

“This is just round one.”

TO BE CONTINUED….

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Bathhouse Experience (The God of Amsterdam)

Hi, I’m Michael.  And I had this really hot experience on a vacation trip to Europe a few months ago.  I still think about it – and him – all the time.

I won’t spend forever telling you all the background; I just want to bring you with me into Sauna NZ and let you experience that phenomenal fuck right along with me.  So I’ll try to make this part relatively quick:

I’m age 22, Armenian-American. I’m from Watertown, Massachusetts, just outside Boston.  I’m six feet tall, muscular body, Mediterranean/Middle Eastern looks, with dark hair and deep brown eyes.  I’m not like a magazine model or anything, but I’m kind of handsome, and I have a nice solid dick that I know how to use.  People tend to assume I’m straight when they meet me, but I’m most definitely into guys. I came out a few years ago, at age 19. 

In college here in Boston, my friends and I just graduated half a year ago, in May 2017.  College was a mostly great time – good friends, tough classes and a generous amount of sex once I figured out who and what I like.  But also, for me, some financial challenges and stress.  I come from a large family on a super-tight budget.

My gay best friend Darren from college is the one who made this trip possible.  His parents are wealthy and he just adores me, so, as a graduation present he got his parents to use a bunch of frequent flyer miles to pay for a vacation for him and me both.  Reykjavik, Iceland for 3 days – and then Amsterdam, for 3 more.  Darren’s folks paid for almost everything, and I was (and still am) so grateful, because the whole trip was just amazing.  I had never been to Europe before.

It got interesting between me and Darren, because we started to get sexual on Night #2 of the trip, in our cozy little hotel room in Reykjavik.  I couldn’t help it, I was feeling excited and turned on and happy about everything, and feeling more affection than usual for my best buddy.  Darren’s a cute boy, with his curly light brown hair and bright blue eyes and a nice smile and a round bubble butt – but somehow we landed in the “friend zone” socially, you know what I mean? We got very close on that level, and I never messed around with him these past three years. 

But here we were, together all alone in Iceland.. and before I knew it we were spooning in bed at 2am and I was rock hard and pressing it along Darren’s butt and… well, long story short, he brought out the lube. Minutes later I was fucking him deep and kissing his neck and he was going “ohh fuck, yeah, Michael… ohh!” and that butt just felt so perfect with me inside it, plowing away, it was fucking great and I just unloaded inside him.  And then we took a shower together, and we slept so fucking good after that.

Friendship? Love? What is this, now?  We didn’t think or talk too much about it, we just went with it.  Fun vacation stuff all day, and then I fucked Darren at night and we went to sleep all cuddled up together.  One of those times, we actually got versatile and he fucked me too, which surprised me because Darren goes around calling himself a “Total Bottom Boy” and I’m mostly a top.  But I was impressed, he gave it to me pretty good.

Amsterdam was even more fun than Iceland.  On the first night, Friday night, we brought a local boy back to our room from the 18+ nightclub. He was one of those gorgeous young Dutch guys: very tall, friendly, sweet, he could speak English well enough… and so hard and horny!  It was like a Bel Ami porn scene come to life.  I was too drunk from overdoing it at the club, and so I couldn’t get my dick hard enough to really participate… but it was hot just laying back and watching that long tall sexy Dutch boy fuck Darren’s cute butt in just about every position you could think of.  As soon as it was over, the Dutch boy planted hungry wet cigarette-tasting kisses on both our lips, scooped up his clothes, threw them back onto his body in just a few seconds – and he left.

I looked at Darren, incredulous – “Did that all just happen?”  Darren was just laying there naked and dazed on the bed, his hair all messed up, his body breathing heavy… and then he murmured, “My throbbing ass can testify that it definitely, DEFINITELY happened.”  Then that ass of his let out the loudest, sloppiest, cum-filled post-coital fart you can imagine, and we both just cracked up laughing and laughing non-stop for a whole minute.

“Filthy Pig!!” I yelled at him, in the middle of our laughter. 

He just said “Finally, someone gets my name right.” 

I love Darren so much.  I don’t think anyone else in the world can make me laugh as much as he can.

We had a flight back to Boston on Sunday evening, the night before the Labor Day holiday (September 4).  So we wanted to make the last couple of days really count.  But Saturday night we spent too long in a “coffeeshop” and got excessively stoned, and we just cuddled in bed all night in that state of mind, cozy under the covers, half-sleeping and half-stoned, warm and snug, me and Darren.  And then when we woke up very late on Sunday morning, it was pouring rain outside.

The bathhouse was Darren’s idea.  Apparently it was always on his list as a possibility, and now was the moment.  He said: “It’s called Sauna NZ. We’re here, we’re queer, we’re gonna leave this city in 8 hours, and I can’t think of a better thing to do, in Amsterdam in the rain.”  So we went out for a quick breakfast of fruit smoothies a block from the hotel – Darren blocked me from eating a big plate of eggs and potatoes. He said, “Trust a bottom who knows what he’s talking about: you want to eat light today, because where we’re going, you want to be ready for anything.”  I laughed – but I did what he said. Then we came back to our hotel room, took turns in the bathroom getting all fresh and ready and all that stuff, and off we went to a place named Sauna NZ.

I had no idea what to expect.  Darren had more of an idea, because he’s been to quite a few sex parties and he consumes a lot more porn than I do.  I just hoped it wouldn’t be the two of us surrounded by 60 year olds. 

It’s an understatement to say that I didn’t have to worry.  There were all types of guys there, and yeah, some were older and it was a mixed bag of attractiveness.  But, good God, there was a lot of sexy stuff in that mixed bag; there was some serious Male Hotness hanging out at Sauna NZ. Hunky men, cute boys (legal, I mean; you had to be 18+ to enter), mostly Euro/white but some from other parts of the world as well… all roaming around horny and naked or near-naked.  My dick started to thicken and grow, between my legs.  “Fuck yeah, I think I like it here,” I thought.  And I just knew that this rainy afternoon in Amsterdam would be one I’d remember for a long time afterward.

I wasn’t sure if Darren and me were going to stick together like a couple or split up, but right away he said “We’re probably gonna separate, so, meet me in the changing room at 4:15pm and that’s our fallback plan.”  

Then before I knew it, just minutes later Darren was getting all friendly with a most handsome-looking muscular Black guy… and off they went. 

Ok then!  I guess it’s just me, Michael, on the loose.  Ready to do whatever – and whomever – I feel like doing.

I took a look at myself in the mirror.  This place had nice lighting and I looked unusually good in here.  I’d been working out with weights consistently for a few years now, and my Armenian skin turns a rich golden-brown in the summer sun.  The Michael who looked back into my eyes, as I stood before the mirror, looked like a hot, seductive, young Middle Eastern man. Some muscular young hunk from what’s now called Iran, or Turkey, or some place near there.  The land of my ancestors.

I noticed a few cute younger guys, Dutch/Euro-looking, and I thought, damn, I would be down to fuck any of them.  Then I noticed this buzz-bald French looking bodybuilder with huge smooth muscles all over him and an enormous uncut cock swinging between his legs.  Then I… well I’ll skip the long list; the point is, I was the proverbial kid in a candy store, and I was ready to go for a hardcore sugar high.

Then I saw him.  This gorgeous 6-foot-4 (193 cm) man around age 30 with “classic Dutch” good looks – thick shaggy blond hair and a strong, handsome face with high cheekbones and a masculine jaw covered with just a hint of golden-blond stubble.  He walked right past me and I looked up at him in admiration, and our eyes connected for a long two seconds.  I turned as he passed, wearing only a towel around his hips like most of the rest of us, and I admired his broad shoulders and perfect “V” back shape and his long strong legs as he kept walking down the hall.  I was stunned. I don’t know what I’d even do if I had the chance to get with a man like that.  It was like he was visiting us all from another planet.  A planet of the fucking gods.  And in my mind, I nicknamed him “the God of Amsterdam”.  

The layout of Sauna NZ was interesting, I’d never been in a place like it before.  There was a bar that was social, like, men actually talking and stuff.  And there were sauna and sex spaces where lots of guys were roaming and checking each other out and stroking their dicks, and in some of those spaces much more sexual activity was going on. Then there were some private rooms – but I wasn’t sure how that worked if you wanted one, and Darren had disappeared on me. 

So I walked around, and I ended up in the main sauna playing with a cute boy, kissing and stroking each other’s dick in the sweaty steamy heat… and then the tall blond God of Amsterdam walked in, and he came right up next to us. There he was, this long strong gorgeous beast looking down at the two of us with a smile.  His alive, animal beauty was so intense up close. My heart started thumping a little stronger in my chest.  The God of Amsterdam gave me a little smile and a wink, and he walked back out.

Well, I sometimes miss clues in life, but there was no missing this one.  I knew I was supposed to follow him!

I excused myself from the young man I was making out with, and I went off down the hall in search of this 6 foot 4 gorgeous blond man.  Finally I found him in the locker room, naked except for the towel around his hips.  His broad V-shaped back and strong shoulders were spread before me as he pulled a black bag out of his locker.  He unzipped it and took out a large plastic bottle of some Gatorade-type drink, light blue liquid with funny-looking Dutch language on the bottle.  I moved closer to him and he turned and saw me and smiled that broad handsome smile again.  I looked up into his deep-set blue eyes, and I just nodded politely and smiled back. 

Still no words spoken between us, the God of Amsterdam motioned to the Dutch-language sports drink he was gulping down, and he offered me some.  I smiled and took it and drank some, stepping closer to this gorgeous half-naked man.  Then I gave the bottle back to him, with a nod of thanks.  I was standing so fucking tall, to look up into his handsome face as he towered above me.  And I swear, in that precise moment, my butthole *twitched*.  I am usually a top but something deep and primal inside me was calling out, howling like a wolf: FUCK ME.

The God of Amsterdam knew it.  Right there in the locker room, with other men around, he dropped his towel and showed me a beautiful thick long uncircumcised dick, mostly hard.  It looked real juicy and suckable.  He tugged at my own towel around my waist and it fell to the floor, the two of us standing naked face to face. And his cock, sticking straight out at me, pressed its head gently against my belly. Again my butthole made this throbbing, hungry little squeeze sensation that traveled from there, tingling and buzzing, right up my spine.  Good god.  Never before had I wanted it so bad as this.

He tilted his head quick to one side, grinning, as if to say “follow me.”  And he crouched down quick to the floor, picked up our two towels, then his other hand took mine and held it, and the God of Amsterdam led me out of the locker room and down the hall.  Both of us buck naked and getting a lot of looks from men, as we passed them.

He led me into a large wooden sauna that had four or five other guys already in it, three of them stroking their cocks.  It was very warm but not too hot, and it smelled of cedarwood and eucalyptus oil and the fresh sweat of the men.  My dick was rock hard at this point.   The God of Amsterdam sat his long sexy body down on a wooden bench, and I was about to sit next to him when instead he guided me with his hands.  He guided me to remain standing, to turn around… and to back up, putting my strong round furry butt right in his face.  Oh, WOW.

With all the other men watching, I fucking lost my mind, standing there bold naked as the God of Amsterdam spread my hairy butt cheeks apart. He went for it, putting his warm wet hungry tongue way up inside my asshole and licking, and licking, and licking.  My knees almost buckled from how fucking great it felt.  One of his hands reached around and played gently with my big hard cock as his face kept nuzzling and licking and tasting my hot sweaty hungry ass.  My eyes were half closed in delirium, and I could feel the men around us staring at me intensely as they stroked their cocks.  I had never put on a show like this before, being sexual in front of other men, and the feeling was a thrill that shot right through me. 

Then he pulled his face out from my ass, and a moment later I heard a soft “click” sound, and I glanced behind me.  The God of Amsterdam had been offered a bottle of lube from one of the men jacking off around us, and he was now helping himself to it generously.  He slathered lube up and down and all over his long hard gleaming cock.  My heart began to beat faster, and my skin felt so alive all over, bathed in anticipation and sweat before we’d even started.  He gently pulled me to him and guided my hips, finding my hole with his hands and his dick… and then he pushed and, fuck, the head of his dick was in me.  Sliding gently… inch… by… inch… moving into me.  Oh fuck, it felt so THICK.  I wasn’t sure if I could take it, but I damn sure was ready to try my best.

He moved slowly, fucking me gently with just the last few inches of his cock.   Three more men had come into the sauna and now the whole crowd was watching us.  The God of Amsterdam held me from behind as he fucked me deeper – oh WOW! Much more intense, some pain but mostly just so BIG and really, really good.  He pulled me closer back onto him, his long strong arms snaking around and holding my whole body in place as he fucked me.

I wanted to turn around and look into that handsome face as he fucked me, and that’s what I did.  With his warm thick dick still thrusting up into me nonstop, I held onto his strong thick shoulders and slowly rotated my body, limb by limb, swinging around until I was sitting all the way down on that cock.  And now I was gazing directly into the handsome face of this God-man as he kept on fucking me.  He was so tall that I only had to bend down a little for us to be locked in a face to face stare of lust and intensity, his face flushed with heat and color and framed with sweaty blond hair.  Our eyes, his so blue and mine deep dark brown, stayed locked onto one another in the sweaty heat. I could feel his hot breath rising up into my face as his dick kept throwing deeper strokes up into me. 

Taking his fuck more and more, deeper and still deeper, I began to moan softly.  I leaned in and kissed him on the lips.  He moaned “rrrmmmm…” and kissed me back just as hungrily as his hips began to really power-fuck me, slamming upward as deep as he could go.  My body was bouncing up and down uncontrollably as he held me and fucked me.  It was so intense we really couldn’t kiss any longer, because I was riding the God of Amsterdam up and down like a fucking horse.  His strong two hands could barely hold onto me, because my entire back and shoulders were drenched in slippery, fresh sweat.  The air was thick with heat and lust and the smell of wood as he fucked my hungry, throbbing hole so deep and strong.

I heard a man near us cry out, and as I twisted my neck around and looked, a handsome young smooth-bodied guy sitting across from us was losing control, huge spurts of semen shooting up in the air from his cock and landing back down on his thigh and the floor around his feet.  All the while, the God of Amsterdam kept on fucking me and I kept on riding that thick strong dick of his.  Moments later another man started breathing heavy and growling, and he came too, just as hard.  We just kept on fucking, me and the God, the two of us merged like one, and it felt so fucking primal and fantastic and hot and sweat-drenched, and I never wanted it to end.

Then he stopped, his dick buried deep to the hilt inside me.  And he guided me down to the floor.  I could feel now that I’d been getting overheated, my heart was racing and my head getting light and my whole body dripping wet.  The God of Amsterdam, still deep in me, slowly lifted my strong thick legs up into the air and took me in missionary position right there on the sauna floor.  He kept on fucking me just as deep, and it felt good to be down there on the floor, me against the wood with this phenomenal man on top of me, his cock plunging again and again deep inside me.  Heat rises, and the air was comfortable way down here on the floor, and I was grateful for it compared to the thick hot air that surrounded me and filled my lungs earlier, when I was sitting upright riding on his dick.   

The God of Amsterdam held me down in missionary, my legs up in the air, and he was fucking me even stronger now, SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! rocking my whole body with force. Every stroke of that cock was plowing me open like never before, a crazy sensation, like his dick was forcibly rearranging the inside of me and I was loving it, wanting it.  I began to make low, moaning, wild and wordless sounds as he fucked me into a state of stupidity and bliss. 

My eyes looked up into his face, clenched in intensity, as he power fucked me on that warm wood floor with ten or twelve men all watching us, many of them jacking off in lustful concentration.  I could feel energy rising in him, and my whole body was crying out with longing for him to do it, to cum, really CUM inside me.  He reached down with one of his hands and began to stroke my hard and dripping cock.  It didn’t take long – within just a minute or two I went soaring into orgasm, gasping, howling, cumming so hard that some of it splashed right up across my forehead and eye. 

And he knew what he was doing, timing wise, because he never stopped fucking me, that big thick dick kept on going WHAM! SLAM! SLAM! up into me as I came, and just an instant later he let forth a big growling sound and I could feel his body tensing, surging, and he fucked me even deeper and longer, gasping for breath, then suddenly he stayed way deep in me, his body convulsing and towering over me. I could feel his cum spreading inside me, like a warm glowing sensation.  Our bodies rose and fell, breathing hard in rhythm together. Then he lay his full weight on me, holding me down, kissing and gently biting my ear and neck. 

And with the crowd of men still around us, some of them still jacking furiously, the God of Amsterdam just kept holding me down, his dick still hard inside me, his hips gently thrusting it in and out, and both of us breathing hard and absolutely drenched in each other’s sweat.  And he pressed his pelvis harder against me, sliding that warm perfect dick of his all the way deep in, as into me as he could get it.  Fuck, it still felt so good.  I reached up and wrapped my arms around his long hot sweaty body.   He bent his face down to mine and sensually licked my cum up from my forehead and eyebrow. I didn’t want this to ever end.

And I nuzzled my face up into his shoulder and neck, tasting his warm salty-wet skin on my tongue and lips… and I kissed his ear and spoke my first words to him.  I tried to use simple words, anticipating the language barrier between us.  I said, “You are a beautiful man. My name is Michael. I am from Boston, in the United States.” I paused and then added, “… America.”  Then I realized a second later, how stupid that must have sounded.

Then his deep-set blue eyes looked down into mine, and that gorgeous face of his spread out into a sexy smile. And I felt his big dick still inside me, and the rough stubble of his jaw against my neck and ear, as he said, laughing softly in a low voice – and an accent very familiar to me:

“Well, how about that.  I’m Dave… from Kansas City.”

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A few months after he had landed in 4 Coy of the Fifth Battalion Parachute Regiment, serving in Germany, Lieutenant Richard Finch received a visit in his office from his Platoon Sergeant, Patrick Kincaid. There was a discreet knock on the already-open door. He looked up to see Kincaid standing in the doorway; he was looking, as usual, like a recruiting poster and clutching an army-issue Filofax.   

“Permission to speak, Sir?” he asked crisply. He made it sound like an order. 

Richard had not yet worked Kincaid out. Among other things, he was Irish and Catholic, from the Republic of Ireland and moreover from a traditionally  Nationalist and Republican area. Yet here he was, serving in the Paras, of all British regiments. He had a ready, searchlight smile and seemed friendly enough in the superficial way that many charming Irishmen have. The reality underneath can be quite different, as Richard knew: friendliness did not necessarily imply friendship, especially not in Ireland. What Kincaid’s true feelings about anything were –  including his real thoughts  about Richard himself – was anyone’s guess. So Richard was wary: apart from that, a request by one’s Platoon Sergeant for a one-to-one meeting was apt to be the prelude to his revealing an imminent man-management crisis in their platoon or some other challenging problem that would prove inconvenient, time-consuming and might impact on Richard’s extra-mural pleasures, which included rugby, boxing, racing at Newmarket and very importantly, sex.   

“Okay, come in. Please shut the door. Stand at ease, stand easy. Let’s sit over here.” Richard stood up and indicated two armchairs facing each other across a low coffee-table, which he used for informal discussions; this layout created a relaxed atmosphere. “Sit down, Sergeant. Will you have a coffee?”  

Kincaid thanked him and took off his beret; he smoothed his short, curly hair. 

The coffee smelt appetising; Richard, who hated brackish NAAFI coffee, had installed a personal coffee-bean grinder and percolator in his office. They rattled and gurgled away in the background. Richard now poured  Kincaid a mugful of coffee; he accepted with apparent pleasure. Neither took milk; Kincaid took one sugar. They slurped at their mugs in companionable silence for a few moments. Richard waited for Kincaid to speak. Finally he did so: 

“Thanks. This is grand coffee and no mistake! It’s like this: it’s yer birthday soon. Me and the lads would like to celebrate it with yer!”  

This came as a slight surprise; Richard had not advertised his imminent birthday, although its date could be found by consulting The Army List. He was not sentimental about anniversaries; unless it happened to fall during one of his visits to his adoptive parents, Dr and Mrs Finch, in Hertfordshire, he usually did not bother to mention or celebrate his birthday.  

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Sergeant. But I can guess what that means: You want to get me over to the Sergeants’ Mess and, once there, drink me under the table. Then you’ll expect me to join you in a foray into the nearest red-light district, so that I’m unfit for duty the next day and will probably have caught clap! Isn’t that correct?” 

Kincaid threw back his head and laughed: “No Sir. You’re just-about wrong on every score. Not the Sergeants’ Mess. Not your usual red-light quarter either. We was thinkin’ of a cultural trip to Cologne, maybe; drinks in a bar, certainly; to be followed by a civilised dinner in a place that I know, and… maybe a bit of fun after that, if there’s time and you’re agreeable. I can borrow a mini-bus and a driver. That way none of us needs to stay totally sober and, as for the clap, I’ll bring along a supply of condoms, just in case!”   

Richard smiled. He was as curious about Kincaid as he suspected that Kincaid was about him. That might be the real reason behind the  invitation; to get the measure of the still-new Platoon Commander. He knew that 4 Coy of 5 Para had a Tabasco reputation as an unofficial sanctuary for macho military homosexuals and he had been trying to work out which of his men actually were… It was not that easy: Richard’s platoon all looked very masculine. They were super-fit and smartly turned-out, like the rest of the Company. They were short-haired – shorter than the Army now demanded – and virtually all clean-shaven. Some were evidently bodybuilders; Richard hoped that they were not abusing steroids. A few of the latter showed narcissistic tendencies, like wearing carefully-tapered sideburns and expensive, erotically scented after-shave. In the showers their buff, shaven physiques shone and glittered. Richard assumed that those men were the most likely suspects; he occasionally got a “gay vibe” from one or other them.  

But where did Kincaid stand in all of this? Kincaid was tall, strong and handsome in a macho, typically Irish way: sparkling dark-blue eyes; strong white teeth, which were often bared in a grin or boisterous laughter; regular features, healthy complexion, dark curly hair. It was said that he enjoyed success with women, although he was not married and never had been. Richard had decided that he was  probably straight, but “a man’s man”. After all, Kincaid played rugby, which was hardly a game for pansies. On the other hand, as Richard reminded himself, he too played rugby and he was one-hundred percent gay… 

Kincaid is bloody beautiful, Richard mused. I wonder why I’ve never fancied him?Probably because as a rule I go for fair-haired men; his hair is dark and moreover he’s a lot bigger than I am. It’s just as well; lusting after your Platoon Sergeant is not a good idea. 

Kincaid continued to smile, to sip coffee and to watch Richard over the rim of his mug, while he waited for his response. He was wearing tight-fitting green khaki Para combat trousers. He sat there, relaxed and unselfconscious, his booted feet planted firmly on the floor and his legs apart. Richard was trying hard not to look at the prominent bulge at Kincaid’s crotch. 

The lunch-box has landed! he thought, and added as an afterthought, I’d better get some trousers like that.They seem to be de rigeur around here. 

Richard was still wearing ordinary, slightly baggy, DP combat trousers. Kincaid’s trouser-fly was secured by big external khaki fly-buttons, as well as the usual heavy-duty zip.  Although, as Richard knew, there were good practical reasons for that – it provided extra insurance against embarrassing or painful accidents with one’s parachute harness – the effect was also extremely erotic. (He might just as well be wearing a fucking codpiece!) The close-fitting trousers also showed that, apart from being well-hung, Kincaid had long, very muscular rugby-player’s legs. His khaki shirt-sleeves were neatly rolled up, exactly three turns, to just above the elbow, baring his powerful forearms. His immaculately-ironed shirt was open at the neck. In the narrow “v” his skin was exposed to show dark, curly chest-hair, ending just below the throat. There was a slight whiff of Old Spice after-shave; surely a straight man’s fragrance?  

There was a pause, then:       

“Okay, thanks” said Richard. “I appreciate the invitation and I accept!”

Kincaid nodded and smiled. “There’s something else I need to know.” 

Now we come to it: the real reason for his visit.

 “The boys are all wondering why you, a Guards Officer, should have transferred over to the Paras. One Guardee is unusual enough, but two – I’ve just been told about your friend Mr Stainer, who’s coming here from the School of Infantry – is unheard-of. And when we’re alone together could you see your way to callin’ me Patrick or maybe Paddy?”

Richard looked at him thoughtfully: “If you ask the Colonel or the RSM, you’ll get an answer: that we both got bored with ceremonial duties, which are a waste of time – guarding royal palaces, etc. – wanted to do less of that and more proper soldiering. It was a choice between the Paras and the Royal Marines. We chose the Paras!” 

Kincaid whinnied with laughter. “So I should bloody-well think! The Marines are… well they are what they are. But what’s the real reason?” 

“All right, Sergeant – I mean Patrick – yes, there was another reason. You’d better know the true facts, since you’re my Platoon Sergeant. But I do NOT want them gossiped about. So, for your information, I nearly killed a brother officer – he was quite a popular guy – and I am no longer welcome in the Household Division. Satisfied now?” 

“Wheeew!” The whistled was prolonged for several seconds. “How’d you manage that? A bad accident? A cock-up on exercise?” 

“Nope; I don’t do cock-ups. It was deliberate. I wanted to kill him.”

Kincaid’s jaw dropped. Now Richard had his undivided attention; the Sergeant had clearly not picked up any whisper of this from the Army grape-vine. Richard continued: 

 “It’s a long story; my only excuse is that my natural father comes from Gascony; Gascons have notoriously hot tempers. One drunken evening this other officer insulted me; I knocked him out. When he came round, I challenged him to a duel. He accepted. Since I was the one who had been insulted, I had the choice of weapons: I said ‘Sabres at dawn’. We did it properly; met at dawn in Hyde Park. We stripped to the waist, which is what you do in an affair of honour. I wounded him quite badly. An ambulance had to be called. There was a lot of blood and I was in all sorts of trouble.” 

Kincaid’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What happened next?” 

“Quite a few things! Firstly, duelling turned out to be illegal in the UK. However the man who had insulted me was equally guilty at Law, as he had accepted the challenge and kept the rendezvous. So he didn’t press charges. Anyway, his wounds were not fatal; he’s still with us, worse luck. Mark Stainer had agreed to be my Second, so he got into trouble too. The regiment didn’t want a scandal; they hushed it up. But the Bombardier CO – a snarling, farting little martinet – wasn’t happy at all. He didn’t like me anyway; a sideways move was now unavoidable. I landed here and so, soon, will Mark. So your new Platoon Commander has just escaped  a charge of manslaughter; maybe even of attempted murder. I’m a really nice bloke, don’t you think? Satisfied now?”  

Kincaid’s happy peal of boyish laughter came as a surprise. 

“Ha ha ha ! Well done, you! I expect he deserved it. You’re a dangerous man, all right! I mean, in the right sort of way! You’re a darlin’ boy and no mistake; I wish you’d let me tell the lads. They’re already impressed with your rugby playin’ and your arm-wrestlin’! If they knew about your nearly killin’ your man, you’d be really-fockin’-popular! But that’s the reason we wanted to celebrate; your birthday was just an excuse. You’ve been accepted! Now we need to welcome you properly into the tribe!” He added more thoughtfully: “So duelling’s illegal now, is it? I never knew that.” 

“Take it from me, it is; very illegal indeed! Prince Albert got the Government of the day to put a stop to it a long time ago”, said Richard. 

“Oh, never mind that!” said Kincaid, airily brushing aside the illegality and the potential criminal charge. “We don’t care about manslaughter!” 

“That’s nice to know!”

Richard smiled. He was secretly rather chuffed. He was, in Para-speak, “a crap-hat blow-in”; an outsider posted into the regiment and not “a proper Para”. He had assumed that they would hold that against him and never really accept him. Apparently he was wrong!  

Kincaid was silent for a moment. Then he asked: “What did that other officer call you?” 

“Never mind about that, Patrick. All that you need to know is that it was very offensive indeed; totally unacceptable!” 

Kincaid looked Richard straight in the eye. He was no longer smiling. 

“He called you a queer, didn’t he?” 

“What the hell makes you say that? He called me a lot of things.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t born yesterday! Firstly, because you ended up here, in this Company. Secondly, because it’s blazingly obvious that you are a –  a man’s man, in all senses – Well, aren’t you? You enjoy male company and have no interest in women. That’s clear to me. It’s all right; I’m like that, too.”

“Fuck! Is it that obvious? Who else knows?”

 “Relax, Sir. No-one in the Platoon knows anything, apart from us, nor need they. Oh, some suspect. And a few may even hope… Look in that mirror. You’re fockin’ good-looking, in case you hadn’t noticed! You’ve one or two admirers here already!”   

“Oh Bloody Hell! I don’t need that!” 

“I said, relax. What’s said and done in 4 Coy stays in 4 Coy. It’s not like the rest of the Army. We have… our own rules, which are not in Queen’s Regulations.  I reckon that the two of us’ll be able to work together. That’s the important thing I had to be sure of. I’ll let you have joining instructions for the birthday party IDC.” 

Kincaid grinned again, stood up and rose to his full six-feet-six. He replaced his red beret, assumed a serious and slightly blank expression, saluted smartly, reversed and and marched out. His muscular ass was a neat figure-eight in his tight combat trousers. The door closed behind him. Richard took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 

Well, fuck me five times!! thought Richard. What else does Sergeant-Bloody-Kincaid know, or has worked out for himself?  

Kincaid later briefed Richard: 

“I’m not going to tell you too much; it’s meant to be a surprise evening. But don’t drink too much alcohol at the start. You may need to have your wits about you later; not to mention your reflexes working! I for one am going to start with orange juice. And remember, if you forget to bring your own condoms, that Kincaid always has plenty in his pocket!” 

This was a bit mysterious and not entirely reassuring. Richard nodded. He had his own supply of extra-thick condoms. Suddenly he thought of something: 

“Is Lance-Corporal McSpunk going to be with us?” 

“Yep!” Kincaid laughed mischievously: “Can’t have a party without Roddy McSpunk!” 

“No; I suppose not”, said Richard. 

Richard had been warned about, and already encountered, McSpunk. Meanwhile Kincaid was advising him about dress:  

“Dress is smart-casual. I’ll be wearing jeans or chinos and a polo-shirt with desert-boots or plimsolls. You wear something similar. Given as it’s going to be a warm night, there’s no need for jackets.”  

The party evening arrived: it was a Friday. Almost all of Richard’s platoon were free to join him and Kincaid, who had made the arrangements with military efficiency. Richard followed Kincaid’s advice. He wore fawn jeans and a scarlet polo-shirt. When he got to the rendezvous point in the car park, he found that  everyone else was wearing some variation of the same costume. Several were wearing maroon Para polo-shirts; Kincaid’s was green and had a shamrock embroidered on the breast pocket. He was carrying a CB walkie-talkie strapped to his belt. This was to call the driver when necessary. The men looked freshly showered and shaved; cheerful and squeaky-clean. They larked around and took the mickey out of each other. Most of them wore jeans; usually tight-fitting ones that emphasised their physiques, fitting snugly around the crotch and ass. To the less-observant onlooker they might just possibly have passed for a stag party or a rugby club outing. However certain small details: haircuts, the tattoos on their biceps and military-style wristwatches, would tell any  knowledgeable person that this was a bunch of soldiers on the razzle. 

Is this wise? Richard asked himself. It’s almost like a uniform! The IRA have struck in Germany before.Let’s hope that they, or any other ill-disposed people, are not out on the town tonight! I won’t spoil the party by boring on about security now, but tomorrow Kincaid and I need to talk about it. 

The exception to this sartorial uniformity proved to be Lance Corporal McSpunk (real name: McSporran), when he finally appeared. The mini-bus was revving-up, when: 

“Why are we waiting?” asked someone. “Let’s go!”

“Can’t go without McSpunk!” said someone else. 

“Where is the little fucker?” a third man asked. “Late as usual, I suppose!” 

“Making himself beautiful, I expect!” said a fourth; there was general laughter. “Oh, here he comes now!” 

A diminutive figure was pelting across the parade square at breakneck speed. 

“C’mon sex-god!” someone shouted. There was more laughter.  

McSpunk jumped aboard. “Eh! We can go now! Drive on, Jimmy!” he shouted to the driver as he hauled himself onto the minibus, ignoring the presence of an Officer, a Sergeant and a couple of Corporals. The minibus headed off.  

McSpunk did not look remotely effeminate; just outrageous. He was clearly a very tough little man. Equally, he was not exactly hiding his orientation; in fact, he looked as gay as bunting. He was not dressed like everyone else; his trousers, which were supported by a macho studded-leather belt with an ornate buckle, were cream-coloured, lightweight, low-waisted and skin-tight above the knees, though slightly flared below them. Through the thin material Richard could make out minute black bikini-briefs, which covered McSpunk’s genitals and not much else. He wore a loose-fitting short-sleeved shirt outside his trousers. The shirt was see-through and offered a view of McSpunk’s shaven, muscular torso with its six-pack. His skin was pale and un-tanned with a few freckles; his rosy nipples stood out vividly. A clunky gold chain was draped round his neck. It supported a pendant; a lovingly-detailed miniature gold cock and balls. The testicles were cairngorm stones. 

How tasteless! No doubt that display is for my benefit, thought Richard. 

Telepathically, McSpunk turned to him, gave him a wide, decidedly cocky grin: “Guten abend, Mr Finch! A bit different from the Guards, eh, Pal!” 

Kincaid laughed, but wagged his finger disapprovingly. “Yer don’t call an officer ‘Pal’! He’s ‘Sir’ to you! And Mr Finch’s a dangerous man!”

McSpunk grinned some more and patted Richard’s knee: “Eh! Weel, that makes two of us. Hey! You’re nice and you’re cute! I’m looking forward to serving under you!”  

McSpunk might just as well have said: ‘I want to fuck with you!’ Some of the other men were now chuckling and smirking. Richard’s cock was starting to get stiff. Despite his best intentions, he was starting to feel strongly drawn to McSpunk, whose sex-appeal was undeniable. In his mind Richard was already doing a number of painful and erotic things to McSpunk. 

Richard told himself: I must not have sex with men under my command. I must not have sex with men under my command.  I must not have sex with men under my command! It is bad for discipline and it is in contravention of Queen’s Regulations. 

“I’m not as nice as all that; as you may shortly find out!” retorted Richard, giving McSpunk his famously intimidating, dark Look. 

It didn’t work: McSpunk just grinned amiably back at Richard. He knew exactly what effect that he was having on his new Platoon Commander and was enjoying his discomfort. McSpunk scratched his own balls and winked conspiratorially.  

I’m going to have trouble with you… in more ways than one, thought Richard.  

Having done his background research, Richard already knew quite a lot about Roddy McSpunk. On the positive side, McSpunk was arguably one of the Army’s success stories. The child of a broken home in Drumgoulie, a dreich housing estate on the edge of Glasgow; dragged up, rather than brought up, McSpunk had joined a Scottish Infantry regiment as a skinny, spotty, ginger-haired teenage recruit. He quickly took to military life; however hard it might be, it still compared favourably with life in Drumgoulie. Regularly exercised and fed with Army food, McSpunk had developed into a muscular little man, as hard as nails and a crack shot. He boxed, played rugby and other contact sports. (‘Eshows an ‘ealthy brisket when ‘e strips for bars an’rings). He was over the moon when, at the second attempt, the Paras accepted him. He was now a Para Lance Corporal. 4 Coy, 5 Para, had become his family. Richard occasionally wondered what on earth would become of McSpunk when he eventually left the Army. It was difficult to imagine him settling into any civilian trade, other than into some branch of crime; that was not hard to imagine. Meanwhile, he was generally agreed to be a good friend and a bad enemy.  

On the negative side, McSpunk was Trouble. He was now in his early twenties but acted and looked a lot younger. Partly because he behaved like an adolescent, was cocky and had a big grin and partly because he was small, looked boyish; had freckles, a snub nose and a ginger quiff, the other soldiers still treated him as a boy; a Scots version of little Corporal Rusty, the regimental mascot in Rin-Tin-Tin. His comrades indulged him, of which he took full advantage. No-one ever spoke up to denounce McSpunk. Whenever he got into serious trouble, usually of his own making, a rescue-party would appear to extricate him. On two separate occasions, using his award-winning unarmed combat skills, McSpunk had put civilian thugs who had mocked or threatened him into Accident and Emergency. McSpunk got away with it; the police had received no assistance whatsoever from 4 Coy, 5 Para in tracing the delinquent.  

On another occasion McSpunk had organised a return visit to Drumgoulie with some of his thinly-disguised army mates, to beat up a few people who had given him a hard time in the past; in most cases because of his complete lack of interest in women, which was badly viewed in Drumgoulie. By all accounts it had been a highly-successful foray. Once again, the finger of suspicion pointed  at McSpunk; two of the injured victims had been his hated step-brothers. Nevertheless 4 Coy, 5 Para, in the person of Sergeant Kincaid, had provided McSpunk with an alibi: he could not possibly have been involved, as he had been on fatigues at the time; confined to barracks for unheard-of insolence to his superior officer (who was Kincaid). 

For obvious reasons McSpunk no longer passed his leave in Drumgoulie. Sometimes he stayed with his Aunt Flora in Inverness. At other times, McSpunk’s leave contact details seemed startlingly posh. One day, when checking McSpunk’s leave application, Richard recognised the address of a notoriously bisexual Peer, who lived in a castle on the south coast of England. It seemed that McSpunk had charmed, talked or fucked his way into some very distinguished beds. 

In uniform McSpunk was snappily smart and presentable but, as on this occasion, his taste in plain clothes – if that was the right expression – was often stridently gay, provocative and overtly sexual. This did not bother 4 Coy, 5 Para much, except in one respect: their status as a gay-friendly unit was wholly unofficial. If there were ever a major public scandal, 4 Coy would be investigated and disbanded amid massive negative publicity, which no-one wanted. Much as most of them liked him, they often wished that McSpunk would adopt a lower profile and not get into trouble quite so often.       

That evening McSpunk was, as usual, being the life and soul of the party, leading his comrades in singing songs: some were military and stirring, like Jock McGraw,The Stoutest Man in the Forty-Twa, whileothers were explicitly obscene. Given the way in which it was already evolving, Richard’s birthday party seemed more likely to be exciting than relaxing.  

“We’re startin’ in a bar; an Irish bar”, said Kincaid. 

“Well, I hope it’s not an IRA bar!” Richard replied.

“Nope; the owner is an ex-Irish Guardsman who married a German Fräulein. You’ll meet Irish there, but mostly from Irish regiments of our army. The only potential problem might come from the Germans. They’ve recently discovered the bar; they’ve developed a taste for Guinness – I wish they hadn’t – and there’ve been one or two minor incidents between us and them.” 

“What kind of incident and how minor?” 

“I said, minor ones; very minor. Nothing that we couldn’t handle. Until about a couple of years ago”, explained Kincaid, “the Krauts treated us with respect; we had defeated them in two world wars; they were grateful that it was us who were the occupying power round here and that we were protecting them from the Russkies. But now the wartime generation are retiring and starting to die off. The younger Germans resent our presence. With luck, however, they may not be present tonight. They usually prefer Saturday evenings.” 

Luck, however, was not being a lady to 4 Coy, 5 Para that particular Friday night; she was in fact being as unhelpful as possible. When the Platoon disembarked at Redmond O’Hanlon’s Bar, it was full of large Germans, all drinking Guinness. Some were merely gross and fat, with shaggy hair, like unkempt versions of Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering. But a few others were very large, extremely fit and looked like advertisements for the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Two in particular, gigantic and blond, looked like potential trouble: Richard privately christened them Fafner and Fasolt after the giants in Das Rheingold. They glared arrogantly and growled when they saw the British soldiers bounce cheerfully in. 

Even so, the evening might have passed off without incident, had not McSpunk, the last to appear, chosen to make a dramatic entry, executing a skilful double-somersault into the bar, through the front door. Springing to his feet, arms wide and grinning, he looked round for applause. He got some from the Paras, but snarls and scowls from the Germans. McSpunk surveyed the scene with mingled amusement and contempt: 

“Eh! It’s the fucking Krauts! What’re they doing here? Wie geht’s, mien lieber Sauerkraut!”

It suddenly occurred to Richard that he was the senior British soldier present; in the event of a serious punch-up and complaints to the Battalion, he would be held responsible for whatever happened next. 

Damn and blast! I need to do something fast. 

But events were moving too rapidly now, even for a brain as keen as Richard’s. McSpunk had jumped onto a table. He then goose-stepped up and down it, gave a Nazi salute, and sang this taunt to the tune of “The Kemptown  Races”:  

“SEE YOU! TWO WORLD WARS AND ONE WORLD CUP! DOODAH DOODAH!! 

After a few moments’ stunned silence the bar erupted with a roar. One-litre beer steins, chairs and fists were aimed in their direction. Sergeant Kincaid, who seemed both unflappable and even to be enjoying himself, was yapping into his walkie-talkie. Without interrupting his  conversation, he swatted a passing German, who fell senseless to the ground. 

“Richard”, he hissed (no longer ‘Sir’). “Get the men out – fire exit over in that corner. The vehicle will be round the back in a moment.”   

Fafner had gone straight for McSpunk, who was displaying a remarkable command of German insults (Dummkopf! Schweinhund! Arschgeige!), which did not exactly help his cause. Fafner picked up the furious, kicking and biting terror of Drumgoulie and threw him across the room, over everyone else’s heads, to Fasolt. Fasolt caught McSpunk, roughed him up and tore off his transparent shirt. Then he threw him back to Fafner, while other Germans prevented McSpunk’s comrades, some of whom had already left by the fire exit, from rescuing him. This happened about three times. Soon McSpunk was naked, apart from his boots. His hands were tied with his own belt. He was lying on his back on a table, while Fafner lowered his own breeches, spat on McSpunk’s ass-hole, spread his legs and prepared for the next act of punishment. 

Mein Gott! He’s going to rape McSpunk in front of all our eyes! This can’t be permitted, thought Richard, who suddenly darted past the cordon of Germans and went for Fafner. 

Fafner, with his trousers round his ankles, was at a disadvantage; Richard kicked his bare backside. Roaring with rage, Fafner threw McSpunk back to Fasolt and turned to deal with Richard.  But Fasolt never received McSpunk. Kincaid, who had reappeared, executed a save, leaping into the air and intercepting McSpunk in mid-air. He then slung him, still swearing and issuing blood-curdling threats in German and Glaswegian, over his shoulder and disappeared through the fire exit. Not for long, however; he soon reappeared. Kincaid, Richard and McSpunk’s particular friend, Fatboy (who was in reality not fat but a bulky bodybuilder), held the doorway for three minutes, while the remaining Paras slipped out. (Just like Horatius and his mates on the bridge, thought Richard) They suffered a few blows, but managed to damage several Germans. Before he slipped out, Richard blacked Fafner’s eye and kicked him in the crotch. He had conceived an intense dislike for Fafner. Kincaid then held the fire door shut while Richard scrambled aboard the mini-bus. Richard realised that Kincaid was a Herculean man; several Germans were pushing from the other side. Suddenly Kincaid let go; the Germans shot out and fell in a heap at his feet. He put the boot into one or two of them and then ran for the mini-bus in his turn.  

“Where’re we going now?” asked Richard. 

“Babylon!” shouted Kincaid, both answering Richard and directing the driver. “And you’ll need your evasive driving skills!” 

The mini-bus shot off, charging the wrong way down a one-way street; disappeared into a maze of back-streets; and was presently heading down the Autobahn towards Bad Godesberg and Bonn.  There did not seem to be any visible pursuit. 

“That was exciting!” said Richard. 

“’Twas nothing”, said Kincaid. “I’ve been in worse. Babylon, here we come!” 

The sun was starting to set; Richard wondered where and how the evening was going to end.

Justin glanced at his watch once again seeing only five minutes had passed. He paced back and forth from his small living room through the dining area into the kitchen and back. He had sat on the sofa, picked up the book on the Smoky Mountains, held it a moment and set it back down. He looked at social media on his cell phone, constantly glancing at the time. It was too early to expect Erik, but his nervousness and excitement had gotten the better of him. This was his first real date, the first time to actually go through the ritual of dinner, a movie and maybe drinks afterward at one of the bars. All through high school he had contemplated this ritual, wondered what it would be like as he listened to his classmates describe going out on dates. He had known being gay and closeted in a rural county school was temporary, the near future of college and the freedom it brought always in front of him. He saw the news, the social media posts, and read blogs online where gays in high school were out, open to date and be a part of the rituals. But his high school had been so small and in such a conservative place he just didn’t dare tempt fate. And all through those last three years he had never, not once, sensed one of the other guys could be gay.

Sliding the glass door open Justin stepped out on the narrow balcony and watched the flow of pedestrians and traffic below, the steady stream of activity as the memories of growing up gay came to him, those times that led to this moment, another milestone in his life. He remembered the first time another boy made him feel different, an awakening to his sexuality he had yet to understand. He was nine, an impossibly young age it now seemed, but he had begun to understand why he was drawn to certain male leads in television shows and movies and why he felt a certain nervousness around other boys, especially those older, more mature. But on a cold wintery night riding in the back of a pickup sitting next to Bobby he had felt the first stirrings of attraction.

Bobby’s father had needed some help repairing the fence around the main pasture. Their bull had forced his way through an old section early that morning forcing repairs that could not wait. Justin had stayed overnight, something Bobby and he had been doing for a couple of years. They were best friends, their families in the same church and their homes only a mile apart, an easy bicycle ride. After getting the bull into a back pasture and the remainder of the herd moved in with him, Bobby’s father got the two of them to go with him. Bobby drove the tractor, shifted up to the front edge of the seat so he could reach the clutch and brakes, while Justin kept by Bobby’s father handing him the tools he needed or helping to guide the barbwire in place.

They thought they would be complete by mid-afternoon but there were additional sections that needed repair and it was after dark when they finished, working in the headlights of the truck, their bodies aching with fatigue and hunger. Finally finished they parked the tractor under a tree for the night and headed back to the house. Bobby and Justin, as they always did, hopped into the bed of truck, sitting with their backs to the cab. They sat in silence, exhausted with their faces smeared with the black film from the new wire and the dirt from the old, watching the pasture recede past them as the truck moved along the two-track lane around the perimeter of the pasture. Even with their heavy coats, long johns underneath their clothes and thick work gloves they felt the cold and naturally sat close to each other, their lean adolescent bodies touching along their arms and along their legs.

Justin began to sense this contact, even with all the layers he was wearing, a superficial intimacy which caused him to glance over at Bobby wondering if he could see some aspect in his face that reflected what he was feeling. Bobby was looking upward at the night sky, a few small clouds glowing silvery in the moonlight and all around them stars, too numerous to contemplate. Justin realized Bobby was elsewhere in his thoughts, unaware of their closeness, this contact between them. But for Justin the miraculous was in the bed of the truck, not in the sky, for he began to understand, to realize what all his past longings were about, this focus on other boys and men. It wasn’t overtly sexual, but just a sense of attraction to another boy. And he knew it made him different from Bobby.

Looking down Justin saw the light blonde hair, so light it looked almost white in the streetlights, coming down the sidewalk, then the tall lanky body dressed in black jeans and a black coat, just a silhouette among the other pedestrians. The sight of Erik caused him to smile. Stepping back inside he closed the glass door and grabbed his coat that was draped over a dining chair. Slipping it on he waited for Erik to make his way up.

It was a crossed path meeting for the two of them, a shared English class, the same break in their class schedule on Monday and Wednesday finding them in the main cafeteria sometime after one o’clock then the connection online, both on the same social media site for gays looking to meet someone. Three weeks into their first semester of freshman year found them posting back and forth online and then in class this morning sitting together talking before and after class at the coincidence of their meeting, all the times they had crossed paths and noticed the other in English or in the cafeteria. For Justin there was their differences, how he looked at Erik as something exotic, the Danish heritage evident in his features with his tall lean body, several inches taller than his own five nine. He considered himself average; average build, average brown hair color, dull green eyes, nothing special. He didn’t think negatively of himself just that he blended into the crowd, for better or worse. But Erik seemed to stand out, to tower over most of the other guys, and the slow precise way he spoke with the New England clip to his speech seemed to give serious weight to everything he said. Justin had been drawn to Erik in their  first class together, and over the first few days he moved closer and closer till he was sitting behind him, just to his right, where he could watch him, study his movements, the way he slowly twirled his pen as he spoke in class, the way he always raked the side of his right hand across his notebook to make sure it was flat, ready to write upon and the way he bent his knees bringing his feet back and crossed whenever he sat up, leaned forward trying to hear every syllable of what the instructor was saying or was answering a question.

Justin wanted to reach out and touch him, to let his fingertips graze along the smooth fair skin, to feel the soft downy blonde hair he could faintly make out along the forearm or the smooth almost beardless chin or the high cheeks slightly rosy in color when Erik first arrived in class. Just a touch was all he wanted at first, the simplest of connections between two people.

Justin remembered the first time he dared touch another boy. It seemed so innocent at the time, especially in how he hid his true motive. That summer day came to him, the heat of it, the stillness of it, how they had been in the creek swimming then in the old live oak, balanced on a long-outstretched limb over the water.

The creek flowed slowly underneath them, its surface broken with swirls and ripples that revealed its movement. It was mid-afternoon, and the heat of summer made the hot humid air feel thick, everything having to move slowly through it, even the creek. Gnats formed thick clouds hovering over the water. Except for their banter it was quiet, with only the chirp or caw of a bird in the woods breaking the silence.

The four of them had rode their bikes to the creek, nearly ten miles away for Justin and Bobby, only Ryan lived nearby. T-shirts tossed over the handle bars the four boys had ran into the water, wrestling and roughhousing till they were into the narrow deep channel. They wore the swimsuits of country boys, cut off jeans or cargo shorts worn and frayed. They swam up and down the channel, climbed up in the live oak and dove or jumped into the narrow channel and horsed around in the water till they were fatigued, their skinny legs and arms aching from their exertions. One by one they had climbed back into the live oak sitting next to each other, water dripping from their hair and from the fabric of their shorts. Three of them, Justin, Bobby and Steve were twelve and Ryan would be in a month. They were in many ways alike, same similar skinny builds, all four of them wearing their hair long, down over their ears and foreheads, and each one talked with the dialect of their region, their thick southern accents more pronounced when they were alone, the words flowing freely, the coarse jokes, the profanity that easily wove into their stories or simplest of statements. But there were differences too, some differences they were all aware, but for Justin there was one difference he dared not admit. He tried hard not to stare, to look at Steve’s armpit hair, the dark thickness of it making him look so much more mature for Bobby and Ryan had less and he had almost none. Eyes glancing down he saw the dark hairs matted to Steve’s calves and he deliberately rocked his leg over brushing it against Steve. Even with the chill of the cool water trickling down their skin the touch sent a warm sensation through him.

Legs dangling, feet rocking back and forth, while Ryan and Bobby joked around about getting a canoe and going downstream all the way to the Gulf of Mexico, Justin let his eyes roam upward along Steve’s body. He wondered about this fascination, the way it made him feel, struggling with this attraction to another boy. Eyes moving upward, Justin eventually saw the trickle of blood, a thin line running down Steve’s upper arm.

“You’re bleeding” said Justin as he pointed to the line of blood.

“Shit…I did it awhile ago climbing up; must’ve caught it on one of those nails in the trunk” replied Steve nodding toward the live oak’s trunk.

“It don’t look too bad” said Steve as Justin reached over and ran his index finger upward wiping the blood off. Steve flinched when he raked over the small cut and he cut his eyes up looking at Steve who watched his finger slowly circle the wound.

“Careful…asshole” Steve uttered as he watched Justin’s finger.

“It’s stopped bleeding” said Justin as he finally pulled back and looked away, eyes back on the creek. He knew it was irrational the way that casual touch made him feel. A simple gesture that was not a push or a shove, some wrestling rough housing around.

“Last one in is a pussy” Bobby cried out as he slipped off the limb and splashed into the water, followed by Ryan, Steve and finally Justin who hesitated, just for a moment, as he rubbed his fingers together smearing the final remnant of Steve’s blood thinking of the way Steve’s skin felt to the touch.

Erik led Justin several blocks away from campus into one of the older business districts. They strolled past a gallery opening, a used bookstore with patrons standing at a display talking, a woman’s clothing store and finally to a small cafe, the small window next to the front door containing an occupied small four top table that filled its small space. Erik approached the hostess and they were led to a small table along the side wall sitting in its own niche. The hostess lit the candle and told them to enjoy their dinner as she smiled at Justin then Erik before going back to the front.

Justin felt his nervous slowly fade away, their conversation quickly becoming casual. They had talked a great deal in the last couple of days till there was a familiarity between them. Was this what it was like for straight people Justin wondered. There was no need to hide the fact they were on a date, nor concern of judgmental eyes watching them.

They shared a desert, taking turns forking the cheese cake. And when the waitress was getting their check Erik told of his great-great grandfather coming to the states, sailing into New York and eventually settling in Virginia. It was such an adventurous story, nothing like the stories his own family told at reunions or other gatherings. Erik paid and led Justin back out to the sidewalk.

“The movie starts at nine and it’ll take us about thirty minutes to walk over” said Erik as he slipped his arm around Justin’s causing them to fall into step together.

“After the movie you want to go back to my apartment?” asked Justin after a moment of silence between them, worried he was being too forward, the insinuation obvious.

Erik gave a soft laugh and pulled Justin closer, “of course” he whispered as if his response was a secret.

At the cinema they got their tickets and made their way through the lobby, to theater 3, down the dark corridor then up the steps to their seats. Previews then the movie played in front of them, one scene unfolding into the next. Justin tried to stay focused on the movie but sitting next to Erik, the way their legs were touching, hands locked together with thoughts of the possible intimacy later, it was nearly impossible. This was his first date, but it wouldn’t be his first time with another guy.

He had considered his time with Ben as something that was special, an encounter between two young guys against the odds. Graduation was only weeks away, that weekend of his prom, an event he was not attending. Instead he had drove into town and cruised around till he grew bored and parked at the drive-thru where others parked. He’d been sitting on the tailgate watching others drive by, some he recognized but most unknown to him when an older Mustang pulled in next to him.

Justin didn’t feel left out or alone, instead he felt defiant, not willing to play along even if he kept his homosexuality to himself. The whole idea of the prom seemed silly, the way so many put so much importance on it. The silly gowns and ugly suits, and then there was the theme. Wearing a muscle shirt and jeans, his favorite pair, worn and frayed, both knees blown out, the contrast to what Bobby, Steve and Ryan had to wear was satisfying. He knew he was still lean compared to the guys who played football, but he had been working out and he knew he had a good build, one some of the girls in school had acknowledged as they flirted with him.

He had started to get up and get back into his truck and cruise around some more when a Mustang pulled in next to him on his driver’s side. It was an older model, its black paint showing a few scratches along the sides. Leaning back on his hands, his body stretched out he watched the shadow of the driver inside moving around before the door opened. The dome light revealed its driver, thick wavy black hair and dark olive toned skin, the guy was attractive, and Justin found himself staring. He knew it wasn’t wise, but he couldn’t stop himself as he watched the guy climb out, close the door and head toward the restaurant. Justin watched him and when the guy looked his way, their eyes locking together, he held the eye contact and nodded his head in a casual greeting. The guy smiled back and gave him a wave. Justin followed him with his eyes till the guy disappeared inside.

Leaning forward, hands holding the edge of the tailgate he watched the parade of cars circling around the drive-thru. Sports cars with modified engines, little economy sedans and coupes, SUVs and pickups drove by with others around his own age, each out looking to meet up with friends or make some connection with someone new. Patiently Justin waited, wanting to see the Mustang’s owner come back. Glancing at his watch he saw it was only nine thirty, still early, knowing the prom was just getting started.  Glancing over to the Mustang he wondered what was taking the guy so long. A shadow moved over his legs and in front of him and suddenly he sensed someone to his left.

“It’s a 2012 model” said a voice to his left causing him to look around. The guy stood by the fender of the truck bed, right at the back end, arms resting on top, a drink in one hand.

“Looks nice” Justin replied, blurting out the first thing to come to mind.

“Oh hell it’s not; you should see it in the light of day. The paint job is really bad.”

“So, you’re rough on it?”

“No…wasn’t me. My sister had the car first and she beat the shit out of it. That is the third grill and bumper and the passenger door has been repaired twice.”

“Jesus.”

“Ben…and you are?”

“Justin.”

“Tonight seems to be really hopping. Why are you out here alone?”

“Tonight is our prom and…” replied Justin stammering to a stop.

“I see. You must go to Anson County. A friend of mine is going with one of the guys in your class…Jason?”

“Yeah, Jason said he was taking someone from town.”

“So why are you not at this big event?”

“I just wasn’t interested in going.”

Ben moved around and climbed up on the tailgate next to him. They watched vehicles parade by, Ben waving or yelling out at many of them.

“You going to college in the fall?” asked Ben looking around at Justin.

“Yep…to State.”

“Nice. I’m going up north for college; can’t wait.”

“Anything to get away from here…” Justin replied in a low voice.

“Hey, let’s go riding around…you wanna?”

“Yeah…sure. You want me to drive or you?”

“I’ll drive and…” leaning over close to Justin, lowering his voice, “you need to go get a coke, a small coke.”

“Okay” replied Justin smiling.

Drink in hand and truck locked up, Justin climbed into Ben’s Mustang. As they waited to pull out Ben reached under his seat pulling out a bottle of bourbon.

“For these cokes.”

They drove around the usual places, through the parking lot of the shopping center, a loop through the park and up through downtown. They didn’t talk much, most of the time just glancing over at each other smiling mischievously. When Ben turned left in lieu of right, heading out of town instead of back the way they came Justin looked over surprised.

“Where are we going?”

“A surprise.”

They drove out to a suburban neighborhood, turning on a secondary road, an area Justin had never been before. Ben eased along the quiet street passing large homes all lit up displaying their expensive landscapes. They turned onto another street then pulled into a drive up to a gate that Ben opened electronically from the car.

“This is the back service entrance to our family’s place.”

Easing along a narrow-paved drive, rising with the grade till they came upon what Justin thought was Ben’s home for it was much smaller than he expected.

“This is a family guest house. We use the ground floor for reunions and large gatherings. Upstairs are two guest suites. Our house is over there” said Ben pointing across a pond toward a large house on the next hill. Windows were lit up all along the ground floor as well as a couple of second floor windows. Parked behind the guest house Ben shut off the engine. “We’ll ease inside. Don’t turn on any lights or someone might see us.”

The interior was dimly lit, the moonlight casting a silvery light into the room. It was a large room, with dining tables on one side and a billiard table on the other. A small kitchen lined the far wall. Ben took Justin’s hand and led him past the kitchen to a stair. Slowly, careful with each step they climbed upward coming to a hall. Through the first door Ben led Justin into a guest room, laid out with a bed and sitting area.

“The bathroom is through there if you need it” said Ben pointing to a door on the right.

“Thanks, I do.”

Justin finished quickly and let Ben go next. He felt anxious, a kind of excited nervousness. He had imagined this scenario many times, this hooking up with a guy to explore his sexuality. He heard the toilet flush then water at the lavatory then silence. What is Ben doing in there he wondered.

Ben came out stripped down to his boxers. Even with the moonlight illuminating the room Ben’s dark skin and the dark boxers cast him in shadow. Crossing the room Ben moved up close to Justin, taking him by the chin as he brought their lips together. Justin felt hands on his waist, felt the way they tugged on the muscle shirt he was wearing lifting it upward. When Ben stepped back and tugged upward Justin raised his arms letting the shirt slip up and off. Justin felt Ben’s hands on his chest, softly, gently, moving over his skin. One hand raked over his nipples then downward over his stomach. He felt both hands at the front of his jeans, the tugging and pulling, releasing the button and undoing the zipper. He felt one hand slide down the front of his open jeans, slipping over the front of his boxers manipulating him, fingers groping along his thickening shaft.

“Take off your jeans” Ben whispered, and Justin slipped his shoes off, then each sock then worked his legs free of his jeans. When he stood up he felt his cock pushing outward against his boxers, straining for freedom. Ben reached for it, wrapped fingers around it moving them along its growing length.

“Shit” Justin uttered as he reached out taking Ben by the biceps of each arm to steady himself. He felt the flex of muscle as Ben toyed with his cock, stroked it, squeezed it and manipulated the head making him shudder and moan. His breathing grew ragged and heart beat loudly in his ears.

Ben released him then pushed gently down on his shoulders. He knew what Ben wanted. He wanted it to and he eased down on his knees, held Ben by each calf as he pressed his face into the front of the boxers. He breathed in deeply capturing the masculine scent then he mouthed the cock that pressed against his face. He felt its girth, the hardness of it as he worked his mouth from the base to the head. He sucked the head into his mouth, fabric and all, and tried to work his tongue over it. He’d imagined this so many times, at night masturbating in the dark, pretending he had another’s cock in his mouth. Now it was real, and so much better. It wasn’t just the act of taking another, it was the sensation of touch, smell, and the shared intimacy of it. Reaching up he took the waistband of the boxers and worked them over Ben’s erection and eased them down till they feel freely to the floor. Ben’s left foot stepped out of them and then he kicked them away with the right.

Justin could only see the dark silhouette of Ben, the outline of his body and the curved hard erection that stood out in front. Hands on both thighs he held himself steady as he moved the Ben’s cock. He ran his tongue along its length then swirled it over the head. Lips parted he then took it in his mouth, let it fill it, push back till he nearly gagged. He felt it flex in his mouth as he moved on it, rocking his head back and forth feeling the hard shaft slip wetly through his lips.

At times Ben let Justin manipulate him, stood still lost in the sensation of Justin’s mouth on his cock then he would hold him by the head and gently rock his hips back and forth, pumping his cock through those wet lips. It aroused Justin to feel this contact, hands holding him and cock moving in his mouth. He reached down and pushed his boxers below his cock and began to stroke it in rhythm with his suck. His hand grew wet and slick as his cock grew harder, so hard it ached.

Ben suddenly stepped back, took Justin underneath each arm and guiding him to stand. Gently he led him to the sofa, pushed him back to sit. Justin kept his left foot on the floor and raised his right up and onto the sofa spreading his legs as he shifted around leaning back across the seat of the sofa. Ben eased down between his spread legs, hands coming down on each thigh and as Ben moved up closer and closer those hands slid upward, along his thighs and his sides.

Justin spread his legs more, opening himself up to Ben, giving himself to him as he closed his eyes and lay back focused only the sensations of touch, the heat of the contact, the way Ben’s hands moved up his sides and over his stomach. Then he felt it, Ben’s mouth, hot, wet, touch his sac then the tongue moving over it, upward to the base of his cock. It didn’t stop, kept moving along his shaft till he felt the mouth close over the head and the tongue moving over it. He pushed upward and moaned loudly his approval.

When he felt his cock engulfed by the mouth, felt the wet slickness take him he trembled with the sensation. Ben sucked on it, mouth working up and down his shaft. All he could hear was the wet sound of Ben’s sucking and the pounding of his own heart. Ben pulled off for a brief moment then took him again as he felt wet fingers probing between his legs, rubbing along the skin below his sac till they touched his opening, rubbed over it, wetting it, making it slick. Involuntarily Justin pushed with his hips when the fingers centered their manipulation on his opening and he felt it, the penetration as one finger then the other slipped inside of him. Twisting and turning, pumping in and out, those fingers stretched him open, manipulated him till he was undulating beneath Ben’s ministrations.

“Oh…please…put it in me…fuck me” Justin pleaded as Ben drilled those two fingers into his hole.

Ben eased up, moved up closer taking Justin by the left leg dragging his body across the sofa into position.

“Jesus, I want to fuck you” exclaimed Ben as he put his cock to Justin’s opening and pushed.

Justin felt the thick cock breach his opening and the pain of penetration as he stretched open to take it. Ben pushed inward, easing inch by inch into his depths till he felt hips press tightly to his ass. Ben slowly fell into a rhythm, swinging his hips, working inward all the way then pulling back, over and over. The pace of their fuck increased as Justin cried out, hands on Ben’s thighs then his chest, any additional contact he could make as he took it, every thrust inward. It filled him, Ben’s cock, sinking into his depths and he arched his back and pushed to meet each thrust. Letting his left leg rest back on the floor Ben moved up and over him, hands on either side of his torso and increased his pace, hips smacking into his ass. Ben didn’t last much longer, soon his rhythm grew ragged, each forward thrust a shove, trying to get deeper till he cried out, loud, louder than any before. Ben’s whole body shuddered as he pushed inward one more time, hard, and held himself in place.

Justin knew Ben was spent as he held him in his arms, the sweaty body hot against his skin and its weight comforting. After a minute Ben stirred, rose up and helped him to sit up, feet on the floor, legs spread. He watched Ben reach down and stroke his erection, his fair skin glowing silvery and his cock glistening wetly in the moonlight shining into the room. Ben let him go and moved up over him, legs on either side as he hovered above. Starring into the dark silhouette of Ben’s face he felt a hand take his cock holding it up. He watched the movement of Ben’s body, slowly moving down till he felt the press against the head of his cock then the squeeze as it penetrated Ben’s opening. Ben kept moving down, slowly, and he felt his cock sink into the soft heat of Ben’s body.

All too soon Ben was riding him, up and down, roughly, taking the full length of his cock, over and over and over till he couldn’t hold back, felt his whole body grow rigid, ready for release.

“Fuck…FUCK…I’m going to…” exclaimed Justin as he shoved upward hard with the explosion of release.

As soon as they settled down from their exertions, the release that exhausted them, they had to rush to get dressed. It was getting late and their parents would be expecting them home soon. They slipped out they way they came in, easing back to Ben’s car, down the service road and to the drive-thru where Justin’s truck sat waiting.

For the rest of the summer till Ben left first for college, it was one quick rendezvous after another. Never anything serious, no nights spent together, always the quick hook up. They both knew it was temporary, this moment between them for each had plans, goals in life that would take them in different directions. But for Justin, it was an experience with another guy he wouldn’t forget, no matter how it was all based on physical need and nothing more. It gave him more confidence and showed him ways of pleasing another that no fantasy or blog or porn site online could ever teach him.

They exited the theater to find it was sprinkling rain, a slow drizzle that had everything wet.

“Well shit…should we call for a ride?” asked Justin as they stood under the canopy.

“Nah, let’s go for it. We won’t melt” replied Erik in a playful tone.

They jogged along the wet sidewalks for a couple of blocks, laughing and joking around, then settled into a walk as they held hands and accepted getting wet. Others they passed, umbrellas held over their heads, smiled at their silliness, the carefree attitude. Justin never felt so normal, or that he really fit in. They arrived at his apartment with wet heads and arms, but it was enough to make them shiver from the cold. Inside they hung their coats over the backs of dining chairs and began to strip out of their wet clothes. Shoes and socks set on the tile at the entry door then moving into the bedroom, shirts and pants till they stood in their underwear, Justin in boxers and Erik in boxer briefs.

Justin saw how Erik’s skin changed tone, rosy reds on his face and the rest of him a colder white. Glancing in the mirror he saw his own shivering body, the way he was also red in the face, especially his nose and ears.

“You want to take a hot shower?” asked Justin knowing it was inviting things to progress quickly.

“Yes” replied Erik, his voice quivering and humorous in tone.

The steam rose up from the spray, quickly warming the small bathroom as Justin kept his back to Erik slipping off his boxers. He sensed movement behind him and knew Erik was doing the same as he stepped under the shower. The water stung his hands and feet, warming them too quickly but he stayed under the shower letting it cascade down his body. Erik moved in behind him and arms came around his waist bringing their bodies together. Justin felt the coolness of Erik’s skin that quickly warmed under the water. He put his hands on the wall leaning toward it as Erik leaned against him. Erik’s hands moved slowly up and down his chest and stomach causing him to feel a real sense of his own body, the sensual nature of it. Glancing down he saw how he was responding from his nipples down to his rising cock.

Erik kissed the back of his neck as one hand grasped his cock, stroked it slowly causing him to push back against him. He felt the hardness between them, Erik’s cock pressed against his ass. Reaching around slipping his hand between them he took it, felt its girth within his fingers. Erik pulled back giving him the room to manipulate it, to stroke its length as he felt the ministrations on his own cock.

“Fuck…do me…put it in me” Justin uttered as he brought Erik’s cock down to his opening and held it in place. He felt Erik push against him, felt his own tightness struggle to accept the penetration. Erik nipped the back of his neck and held his cock in a tight grasp as he pushed harder till Justin felt the pain of penetration. He opened to it, stretching to take inch after inch. Head down he felt the cascade of water over his body, the press of flesh as Erik leaned against his back, cock sunk all the way inside of him, every sensation drove his arousal. Erik stroked him in the same slow rhythm of their fuck. Slowly pulling back then easing back in, inch after inch sliding through his tight opening till he loosened to it, felt himself relax to this fuck.

“Fuck me…fuck me harder” Justin uttered as he pushed back to take Erik once again. Erik took him by the waist and increase his pace, drove inward harder and harder. Justin’s hands pushed against the wall with every inward push. Erik’s pace increased till his cock flopped up and down. He pressed the side of his face to the tile wall and continued to rock with their fuck.

“Jesus…oh FUCK” Erik cried out slamming into his hole.

Justin felt the way Erik sank all the way into his body and held still, felt Erik shivering against him.

Erik pulled back and guided Justin to turn around. He went down on his knees and took Justin, slipping his mouth down the hard shaft. Reaching up and behind, Justin grabbed the pipe going to the shower head balancing himself as he stood on his toes working his hips. He drove himself into Erik’s willing mouth. Too aroused and too excited with their fuck and he quickly grew short of breath, felt his body grow rigid and he came, hard, jabbing forward with every ejaculation, feeling the suction on his cock.

They were exhausted when they stepped out of the shower where they dried each other. Justin then led Erik to his bed, covers pulled back they were soon laying spooned together, breathing slowed, lost to sleep. For hours they slept till Erik moved up behind Justin, pressing their bodies together. It stirred Justin half awake and he pushed back encouraging Erik. Their movements were slow, languid, hands gliding over warm skin till Erik was pushing against Justin, his erection pressed against the tight opening till it slowly accepted him, stretched open taking each inch as Erik slowly, gradually, worked himself into Justin’s depths. It was a slow fuck, every touch arousing. Justin felt every warm exhale by Erik on his neck as he took each deep penetrating push inward.

Erik’s pace increased along with his arousal and he pushed Justin onto his stomach as he moved on top. He fucked with an increasing pace till frantic, driving inward harder and harder.

“Oh fuck…fuck…” Justin whispered, his voice barely audible, as the bed squeaked with their movement. Erik drove inward hard, pushed in all the way and lay on his back shuddering with release.

 

The sun was coming in around the blinds, its slant angled steeply down indicating it was near noon. Stirring from their sleep Justin was soon on Erik, working his cock deeply into his depths. Erik’s legs were looped around his waist as he fucked him, fucked till his release surged through his cock and he lay on top of Erik jamming his cock inward with each ejaculation.

They laid in bed most of the day, naked, taking each other at will. They finally got up late in the evening going out to an all-night diner. The weekend was only half over and after the late meal they went back to Justin’s apartment to make the most of it.

One year later

Justin slipped out of bed and went to the window. It was early, shadows long across the lawn and parking lot outside his window. The light was soft, everything glowing warm in the early light. He stretched his arms out to either side and twisted his torso stretching his muscles. He had an exam at ten that morning and some research to do in the library, and later that night was dinner with Erik.

Turning he saw Julio lying on his bed, the sheet twisted around his torso, legs and upper torso sticking out. He smiled at how strongly he slept, dead to the world. They had been together for four months and so far, the two of them seemed to want the same things in life. Looking back out the window he remembered that first date from a year ago, the one with Erik. They had dated for about a month but eventually Erik admitted he wanted to meet other people, wanted to be more carefree during his time at college. So, they went from dating to being friends. Now they got together every other week or so for dinner. Always with whomever they were dating at the time, the four of them enjoying an evening at one of the restaurants close to campus, or on occasion, making the walk to that little place he and Erik had gone on that first date. For months Erik showed up with a different guy, never dating one guy or another more than a couple of weeks, that is until Vince, the music major he met last spring. Maybe this was the one, but with Erik he knew you could never be sure. For Justin he had only dated two guys since Erik. Luke was an English major and in the end a bit too intense for him. It would be three weeks before he even tried to meet someone else and to his surprise it was one day on campus, just walking from one class to another, and Julio had stopped him, recognizing him as someone he had seen in one of the bars. Julio was so extroverted and outgoing, and there was something comforting about it, they way he introduced himself and as casually as asking for directions, asked him on a date.

Glancing at his watch Justin realized he needed to get moving. He turned and walked by the foot of his bed, bending over so he could let his fingers graze over Julio’s left calf. Julio stirred as he moved into the bathroom, smiling at how good he felt to touch that warm firm flesh.

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After the tempestuous dance of dating, fucking, sucking and breaking up comes a quieter period, usually during the latter years of university or thereafter. If you were lucky, you found a good man and your path through life seemed clear; That may not be how it  works out but….every couple has a honeymoon period. If this hasn’t been your good fortune and you feel the necessity to find someone with whom to mate, you embark on a quiet but purposeful search and rescue mission to find HIM.

Along the road you’ll find, I did, a lot of hims who had qualities I liked even if in some cases it meant over looking some sort of defect varying from the desirable; Their desire to be a success and therefore worked all the time. To the undesirable; They may have been able to blow a 747 into the air but their lack of bathing habits put an immediate kibosh on things. (You will meet this sort of person on one of the two or three days they’ve been tubbed or showered or both and they look and smell just like everyone else. That’s day one. Day two goes by as you’ve done something like gone to the lake or played water polo. Days four and from there on begin the encrustation and their desire to wear one pair of athletic socks until all that’s left is the bit that goes around the ankle.) Between these polarities there will be  a line of perfectly nice guys, each of which you like well enough but not enough to begin playing house. Sure, they’re occasionally sleeping with you  but…it seems more perfunctory than affectionate; The sort of roll in the hay that follows a good date, it’s the perfect ending. Everyone gets off whatever they want to get off but that’s it.

Then there are your friends and family who join in this bush beating to find HIM. If you’re lucky, and I was, your parents, grandparents, siblings etc. are perfectly comfortable with your sexual selection which, they believe, confers on the them the title of man sleuth. Male brothers and cousins are marginally better at this than the ladies. They’ll meet someone at the gym, play doubles tennis or whatever and meet this guy whom they suspect, but do not know, is gay. A casual introduction is made, usually at a bar, and then they slide you off to the can or behind a stand of potted palms and tell you that This Is The One. They just know it. Further, they have this set up, someone will call them, they’ll excuse themselves, go away and then the road is clear. And it is. It’s clear you’re going to have to make some sort of fumbling apology for your idiot relative and you hope they’ll understand. On rare occasions, twice in my case, the other guy, who really was a good guy, roars with laughter, tells you its happened before, no harm, lets have a great evening and you do. Some guys do not like finding that their sexuality was questioned and those evenings usually end before the entree is even ordered.

With all this desperate search to find you a MAN, whether you’re really looking or not, I’m lucky,  I have a committee of one who can sort them out in about two minutes, hand in an opinion and that’s that. It’s my cat, Purr.

Lest you think this is some pampered puss, all fluffy and with a ribbon around it’s neck, you might step back and have a closer look at Purr. Even resting on a chair, one paw over the edge, you tweak that this isn’t your ordinary house cat and you’d be correct. Purr is an African Caracal cat that I got from friends when she was a kitten. It was their intention to raise her as theirs but a serious auto accident put both of them out of commission leaving Purr, then called Sheba, up for grabs. Even as a kitten, adorable as she was, it was clear she was going to be a big cat and that shied  many away. And then the bleeding heart sucker about animals, me, came along and said that of course I’d take her. Picked her up and took her home.

My family was pleased as punch that I had a pet, their working theory was that everyone needs a pet, it gives them some sort of structure in their life, provides companionship and, at ten weeks old, Purr did seem to have, in limited ways, all those qualities. However, many found her piercing golden eyes, the tufts coming from her ears, always in motion looking like radar looking for incoming, her paws almost bigger than butter plates and, of course, when you sprung them, her claws atypical of a house cat or pet of any sort. sprang out which proved Purr was a game changer.

Fortunately, because she was so young when she came to live with us, she was completely socialized with the family, the people who worked for and around us, our friends etc. In the fall, she loved it when the gardener raked all the leaves into a large pile. Her motive wasn’t to scatter them but to conceal herself and spring out when someone she knew and loved went by. Or, if someone she didn’t know and love wandered on to our back lawn, they got the shit scared (literally, we found the evidence) out of them as they were pursued across the lawn by what was to them at least a lion.

When it was time for me to move out, I was lucky enough to find a really nice duplex, complete with swimming pool, whose corner touched the property of my parents. Although we all had fences, they were as nothing to a cat who could leap twelve feet in the air and catch their own food-a useful attribute in a household pet. Plus, it goes without saying, some sort of elaborate security system wasn’t necessary, Purr was there and perpetually on the prowl. Moreover, as she had access to both homes, and had bat-like hearing, if she detected something across the fence she didn’t understand, it was just seconds before she was going in through an upstairs pet door and doing her rounds in their home. (My mother said when my father was out of town, it was comforting to have Purr share her bed as she felt perfectly comfortable.)  The only incident that might be seen as negative was when some drunks got the wrong address and tried to get in one of the side doors at my parents. By the time the police got there, they’d sobered up enought to tell the officers that a lion had attacked them, ripped off their clothes and snarled each time they moved. The officers, who knew Purr, looked over to see her casually sitting with part of someone’s pants stuck in her claw. They weren’t badly injured, just a little blood.

As the cops left, she jumped on top of their car while they drove her around the block to my home. While I’m sure they did not feel everyone should have one, they could not deny that as cats go, this one could do it all. If they were parked, eating lunch let us say, she’d sail through a window, not wanting their food-she had an aversion to Mayonnaise-but just to get a head scratch or a burp on the siren. One detective wished he had one trained to protect and to serve his men. The simple answer there was that Purr would protect and defend the officers she knew or, since she seemed to recognize the uniform, might well take on anyone who attacked in any way an officer. (In an incident not publicized, she had found a cop she did not know but sensed the urgency and recognized his uniform pinned down behind his vehicle. She’d circled around, jumped the guy with the gun and went for the jugular. He exsanguinated on the spot. While the cop and the force was awfully grateful, there was every hope this was a one time incident. Save for eight or ten officers who quietly said if they were ever pinned down, they hoped Purr would amble by and rectify the situation. Far as they were concerned, she could disembowel the perpetrator and, on the spot, before he croaked, eat his guts.)

At one point her love of uniforms made me think I’d have to take a cop or a fireman, a Marine, airman, soldier into my bed or Purr would be unhappy. And still my family and friends looked about……the usual refrain to my mother was, “Sandy is such a nice guy, he deserves the best, someone who will love him and make him happy.” On those occasions, she’d point out I had Purr which was enough lover as anyone could handle. (She later had a shocking thought and hoped that the person to whom she’d said didn’t imply she meant that Purr and I were…..having……who would think that?)

Weeks in advance I was told my family was giving a cocktail, dinner party to the honor of some important ambassador and I was expected to be there. Full Stop. When my parents shifted into social mode, things got tense as perfection was the goal and nothing less would do. The day before the big deal I wandered into their kitchen, cleverly disguised as a production line, leaned in their big fridge to find something edible and got my ass whacked with a wooden spoon. It was Vanessa, THE cateress and while I knew her well, this close to party time meant no one was allowed in her kitchen. She gave me a big smile, sort of apologized just before she told me to, “Scat:”, The cat, however, could stay. Purr was always welcome even if I was not.

That night I dressed at my parents house so that Mom could have final say on what I’d put on. I shared my room with two men from Secret Service, we introduced ourselves and privately agreed this wasn’t much fun. Their names were “Joe” and “Pete” just like “Dragnet” from decades ago. They were aware of that and preferred it be dropped.. At that moment Purr came around the door-I wondered why she wasn’t wearing at least a single strand of pearls at the very least; It was the sort of touch my mother would have loved, the two ladies wearing matched strings of real pearls…..How Purr might have reacted to this-her aversion to collars or even a bow at Christmas-was well known. However, it was mother who would do it and she’d suffer through it. But only just.

“Jesus, what the fuck is that?” sayeth Pete and he jumped on the bed.
Explaining Purr wasn’t always an easily done thing. I could reassure them she was harmless, just as playful as a kitten, but a cat weighing in at 40 plus pounds, teeth that could break bones and claws that could remove flesh was hard to sell as just as playful as a kitten. On the other side, Joe and Purr were on the floor, wrestling and, apparently having a fine old time. I’d seen this before, this was someone she liked for whatever reason Fortunately I had an extra tux and we were very close to the same size. ( He’s spent more time in the gym, but that just made the suit emphasize his body.)

I looked closely at Joe, pleasant face, no beauty but that sort of masculine handsome that is preferable to outstanding looks. Close cropped hair-Pete had the matching cut-and something I’d learned to look for, well manicured hands. Not the salon kind but what a guy can do for himself and look squared away when he’s finished.

We now swung into party mode, sort of. In their ears the guys heard a modest group of cars was approaching and down they went. In about two minutes, I assume they “swept” the entrance foyer, we were allowed down to make our little reception line. Doors swung open and in walked the Ambassdor, his lady as well as our invited guests. There were no latecomers, everyone arrived at the same time even if they’d had to sit in their cars in the street. Coats were taken and we all moved into one of the larger rooms where cocktails and really good canapés were served. (I hoped Vanessa, as she usually did, would leave a box of them someplace for me to find the next day.)

We were pushing, I guess, informality so most sat down, the Ambassador taking a chair that made it clear it was from that chair authority reigned. And one more thing. Purr slid behind the furniture and posed herself by the Ambassador. He was surprised-most people are-and then charmed. He reached down and stroked her head and she purred. Pictures of the two of them were taken. My father shot me a look that said, “Get that cat out of here” but with the Ambassador holding her by his side, I could do nothing. She immediately became the center of attention. Only when Joe walked over, did she do anything which was follow him.

During dinner we were not to know that Purr had come back and was, again, sitting by the Ambassador. Apparently he liked her for he signaled no one was to remove her. Joe shrugged his shoulders and looked at me. I tried to smile but wondered if they could arrest me for my housecat molesting an Ambassador.

Dinner was considered a triumph and, after Brandies, the party left as precisely as it had arrived. The Ambassador left with many kind words for our hospitality…..and the cat. She was invited to the embassy although we were not.

Upstairs the service guys and I groaned out of our formal wear. Joe sat on the end of the bed in his boxers and socks and stretched revealing a remarkable body but one lightly furred over. As he pulled on his pants and his shirt, he thanked me for whatever I’d done and as far as he was concerned, could he borrow the cat to take to other events where the Secret Service had to appear? Couldn’t be any better protection than she provided.

He lingered a moment or so-Purr had appeared and wanted to seal their friendship or whatever.
“That cat loves you like she doesn’t love many others.”
“Animal magnetism?” And smiled.
He rubbed his chin against her chin and got the purr up and running. “Hey, Sandy, let me know what it costs to get that tux cleaned, no reason you should be out.” He was almost out the door. “Oh, I have a habit of picking up things and putting them in my pockets, better check to see if I lifted anything from your folks.” Laughed and he was out the door.

Many people tended to treat me as not quite an adult, a temptation and conclusion as I was usually seen in the company of my parents. Joe, however, approached me as an adult; I liked that.

Home, I took a warm shower, then a cold shower, got dried off, flopped on my bed, scratched Purr behind her ears and told her it had been a hard night and quiet, even though the sun would come up, not to wake me. As one last act as I lay there on my bed I picked up my extra tux and started through the pockets. Clearly Joe was no pickpocket until I got to an inside breast pocket. There was a piece of paper, folded, which had my name on it. It got opened.

“Sandy, sorry there weren’t a few moments to talk you. But I’d like to if you can find the time. I’m a bitch to reach but here’s a number, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Please, I really want to know your better. Joe”

Purr stiffened aware that my mood had changed quickly. Then relaxed. I threw the suit on the floor, put the note on a table by my bed, shoved myself under the covers and that was all she wrote.

Morning came before I wanted it to. There was a rapping at my bedroom door accompanied by the voice of my mother wondering if I was decent? I pulled a sheet a bit further up than my knees then yelled to her to come in.

She was holding a newspaper and the picture on the front grabbed my attention as few ever have. There was a large, full color picture of the Ambassador looking at my cat whilst she looked up at him. There was an article in which all guilty parties were named, my parents were noted as influential and I was named as their handsome, available son. That was it for the family but Purr got two paragraphs. Part of one from the Ambassador who claimed to never have so charmed by the family and their wonderful pet, never had he received such a reception. (I’d put money on that.) Vanessa got a few lines about what was served, certain elements on the house were described and then it returned to Purr.

“I am so sorry, Mom, it just never occurred to me that she’d join the party…..”
Mom waved me off. “Darling it was dear Purr who did all this. Certainly it was a nice party but…..not for the front page.” Looking about, she was trying to spot the cat of the moment. “That dear cat, she’s done nothing but bring happiness since she came home.” Purr finally appeared from a closet where her litter box was. To save her the bend over, Purr went to mother, put her head in her lap and…..almost smiled.

Iwas able to grab some boxers-left on the floor the previous evening-slipped out of bed while woman and cat had a love fest in which I was not needed.

I also had the note from Joe. I took my phone into a cloak closet, dialed the number and, as he’d said might happen, got his voice mail. Left my name, number, thanked him for his note and cut it there. The Secret Service would probably not approve of this and so there was nothing on the tape inflammatory. The only problem I had was getting out of the closet. The boxers did nothing to restrain a raging hard on and as worldly as mother was, I would be embarrassed to be caught in mating mode….I heard her call me and then the door open and close. Rather than walk, I folded down on the closet floor and jerked off. I tasted really excellent that morning, must be Vanessa’s goodies.

Purr had followed me to the closet, watched me pull my meat-I was used to her otherwise it might have been hard. (a buddy of mine says their dog follows him to the can, sits there and watches, number one or two or both, which he finds disturbing. )

It was a Saturday and since I was already up, drained and excited, a run, a long one, seemed a good idea. I grabbed a zip front hoodie, a swimmer’s jock and some running shorts that were split clear up the side to the waist band. I had no destination so headed away from population. I did, however, stick my phone in one of my Kangaroo pockets, my driver’s license, a credit card in a concealed spot and I was off. Purr followed for a block and then realizing I was headed out and beyond, went home to see if anyone else, beside my Mom. would be up to loving her.

I’m a good runner and by slowing my pace to a sort of lope can go a long way never forgetting I might have to turn around to go home. That’s why the I.D. and the credit card, I’d been known to cover fifty or so miles and, as the sun set, knew better than to reverse the course. Under any circumstances, running at night was an invitation to trouble.

About two hours into the run, my phone rang. I prayed it wasn’t my family needing me but, dutiful child, I answered. It wasn’t the family, it was Joe. There was a silence while I down shifted into neutral, tried to stop panting and finally choked out, “Yeah, it’s me I’m out running”.  Where was I? Best I could tell him I was on the verge of FTM 26 just passed the expressway that ringed the area. “I can get to you, that is…..if you want me to.”
“Of course, but I’m yucky, sweaty and almost indecently dressed.”
“I’ve got a fix on your phone, stay right there, cool down and, uh, bout twenty minutes I’ll pull up. When you hear the siren you’ll know I’m almost there. ” And he clicked off.

Based on the little I’d seen and known of him, he seemed a great guy, maybe a perfect candidate. But then there was the Secret Service an organization which I felt would not approve of me, any sort of physical relationship at all. Why would they? Out here in the country, he and I could go dancing naked in a meadow but that would end when we hit any sort of populated area. Reluctantly, I abandoned him and, just to make it easier on him, would tell him why. I dreaded doing that but it was better done than allowed to run on at which point it might get messy. I knew I could leave Purr with my parents and go someplace. The Antarctic seemed a good idea just then; You could worry more about getting your cock frozen off rather than using it to stuff it up someone’s ass.

Sitting by the road, my hoodie unzipped and my shorts practically not on me, I probably looked like an out of town hooker seeing what the yokel trade was like. Before I could find out, there was a blast on a siren and, a moment later, up pulled a dark sedan with no markings. From the sound of the engine, in neutral, I felt it would go very, very fast.

The door swung open and a voice said to get in. I did. Then an arm pulled me to him and I was hugged and kissed. My nuts were played with, there was a great smile on his face and his first words were, “Don’t plan on going home tonight.”

I almost started my speech about what a great guy he was, how desirable he was but his employment gave me hiccups about any possible relationship we might have. What he did was pull me over in his lap, face up, and just look at me. Underneath some of my vertebrae I could feel someone loading a steel rod into position and I knew that I had caved. Rolling over, which below a steering wheel isn’t easy if you’ve got broad shoulders. I found the mound, unzipped the casing and, presto stompo, up popped a fine looking cock. Nice veins, good length and circumference. What was there to do? I sucked him off then didn’t let go until I’d edged him into a second shoot. Hard to writhe and thrash about with someone blowing you and being behind a steering wheel.

There was a stillness in the car save for the sound of sweat dripping and men having post sexual encounter breathing. Carefully and with some squirming, I got upright.
“Any of me left in there?”
I kissed him so he could see for himself.
“Uh huh. Is this how you introduce yourself? Not a bad idea but unexpected.” He just smiled a shit eating grin. “Had to get you good right up front before you ran away, decided that the Law mixed with Sandy didn’t have a chance.”

I ducked my head because, of course, he was dead on. Still, however positively he seemed to cast it, it was a real worry to me.
“We don’t even know each other. Christ, my cat mauls you and then on a country road you maul me. Messages in pockets and, yes, I called.”
“Tell me you’re not interested.”
Of course I couldn’t. But I was going to hang on to one or two straws. “Anyone who had taste and some knowledge of men would be interested in you. You’re not perfect which is what makes you so desirable. You’re warm and surprising..and you want me to fall in love with you.”
“Said it better than I could. While you stew about everything, lets go for a swim.”
I just looked at him. After all I’d said, he was like a kid in summer deciding the next thing he wanted to do was go for a swim.

He shifted into drive and we cruised along at a speed that was probably above the local allowable.

“I don’t know why, but I wanted you the moment I saw you, a little shy, good looking, oh so polite and……lonely. Then the cat bounced in and that sealed it, if that cat loved me as she did, than that meant only one thing, that was her way of telling me, take him.”
Silence seemed a good idea. There was a quirky logic in what he said, Purr had never, ever responded to any one as she had to Joe. It was precisely the way she treated me.

“Also, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again so….I took a chance,  big one for me and left the note in the jacket. You found it, called and if you hadn’t then….that would have been the end. Oh, Sandy, you’re such a great guy, I wonder if you know that. Forget your looks, your money, you have an incandescence about you that reaches out, or it did to me, and says…..now, I want you but can’t tell you. Take me, Joe, oh please…..”

He was only 99% right. I looked away as the scenery rushed by. How he could express love for me and risk killing us I didn’t know but…who cared. We’d die together.

I almost whispered. “You’re right about a lot of things. I did want you there in the bedroom with all of us in various stages of undress, it wasn’t the bulge in your shorts, it was the way you looked at me. Did it all evening. When Purr followed you out, I knew something, I knew I wanted you but had no idea as to how to get you. Calling the Secret Service and asking that you be given over to me for my own purposes wasn’t going to work out. I don’t even know your last name…..”
“Helgerson, good Norwegian name although I’m half Polish, on my Moms side.”

He turned onto a road I hadn’t even seen and must have wished to cover our track with the spray of dirt and sand. It was and wasn’t a typical road that led to a farm. But there were no barns, no farm house, no cattle or horses in a fenced field. We went down a slight hill, circled to the right and there was……what? Not like any farm I’d ever seen. Huge, long concrete structure with only a few slit windows near the top, plus some holes between them. Almost like a fort.

Joe rounded one end and there was a fairly large parking lot. Unmarked cars, fire trucks, SWAT trucks, trucks of all kind plus some regular vehicles. He pulled into a parking space and told me to get out. I wondered if this was where he slapped some cuffs on me and I was gagged. But, no, we just walked up to a glass door, went in, signed a sheet on a desk and walked through a sealed door which beeped to let us in.

We were in a garage of sorts. Clearly where vehicle maintenance was done. It seemed to be about a third of the building. Another door and we were on the outside of a large, caged area. “Weapons. We may play with some later today. You ever shoot?” He wasn’t interested in my answer as we were in what looked like the ready room at any police stations. One large room where men were watching screens, talking on the phone……behind us a bunch of small doors not very far apart. “Interrogation rooms”. Logically we passed what were holding cells and, behind that, a small but efficient looking jail.

“So much for law and order.” He almost had his arm around my waist when we entered the next area, a gym. Full basketball court at one end, free weights, machines, jogging track, mats for whatever. And finally, the locker room. Taking out a key, he opened a large wooden door that led to a locker big enough to hold a poker game for two or three people. Clothes, Books, all the things he wanted or needed were there.

“The pool’s over there….you need a fresh jock, only rule here, gotta wear a jock while swimming, more to keep piss and semen out of the water, used to be nude only. No women are at this post so when you see guys wandering around in jocks or whatever, it’s just their convenience. Come on, while I’m at it, lets get you kitted out.”

There was a large room filled with all manner of clothing, everything you could put on your body. Very heavy parkas for winter, wind breakers with nothing on them saveUSA but given the color, clearly who ever was wearing it had some standing. Joe pulled one of those, two navy blue sweat pants, a zip front hoodie, navy as well as a regular sweat shirt, also navy. Ten pair of athletic socks, two pair or New Balance sneakers, navy, a navy watch cap, four jocks, two light weight and two heavy duty, a fabric gun holster for under the arm, two shorts, four T shirts, all of which had an American Flag on the chest and he paused.

“You’re not licensed I’m going to bet.”
Somehow I didn’t think he meant ‘drivers’ .
“No matter a few days at the range and we’ll get you at least part way trained. Need to call home, or I will, and tell your parents you’re with the Secret Service being appraised….you’ll be gone a week or so. I have what they call a Bunkie out here, good enough for two, so you’ll be with me.”
“Joe, I can’t join the Secret Service, I think I’m too young and probably have no aptitude for it. I’m clumsy, not very well coordinated….”
“So what? I can make you my partner first and worry about the small shit later.” There was a long pause. “Anyway, I can’t have you and the Service so I’ve made my choice, you.”
I wanted to know the answer but sensed I knew it. The clothes, the week with him out wherever we were, his determination to somehow squeeze me in…..he thought he had a compromise, make me into a Secret Service Agent, Junior Grade. Whether he had the authority to do this wasn’t something I was to know but…. I was here, headed for the showers and, when I returned, would suit up as a Secret Service, Junior Grade.

To break the tension and since I was only wearing my old jock, I dived in the pool and started swimming laps. If nothing else, it gave me time to try and sort out that which was just short of the Gordian knot. Here was this guy whom, I admitted to myself, I could learn to love easily enough, but one who had an agenda for me that….wasn’t quite me. Maybe if I loved him enough but I wasn’t the sort of man who could be made to endlessly follow another. I wanted and would get my own way in certain issues and this make over might be one of them. I had a stack of clothes I neither needed nor really wanted but they were there to change my image in his mind. Not for him the man in the tuxedo dining with an ambassador. He saw me as soft spoken-which I was to some extent-but soft spoken does not mean lacking in opinion or attitude.

I switched to the back stroke and saw him, jock in hand, about to jump in and, probably pace me. I wasn’t going to let it be a race but like my long distance running, he needed to know this was something I knew how to do.

The other side provided me with something I didn’t often have, being around a group of guys, horsing around, shooting hoops, shooting the shit. Whether this place provided that, who knew were already a bonded group, something I’d never belonged to and found it was something I wanted With Joe. He was doing the crawl and keeping up nicely. Switched to the breast stroke, the hardest of all the disciplines, noticing Joe had stuck with the crawl which placed him ahead of me but it was the difference in strokes that made the difference.

I pulled myself out at the end, Joe followed, a bit winded, I was good for dozens more laps. One more talent to exhibit. He’d just dragged
onto the coping when I was up and climbing the diving tower. From ten meters, I balanced myself backwards on my toes, did the squat for upward thrust and launched myself into a double back  inward somersault making a pretty good entry, toes pointed first, little splash. Back up to the top and this time did a running summersault, on the board and went in with a simple forward double flip. For whatever reason I almost stuck that landing. Out of the pool and back up. Did a handstand, at the edge of the platform, arms wide apart , up on only my finger tips and then let myself fall from the platform into a double forward with a double twist. When I got down, I padded over to Joe and sat by him. Not a few people had noticed and this was his opportunity to introduce me as…what? His protégé? A friend interested in joining the Secret Service? He went sideways and said he’d noticed some of my abilities and was trying to recruit me. Any of their help would be appreciated.

They were great guys, all handshakes and introductions, everyone saying how great Joe was and I was lucky to have him as my handler. Had I been kitted out? Picked out a weapon? Got my winter boots, it was getting cold outside. Joe said we’d see them at chow and so they departed, a couple clapping their hands in recognition of my performance.

“Forgot to mention those talents, didn’t you. That’s your concept of clumsy? What else is in you? Ice hockey, Parasailing…..”
“Only tennis and Golf. What I’d like in me is you.” And looked right at him. His jock almost went sproing as it expanded.
“Shit, that was a dirty trick.” He jumped back in the pool and hung on the side. I got down, lay on the tile with my chin on my crossed hands.
“Buddy you’re in it now and I do not mean the pool. You’ll have to play this out to wherever it leads including calling my parents. They’re used to my epic runs but if I don’t show up eventually, they’ll call the cops  and then it would get messy.” He looked at me, knew I was right and….asked for their number. It was a slow walk away to wherever the phone was but if he wanted me, this was something he had to do.

He was gone longer than I expected; The tile grew chilly and I slipped back into the pool doing more of my endless laps. Eventually I saw him come in to the pool area, couldn’t tell what his mood was but swam over, got out and we both sat with our legs In the water.

“I spoke with your father, he’s a really fine man, wants the best for you and doesn’t think what you’re doing now is very involving for you. He knows your intelligence that, as he said, doesn’t get to show very often”. Joining the Secret Service? Same problems I saw, my age, my age and my age. I seemed older, more sophisticated but what he proposed to my father was to give me a sort of summer camp that would last for some little while. “I also spoke to Purr. She recognized my voice and, according to your dad, almost ripped the phone from his hand. “
Other than that, it was just general talk, he wanted to know a bit about me, what you’d be doing with me, just things any parent would ask. He said he’d explain it to his wife who was not going to be pleased……but once you’d been gone a bit, she’d shift into whatever she was doing and the topic would be dropped.
“One last thing, he said if I hurt you, broke your heart, he’d kill me. But he said it in a friendly way.”
“Ever the diplomat, the steel fist in the suede glove.”

“Want me to interpret that last line? Dad’s not one to worry about broken hearts.” He was very quiet and pensive. He probably wanted to get back in the water and float away. That wasn’t going to happen. Instead he and I headed for the showers, got good and clean and walked back to his Bunkie where he’d piled up my new clothes.

Within seconds, he was lost in the process of turning me into some sort of agent. Had me step into the smaller jock, pulled on a blue T shirt, socks, the sweat pants, tied on the New Balance shoes, hung my dog tags around me (Where had they come from), added a leather case with a place for a badge…… I could see his pride in me, for me….but did he realize how much success depended on other factors? Things about which he could do…..nothing. I was of age so my parents had no legal claim on me but I wasn’t the age, I suspicioned, that made me Service material.

“Just needs a gun and some I.D.”

With one hand I pushed the door shut turned and spread my legs, put my hands on my waist and tried to demonstrate my body was ready to be changed, molded by him. And then I threw myself at him, tossed him on his bunk and blew him. When I finished he was in tears with, I believe, gratitude knowing I’d accepted him and his life. His arms were around me, his face on my shoulder.

“Now, get dressed for me, let me watch you turn into the man you want me to become.”

He had a stupid grin as he did what I’d just done. Obviously he’d had me do it the way he wanted it done. They were simple clothes but he took pride in them for in them he was part of what he loved, the Service.

“Come on, lets go to chow. You may want to go home after eating here. There’s no proof to the rumor that we’re served what prisoners in Federal lock down get

It was a relatively small room to be an area for eating. One whole side was taken up by a steam table where you served yourself, the rest of the room held six or seven tables for six. When we got there about half the places were taken by men who waved at Joe and indicated there were two spots at their table. He waved back, saying nothing.

After the cuisine of my home, the food here hit me like a rock. A lot of it fried and therefore rendering it impossible to figure out what it was, some vegetables, bread, pats of butter and a selection of beverages that were dispensed through a large steel doored machine. I’ll say this, the place was clean.

I got a plate of whatever, Joe helped me unravel what might be under the breading and the frying but at the end, I didn’t have a full plate.
“Hey, buddy, eat up, the cooks will think their efforts aren’t appreciated.” There were some guffaws and “That’s the truths” and “Don’t kill ’em on the first day” as we took our seats with four other men. Joe immediately introduced me but in a way that gave me the impression, these might be the core of his friends. Pete, from our party, was there, shook hands, said he was glad to see me and promptly launched into a story about me and my “lion”. A guy at the next table over leaned his chair back, smiled at me and said, “Hey, Joe, we’ve already got the handle for this one, ‘Diver’ “.
“Seems about right, you like it?”
I didn’t care, had never had a nickname so this was fine with me.
“Yeah, couldn’t be better unless it was ‘breast stroke’ “. And everybody laughed.
“So diver it is, we’ve made it official, when reports go in with our codes, they’ll now see ‘Diver’ “,

For someone who had sat down to dinner virtually all of my life with people whose clothing didn’t match, this was a new experience. Slight variations, some guys had a hoodie but no T shirt, some guys were in shorts and a hoodie but it all came out Navy Blue with touches of white and, of course, USA on practically everything that was outer wear. Also, these were all men unified by a purpose and hired by the same employer. I’d been on a few “all male” excursions, such as Duck hunting at Bear River in Utah or, my least favorite, deep sea fishing-most of the guys got drunk and I had to go in and pluck one out who couldn’t swim. But this was wholly different. I felt I could sit down next to anyone in the room and be accepted, at least until I proved myself unacceptable which can happen in any group. The only thing missing was Purr, I automatically put my hand down to scratch her ears and, of course, no Purr.
“Miss her, don’t you?”
“Yes.” It was all I could say without tearing up.
“Come on, lets get away from this swill before we’re captured and made to reveal the contents.” Laughs everywhere.

I vomited on my way back to his/our Bunkie. Made it to the bathroom but seeing that godawful dinner twice did nothing for my mood.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t worry, first day, that crap gets everyone. We’ve all upchucked at the sight of it. Didn’t you notice the bags hanging below the steam table?”
Some one came along, asked if “Diver” was okay. Joe just said “the food” and the other guy shook his head knowingly.

Back in the bunkie, I found my toothbrush and toothpaste to remove any sign of what had just been in me. Also, if Joe kissed me, as I hoped he might, I wanted to be fresh not…..
After what had been a hectic day I was tired but decided to find out a few things about this sudden profession such as if I was even eligible. Whatever Joe wanted, we were now on Government time and if there were restrictions then it was best to call a halt now.

It was interesting reading. On the surface, I was close to qualifying but the surface could become a storm surge if worked the wrong way. Joe stripped, got in his bunk and answered questions or made comments as I read on. It was hard picking the ones that I thought would be the most difficult for the Service to accept. I was six months away from being 21 so that was okay, was in pre law at Georgetown which suggested a certain intelligence. Was I volunteering, well, I was ‘helped’ in that direction. Joe laughed when I mentioned that. No proficiency with guns but who is at my age unless you grew up in a very strange household. And, besides, I had Purr who was her own protection device.

The one that stood out was the one about being “appointed” in addition to volunteering. I knew you received an appointment to the military academies but to be in the Secret Service? Joe said that, officially, yeah, someone in the community was supposed to “sponsor you”, asked that you be accepted. He told me he’d been put up by a judge after he grew tired of seeing him in reference to infractions with his car. I casually asked what those might have been and he smirked, said, “Uhm, nothing big just too many of them.” I put that question off for another time assuring myself there would be another time.

“Might want to hit your rack, morning comes pretty early. First chow is at six if you’re going out on assignment as I am tomorrow and you’re spending the day at the gun range learning the basics.”

I hoped I wouldn’t kill anyone as, I suspected, they used live ammunition and, the last time I’d handled a gun I’d sunk the boat we were in looking for ducks. My father still laughed about it. Closed the book, turned off the light and fucked Joe. He wasn’t expecting it but….then he wasn’t expect me to do a handstand on the ten meter board either.

“Wish you could sleep with me, but these bunks….”
“I’d have trouble getting Purr in.”
“Be prepared for more noise than you’re used to, guys come in from assignment, go out on assignment pretty much 24/7. We all try to keep it quiet but….there’s a level below it’s not possible…..” He waited a long time but I knew he had something more to say….”Uh, you know I want to tell you I, well, I…..”
And I cut him off. “Maybe you will and maybe you already do but hold that thought until the right time.” Before I clambered up top, I pulled his sheet down, kissed his dick and quickly got away before he could grab hold of me.

Didn’t take me more than one day to discover we were polar opposites in the morning. The moment my eyes flapped open I was ready for business. The moment his eyes flapped open, he groaned and they closed. I opened the door and saw one of the guys in just his boxers carrying two mugs of coffee so I asked where I could do the same. He laughed and said to get three mugs, one to pour on Joe and the other two for drinking. I gave him the high sign, put on some socks and shorts and headed out. Turned out you could get a carafe and some mugs so that’s what I did. Holding one of the steaming mugs under his nose brought signs of life. Parts of his eyes opened, he reached out for the coffee and said, “Jesus, you’re wonderful. I’d keep you if only for this.”

I’d found a sheet under our door on my way to get the coffee but hadn’t read it. Turned out to be our assignments for the day. Diver, that being me, was to muster at the firing range at eight and Otter, I guessed that was Joe, simply had OA-See G beyond his name. He was starting on his second cup when I asked about “Otter”.
“Oh, sweet Jesus Sandy, not this early in the morning. And to you I’m Joe. I can tell already you think and then ask questions which is great, just not in the very early morning. But keep up this sort of room service and I’ll see to it that you get a big tip.”
He looked almost like a little boy who didn’t want to go to school. Perched on his bunk, both hand clutching the coffee…
“Jesus, kid, don’t you drink coffee? You’ll learn to.”
I stood up, walked to him and grabbed his dick and gave it a real yank. “Listen to me, I am not a ‘kid’ nor am I a ‘dude’ call me by either of those and you won’t like the consequences.” I turned loose, leaned over and gave him a kiss.

It was quiet in the bunkie, Joe was massaging  the base of his dick where the real pressure had been and I was reading. I left it to him to break the silence. “Sandy, I didn’t realize….”
“I know you didn’t which is why I put a stop to it right then. Of course I’m sorry I hurt you, wouldn’t do that unintentionally” and gave him a wicked smile “for anything.”
He got up, put his arms around me and kissed the back of my neck. “Any man who brings me coffee, more than one cup, is a man I’m going to keep and is no kid…..Fuck, time to start the day . I gotta get shaved and put on my street clothes, being out in the field….” he remembered something…”fuck it, I didn’t get you cold weather gear and if you’re going to be outdoors all day, you’ll need more than sweats and sneakers.” He thought trying to do…something, “Look, I’ll tell someone as I go out what you’ll need and probably they’ll have it at the range.”

Carrying his kit with razor and such he wandered off to the shower and bathroom still carrying his cup of coffee. While his bed was still warm and smelling of Joe I got back in it and, to my surprise drifted off to sleep.

Not much later, I felt a smack on my butt and kiss on my cheek. Joe was standing there looking handsome in a good suit, nice tie, well shined shoes, nothing Secret Service about him. I’d occasionally heard about “cop shoes” but what he was wearing was far from that. Looked like Cole Haan or Bally of Switzerland. He was carrying a fairly large duffel back and had a rain coat slung over his shoulder. He was going away and that’s all I could know.
“Throw something on, doesn’t matter what and I’ll take you to the dining room where you can get some breakfast, often rumored to be the best meal, or at least most edible, of the day; Step on it, I need to be someplace in five.” All we had time for was a hug and a kiss before he walked me to the dining room. And walked on.  I saw Pete so, after I’d got a plate full of food I half way recognized, joined him.
“Thought you’d be off with Joe?”
“He’s on private assignment.” And that was all he was going to say about that. “What they got you up for today?”
“I go to the gun range…..” Bill slapped his hand on the table so hard it made the coffee in several mugs almost jump out. “Hey, guys, Diver goes to Elms today.” There was laughter and someone said that my vocabulary was about to be increased but that Elms was a helluva guy, just do what he tells you and it all will come right.
Pete told me where to get a card that would let me in and out as well as temporary ID. Suggested I be at the pickup station out front about ten minutes to eight and he’d be real interested to hear about my first day.

I found the window through which I got my access code and plastic card. Also, a picture was taken, added to a card with my name put on a chain and told to hang it around my neck so it was visible at all times.
Outside it was chillier than I’d thought and even in my sweats, and with the hoodie up and a watch cap under that, it was cold. The wind was no help either.

A pickup truck pulled up, the guy driving it yelled, “Diver?” and I jumped in. “I’m Karl, with a K. I’ll take you to and from wherever you need to go. To be formal, show me your tag. Okay, Do not, I repeat, Do NOT get in any vehicle that I’m not driving. Okay? Got that.?” Then he seemed to relax. “It’s quite a little drive so get comfortable. The time you get on your assignment sheet is the pick up time, depending on transit time, weather and how pissed off I am at everyone, that’s when you’ll get there. Elms can rip ’em off and fry ’em if you or whoever isn’t there when he wants them. When he’s through with you, I’ll be there, count on it. Got all that?”
“Yes, Sir” And we drove on.

It was close to an hour when we rounded a bend that was at the bottom of a hill and there was the gun range. Or that’s what it must have been. Targets were set up, there was a kind of shed plus another metal building. Karl sounded the horn. “Christ that old man…..”
Out of the metal house came a man holding some gun cases and looking dragons at Karl. He didn’t wait to get to the truck to open his mouth……
“Listen you motherfucking baby raping blue balled sonof a bitch, where you the fuck been? I got a man to teach how to fuckin shoot a gun and yer takin him on a mother fucking guide of the county.” Karl just sat there, looking forward, a finger on each hand tapping the steering wheel. “Cunt, do you want him or should I just turn around and head back?”
“Want him? You mutherfucker, a course I want him, that’s why I’m the fuck here for you cocksucker. Lay that jalopy on its side, so its balls can breathe and he’ll drop out, cocksucker.”
I didn’t need and encouragement. “Thanks, Karl, I guess I’ll see you when I need you.” He gave me a half salute, spit at the man, and put it in reverse throwing dirt all over my instructor who only bothered to give him two fingers.

“Sir I’m Sandy…..
“I know who the fuck you are, son. Yer here how to use a gun and I’m Elms, the cocksucker who’s gonna teach you.” He paused and looked at me. ” Son, is that what those cunt heads put you in to come out here? Where the crap do they think we are? Fuckin sand on fucking Miami beach?”
“Sir, this was the warmest clothing I had, sorry that it’s..”
“Don’t heed to be sorry, not one fucking bit. Some shit head down there issued you standard shit, not stuff to shoot in. Why, son, I keep you on the ground for two hours and your nuts ‘d fall off. Come on in, get something warm. ‘Spose you drink coffee, they all do.”
I had to tell him I didn’t drink coffee and, before shooting, I’d worry that the caffeine in it would interfere with my aim. He looked stunned.
“No body, no fucking body has ever realized what you just said. Those are pearls, son, pearls of wisdom and I’m going to make you the best shot I ever turned out.”

A statement I questioned but did noticed he’d quit swearing.
“Son, tell me a bit about yourself, you must come from nice people, city folk I imagine”. And so I did which went well until I got to Purr. I was puddling when I explained how she’d come to be my cat, she was from Africa and my best friend. I knew it I was going to say it and I hated myself but…..”I don’t have a lot of friends. Very few. I live in my parents world, golf, cards, tennis, entertaining…and I go to University but….Purr is always with me or someone in the whole family. She’s alone now and she’ll be alright, got lots of people around her but….”
“Ya can’t help but think she misses you and you miss her. Right?”
“That’s about it. They took everything away, I don’t even have a picture of her….but if you go back a couple of months, there’s a picture of her and the Ambassador on the front page. They like each other and she was invited to the embassy.” I looked up at the beautiful golden sky and thought, her eyes are about that color.

Elms sat beside me, put an arm around my shoulder and somehow I felt better. “Ya know, Sandy, you’re a right smart kid and a good man. I can tell ’cause I get a lot up here who should be shot and not learn to shoot.” I had to laugh, I knew what he meant but in a different context.
“First thing, come inside and we’ll get you fixed up.” We went into the metal shed which was deceptive in that it was a lot longer than it looked and made a T at the end for more space. Elms stopped and looked at me. “Son, do you know how to take a gun apart?”
“No, sir I don’t but before you shoot one, it seems a good idea to know what makes it fire. If you don’t know what’s inside, you can’t predict what’s outside.”
He laughed so hard I wondered what I’d said. “Son, never, ever been one like you. Here, look at these while I look around.”
It was a tray full of nuts and nails. For no reason I started arranging them by category and size. Elms came back with a good looking leather coat and some leather pants that had some heavy leather patches on the front. Elms looked at the tray full of nuts and nails.
There was a strange look on his face. “Son, I hoped that’s just what you’d do. You didn’t waste time, you didn’t know if there was any reason but you logicked that if they were arranged, somebody might find them easier to use and you’re right.”
He stared at the tray and, almost to himself said, “I cannot fucking believe it.”

Elms came back from his reverie over my skill at arranging and told me to strip naked. I’d done that so often clothes just fell off me as if they wanted to be on the floor.

“Okay, here’s some heavy, wool boot socks and…where the fuck is that. Oh, over there. Now this is going to seem odd but everything has a reason.” Gave me an inch wide strip of tanned leather. “Tie it loosely around you, bout an inch from the top of your cock. This goes over and under and over the strip, makes a loin cloth. Injuns wore ’em cause they knew the good of ’em. Now, pull on those pants, that’s chewed deer skin, won’t shrink, get caught in brambles and are warm, that inside is just like fur.” It was, too. The loin cloth had me puzzled but I knew I’d figure it out or be told why.

“The pants go just above the leather strip and, here, work this through the loops, you can also reach down and grab the loin cloth at the sides so its like one garment.” It took a while to get what he wanted done. but when we were finished, you could see and feel the whole purpose. Buckskin shirt, almost bullet proof and over that, this buffalo coat. You can pull the inside out and make something to sleep in. Yer cum will help your loin cloth so just let ‘er fly when yer there. Nothing like cowboy boots, Indians never figured out how to make hard soles so here’s  a pair for you. Don’t shine ’em wax ’em with a soft paste wax and work it in. Ten years you’ll still be wearing them and theys gonna look better then. Better for the boot. You aint goin to no Rodeo.. There was no mirror so I just assumed this was what he wanted.

“Okay, now that we’ve got it my way, we’re gonna do it their way, but we’ll get to that.” He hauled out what looked like chaps but weren’t.
They looked more like tubes of leather with some strings connecting the two.
“Take everything off but the loin cloth. We’re going to be working in here today so no need to be covered up.” He shucked off most of what he had on revealing a heavily tattooed body. He looked at me and kind of laughed. Even his loin cloth, just like mine, had designs on it, not tattooed but worked in somehow.

“Here, pull this leg up, yeah, that’s right and it attaches to the loin cloth strap in three places. Same with the other one”. After that I was wearing nothing and yet was completely covered. He turned a door and there was a mirror Had to admit, with my bare chest, those swimmers muscles and the deep V that went to my pubic bone, I looked, well hot. To my embarrassment, I was getting turned on, my cock was getting hard.

“Okay son, let it happen, don’t need to touch it, just let it stream out and, when you take it off, work your sperm into the leather. Take it you like it, huh?”
It was quietly said but he caught it…..”I’ve never felt like this in my life. I’m a hot looking man.”
“Wait till we get you firing on twelve chambers or maybe drawing  a bow wearing just what you’ve got on, that will be the ultimate male.”
He touched one of his many tattoos….”Not for you, not ever. Well, maybe one on your cock but that’s a long time in the future. Now, lets get to work.” Work to him was guns and Indians. Can’t explain it but the two interrelated.

He pulled out another drawer that was filled with disparate parts that, I could see, would produce a gun if assembled. He told me to take off the socks and learn to toughen my feet. There was a stool, one light over head and the disassembled gun. He patted the seat and my task was clear.

To the annoyance of many, I am a logical person who, on occasion, can drive people crazy while I stare at something preparatory to doing whatever is needed. My mother was stunned the first time I fixed the washing machine if only because I took it completely apart before reassembly.  I crossed my arms on the edge of the table and then, after a time, how long I did not know, began to move pieces around until you saw the sketchy outline, almost a cartoon, of a gun. My leggings against the legs of the stool were beginning to bother so, being careful not to undo  the loin cloth, removed them. Why did that feel better? I was pressing pieces of the gun to my breast, somehow absorbing the shape and letting it lead me to something that went in it, around it, on it.. I didn’t realize it but my semen had steadily flowed out without my even feeling the usual desire to jerk off.

I took off the loincloth and laid it carefully on the table. As I studied my outline of a gun, I held the cloth between by two thumbs and fore fingers and worked my ejection into the amazing fabric. I could see where my cock and balls had made an indentation that I knew was where they’d always be when I wore this. Only twice did I taste myself and that was as much to get moisture as it was to sample what a man can produce.

Now, naked, on the stool, the gun was flowing together as I flowed out  of my stalk. There was one final ‘click’ and I rested my hands, palms up on my thighs and lowered my head. There was a long pause until Elms came to me and picked up the gun, handled it as if it were a new born babe,

He turned out the light, helped  me from the stool and took me out of the metal house to the shack to a place where I could lay in furs and rest. I was not cold although my muscles had been so completely involved, all of them, that trying to loosen them was proving impossible. When it was obvious that I was in pain, could not give in to more work, Elms lifted me, carried me around one corner of the shack and let me slide into water that was at once noxious and then soothing. Taking a piece of leather, he ran that under my chin and tied the ends to the tank and turned a valve. Shortly I could feel the whirring of the water as my body sank into it. Only part of my lips and all of my nose were exposed. I alternated floated and sank, made no difference. I could feel the cold steel of the parts in my hands almost as if I’d memorized the gun would know it anywhere, assembled or unassembled.

It was the experience you hear about, the movement through time and space to find….something.

How much later was it when Elms gently took me from what he called the grave of the spirit. I was told I was too weak to walk and so we went to a place where the robes of fur were. He laid me there, lit a small fire, that smelled good, across from me, pressed me back and I slept again.

It was a nice day, a much warmer day and I was laying, almost as if I were staked out in the full sun. I raised my head and could see most of my body covered in oil and though I thought of it, I stayed just as I was for there was a purpose. Someone had turned me over, still spread eagled but now facing down, my loin cloth, heavily scented with me protected my face from the soil. I could no longer discern time other than like and dark. I didn’t try to remember, only that Karl said when he was needed, he would be there.

Elms is in front of me with a wooden bowl and spoon. It’s not a taste I know but after what I’ve seen served, this is very good. His naked body covered with old ink looked like where one went to find something. I put my hand out to touch one, then another. Putting down the bowl, he moved my hand and explained the meaning, if there was one, to various pieces. When he’d finished the very cursory tour, he took up the bowl and spoon and fed me some more. I had an urge to run and told him. He smiled and said that in the morning, I should but it was night and too cold. Morning in the sun would be best. And fed me more soup. I felt stronger, as if I wanted to wrestle naked on the ground with someone, told him that. He smiled and said that was good but to remember to fight without a reason, preferably to protect yourself isn’t always a good idea. Every man should find a way to disperse his anger and his temper. Many do not but those who do become stronger.

Oddly, I thought about my father who never displayed an inappropriate mood. I’d seen him angry but then he retreated to someplace,  I never quite knew where and when he returned was as placid as he always had been. What about Joe? I was looking at a man who might be able to tell me but to ask was to reveal too much. Strange, I didn’t care but it could hurt Joe, cost him his career.

I haven’t asked permission to sleep since….a very long time ago but I felt a compulsion to ask Elms. He smiled, said it was a good idea and settled me in the furs, making sure I was well wrapped. The room grew dark and I was off to sleep.

Being naked in the morning and knowing that you’ll stay that way for the rest of the day is a good feeling. I was facing the sun, getting ready to run to nowhere in particular. Behind me, Elms was insisting that I put some simple food in me, some liquid, nothing heavy. Whatever he offered me I took, finished it and stood at the entrance to the shack ready to run.Did some stretching exercises, some work on the chin up bars and, the most fun, the giant swing. He insisted I wear my running shoes as no track is safe from a sharpened stone or such. He was right but shoes spoiled the idea of being naked. As he oiled me he showed me the path that would offer endless running but could get me back. It was ingenious in that it consisted of a shape much like a frying pan; The handle, after a mile or two, split into two parts which led to the edge of the pan. from there you could run around it, probably two or three miles, or there were paths to the interior and back to the main circle. At a moment when you came to the way to the handle you took it and were back.

Shining in the sun, I went off down the path with no thought just that I had to run.

If I judged by the sun, I’d probably run for six hours when I turned off and headed back to the gun area. Elms was there as if he knew the precise moment I’d arrive and hustled me into the water, the leather strap holding my chin so I wouldn’t drown. The water, just before I went to sleep in it, made me wonder what it was. I could ask.

Elms fed me, although I could easily have done so myself. He’d examined me to make sure that I’d done no damage and, of course, I hadn’t. Then it was learning time. My stool stood waiting but there was a new method; I would do it blindfolded. I remembered everything I’d touched, after arranging them in the pattern, putting it together took less than half an hour. Next, and still blindfolded, another gun, one I’d not worked with. The logic here is all guns have the same purpose and while there are variations, once you’ve isolated them, it’s just a matter of discovering the new parts that didn’t exist on the previous test but also discovering what parts were not there that had been on the first gun. I had it done in an hour. It was only then that I discovered I’d produced a constant river of sperm with no knowledge of doing it. My excitement had been channeled into the work and this base internal feeling went unnoticed. Elms was pleased.

He also had something for me that, he said, may disgust me at first. He’d been collecting my sperm, keeping it warm and it was ready for me to drink. I held out my hand, took the glass, drained the viscous, tasteless fluid and returned the glass to him. He could see the pride in me. I had been able to, over some days, remake myself into the settled, concentrated, practical, sexual, man the Service wanted. But now, even though I could assemble and disassemble them, it was time to see if I could shoot them.

I had to master twenty different types of guns from hand held pistols to automatic weapons that were used in war. I had to be able to not only shoot them, but have some mastery of hitting a target and, after the first few hours, not large, concentric circles. It was dark again….how long had I been there? Did anyone wonder where I was, what I was doing? Did Joe miss me or had he not come back. And, as always, Purr and my Dad

The days Elms had worked me in different disciplines to the normal had produced a man who could calmly take a gun, aim it and shoot to kill. That was his basic thesis, whenever you shoot, it is to kill, that’s why guns exist, to kill. He understood that seldom, maybe never would I have to do that but not being afraid to do it made me a better shot, I was, after all, defending my life. We started standing with a hand gun and a target 25 yards away. First was a standard revolver, then a clip and then we moved back 25 yards and repeated. This round I shot more rounds at a slightly smaller target.  Back to 75 yards and the same drill only, again, more rounds. Time to switch to rifles, first single shot and on down the line. What I was shooting became almost unimportant, it was how I was shooting it, could I feel it, could the sighting from gun to gun prove to be a handicap? After several hours, and when it was almost dark, Elms called it off and back to the shack, soup and some conversation about me. He had questions and, though they seemed odd, I answered them. I had been naked all day, had that bothered me? No. If I were taken prisoner was I confident in ability to find a way out. My answer there was something of an evasion. While I believed I might be, as lessons went on I became more sure of myself and what I could do. In other words, ask  me again in ten days, ten weeks, ten years. All the answers will vary but the core will be the same; Yes I can.

As he did each night, he rolled me in my fur and made sure the room was dark apart from the light from the sky that came in the window.

There came a morning when we were standing at the opening, Elms with his coffee and me with a cup of coffee so heavily laced with cream and sugar that a turn in a freezer would produce ice cream. Generally, I didn’t drink coffee but it was a cool morning and this was a warm drink. Also, as had become the norm, I wasn’t wearing anything. Elms liked to show his ink but usually had on a loin cloth, probably a sign of superiority to me.

“Weather’s gonna change on us, quick, dirty and fast. Gotta get one more thing outdoors for you to learn and today’s probly gonna be the last day. Son, this is a cold one and nothin I can do. Let’s just get ‘er done.

I put on my loin cloth-Elms said he didn’t want anything getting curious about my dick-and we set off, both of us pulling wagons filled with weapons and ammo. Quite close to the shack was a stock pond of some sort though I’d never seen any stock. We pulled up, parked our butts on the ground and he explained the exercise.

I was to walk into the pond until water covered my lower lip and stand. At some point, he’d make a noise, which I’d have to locate, turn, stick my arms up, grab whatever weapon he’d throw and shoot the target which would become obvious. With Elms you didn’t get to practice because his directions were simple and obvious. I started into the water, which was cold- wearing my loin cloth, my cock and balls pulled up in me leaving the leather just tied around me. When I reached the depth required, it was surprising how I could use the still water to expand my peripheral vision. My eyes were close enough to the surface the surface was so calm that it was like a mirror which gave me probably over 220 degrees of vision.

Eventually I moved out to a point where I had to tread water to stay afloat, still catch a gun, fire and return it. I was a strong swimmer but, after a certain period of time, my butt, my calves and thighs were starting up to the pain threshold.

A noise, I turned toward where I thought it was and a hand gun came right at me. In the water I could suddenly see movement, knew that was the target, aimed and shot. Threw the gun back to Elms and waited for the next one. A revolver, two more hand guns, a rifle, shotgun……..right on up to the heaviest of what we used, a P-90or our version of it. That one I carried out of the water as I’d been told the last gun would have only one round chambered. After I’d shot it, came back to shore.

By now, my body, while not really accustomed to the cold water, was accepting it. Certainly the activity both mental and physical had helped sustain my core. Asked Elms if I could swim for a few minutes, just to get the exercise and loosen my limbs. He agreed and I started on my laps as I’d always done. That’s when a shot came within two inches of my head. Automatically I went under, thought about it, rose up and a gun was thrown to me. Found the target and unloaded all nineteen rounds in the clip. The twentieth had been my alert.

Elms had a tight smile when I came up the bank. “Those instincts will save your life and maybe some others as well.” I could almost sense pride. From the wagons he pulled two blankets, tossed one to me and kept one for himself for the short trip back to the shack. He got in the tank with me and let our bodies warm up which took more than a few minutes.
“Son, you did it, just like I knew you would. Theys some other things but…the weather is gonna get us but there’s still some range work and tracking-don’t normally teach guys that-and then”…..he paused a long time….”It’ll be time to have you wrapped up, call UPKarl and tell the shit head he has a pick up.”

I was silent, thinking about what I was going to say next. “Sir, Thank You for finding the man and the manhood in me.” I looked at him, didn’t smile, didn’t offer my hand just let the words bounce back and forth between us. He never responded, just stood up, had me stand up and embraced me.
“Son, I did only a little part of it. Your Pa, who must be a helluva a man, did a lot, some other men I don’t know about and that cat of yours. Purr.”
“Now, do what a man does after a long, very hard day, get naked, lay down, jack yourself off as many times as you want and I’ll see what I can dig up for dinner.”
It was four and I did as I’d been taught, wasted no protein so I ate every speck that came out. Then stretched that hard stretch-the one I probably learned from Purr-and was immediately asleep.

It was late and it was dark when Elms shook me with an urgency I didn’t yet understand. “Son, come on, I guessed wrong, the weather’s here and we gotta get sealed in.” Instantly I was on my feet, waiting to be told what to do.
Elms pulled out a stack of  thick folded leather then as they were unfolded, ran a large tooth needle through the holes and attached it to the side walls of the shack. He tossed me another skin and pointed at the other side. With the tooth needle and the thong being drawn through, I got my side up then went back to help him with the upper parts which was a two man job. Finally, the last curtain was down and overlapped the opposing curtain by a good two feet. They, two, had holes to be sewed together with leather and, that finished, it was amazing how little weather came in. My head was racing from looking up and I needed to sit. Elms plunked down by me.

“Son that ability to do what you’re showed how to do is priceless. Today, without you, I’d get it done but in four times that it took. You’re quick and smart and realize what needs to be done. Someday you’ll give an order and need to have it complied  exactly. You’ll need to know that the person to whom you gave it can be trusted to do it. Some shit heads will think that there’s another way and try that and probably fuck up the whole process. I can’t tell you to shoot him but you’ll be tempted.”

He felt the skins which were now going in and out like lungs. “Yep we got ahead of it, but just. Time for my buddy to go back to sleep, no reason to wake up. Tell you what, take out your cock and jack yourself off as many times as you can again, make that a ritual. Nothing hurried or fast, just a nice slow up and down until your river runs and then keep going. Enjoy the feeling you’ll get when it wants to quit but you don’t and then it’ll get the idea and you’re back in business. Apart from fucking women to make babies, that’s put there for a man to pleasure himself. And he’s a fool if he doesn’t. So lay back, take hold of the handle and give yourself pleasure. Go as many times as you want….or can. Enjoy yourself, most men don’t and that’s what leads to frustration.” It was surprising information or direction from someone who often gave surprising directions. I leaned back,  gently wrapped my hand about my slowly stiffening member and went from there.

Hours later Elms was by me, mug of something warm and good smelling. “How many’d you get pumped out? Looked like at least three or more to me.”
“Maybe four but I think I did the last one in my sleep.”
“Yep, guys do that and then find some piss ant excuse as to what happened. Glad you enjoyed yourself.” He squatted down in a way that reminded me of Motorcycle cops do when off their bikes and looking at something on the ground. His loin cloth was full and partially stiff. The beverage-I don’t know what else to call it-was, as always-delicious. At some point it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen or tasted a carbohydrate as long as I’d been there. I also noticed that without much effort, I was beginning to sprout a  serious six pack although, apart from using the chin up bars and some other things, I’d really not done serious, directed exercise.

“Like that? I put some of you in it. When you’d come, I siphoned it off and it’s in your soup. Nothing but protein, I do it with mine all the time.”
“Shame you couldn’t get more….” He laughed. “Donations are always appreciated.
Well since we really and truly have an indoor day, what are we going to do with it? “
“Teach me something.”
“Son I do that without your looking but lets, yeah, that’s on the money. There’s something I’ve wanted to do before you go back to the cement fraternity. Might has well do it today. Let me get some things together, you finish that and we’ll be about ready.”

What was there to do but wait and….based on something he’d done, had an idea of my own.

“Okay, put your butt on your stool, nothing to assemble to day, just sit still, this will only take a little while.”
“I heard the whirr of clippers then felt them on my skull. Whatever it was going to be, short was the operative word. I didn’t even look down but figured there had to be quite pile as it had been, easily, months since I’d had my hair cut. Going to school was no reason and so until I was told to-read my mother-I just ignored it.

“That’s the first layer…..you got a good looking skull, not every man does. Some tribesman would be happy to have that dried and hanging from his hut. If they got your cock and nuts, so much the better.” He laughed.

There was a pause while he got a bowl of warm water, washed my scalp, then began to work up a good shaving foam in a cup with a brush. Stropped the straight razor, hung it from the edge of the bowl, lathered part of my head, picked up the razor and went to work. I’ve always admired a man who could shave with a straight razor; I don’t know that I couldn’t but I’d seen too many flecks of toilet paper on guys who were learning how.

Finally, he went back over all of it with a warm, wet towel then a very cold one-easy on a day like today. Then came the mirror.

I’d seen Mohawks on guys and really had no opinion. The ones that were starched up, colored and arranged in some sort of shape were beyond the pale. What I had was a shaved head with a swath about an inch or so wide and only a quarter inch tall. Unless you were very close, given the color of my hair, it almost looked as if I had a shaved head. Almost. Oddly, I liked it and told him so.

“Thought you would. No matter what they try and make you do, which will be grow it out, keep it like that for a while.”
A thought  came to me. “Elms, it wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t cut it.”
“Yeah, well I’ll give you the name of a buddy who can and will cut it like I do. Maybe better.” That seemed unlikely.

The wind was stronger and you could hear the sleet, hail, ice, snow. “Anything to be done outdoors?”
“Yeah, get pneumonia. We’re indoor people to day. Go do push ups since you’ve got all that energy, one handed or on your finger tips, the Marine way. you look like one them fucking jar heads.”

Did all that and some other things for a time, there were no clocks and I hadn’t a clue where my watch was and didn’t care. Jumped in the tank and let it clean me. Although Elms had never explained the contents, he’d said it was a sort of all in one, didn’t even need to rinse it off. Laying in it, careful to put on the leather strap that kept me from drowning, time slipped by and I slept. Anymore I imagined that I was in Indian regalia, only wearing my loin cloth but painted in war paint. Some sort of moccasins that went to my knees and a bow circling my body. Sometimes the dream was static but today, I was a prisoner of some tribe somewhere. They were going to kill me, eat my flesh and dry my bones. The chief, or whatever he was, came up with a very thin, very long knife and carefully cut off my scrotum and then my penis. Holding them up, there was a cheer then he ran the knife through my throat and I began to bleed to death. Before I was gone, my innards were pulled out and the butchering had begun.

Later, I told Elms he was interfering with my dreams and told him about it. Laughing, he just said when it happened for real he wanted to be hanging beside me. There was something serious about the way he said it that made me think that maybe Elms was a man who could not reveal himself.

We were sitting on the fur rugs, comfortable, warm but with nothing really to do. Elms looked at me, put his hand on my shoulder and asked about some further, more personal details of my life. Did I have a girl friend? No. Did I have a boy friend….I wasn’t sure. That stopped him. I was on the verge of telling him about Joe but was concerned that it would wreck his career and maybe his personal life. whenever I got in these mental traps I tended to become quiet, wait for the next question.
“Son, it’s all right nothing, and I mean this, nothing you could tell me could shock me or make me think less of you. Now, lets start with how you met him……”

And with that, the whole stupid story, the party, the note in my jacket, my being out running.
:”Shit, now I get it and why not before now…..son, I’m sorry that you got into this mess because some other people got caught off guard something they don’t like. When Joe brought you in, he fully expected there to be some trouble but not much. You had all the requisite details but they weren’t going to have a stranger brought in. Up to that point, you were going out the door on day two. But then, it was you wasn’t it, did the diving crap and that turned a key in a lock. Too many people saw it and explaining why you were mustered out after only a day or two wouldn’t have set well with the troops. So they decided to let me do their dirty work. No way in hell a kid with your background could come out here and last more than a few days. I had some doubts myself but it didn’t take long to realize you could do it and would do it. I’ve kept you here, really in amazement to see how far I could take you and we’re not really done yet. I’m going to send you back as my kick to their nuts.”

I was sort of puzzled, all this was a long way from the way I understood things and couldn’t decide, even with Elms explanation, why I was disliked. Was it Joe they were trying to get rid of? Who knew what. Elms pulled me to him, put my head on his chest and an arm around me. We just sat there and I snuggled closer. “I wish I could suckle you…..”

I said it quietly but I said it. “Sir, could I suck your cock? I’m pretty good at it.”
“No, but we can suck each other. I’d like that. Ever go to sleep with a mans cock in your mouth?”
“No….but it would be an honor if it belonged to you. And, might as well, go all the way, if you’d like to fuck me….you’re welcome. Fact is, I’d like it, a man’s cock when I can control it in me, it’s great.”
“Son, we have a long night ahead.  It’s going to be a pleasure for both of us. Good thing we don’t have to get undressed.”

It was the first time he kissed me. Easily at first but growing in intensity. Our hands started to grab each other, work for dominance. We needed to do this to initiate sex between us. This wasn’t to settle a score this was the way we were going to excite ourselves. Each of us had the other man’s cock in his hand but the rolling and pressure continued. No one would give and no matter the pain, it didn’t matter. The pain came first and then…the joy of man sex. Naked, almost back to a time when men fought for anything, this time we were fighting for each other. No sound, no words just the scuffle and then it was over. Both on our backs, still clutching the whole genital package of the other.

“Is this where we’re hanging and the chief comes along to cut off our manhood and then let us slowly die?”
“That’s one way. How about facing guillotines, first the cocks, then the balls then arms, legs….”
“We could build a guillotine for two men, facing each other, each having a hand on the pull knob that drops the blade.”
“Sound like a project.”

We were both so aroused that we were shaking. It was all we could do to move toward one another, take the other’s cock in his mouth and begin the excision of their maleness into each other’s mouth. It would take a long time and we went several times, each time suffering in the agony of a cock ready to quit but being forced onward.

“Later, more later. lets hop in the water and sit there for a spell. Sandy, you are one man I’d like to take on every day.”
“Well, keep me here and you can. We can have each other, do to each other whenever and whatever….I can guess there are some things you’d like to do to me, to force the image of you. What would you do…?”
It was hard for us to talk with the leather restraint that kept us from drowning.
He just smiled, closed his eyes and found my nuts with his toes……and we both slept.

A strange sound, that of a vehicle on the road leading to the range. I was up so quietly stuck a snub nose in my loin cloth and got behind Elms who was casually holding a shot gun. I could feel him relax. “Hey, these are friends. Hope I made enough coffee.”
Two guys in long coats came up, hands out, smiles. The usual, “Elms you old cocksucker etc.” They did the dance of recognition for about two minutes and then he presented me to them. Aaron and Sol. They shook my hand but I could tell they were trying to do telepathic palm reading.

“This is the one. He can shoot shot gun shells out his cock-shame he isn’t double barreled.” They laughed and I just stood moderately at attention but relaxed. Coffee was handed round and I got my usual with cream (two kinds) sugar and just incidentally coffee. Lots of talk, bullshit, local gossip, political talk, but this had a cloture to it. Elms beat them to the punch.
“Guess you’d like to see what he can do, lets gather up some things and head for the range.”

It was as the first time I’d done it. Shot, throw the piece back, take another throw, shoot and so forth. Back at the hundred yard point I did some fancy work with a choked down shot gun and, of course, the P-90. There were looks of real approval and requests that I fire this gun or that from various positions. Elms told them about doing it the stock pond including the one where I was just swimming, got shot at, ducked, came up, caught the pistol and squeezed off 19 rounds into three targets.

It was Sol. “Now that is something I’d like to see. Too cold now.”
“Sir, if you’d like to see it, Elms and I can set it up.” Somewhere in my mind there was a old, grainy picture of a woman getting ready to swim the English Channel. She was covered in grease of some sort and, as I remembered, she made it or almost made it.
“Sir, we still got that tub of animal fat?”
Elms was on it immediately, knew my idea but didn’t do much save shift his weight from one foot to the other. “Aaah, might be, Sandy, have to go look and if there is, gentleman you’ll get to see what I described.
They tried, and it was genuine, to say the weather, the cold, his word was good….but Elms and I went right on with the plan.

An hour later we were at the stock pond, there was substantial ice, even at the edge. Elms was greasing me up. I was wearing only my loin cloth into which Elms stuck an enormous amount of grease around my testicles and penis. Made me look as if I was carrying bazooka shells.

“Okay, Sirs, any special way you’d like to set this up? Depth of dive, distance? caliber?”
Elms was quiet and direct, “Son get in the water and we’ll take care of the rest.”

The ice at the edge broke easily and I knew the deeper I could go, the warmer the water would be. At least comparatively. What I didn’t do was swim laps but a nonsensical pattern punctuated with d
eep dives in which I’d go in one place and pop up another close to a minute later. The ice was hard here and there and I could understand why and how penguins slid across in on their bellies. Why not try? It was hard to stealthily get up on the ice and then slide across it like a seal looking for a hole. Just as I was about to go under, a shot actually grazed my cheek so I rolled on my back, caught the rifle, found the target, shot and tossed it back as I disappeared under the ice. This time, I thought, lets put the fear of God in them.

A fellow student was from Iceland who had taught me a lot about water as I was in it so much. Bjorn was the water man par excellence and I was anxious to accept his invitation to Kayak from Iceland to Greenland. Much talk and I learned a lot about water and ice-both very common near and around Iceland. And it was something he’d taught me, in case of an emergency that I now used. Back under the more frozen part of the pond where my body could not be seen through the ice, I put my nose right up against the ice and, as Bjorn had said, there was almost a half inch of air.

Later I was told that everyone went crazy, looked for a boat, everyone but Elms who, while, as he said, internally, his colon clamped shut, I knew I had to wait. They said it was ten minutes, maybe more and then I coasted to the surface, just barely showing the front of my face and continued to swim. Whoever threw the gun was so rattled that they forgot to shoot and damn near hit me. That did it for Elms who hollered at me to come in.

I had my hand shaken, my back pummeled, my hand shaken some more…till Elms suggested we might go back inside and let me warm up; He was concerned about my core temperature and I wanted the grease off me. There was the slight matter of my getting shot and Aaron, with a hung head, confessed he’d pulled the trigger. I looked at him, smiled and said, “You know, we aren’t trained to miss….” Laughter all around, he almost gave me a hug but the grease on me put him off.

Slid into the tub not bothering to strap my chin up; I wanted all that shit off me and now. Finally did attach my self, untied my loin cloth and hope the fat would come out of it. Elms had been right about that, my genitals, though chilly, were still clearly functional as I found out when I slowly jacked off. Sol and Aaron came back as I was doing that and I offered no explanation other than to say it was relaxing. If they had questions, they forgot them and went back to Elms. A moment or so later I heard their truck leave and Elms almost on the dead run came to see how I was.

I looked at him as seriously as I knew how. “One thing, up front, I want people to know you taught me that trick. I want you to get some of the real appreciation for what you’ve done, not just for me, but lots of other guys. Probably saved some lives. The other thing is…..that’s not a stunt, I’m not going to do it for anyone who is just curious. If there is a real reason and someone needs to do it in the real world, then I’m your man but I’m not circus act.”

My vehemence got to me and I passed out.

When I managed to rally I was, per usual, in my furry blankets, warm, the little fire going and the devil on Elm’s left butt cheek back to
me making…..something, probably to eat.
He brought me a glass that contained the old usual, my sperm but diluted with something, smelled and tasted like Brandy. “That’ll cheer me up. And, hate to ask but is there a mug or a bowl of your man soup?” He smiled, turned around and just as the first time however long ago, he squatted in front of me, a wooden spoon in one hand and the wooden bowl in the other. “Fresh from the cow. I threw in some other stuff as well.” He spooned it into me slowly, carefully and occasionally using a watch I’d never seen, took my pulse. Finally sat down, his knees up, the bowl, empty on the other side of him.

“Joe doesn’t deserve you, maybe the only creature that does is Purr but….she’s not around and the service isn’t looking for her sorts of skill. I’m going to have a talk with that young man, next time I see him, point out if he hurts you or break your heart…..”
“Skip it, he’s already heard that speech from my father.”

“I’d like to get the two of you and Purr up here for a week or two, I bet we’d all enjoy it.” I tried to switch Dad’s evening clothes for a loin cloth and just couldn’t quite do it. But would he enjoy it? Would he like Elms? Hell yes, the two of them would be instant buddies, both proud of me but finding in their own generation commonality that I couldn’t have. I still was a little woozy from the day and the longer I thought about my father, in a loin cloth, a Mohawk haircut, war paint and…..I was out again.

“Thought you weren’t gonna come out of that one. Your pressure dropped and your tan turned white” My only answer was, “Fuck I hope my tan came back, there’s a lot of road work in that. Plus your oil.”

“Want to call it quits?”
“Why would I do that? Those men were here for a reason and I want to know what it was. You do not ask someone to pull a stunt like that unless there’s a deep curiosity.”

“You stuck your arrow in that one. Fact is, they’d like it if, tomorrow, we go with them on a little excursion. I told them to bring the booze.
Sandy, I know what this is about and all I can say is that I’ve never seen another man come up here and have this invite.”

Knowing that many questions didn’t get answered, I didn’t ask for one but said I need to try out some muscles, which Elms mis-interpreted, as I rolled him on his back and fucked him blowing him at the same time. After that, I shucked myself again and lay back, a happy, fulfilled man. I felt my legs pushed apart and a tongue run down the inside of my thighs. I was going to enjoy this one or two or three.

Of course his first question was how had I done it and I told him. Why not? It’s a useful thing to know and someday it might save someone’s life. I could, which most people could not, not only stay calm but slow my respiration and heart beats.

The next day the guys showed up in a sort of super Jeep. Clearly spent a lot of time in the country, it would easily tear down an expressway as well. The idea of being in a wheeled vehicle with a motor was interesting. As usual, Elms had me decked out in my ever present loin cloth, the heavier legging, knee high moccasins, deer skin shirt and I was carrying my coat. Ten minutes into the drive I was shedding clothes until I was down to my loin cloth, a fact that puzzled Aaron and Sol both of whom had complained about the cold and how the damn heater in a Jeep never was as good as a Ford. I almost snuggled next to Elms, thought better of it, let him pull a rug over me and I slept.

We were on a prominence in no specific place. From where we were, the landscape was uninteresting if you were taking a tour of the area. We were not. I pulled on my moccasins and the shirt, piled out of the car waiting to see what might happen. All, but me, had field glasses the sort made in Germany which were said to be the best in the world. While they all surveyed, I tried to figure out the point of the drill until Sol handed me his, turned me in a certain direction and asked if I could see a red spot by a tree. I could do that. The selection of a gun was left to me. Okay, checked the sighting, decided whether standing, kneeling or sprawled out offered me the best shot, slowed my breathing and heart rate, looked down the barrel and pulled the trigger.

“Jesus, unless an owl took it,, he fucking blew away the target.” There were compliments and then I was asked if I could see the sapling just to the left of where the target had been. I could. Without instruction, I raised the gun, stayed in my slow mode and shot. “He broke it in half, the top part is missing. Terrific shooting.”
Now what? We walked about a quarter of a mile until the topography changed slightly. This time there was a small creek meandering through it.
Aaron handed me his glasses, asked if I could see the creek just after a bend near a copse of trees. I could. On the opposite bank, there should be a yellow shape. Didn’t have to tell me. This was a shot going diagonally down and so laying on my belly made it easier. Slowed everything, sighted in and shot. I could see a splattering of sand or pebbles but also the yellow spot was gone. They were quiet.

“How far away do you think you can shoot?”
“With this? I’m at my outer boundaries. With something else, different ammo, depending on the load, probably some further but in feet and inches, no way for me to tell.” They took me around to the back of the jeep and opened a large case filled with gun carriers.
“Look through there, see what you find, let us know what you think.”

I finally found a single shot, long barrel rifle with excellent rifling. Depending on what they wanted, this was as good as it was going to get. I asked to check the ammo, asked some questions about how it was loaded and with what and then back to looking over the creek.
They were all looking through their glasses, looking for something that presented a solid target and wasn’t blocked by limbs or trees.
Finally settled on the nest of a small bird or squirrel half again as far as the creek bank. I took the glasses looked for myself.
“I can give it a try, just hope it isn’t occupied, hate to kill something for no reason.”

This time I did take my time particularly with the sighting. I’d never shot this piece, had no idea whether it might go left or right out of the muzzle. Again, the rifling looked good and so it was time to shoot.

On one knee, the rifle shouldered, I took my time, almost stopped my breathing and my heart rate was down by half. Again, concerned I was going to fuck up someone’s happy home, I squeezed it off and from those with field glasses came a gasp. I knew I’d done it.

Sol helped me up. “Never in my whole mortal fucking life have I seen a shot like that. Are you for real? Jesus S. And you wanted to be an attorney? With a skill like that, you may need an attorney.” And then he was very quiet.

Nothing more here, gents, why don’t we get on home, Sandy and I have lessons this afternoon and he tires a bit when he’s on display like he is now. The gentlemen were more than cooperative. I got to ride shot gun, have the window open and let the seat back recline while wind blew over my mostly naked body. Suddenly we were home or back at the shack. They came in, Elms gave them a Brandy, we had some desultory conversation the gist of which was that we would hear from them. We all shook hands and they scooted out.

We both hauled out our dicks and began pumping out the loads we’d held back while I was shooting. Laughing, we realized this was a two man deal so we got down, got each other’s cock located in our mouths and gently went to work.

I was sitting in my place a mug of whatever Elms had made this time in my hand while he sat beside me, obviously in thought about something.
“I guess, that little stunt today plus the one the other day in the pond pretty much seals it. I’m gonna be out of here.”
“Looks like that.” He was too choked up to continue.
“Favor?”
“You got it.”
“If you find out the day, don’t tell me. Just let Karl pull into the area and I’ll know. That gets me out quick….for both of us.”
“I’ll do it but you forget, I’ll know….”
“Sorry, Sir, I never thought of that. Why don’t we get up in the bushes and catch Karl in a cross fire, that’s set him off.”
Elms smiled, put an arm around me as we sat watching the fire.

Later that evening I heard a noise, not an animal but someone coming up too close and too cautiously. Okay, two can do that. I slipped out of a window as quiet as I knew how, pulled my gun from my loin cloth and got right up behind him. A second later he was being choked with one arm and a hand had a gun shoved in his mouth. And the words. “Okay, buddy, want to get a blow job like you’ve never had?”

He went limp and tried to put his hands up. I’d seen that trick on television so released nothing but did turn him a bit.
“Aaron, what the fuck are you doing out here? You notice it’s night? And what’s with the sneaking around.”
“Aw, Sandy, I just can’t get it right with you. First the shot and now this…..Sol wants you and Elms to go out on a night time mission and sent me to get you. I had a case of the cutes and thought, I’ll show them so I parked too far for you to hear the car and came over the hill to where you found me.”
I just looked at him and then, to settle a score, got him with a good round house right. “Okay, that takes care of getting shot. Lets get Elms and he can look at your wound.”
“I deserved it…..”
“Well, not that hard,, only meant to black your eye.”

Aaron wasn’t particularly forthcoming as to what Sol had in mind save that it needed to be done at night and I was the one to do it. Okay, I can try that. If we were going to be out on the lone prairie we /me shooting at rats underground, this might not work out. One thing, and I explained it very carefully, before he brought the car or the truck or the Harvester around, I had to be securely blindfolded, not that I gave a shit about where we were going, but night shooting requires that your eyes are accustomed to the dark which doesn’t happen in a few minutes. Although he probably didn’t care, I explained there were places in the world, I was thinking of the one in New Zealand, where nothing but natural light is allowed. At night the sky looks more like the strip in Vegas with all the stars.

Elms got me suited up for whatever. It wasn’t a particularly cold night but there was still snow on the ground. Fortunately it was moonless so that helped me. He first put pads over my eyes, secured them with surgical tape, then several windings of bandannas to prevent any light at all. He brought me to the car, put me next to him and we were off to…what?

Aaron lacked Joe’s skills at driving, a fact that could be ascertained by the number of times Elms sucked air through his teeth as we swayed way out of trim on a curve or a corner or whatever. Mercifully, it wasn’t a long trip until we were wherever we were expected. I explained to Sol about the light situation and, what could he do?, he had to agree.

Finally I was unwound and shown what was wanted. Why I was needed but….okay, I’ll do it. As usual we were above the target which was a car in a driveway about two miles away. There were no lights to fix on but the car itself was a larger black lump than what was around it. This was going to be an on the ground episode which steadied me. In the no light condition the inclination is to go over or under judging trajectory and distances. That’s why I’d had myself blindfolded, not some game but, as I now used the word to myself, what a sniper would do.

There could only be one shot and so I settled in, did my breathing and heart slowdown exercises, steadied the gun, looked down the sight, found what I thought was the glass-there was some slight reflection-and squeezed off my shot.

The explosion a few seconds later blew those standing up to the ground. It became clear to me that this was no target practice, this was a for real assignment and, I supposed, I’d just got a gold star for my efforts. Sol and Aaron were anxious to leave and, until we’d gone a mile or so away from the spot, did so with only fog lamps. When we hit the road, Sol, now driving, had apparently done better in Driver’s Ed. than Aaron for I had no sense of imminent death. In my mind a plan had formulated and, once we were back at the shack, I’d spring my trap.

The two men didn’t seem to want to wait to have a coffee or whatever but since I’d reached over and pulled out the keys, they found they had a minute or two.

These were not, they were told, demands, these were simply requests that I hoped would be honored. First, I’d decide when I thought I was ready to return to Bunkie land. Second, fun and games were over. Whatever the reason I’d been sent out to Elms was rethought and it would be agreed this wasn’t to screw me out of a position but to genuinely qualify me in fire arms and, finally, no more slipping in and out at night for I would shoot and, as they should well know, I didn’t miss very often and at close range, never.

“”Have a good drive back to wherever, gentlemen.” and threw them the keys. They carefully, oh so carefully backed out their lights
illuminating one man, almost naked ,holding a rifle and smiling.

Back in the shack,  I collapsed and just stared into the dark. “Will I get what I asked for?”
“Most of it. They involved you, and probably without a release, in a real action in which you performed perfectly. The only question that they’ll wonder about is….could he shoot a man? Could you?”

“Easy, it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Used to think, if I did that, could I select my own form of torture and punishment?” I could sense Elms getting hard. “Remember the chief with the long, slim, silver knife that he used to cut off my cock and balls then stick through my neck?” And stopped there.
“No fun to kill each other.” I agreed. But…..what leads up to that point…..”Yep, could be interesting. Lets suck each other off and get back to sleep.” In a way I wanted one of the guys to come sneaking back, I’d never shot a man but why shouldn’t they be the first notch on my cock?
Elms was particularly into it this evening. Probably the chief with the knife……

The thing he wanted me to learn was how to use and shoot a bow and arrow. Nothing short of poison was quieter or more efficient. The drawback was that they had limited range, even given the fantastic compound bows that were available. I was strong so pulling a bow as far as it went was easy. Getting the arrow situated, fletching’s in the right place was a matter of learning how to do it. The far more difficult task was aiming and letting go of the arrow so that it went where you had in mind. To be a truly proficient bowman took a very long time, far more than I would ever have but knowing something about it was important. My aim was only fair but that was to be expected. At the end of the day, my drawing arm was sore and, frankly, I was bored. It was also the day I’d made a decision and told Elms.

“I could stay here with you……for a very long time. Yes, I miss Purr and Joe and my parents but compared to what we’re doing and the relationship we’ve got going, it’s a hard trade off but I have to go back. Putting it off just makes it harder to go.”
“Sandy, if I ever wanted a son to have beside me, it would be you. I certainly plan to meet your Dad and tell him exactly what sort of son he has although I expect he knows it. And, yeah, it’s time for you to move on. Got a date in mind? Today’s Tuesday.”
“Thursday late? Gets me back so I can slide in pretty much unnoticed. Maybe Joe will be there. I can have Friday to figure out whatever comes next, swim lots of laps, in other words, avoid people. They don’t know me anyway so I’m just another guy in the pool. Stay off the diving board and that cuts down on my visibility. You got any thoughts? Anyway you can take me back….?”

“Sorry, son, but that’s not going to happen. Shit head Karl thinks he runs pick up and deliveries so he’ll be the one. Gonna scare the shit out of him.” And he grinned. “Leave off a city boy and pick up a red injun, You gotta promise you’ll start as you’re usually dressed around here….gotta get your hair cut again and….you’re a swimmer, how about shaving your whole body?”
“I think we’d both like that. Particularly if I was tied down and this was a sort of punishment……”
He wagged his head up and down in agreement. There was also the hint of a treacherous smile which promised good times for both of us.

Tuesday night we stayed up for a good round of fucking and sucking. When we were taking a rest, each of us had a good sized dildo shoved up our butts waiting to be replaced by the real thing. It was  a good night.

Wednesday was unexpected. I woke to find myself in a web of rope with Elms holding one end. At a tug, it stiffened and I was immobilized. There were hooks that descended from the ceiling which went under the knotting on my shoulders and then pulled me up.
“Shibari, son. Japanese rope binding. Sometimes for beauty and sometimes…..not. You’re tied to that any rope I pull, and I know which to pull, causes some part of you to alter its position. Hanging there, I must say, you look like a stud ready for what comes next. One hot man, his cock already starting to drip.”

He took a large steel hook attached it to a dangling rope which started up as the hook went into my ass. Painful.

He was stark naked, his body glistening with oil and only too anxious to proceed. I dripped more, which he stood under me and caught then pulled another rope and the knot around my balls clamped shut. “Too much of that and you’ll be a steer. I thought about steering you, cutting your nuts off, opening the sack, taking them out and putting in something big and noticeable. But we’ll see. Course, with no balls you wouldn’t need a cock so……I made this for you.”

He reached down like a magician doing a clever trick and pulled out an exquisite piece of wood and metal work; A guillotine with four holes. “This was for us, cock, balls each one gets one.” He lowered me a little loosened the knot on my balls…”No point in killing them off if I’m going to cut them off is there?” I was as hard as I’d ever been and kept drooling cum. The sense of need for sex was overwhelming but all I could do was see my cock, the veins were beginning to show, ooze out something I wanted to go in him. Bastard, he knew this was what I wanted, it was what he wanted. I could sense his desire to trade places.

“I worked on this contraption for a long time, knew you’d have to go away but saved it until now. The shaving comes later but for now…”He pulled another rope and the ass hook went further in. “Time to put in a gag, don’t want to bother the neighbors.”

He lowered me until he had access to my mouth then took out a copy of a horse bridle, but one that had a cock attached to the bit. “And I’ve got the riding crop to go with it.” He popped my ass with it making it sting. And again and again. “When we get to a nice Cherry red, that’ll be about right. You won’t want Joe in there for some little while and good luck explaining it.” Some more stinging swishes and I began to shake in agony.

“Time for the nipples to join the fun.” Another machine, this time with rubber cups and a very small, painful needle inside that was electrified. “Ever want your nips pierced? Huh? Bet you thought about it. And I may have the pleasure of doing it myself. Also a bull ring, cuz I’m gonna keep you as a bull but only after some fun with your man bits.”

I was getting lost in the pain but also knew that I wanted more, I was becoming an insatiable pain pig…he probably knew it because he was one. Too bad we would never have a chance to play out our mutual fantasies.

“Let you hang there, suffer, think about what might come next. How about we make the cock chopper a little tighter?” He pushed the lever and the blade fell….just to the top of my swollen cock. I almost fainted from fright and he was looking right at me, holding his throbbing meat, vicariously living it. “Might as well join you for a bit.” He put his hard stake in the hole meant for his cock and, after a long pause, pulled the lever that dropped the blade to just above him. I could see him shaking with pleasure. Just for us, he added milking tubes to each of us and turned on the machine that ran it. No stopping, it forced one load then got ready for the next.

“We’ll have us for dinner tonight. What say if we each contributed one ball? Just one. Still be fertile men, but think about watching as the testes came out, still dangling, still operational then the long, thin, silver knife runs through it while a very small but efficient chain saw cuts the cord?’

We were both so involved that it could have gone too far, we both would have sacrificed all our genitals, one at a time, for the ecstasy of knowing we were doing it. Then the feast, ball with man sauce. If I’d had a free hand, I’d have triggered the blade and that would end one side of the pleasure and prepare for the other. Fuck tomorrow, fuck having to go to an emergency room. I saw his hand go for his lever and I screamed as best I could, “ELMS, NO!!!!!” and the spell was broken.

He backed off unloaded us, began to untie me until I fell into his arms still dripping semen which he quickly dropped down to lick as I did his.

It was a bit later, we were laying on the skins looking up at his handiwork. All for me. I tried to express my gratitude but he pointed out, I was the messenger who allowed this to happen. He figured he’d keep it up where he’d installed in waiting for someone else who wanted to learn how to shoot a gun but wasn’t very good at it. What price might they pay to have some sort of satisfactory report handed in?

I rolled over and cried on his chest, my tears coursing through his hair and across the panoply of his tattoos.
“You want one of these…eventually?”
“How about now? I’ll bet you have a tattoo gun, some ink…an idea. It is impossible that you do not want to put your mark on me somewhere, with something……”
“Too risky, others see it, and wonder. If you want ink, you’ll have to get it yourself but I know a guy who thinks kinda like we do. He’d tie you down, electrify your ass or your cock while he put your ink on you.”

He got up and started pulling on robes which made the Shibari ropes go up and fold into one another. The other things, back in the other building. Only thing left out was the guillotine. “Think I’ll put that on a shelf where someone will ask about it, maybe even ask to see how it works.” We both laughed knowing that was just what would happen.”

“Fuck it, Sandy, there will never be another one like you, never. Your father and I will bring Joe out here and, well, you’ll be in the market for somebody else.”
“Nope, that would never happen, something happens to Joe, he leaves me, breaks my heart and you’ll find an indian in a loin cloth coming back to stay. Face it, we know what they’ll want me to do and for that, I don’t have to live in Bunkie and eat food that would gag  a goat.”

I hung on him, kissed him, kissed his nipples, kissed each of his balls meant to kiss his cock but it got in my mouth and had to stay a while. He was in his own way trying to find a way to let me go and it was hard work for him. Very hard work.

We sat there a bit, two naked men looking out a slit in two leather pieces seeing at once the world and a personal end to it. “Nice day isn’t it. To bad there isn’t enough snow left to make snow angels. Sure’d be fun, naked in the snow….:” and tapered off afraid of what he might say.

To try and move away from that I piped up and said, “Hey, I believe I was promised a hair cut and a body shave. Offer still stand?”
It did rouse him, it was something he wanted to do and I wanted done. I could see my super critical hairless body, save for the strip on my head, gliding into the pool. “Say, son, you’re are one hundred percent right. I want my man to look like nothing they’ve seen, all smooth, you’re usual quiet smile. lets get to gittin, shaving a body takes a piece of time.”
If he wasn’t happy he was diverted and that was good.

The next day, for Winter, was almost warm, no wind and very sunny. Elms suggested we take care of my body shave and haircut outside which was fine with me. I’d grown accustomed to my tan and this was probably the last time I’d have to get a good sun bath. First was the haircut, or head shave leaving just the stripe of hair down the middle over the top and ending just above my neck. This time he cut an arrow point at the back which I didn’t notice until I was told.

Then the big event, the body shave. As a swimmer and diver this wasn’t anything save who was doing it, where it was being done and how thoroughly peeled I’d be. When he’d shaved my head, he’d done my face as well adding two slashes in one eyebrow. That was to make people wonder and, besides they’d grow back. When I remembered the times I’d had to shave myself, this was a treat. You almost have to ask someone to do those places you cannot reach and you return the favor. In the end, it was never as fantastically done as Elms was. He opened the entrance to my ass to clean that up and, up front, my cock and balls were as smooth as eggs and the casing on a sausage. One little bit of décor: He left a stripe going up from my cock for about an inch which matched the stripe on my head.

After he was done, I laid in the sun for a bit and then went in to the tub and finally took a nap. Elms was no where in sight but that wasn’t unusual.

Later, after my nap, I picked up a couple of firing pieces, some ammo and wandered down to the firing range. No reason, just the blast of the shotgun near my head seemed to clear my head. Did all the disciplines I knew but, I was finding, on my belly was my favorite and the one in which I had the most success. In terms of protecting anyone, it was a dud-what agent escorts whomever on their belly, even using a crawler from an automobile shop, it would look ludicrous.

After a bit, I was just laying there, trying not to think when a foot was put on my butt and a friendly voice asked where I was and where my thoughts were. I had no answer, didn’t even roll over. As ever Purr was on my mind as was the possible reunion with Joe the following day. That is, if he were even there, not a given. Elms lay on his side by me, put out a friendly hand and did a version of the Dutch Rub on my head.
“It’s tomorrow, right about now, sundown.”
No arguing that.
He rolled over on his back, his prime package almost exposed in his version of Indian wear but even giving him a good milking didn’t cut it for me. I knew there would be a last place and this wasn’t where or what I wanted.

“Sandy, you’re just one of the greatest guys and men I’ve ever met. There aren’t many of you and I feel fortunate to have been given the opportunity to pass on to you what I and, I believe, your father would want you to know. Sure, there are some things you need to learn but your good manners will cover some of those situations and you’re all over adroitness in a situation will carry you further. But, serious time, you need to shoot your man. That it hasn’t happened eats at your gut, will be there until it’s happened. Then……you’ll have to find out your own reaction. But you’ll have done the deed and can, as you say, notch your cock. Just, please, when you get out that long, thin silver knife, be careful.

I smiled.
“Attaboy, some memories are always there and are available for your use whenever you might need them.”
“Sir, I will really and truly miss you. I’d stay here forever but that would be a waste of what you’ve taught me, still……it’s an idea whose time will never come.” Somewhere in my mind a faint light bulb clicked on. Almost idly, know the impossible when I thought it..”if we could get Dad up here, that would be one hellacious time. No way he wouldn’t have a grand time…..” and abandoned it having vocalized it.
Elms who was having a bit of trouble containing his emotions, sort of agreed it was a great idea but one that just wasn’t going to happen.

I rolled up into a squat, reached back my hand and the two of us were on our feet leaving the range and headed home.

Quiet dinner, we both contributed two load, plus the delicious feeling that comes after you’ve jacked off but haven’t turned loose and your little/big/long/semi engorged cock but it worries/anticipates what’s going to happen next. Apparently your procreative organs have no memories of what happened, what felt good, what did not.

The soup was particularly creamy and oh so good. After that, neither of us could think of much to say so we sat for a bit and then went to bed. With each other for what was probably the last time. We exchanged fucks then settled in, Elms being particular affectionate and protective as we moved into our spooning mode.

It was morning, the end of this part of the line. Elms wasn’t about but I found all my blue clothing which I hadn’t seen since the day I arrived. Figuring I would have to wear them, I pulled most of it on and watched as they fell to the floor. The hoodie, while obviously covering me, made me look more like a waif. A T shirt almost stretched across my chest and biceps but hung loosely, shapeless. While I knew my body had changed a bit, this was far from a bit. Maybe this was good, it depended on your taste, my butt had gone more to the “bubble” shape so admired by many and, with my abdomen, small waist, big bulge and now, the butt, I could fill a Speedo in a way they may never had in mind. Had I had one in the size I’d formerly worn, I would be curious if wearing it diving, and going in arms and head first, meant that I’d leave my suit, and probably my swimming jock, behind me.

I heard a chuckle that turned to a laugh behind me and turned to join him. “Don’t worry, son, I’ll have you pinned in so tight it’ll all stay up and cause havoc when you walk in.” I wondered, aloud if I could wear my Indian clothes but that was shot down as pushing someone’s envelope waaay too far. “The good thing is the trial run will be Karl who doesn’t notice much beyond how much gas there is in his truck.”

Both of us realized that there was no point in “one more time” as it would only lead to sadness. Elms did have one spectacular gift for me: A heavy leather modified cross between a satchel and a soldiers duffel bag. Worked in two colors, dark and darker, it was spectacular. A piece like that in a good leather goods store was, easy, several thousand dollars. He’d packed my loin cloth-takes less room than underwear-plus the various pants and leggings, the shirt, the magnificent coat and, finally, at least two liters of dried soup mix thoughtfully labelled, “Just add cream or milk”. There were two pistols, in their cases with a hundred rounds of ammunition plus a rifle to be attached to the side of the case, also with ammo.
He had a sort of sneaky smile as he handed me my licenses to carry fire arms open or closed and issued to me as a registered agent of the Secret Service. “You could probably drag a bazooka onto a plane with your credentials.”

Elms, one of the most accomplished people, no matter the skill or craft-he’d made all the leather things including the bag, took my blue clothes and altered them, usually just by taking a chunk of material and sewing a seam. The next try on revealed that my sweat pants were only about one off leggings, the body of the hoodie tapered down from my chest to my waist and the T shirt looked more as if it had been sprayed on. I liked it. I wasn’t used to looking, well, hot and this certainly was.
“Good thing your shoes will still fit.”

I took it all off but then remembered I didn’t have anything else to wear. Elms found a top coat that wouldn’t do it for GQ but would work until….later that day.

We sat facing each other and tried to draw down all that had happened. One element that was missing was any comment on the report I knew he would send.  Purr and my Dad were the subjects of a lot of conversation but those topics went away as afternoon wore on and then it was time.

He got me in my blues, made sure all the seams were straight, took me outside and literally posed me. Kissing the back of my neck I could hear his boots walking away until there was no sound. I could feel the setting sun behind me and then the crunch of tires. What Karl would see was an outline of a tall man, a rifle under one arm, a large bag on the ground and a casual strength. And that’s what he saw.

“Where’s Elms?” I just shrugged suggesting that I didn’t know. Lacking his expected dialogue, which was obviously killing him, he tried to get a rise out of me. What he got was a short, sharp command, “Can it Karl.” And he did.

Eventually we were back at the base-no idea if it had a specific term or name-I walked in, showed my ID, got through the electric doors and I was in. There was no future in running, that would grab the attention I didn’t want but carefully, purposefully, walked to my bunkie, opened the door and, as I’d pretty much expected, it was empty. Whether Joe had been in or out or, maybe was in now, I couldn’t tell.

Being stuck in the clothes I was wearing, until I could get to supplies and get newer, thinner clothes, I took off everything, laid them out on a chair, climbed up into my bunk and lay there. A crunching noise under the pillow made me put my hand there and pulled out a envelope, with my name typed on it, opened it and found a letter from Joe. There were only a few lines but they affirmed that, whether I liked it or not, he loved me and he was mine. He had been in and out but could not figure out the ever extending length of my absence-it had been months-and could find no information. He didn’t know when he’d check back in, he was on a short term assignment, but the thing he most wanted to find in his bed was me.

Hopped out of my bunk and slide into his. If he wanted to find me in his bed, he would. And then I went to sleep.

A knock at the door, a head stuck in. “Diver?”
“Yo”
“Chow hall, soon as you can,”
The problem here was, of course, something to wear. Knowing the informal nature of the place I probably could have worn a jock, socks and my shoes but that seemed to push it. Of what was available to me, the paint on pants and the spray on T shirt were as close as I could come. Also, being all Navy, they didn’t reveal much.

Two minutes later I was in the dining room/chow hall to find it almost dark. Lights went up, men stood up and there was applause. Someone, an agent I didn’t know took me to the front where he ran down why the commotion. It would seem I’d done very well at shooting…..but, he said, there was one more person who needed to be here. “Joe?”

Outside in the hall I heard a familiar yowling, a sharp snap and Purr came bouncing into the room and into my arms. I had just enough time to brace or she would have taken me down. One more surprise, my father walked in carrying half a leash. I couldn’t off load Purr so I had to wait for him to get to me to try and shake his hand and give him a hug. Purr clung like a limpet and the agent explained that this was Purr, my cat and beloved of the Police Department in our area. Wisely, he added, if anyone was morbidly afraid of cats or allergic to them, this would be a real good moment to get out. Two or three guys left but did so applauding.

I finally peeled Purr from me and….she made a new friend, the agent in charge. He was trying to hold papers when she hopped into his arms and all I could say as I got her down, after an apology, was that she only did that to people whom she really likes and wants them to know it.

By now my father had a chance to look me over and realized this wasn’t the quiet young man who’d gone out for a run many months ago. “Dad, I’ll explain it all later.” Wondering if I could; Not explaining some details was really more important than, “The Big Picture”.
We were supposed to be seated and, with considerable effort, I got Purr into my lap and held her there but it wasn’t an easily done thing. All these new people, smells, activities….she was prepared to do her own tour of the facility and I knew once she was off and running it would be hard to catch although I believed she would come to me. That’s what I believed.

The first announcement was to introduce me as a full fledged member of the Secret Service. Lots of cheers and attaboys. But the next thing was the bombshell; I had attained the highest score ever in all disciplines of shooting every possible fire arm used by the service. In fact, my aggregate score was….and he almost couldn’t read it, “99.86 percent of all rounds attempted”. He stopped and looked out at a stunned group of men. All of them knew what was a good, even a great score but this was stratospheric. And that, as they all knew, it came from Elms, had real meaning. After the shock wore off, there was enormous applause, whistling, stamping and I tried to stand. With Purr in my lap I almost made it but tipped over and ended up on the floor with Purr on top of me licking my face. Dad leaned over, brushed Purr off me and doing the fireman’s hand to wrist arrangement got me up.

I was stunned. I’d never kept track, didn’t know Elms was either. And, I had to assume, Sol and Aaron had a hand in this as well, I had shot perfectly for them…..Dad semi whispered, “Say Something”.

I tried to think what to say so I thanked all of them for putting up with a phantom whose only claim had been off a diving board and then disappearing. I thanked my-absent-Bunkie for bringing me to this new occupation and most of all, two men; My father, and  Elms, both of whom were modelsl of patience and facility when it came to teaching me. I said how grateful I was, how I would apply myself and if anyone needed swimming or diving lessons, just look for me. It was the right touch. The agent in charge handed me a framed certificate and my permanent Agent’s badge. Applause, everybody stood and I almost cried I was so touched. Dad put his arm around me and put one hand in the air.

“I’m grateful to you for accepting my son, Sandy, for giving him this opportunity to do something he felt was correct and necessary. Also for letting the family borrow Purr which saved a lot of money in terms of putting in a security system.” Almost on cue, Purr hopped up on a table as if to take a bow. With all the men in the room, there were thousands of new smells, people, clothing to be examined. Dad added, “She will not hurt you, yes, her tongue is more like a rasp but she will not extend her claws and a playful hand holding, your hand in her mouth, does not produce fangs. We’ve learned to trust her, the officers near our home trust her and, I need to say this, want several just like her. Seems dogs can be threatening and strong. Well…….Purr comes with claws that can do surgery and a jaw that can break bones, big bones, like your femur. But forget all that, at base, she’s a friendly, rambunctious house cat…..with improvements.Oh, and one last thing, if there’s a “Mister Secret Agent” Contest, I think you just found a new entrant.” Laughter, Dad was great at this sort of extemporaneous speaking.

As quietly as I could I asked Allenby if someone could take me to equipment and help me find some clothes that didn’t look like I wanted bragging rights. He laughed and asked, “Tooter” to come help me then announced I’d be back as soon as they peeled the paint from me and real clothes were applied. The agent he asked took me toward the “clothes closet” as he called it. But we didn’t go alone. Purr, not willing to endure another separation, trotted along. Tooter seemed a bit disconcerted but stopped to lean down and make friends. Purrs was willing, put her paws on his shoulder and licked his face. As with many others enduring their first encounter with the big cat, were amazed at her tongue, that it seemed to be made from rasps. But he was a good sport, Purr released him and we all got to the equipment room. It took a while simply because I’d developed something of a body builder body without meaning to. Finally got a couple of pairs of sweat pants, some shorts, Ts, socks hoodies, jocks-and I asked for an extra one, I had an idea. Also got a spare pair of pants and a hoodie. Back to the breakfast club and more applause when I appeared looking pretty much like every body else. I did, however, save Elms stitching against a day which very close fitting clothes might come in handy.

Dad was, not surprisingly, slightly repelled at the food so confined himself to coffee, milk and some Danish that didn’t seem to have been made locally.

Purr, who was making the rounds suddenly dashed out the door. Not bothering to excuse myself, I went after her only to find she was in my bunkie with Joe who had slipped in. “I meant to be in your bed, you can see that it’s been slept in.”
“Before anyone can get here….: He took me in his arms hugged me and kissed me only breaking the clinch when the sound of cowboy boots were heard. Dad.

He was very friendly, glad to see Joe, glad to see Purr sit down and showing no signs of wandering off. Just now she had her three favorite humans in the world in one place and what could be better? In a way, I agreed. Better would have been if we’d been out with Elms, all sitting around, naked or in loin cloths  being men together. I tossed that idea rather quickly. Our room was made for two men and no thought had been given to visitors. I gave Dad a chair, Joe and I sat on the edge of his bunk. He was still dressed as he had been when he came in, I was newly clad in things that fit and Dad looked like a wealthy cowman.

“I guess it’s up to me to start and I’m going for the guts. Guys, I know all about you and your affection for each other and….I couldn’t be more pleased. What you don’t know, Joe, is that our family, and lots of others, have been looking for a man for my son for a long time. I’m not sure this was how anyone planned it but I don’t care. You love him?”
“Sir, from the moment I saw him and I admit, I kind of Shanghaied him but no one could have predicted what happened next. He’s my bunkie and we don’t have to live here now that he’s a full agent, we can move into wherever we want. Hate to break your heart but the cat goes with us.”

“Well that covers love and romance, now what? It’s still early and I’m guessing there’s no guided tour.”
“Jeez, Jon, if I may call you that, you know what he’ll do, dive in and swim.”
“Everyone is welcome to come with me. Dad, I even got you a jock, that’s what we swim in around here.”
“I don’t suppose you’d object if Joe and I joined you when you finished swimming the English Channel while we shoot the shit about you.”
“I guess that was to be expected. Just…spare him all the stories about what happened when……”I was stripping. My father stopped me, had me turn, shook his head and smiled. “It pleases me that some of me is in you.”
“Dad, quite a lot.” Snapped my waist band, leaned over kissed both of them and headed for the pool. I wondered what they’d discuss, me of course but the specifics? I would find out.

A cats paw was playing with my jock and very quickly had it around my ankles. I knew to put it on was to invite her to pull it off again so waited until I was at the edge of the pool, slipped it on and dove in. As did she. I got to the deep end, tread water and played with her. Most wild cats, Tigers, Cheetahs etc are great swimmers and Purr was no exception. While she couldn’t keep up with me, she enjoyed playing with me when I passed her. Thinking to put her off her watery ways, I came out of the pool and up to the ten meter board. She followed me which I expected. What I did not expect was for her to jump off before I could dive in. All of this had attracted something of a crowd and since I had a reputation as a diver, hence my handle, everyone was interested in some sort of display. What they got was not what they planned on.

I dove in right behind her immediately concerned that she might have injured herself, knocked the wind from her lungs….whatever, I got to her as soon as I came up and found two golden eyes looking right at me and, if a cat can smile, she did. I rolled on my back while she lay on my nicely sculpted abdomen. Shame she didn’t know how to paddle. Not really wanting her to try the ten meter drop again, I got on the spring board and….she loved it. Imagine a hard trampoline over deep water with a man and a large cat bouncing up and down and you’ve got the idea. Few, I imagine, could imagine that so the guys who’d wandered in squatted down and waited for whatever might happen next.

Eventually I caught her in an off balance position that caused her to flip off the board and into the water. Now, this was something to see, a cat doing back flips into a pool followed by a guy also doing a back flip into the water. Purr was loving it and it was about then that she noticed her-I didn’t count-audience so she scrambled out and ran to them to make new friends. I slid onto the edge and quietly got to the 10 meter platform where I watched her work the crowd. Her favorite thing to do was grab some part of their jock, pull it off, run with it, they were in hot pursuit, then jump in the pool where it momentarily floated until it was thoroughly soaked and sank. Sometimes it was in the shallow end, some times in the deep end; If you weren’t a strong swimmer, and, in theory, they guys had passed some sort of water proficiency test, it was no problem. By the time you’d got yours one, or more, were floating and sinking. Sort of like playing “Marco Polo” occasionally in the nude with a big cat.

I was choked with laughter but decided to do what was kind of expected of me. This time I did a very difficult take off which involved doing a one armed hand stand. You had to be extremely strong and have a terrific sense of balance to do it, the actual dive that followed was almost an after thought. Surfacing, I yelled, “Don’t try that one at home.” It was a weak joke but, hell, I didn’t know these men and I wanted some rapport even if it meant doing stunt dives and letting my cat lick their balls-an unfortunate habit she’d learned with me. I was always shaved so when she found a guy, recently de-jocked, who was furry, this was a new, interesting turn of events, something to  be explored. Other guys howled as she’d bat the bulging sack or a stiffening cock.

I found a lap lane far from the men and Purr and quietly slipped in and started my endless swims. What I’d learned from Elms was that these swims, my very long runs, apart from the exercise they provided, serviced my mind by letting it dump whatever wasn’t needed. I’d process something, unconsciously, resolve whatever it was and forget it unless I’d solved a problem. Out with Elms I didn’t have many problems so I could enjoy the pure physicality of running. I heard a pair of splashes and assumed that someone and Purr had gone off a diving board. I wasn’t needed. So on I swam.

Later I saw Dad and Joe amble in, jocks in hand, now naked. I was used to seeing my father like that, always admired his well constructed body and, I’ll confess  it his generous cock and balls. Next to him Joe seemed quiet, almost withdrawn but determined in whatever it was. They slid into the pool, by now almost deserted except for about five men who were playing a game of their own devising with Purr. Periodically she’d wander around the pool then lope beside me for a few moments, just assuring herself I was still there, then returned to whatever they were doing.

Dad, Joe and I ended up at one end all draped over the coping. The offer on the table was that Dad would take us out to lunch-someone may have tipped him about the quality of the local cuisine-then he’d take Joe into town to pick up some things. I was not included but it didn’t matter. I could work out, hopefully meet some of the other agents, rest, read, have the first truly uninvolved afternoon in  a long time. Then facing dinner…..I had the mixture from Elms to which I could add water (and my own cream) but also go to the chow hall, meet some more of the guys….see what happened.

Joe asked if he could drive the large, heavy Lincoln sedan and Dad let him. That was one course I hadn’t had; Evasion driving. Joe, of course was a master driver with whom anyone would be comfortable. As we roared down the highway at some excessive speed, Dad  chatted on as if the electrical poles weren’t going by so fast you could not count them. In this area the cops were used to agents driving too fast and didn’t even bother to pull them over. Some of the local law were friends with the agents and would drop in to use the facilities which were better than anything they had access to and, a big selling point, were free.

He took us to a steak house you had to know to find. From the road there didn’t even seem to be a visible parking lot, no sign other than one selling insurance but once inside, it was quite a nice place and the food smelled delicious. Got a banquette with Dad between the two of us. Joe and I looked like ill matched twins-he’d put on the navy sweat pants and hoodie as well as a blue T shirt. Dad still looked great….but then he always did.

“Okay, got my two favorite men and it was nice of them to let Purr in. She’ll stay under the table unless someone hands her a bit of steak. She’s had a busy morning whether she’d admit it or not.” He was going to shift gears. “Guys, I said it earlier and I meant it, I couldn’t be happier for both of you. Yes, it’s of very short duration just now and in 99% of other couples I would say this was a mistake merging on disaster but somehow this is different. When Sandy turns his life around, which is what he’s done for a man, there’s a reason and it’s not because he has access to a pool, it’s because he’s on the verge of love which is true of you, Joe. Both of you are giving up a part of your past to make a new future and all I can say is….go for it. Now, lets get some menus. After the crap they serve there, I’m amazed this country even has Secret Service agents.”

It was a pleasant, easy going lunch. Joe really liked my Dad and that seemed to flow both ways. So much so that they agreed when Dad went back to the city, he’d take Joe to pick up my car. I hadn’t known this but as a full agent, I could certainly have my own transportation save when I was on assignment. One prickle wondered about Joe going to town with Dad but I was sure it was so he could meet my mother, who may or may not know of his existence and, if she remembered him, that her son was now sleeping in his bed. She was among the people who had looked for “a nice young man for you, someone with whom you’ll have everything in common.” Commonality regarding Joe and I, to date, didn’t seem very likely. I shrugged it off, enjoyed lunch-we both took doggie bags which more resembled something the size in which you’d pack cement. Purr started to snore at one point which had people looking about to see where the odd noise was coming from. When we finished, I got her out with as little notice as possible, mainly by feeding her most of a very large pork chop.

They dropped me off, headed back to the city and I lay down on my bunk. Well, Joe’s bunk but only because it was easier and he wasn’t here. I stared at the bottom of my bunk, wondered whether I could nap or read or go swim or run. Before I could make that decision, Agent Allenby knocked and asked if I had a moment. Told him I had all afternoon so he was welcome. He closed the door and locked it which struck me as strange. I rolled over on my side, preparatory to sitting on the edge of the bed but he encouraged me to stay comfortable. He’d come about an assignment.

“Sandy, I guess it will come as no surprise to find we have a job for you that will utilize your tremendous skill with guns and, in particular, that incredible shooting over several miles, just amazing…..” I stopped him.
“Sir, you want me to be a sniper, don’t you? “
“Yep, that’s what we want. Elms says you have no problem with shooting people, that true”?”
“Sir, that is. I’ve often thought I’d like to go to Africa and shoot poachers.”
“You do know that snipers belong to a special group, not just agents but agents we move around the world to do what we feel needs to be done. You may accompany the President to provide cover for him, or you may just lay on top of a building as a motorcade goes by. There’s really no repetitiveness but sometimes long periods when you’re not doing anything. I understand you have a house in the city and there’s no reason not to live there. In a sense, it’s good cover, no one from your neighborhood is going to be a sniper and they’ll be perfectly used to you. Of course you’ll have that cat-I can see why the cops want her-and since Joe introduced you, might as well take hi with you. The two of you seem to get along…..and your cat loves him.”
“Well, sir, she seemed to like you as well.”
“Yes, that did come as a surprise. Pleasant one as it worked out but I will tell you it scared the shit out of me at first.”

“Is there an assignment for me now or right away?”
“Nope, just relax here, I know there are some men who’d like to swim or dive with you. Go run, we’ve a gun range although that seems almost pointless now that I think about it. And, Sandy, being a sniper is a closed society. Most men will guess it, but there’s no discussion with anyone, not your family, not even Joe. Well, I’ll make one exception, you can tell Purr.” And he laughed.
“If you feel like it, go to the pool and I’ll find a couple of the guys who are interested in diving. Just, please, not that one handed one I heard about. Would have made me swallow my gum.”
We should hands and he said, “Welcome to the dark world.”

And just all those months ago I’d been in a custom made tux, a gold watch on my arm and in a reception line to meet a stranger in our home. Not to mention the Ambassador. Now, by showing a badge and with some ID, I  could gain admission…practically anywhere including the Ambassador’s office.

I napped for a while,  not restfully, just eyes closed, hallucinating about the bottom of my bunk.
Knock at that door.
“Yeah, it’s open.”
I should have expected them, Aaron and Sol. They extended their hands, “Congratulations, buddy. We knew you could do it. Also, welcome to the dark side.”

Smiled, tried to look confused. “Is this place called the Dark Side? Never heard that one before.” They smiled and laughed a bit.
“Okay, we know you’ve been told but you might want to look at these….” And proffered some information as well as a new badge, almost like the other new one I had but held on the back by a rifle made into a pin. “We knew you were for us, that night you shot the car. Nobody like you. That’s when we decided we’d take you for us. You’re the hot shot and we’re….cover and back stop. I know you got questions but this isn’t the place. Too many people see us dropping in on you and they’ll draw conclusions. Allenby, who you can trust will take and send messages. Don’t get too close and don’t make close friends. Understand you’re moving into town, good. Taking Joe….” I looked at them and thought about what I’d say next.
“Yeah, I’m taking Joe and the cat.” There was a pause, a long one.
“There’s a question I gotta ask.”
“You and Joe….real close to each other? Maybe sleep with each other?”
“Yes, we sleep together, have sex together, he thinks he loves me.”
“You love him?”
“In a way, yes.”
“Could you shoot him, cold blood, right in the eye.”
“If necessary.”
“Okay for now but, Sandy, keep Joe out of our loop.” I looked at them and I knew my eyes were cold and dead. “Just get me some one to shoot, I need to start notching my dick. You know the feeling I assume, shooting up a car is one thing, but I want a target, a moving target who knows I’m out there and my only interest in him is to shoot him. One shot. Through the head. Go away, clean my gun and notch my dick.”

They were very quiet. There was an understanding they hadn’t planned on but now was there.” We can’t just get you a target….:”
“Fuck, I know that, but when there’s one, I want him, we three, go out, in a crowd, an empty place….that’s what we’re supposed to do, make the noose so I can shoot the knot off and he drops.”

We all three were, easy to see,  very hard. “Wanna stroke ’em down? Might as well, won’t be the only time.” The two looked at each other, smiled and laughed. “Yep, you’re a pistol. Whaddya got around here? Kleenex or towels?” Nothing cements a group like individual sperm mixing on the floor. Nothing. Wouldn’t be long before I had them eating their production.

“Some day we’ll pick you up and we’ll go on an excursion. Regular agents usually are assigned weapons but we get to select ours. Any ideas?”
“Haven’t shot enough to even have a clue so we better go some place where they have a good selection and lots of allowances for test shots.”
“We know the place.”
Abruptly they heard something which turned into a knock on my door. “Yeah”
“Got some guys here who wanna climb the heights at the pool.”
“Give me five, I’ll be there.”
I left first then, one at a time, they did.

At the pool I found three young (to be fair, they were older than I was)  agents eyeing the ten meter board. A quick questioning revealed that apart from swinging in a tube out over pond and turning loose, they were virgins as to real diving. What was needed, and I did it, was a demonstration of a very simple dive, basically a swan dive with a slowly rotated forward roll and straight into the water. Almost no splash. Wish I’d had that in a couple of contests. After that we started at the edge of the pool with them trying to go in without ending up a  belly flop. They were grateful and asked if we could do it again. The answer was sure and I dived in to begin one of my long swims.

Joe showed up, smiling, and I slid out and walked toward him. I was wet and needed to grab a towel. While I dried down and found some clothes, blue-what else?

Outside there was a car I’d never seen but, I was told it was mine. Joe had picked it out because it was hot without looking it. Also, there was a load of clothes, also selected by Joe. They looked great on me but not what I would have selected. These were somewhat subdued but looked good, older which, I suppose, I was.
“Dad, huh?” Yep, Jon did the clothes, I did the car, hope you’re pleased.” We were in the bunkie and the door was closed and locked. I was nude as fast as a towel would drop, one hand on my cock, the other running over my abdomen. We missed dinner.

Sex with Joe was as great as ever but there had been a shift in that I was now the dominant. We did what I wanted, generally, but gave him some choices. What I wanted was a nice balance that satisfied him and disguised that I wanted a kind of sex he wasn’t used to. Rougher, more punishing, more a contest for pain and pleasure. He liked it more and more and expected me to provide him with the lust and demand that proved love.

We’d moved back into my home-Purr was ecstatic-my parents were pleased, my mother, after the initial shock took to Joe. It turned out they both liked gardening and, when he was around, they, and Purr, would spend the afternoon doing whatever they found to do. I spent my days reading and, privately, talking to Aaron or Sol who kept me in the loop. Sometimes we’d go out just for the hell of it and like kids, shot cans on fence posts, bottles, preferably glass and got to form our unit or gang as we preferred. I was closer to Aaron for no reason, it certainly wasn’t his driving skills. Maybe because he seemed the wilder of the two.

I asked about taking some of the driving courses but was told that wasn’t something I needed. Aaron said that was to keep me calm before we went to work. And, as before, if it was at night, my eyes were covered.

Often I’d go to the bunkie and swim, work with some of the guys, a few of whom had some promise and nothing is more encouraging, especially to a man far beyond college, than to discover he had some ability. Plus there was a quiet, well equipped gym with a full time instructor who functioned as your personal trainer. He was really very good and, as he said, I gave him more than a good basis, I was already in great shape and what he wanted to know was….how did I want to look? No idea so he said we’d work around as I had time and find out what we agreed would be a good direction. No body builder shit, but a really good, hard body with enormous flexibility. Max, his name, suggested we throw in some gymnastics, maybe do some work on a trampoline-the one they had was mounted in the floor which made off and on much easier as well as safer.

Did Max know I was the sniper? Probably, he was at the facility everyday, knew lots of the men and after my shooting ability was revealed, it was an easy guess as to where in the organization I fit. He, like many others showed me a slight deference that annoyed me but…..I was in the dark side and no one really wanted to know what they assumed I knew, what I’d done. On the other hand, Max was really deeply involved in his work and given someone who wanted to work with him, he’d redouble his efforts. Didn’t take too long for his efforts to begin to show. On top of what Elms had done, I was leaner, stronger, tougher. better balanced when I walked, could make maneuvers I couldn’t imagine. Occasionally we’d go out for a very long run, he was one of the very few people who could do it.

Joe came with me partly out of habit but mostly because that was his base. That’s where he picked up his orders, whatever equipment he needed and it provided a place away from home for us to fuck as long as we wanted. Often go to sleep with my cock up his ass. The bunks didn’t really hold two men but when sort of stacked on top of one another, we could make it work.

What we also could make work was a feeling of safety. That was up to the night that Aaron tapped his hand on the door and came in. Only slightly embarrassed he told us to finish and he’d see me outside. Joe wanted to die but I knew better, after all Aaron, Sol and I had gone a few steps down the road towards men having sex with each other.

Kissing Joe on all sorts of places I told him I’d be back. Not to worry, nobody cared. went out to find Aaron patiently waiting. He apologized and I waved him off. That’s when he said I was hardly the only one and, in an off hand way, said he and Sol filled some down time in pretty much the same way.

Next stop was equipment where I was kitted out in all black, Tactical Black or Tac Black,  A sort of canvas material that went into tall lace up black steel toed boots. The pants were a sort of cargo pant with a great many pockets. The tunic tucked tightly into the pants, there was a wide black leather belt to hold things together and a squared off barracks cap, in black. There was a back entrance which led to Sol in the car, also black. As with many other vehicles, it looked like a one of the many All American sedans until you listened to the engine which revealed the power. Before we took off, I was blindfolded, sat back and we were off.

Sol said to get comfortable as it was some distance and so I slipped into my sleep mode, another thing Elms had taught me without telling me he was teaching me. I woke when the car stopped and Aaron put his hand over my mouth, presumably to keep me from making a noise when I wakened. In the future, they didn’t need to do that. I was handed one black glove, I’d never practiced with gloves and my relationship to the trigger pretty much meant no glove on that hand. Clearly the idea was to keep us a shadowy as possible which, where we were, presented little trouble. I thought I knew which city but this wasn’t a tourist visit, we had higher purposes. All I could think was….would I get my first kill?

We stood just back of a corner shadow where we could see two men in a car. If they saw us, there was no notice as they were laughing, talking, one could gather they’d been drinking heavily. I had to shoot through the passenger window, past the first guy and nick the driver somewhere on his face, the ear, my choice, just draw a splatter of blood then catch the passenger as he exited and drop him to be picked up later. Stupid as it seems, that’s just what I did. Just to fuck with him, I removed the driver’s nose tip and a bit more which, they called it, made his passenger threw open the door and started down the street. Shot off part of his knee cap and, again, for the hell of it, put one in his butt that would make him bleed like a stuck pig.

For thirty seconds it was calm  then sirens, very close, plus the sound of screeching tires. Aaron, Sol and I leaned against the wall watching the action: This was better than any of the “Law and Order” shows. None of the cops seemed to look for who might have done this. The passenger was cuffed to a gurney and stuffed in an ambulance while the driver, bleeding profusely, was also cuffed, a medic did something to his nose and he was put in a squad car. Sensing the best part of it was over, we slipped back to our vehicle, quietly backed around a corner and headed for home. Sol, not driving, handed round used baseball caps which did make us look more like guys going home from a late job. Also, we wriggled out of the tunics leaving us in white T-shirts. Nondescript men in a nondescript car going home. I could do this and enjoy doing it.

I was hot and getting more and more so by the moment. My tang was about to bust through the tac black pants which meant one of two things, I was going to have to take it out, stroke it down and dirty on the floor mat or, we could pull off someplace so that I could get out and complete what I needed to do.. This was my gang and so I told them. I wasn’t alone, both of them were popping wood beyond which some other recreation might be useful.

Amazing what a badge and gun will do. Not too many minutes later we found ourselves in a very large room with us stripping as fast as possible while trying to keep a hand on somebody else’s hard member. First thing was to calm down and though it wasn’t easy, everyone got a cock and sucked it right off. No one cared about holding back, we shot and all of us, with almost no edging, shot again. Without discussing it, we got set up for a sandwich. I fucked Aaron while Sol blew him, then we’d switch around. Everybody got everything and, over time, as many times as we wanted. If that was the initiation, I was ready to do it again.

“Sandy, you are one mutherfucker. Gotta tell ya, when Aaron and I thought we might take you, we talked a lot about what we liked to do. You know, sex after shooting.”
“Wouldn’t it be good, depending on the assignment to get rid of some tension before the shooting?” They both grabbed me, laughing, rolled me on the bed so Sol, he was closest, could harden up and fuck me. On the other side, I sprang into life and took Aaron.
“Oh did we make the right choice. You’re young, you’re hot as a pistol and you fuck like an M-16. Shame Joe doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

That Joe did know wasn’t relevant. No way we could include him but maybe that was just as well. These two were close to understanding my desire to shoot and more than just a nose and a knee cap. Probably had the same wants but, now, they’d got a hot shot whom they had to back up. I’d make that up to them, I wasn’t sure how but there would be a way.

We all sort of agreed that exhaustion had arrived and we needed to sleep. Stripped and sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly  truly tired, we had to work out the sleeping arrangements. In my mind I had a bump of intuition so I suggested that the two guys sleep by each other and I’d take the outside. Also, next time, and there would be many next times, either get a kind size bed or two rooms. As we were drifting off, that was my suggestion and found that we were three, all together, whatever we did, from fuck to kill, we did it together.
Then it was lights out. In the future it would be a King Size bed.

My occasionally just vanishing confused and worried Purr. I always came back but she detected something different about me. She and my Dad were always the most perceptive when it came to reading me which is what happened.

Dad showed up,  unexpectedly, jock in hand, at the pool and dove in. I was lost in doing laps and didn’t notice him until he put himself in the lane I was using so that I bumped into him.  One of the things about him was his warm welcome even in thirteen feet of water he managed to give me a hug before he sank. When he bobbed up we swam to the edge, slid out and lay by the pool.
“Where’s Joe? On assignment? I looked in the bunkie and it looked like you were sleeping down stairs.”
“Yep, he’s off to somewhere, I’ve forgot who he’s with, maybe the First Lady, she likes him and requests him when she goes overseas.

“How is it with the two of you? Still have those feelings? Still like the sex?” He smiled, ” I’m your father, I get to ask those questions.”
I lay my head on the cement and wondered what the answer to that question was. Sure I liked and loved him but Aaron and Sol were better at sex and excited me to a degree and in ways Joe had never achieved. I flopped over, took a breath displaying my well sculpted abs. “It’s complicated…..”
“So’s life, yours in particular. Are we at a point where you cannot discuss this or won’t.”
“Can’t.”
He laughed, “Maybe I could get Elms to torture it out of you.”
“Doubt it, Elms taught me how to resist torture.” But he’d put an instant vision in my mind; Me strung up, naked, being worked over with a cat ‘o nine tails, threatened with something that would impale me, my father, sitting, nude, leaning back, clapping, encouraging Elms to cut off my nuts; He was hungry.

I really wished he hadn’t said that, it was exciting, almost, in my mind, erotic. To avoid showing a tang that was inflating I rolled on my stomach.
My Dad was very observant and, after all, whatever Elms had taught me, I was his son.
“Sandy, it’s okay, just proves that you really understand what you’re doing and that elements of it do more than just appeal to you, they get to you in ways, well, like right now. You’re hard as a rock I’d guess.”
I turned my head away from him; He was almost a better shot than I was. “Oh, Jesus, Dad, yeah, it gets to me. Yeah, I’m hard and….I’m a little embarrassed. I’m an adult and should have better control of myself….”
He rolled on his side. “Son, look at me.”

Motherfuck, his cock was almost coming from the top of his jock. “I’m just as aroused by your being aroused as I am because I know, now, what makes you hot.”
Well, that didn’t really help. I knew what he was trying to do and that’s why I loved him but I was still laying face down on the concrete too embarrassed to show my own father a perfectly natural thing that happens to men.

“Come on, head for the bunkie, time for some father/son shared experience.” He paused as he walked, me following, trying to hold my hand where it was most concealing while he was strolling along, cock partially out, sharing a moment with his son.

“We could have and should have done this before. Absolutely no shame, I’m your Dad, remember? I’ve seen you naked…how many times? In the locker room before swim meets, I’d almost have to remind you to put on your jock and then remind you that a suit goes over it.”

His jock was on the floor, his hand casually on his meat while he leaned back on Joe’s bunk. It took me a moment but then I pulled mine off, my dick, relieved to be no longer under pressure, swung out and up. Dad was stroking his like a man who will come, and enjoy it, but is also enjoying something intangible, something he could do with his son that no one else could. I began to relax, internally, but my crotch was a testament to growing to empty myself.

“If I’ve got the time, like I do now, I usually squirt the first one out pretty quickly, lean back, relax and then go for the really good one, the second time when you have to work for it, your body fights you but wants to give in, your abdomen contracts, you can’t stay still…..”

I was panting slightly, it was like listening to audio porn but this was real, this was the two of us, father and son, slowly jacking off and liking it. “Yeah, two’s a good number, not a goal, easy to get to but….better than just one. Makes a man sleep better or so I find.”

He began to cream as opposed to shooting. Made a sort of well with his jacking hand and caught his cum as it oozed out. There was a pause then a big load. He looked at me, smiled, his hand that held his man stream looked almost silvery in the low light. He held his hand a bit above his mouth and slowly let it drool into his mouth.

I could not help myself, I leaned over and licked his hand which he then put around me, pulled me to him. Just then I let fly and, kind of the same thing, I hadn’t the foresight to make a container but had to lick it off my fingers. Dad leaned down and licked my chest where part of it had landed.

“Well, I think makes us bound, really father and son, bonded by our own juices. Beats being blood brothers all to hell.” I leaned against him, as calm as I’d been since….some while back. I knew it would go no further but where it had got us was further than most fathers and their sons even dream of traveling.

It was comfortable, just leaning against his big chest, feeling the hair and a hard nipple on my back. I felt he needed something of mine, some connection but the way we were, not possible. Maybe this was right, son leaning on father. For whatever reason, I relaxed against him, he lay on the bed, part of me on his chest and….I went to sleep.

Only a few minutes passed, I could hear his low growling chuckle-I think he learned that from Purr-as an arm went around my chest and he kissed the back of my head. Silent tears of happiness flowed down my cheeks, fell on my chest and onto his arm. He had to notice but neither did nor said anything, just held me a little closer. Time passed in the semi-darkness, even the usual noise from outside diminished.

I didn’t know why I said it but I noted that Joe was gone for who knows how long, if he wanted to bunk in for the night……and I faded the sentence.
“I’ll do that, thanks for asking. I’m guessing this is Joe’s bunk….”

The thought of him being there, wanting to be there turned me on, maybe did him as well. He leaned back, stretched the big, relaxing stretch then said, “Time for round two?”

He took the two chairs from the opposing desks and set them opposite each. He sat in one and, it was obvious, I was to be in the other one, facing him. He stretched his legs out, leaned back the small amount the chair would allow then picked up his cock which had already figured out what was going to happen and was getting ready. Opposite him, I did about the same. It was easier for me to get comfortable only because I was more limber. My meat was also getting ready for my hand.

“No contest, son, I just want us to look at each other, follow our emotions in our eyes, watch our bodies as we get near climax, follow each other’s eyes…….” He was slowly stroking, as casually as you might pet, well, Purr. I almost started out too ambitiously but quickly realized that the slow, repetitious flow of the skin covering the meat felt better when it didn’t seem like it was going to be ripped off.

No clock, just the look in each other’s eyes as we slowly manipulated that most prized organ of man up and down, up and down….I could see his balls draw up as were mine, a good sign that we were closing in on the big prize, man sperm flowing from us. I could see him starting to breath in spurts, squirming, his abdomen spasming, sweat flowing….he was holding back, trying to slow down but it wasn’t possible, in one massive cascade he shot covering part of me and the floor. I reached over, I couldn’t resist, and gave his balls a slap which got the last of him out. He collapsed, looking like one happy father, proud of himself just waiting for the pleasure of seeing his son do the same.

I leaned back, got a good grip for I was going to give myself the hard, fast jerk. Almost tear my little bit of foreskin off. My body twisted, my butt clinched, my abs almost made a ten pack,  the good, deep feeling as your prostate adds the final note, my meat covered itself with gravy while I, too, slumped in a chair.

It took a while but we finally looked at each other, both had that shit eating grin of two school boys who’ve done something and got away with it. He rubbed his chest with what he wiped off me, tasting it first, then picking one nipple and lathering it with my cum.

I never could have expected it….he turned the sperm covered breast toward me, indicated I should sit on his lap and suckle my own milk from my own father. Did he know that he was getting hard, that the head of his cock was playing with my ass? I doubt it. He was so into the moment of the ultimate in father and son experience that he was oblivious, even to the fact that I had hardened up as well. In the dark, on his lap, my head turned to his breast, eating my own cum was erotic in a way no two men who weren’t intimately related could know or understand. There were no consequences, no guilt, just the overwhelming proof that we loved each other.

Hours later, after a long, hot shower, we crawled into the bunks, tired, happy, together. I wished I could sleep beside him just to be with him but,….bunkies didn’t permit that.

Dad left the next morning, he remembered breakfast from the first time. What confused me was that he wore the blues that we all did. Also took his street clothes.

I was left with nothing to do so I wandered over to the gym where Max, their on premises gym teacher and personal trainer for those who wanted one. And I did.

Max liked having someone to work with who wanted to improve and took what he said and demonstrated seriously and repeated it. We’d talked about the body I wanted and both agreed the body builder body wasn’t for me. He also felt that I would gain from investing some time in gymnastics which I did as well as their trampoline. As with my swimming and running, I could spend hours in the gym save that Max put time limits on me. At first it had been subtle and then it was very apparent….the strong chest, the ripped abdomen, the thin waist, large calves and thighs, good biceps, forearms and yet….in my clothes I just looked healthy, like a man who has taken care of himself. Although the three didn’t know it, Joe, Aaron and Sol had all admired it on those occasions when they saw me without my clothes.

It had been a long time but I finally found a way to slip away to visit Elms.

He was glad to see me, gave me a hug, pulled me into what I remembered as almost home. Made me strip, handed me a loin cloth and almost instantly I had the same rapport as months ago when I’d left. We squatted down, looked at each other then I rolled backward, pulled the cloth away and offered him my ass.

It was hard, intense, painful and long. That cocksucker knew how to fuck a man like no one else I knew. Almost like a dog knots their cock once their inside the bitch, he could almost do that so you couldn’t expel him until he was ready. And he wasn’t ready for a long time.

I fell over, exhausted, sperm spilling out of my butt which wasn’t being collected to add to a meal. He put leather cuffs on my wrists, a tall leather collar around my neck and bound my ankles like my wrists. Rolled me on my back, looked at me, picked up a whip saying, “I know why you’re here. You came to find out how to accept pain and, maybe, how to give it. It turns you on, right now, after a good fucking you’re cock is rising up.” He took good aim and let my penis catch the whip while I screamed in honest agony.

“Good, now you’re learning what real pain is, it’s fear mixed with pain, you know I could take this and cut off your dick first and then your balls. Fear and pain. You don’t experience true pain unless you’re afraid in your gut, in your nuts, it’s the fear not of being left not a man but of dying as not a man. You want to kill a man and get your biggest thrill, spread eagle him, nail him down, flick off his dick and balls with a whip then shoot his face off. You can do it, I know you and you’re ability at excess, like the day in the pond with the ice.”

He came at my organ from the other side. I was close to passing out from the pain but something kept me up and with him, anticipating whether he would kill me. Once before he’d almost sliced off his nuts and would’ve  taken mine but today was not about power and domination, this was his enjoying the pain he was inflicting as I knew I would enjoy it.

“Ever play mumbly peg?” He took out a pig sticker knife and begin to toss it in the air. It would hit the ground near me. Each time nearer still. He was building up my fear, not for the pain that was coming, but for the fear of what he might do.

He flipped it particularly high, stepped back and let it pin my nuts to the ground. No damage, just caught an edge, only a little blood which he bent down and licked. Also grabbed my dick and mercilessly jacked it off. When I came he sat back, smiled at me and said nothing. Pulling the knife up, he took my foreskin and pulled it, two very short cuts, he also licked the blood and leaned back.

“Son, you’ve just been notched for your first kill.” Stay where you are for a while, think, come to an understanding with yourself that lets you do what you fucking well please no matter the consequences. May end up getting life or execution but whatever you did, you’ll not regret it like you’ll never regret anything again.” He threw cold water on me and walked away.

Why I wanted my loin cloth I don’t know but, after the punishing had passed, I wanted to cover myself, to not let him see the shame he’d inflicted. But in the back of my mind was the question, “Would he do it again?” I knew I wanted it but only from him. For all others, I’d hold the whip hand, the knife, the hammer whatever I needed to put fear and pain in those that needed it. I remembered the jerk in the car when his nose tip was shot off; No idea what happened but the fear of what might happen next and the pain, just what Elms said. The other fool, the one who jumped and ran forgot what I knew; He opened himself to whomever was out there and he found out what happens to people who are dumb.

Being staked out was a privilege, it meant I’d done something to deserve even if I wasn’t sure what.

It was getting dark, I could see the stars begin to shine, not all at once but more and more as darkness overtook us.

I pissed on myself and was getting thirsty. Elms came out, sniffed, pissed on me himself then took a bucket of cold water, rinsed me off then dripped water oh so slowly for me to drink.
“Wanta get up?”
I shook my head no. He smiled and said, “Right answer”.
A few minute later he returned with some strips of heavy leather. One went over my eyes and was nailed to the ground. A smaller one held my nuts in place and the last was wound around my cock then pulled out from me then staked out with a nail.
The gag was last, one of his carvings, made like a male scrotum. Needed nothing to hold it in, you couldn’t eject it.

I heard him going away, the sound of something shutting and I was prepared for the night.

Nor did he let me up the next day. I pissed several times but since my cock was tied down and pointed away from me, no mess, no smell. I got water sparingly and was then left alone.

It was that night when he released me very slowly. When I was completely free I found I could not really move. Almost as if my limbs had atrophied. Elms picked me up, took me inside, carefully rubbed me all over with a kind of liniment that smelled like a cross between Mentholatum and mens’ sweat. He said nothing nor did I. As he rubbed my chest and abdomen, he admired the work that had been done and complimented whoever trained me into developing muscles that were useful not ones that just looked good with a coat of oil above a Speedo. He could always relax me completely which is what he did..

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I was traveling thru the back roads of Montana in late August, I wanted to see the wide open country side. It was a hot day and must have been close to 100 degrees out and my old 1964 Ford pickup was running hot.It was about 5 in the evening as I took off on this really narrow paved road that verly had lines painted on it not knowing where I would end up.

About 10 miles down this road my pickup over heated. I was in the middle of nowhere. I got out and lifted the hood and could see coolant running out of the water pump down to the ground. I had only a gallon of water in the truck and could not see anything for miles all the way around.

So I shed my shirt and slipped into my cut offs. and opend the doors on the pickup and decided to wait until dusk before I started to walk for water or help. As a lay across the seat resting i pulled out a old copy of Forum and started to read. I usually didn’t read the stories on men with men but that afternoon I decided to read it. To my surprise the stories I read gave me a raging hard on.

I was about to pull out my 7 inch meat and start stroking it when I heard loud engine noises comming my way. So I jumped out of the pickup to see a old farm truck comming up the road. The truck slowed down and to my surprises it was a Black man behind the wheel. He pulled over behind my pickup and got outand came to where I was standing.

‘Pickup troubles’ he asked.

‘Yes’ I replied, water pump gone I think.

He came over to the hood and looked to se if he could fix or help and as he looked into the engine I was looking at this very handsome Black man. He was wearing a pair of tight fitting Wranglers and boots no shirt on and I could see the tight curly hairs on his broad chest and tight belly. He had a gotee and a cap on.

As he turned around he seen me staring at him. He asked me if I was okay.

I stammered a yes. and said I just never have seen a Black man up so close.

He turned and said ‘Well boy you need a new waterpump and some more coolant.

The parts place is 96 miles that way , and pointed east or 103 miles that way as he pointed west. I can’t take you to either of them until Monday. And this was Friday. Your welcome to stay at my place or you can walk to town! You pick.

‘Well I guess I will stay with you of that alright’ I said.

Then he went to his truck and grabbed a tow rope and said he would tow it to his place a few miles down the road. And then turned north up a dirt road. It was long and dusty behind that truck. When we got to his place it was surrounded by big trees and very neat and clean. the house wasn’t fancy but it wasn’t a shack either.

I got out of the pickup and and the Black man came over to me and said ‘ by the way my name is Buzz and I live here with my brother. We share and work this farm together. H e will be in later tonight from the feilds. His name is Tom.

‘Whats your name boy?’ he said.

‘My name is Zach, I’m from Utah and was headed for Wiscincin to see Family and wanted to site see on the way.’ I said.

Well Zach, I will show you where you can bunk up for a few days. And we went to the house. He showed me a room and told me tp put my things in there and told me I could use the shower and clean up before supper and Tom got home.

I got out some clean clothes and headed for the shower and noticed there was no doors on the rooms. Well I haven’t showered in the veiw of many people since High school. I was a little hesitent, but went on in any way.

I stripped of my clothes and got in and started to shower and soap up when Buzz walked into the bathroom. I turned quickly so he wouldn’t see my half hard cock I was soaping up.

He laughed and said ‘ don’t mine me Zach I jerk off in the shower too and so does my Tom, thats why we don’t have doors we like to watch each other.’

‘Oh really’ I said do you guys sleep together too? I only see two bedrooms and if I’m in one Someones out a bed’

Yes we do he said we share everything with each other, Food, work, this house and sex. And if we bring home partners we share them too. You interested in that ZacH?

I stammered again and Said well I have never had real man to man sex before but I guess it would be all right. The next thing I know Buzz was naked and in the shower with me.

As I looked Buzz over he was very muscular and tight. His cock was half hard and was growing. It must have been at least 12 inches long and uncut.

He saw me looking at his monster black cock and grabbed my hand and put it on his cock. It was hot and I could feel his heart beat.

‘Go ahead stroke it’ he said. I began to stroke it. My fingers would not fit all the way around his cock as i slide the foreskin back and forth over his large deep purple head.

He saw my own cock began to swell and reached out and began to stroke it. I squirmed and moaned at the touch of his hand on my member. He grabbed some soap and soaped me up as he stroked and said do the same to him. as we did that our breathing got heavier and and our hips began to buck back and forth.then Buzz took my cock to the end of his cock and rolled his forskin over my cut cock and began to jack us both off together. I could feel his skin sliding over my cock head and his ppre cm mixing with mine.

And then he asked if I was close to cumming and I answered yes and we both came together. with his forskin still over my cock. Our juices mixing and flowing to the shower floor. Then he kissed me and gave my nipples a good twiking as he sunk his tongue deep into my mouth. Then he pulled away and said we had better get finished up before Tom got home. He soaped up and showered off and pulled back the foreskin and cleaned behind his cock head as i watch in amasment. I think he enjoyed me watching him for he really put on a show and said if I liked him wait till Tom get here. He finished and let me in to finish. I got out and as I was drying off Buzz came back into the bathroom and stood behind me and played with my ass and and reached in front of me and ran his hands threw my hairy chest anb belly. And as he did that I could feel his cock growing and poking me in the ass so I pressed backward to feel it more and we heard the door open to the porch and he let go and left the room.

Buzz! Tom asked whos pickup is that out there?

I found this white guy broke down on the road a few miles from here and his water pump went out so I towed him home. I going into town on Monday so we can pick up part for him then. His name is Zach, from Utah. He was headed for Wisconcin to see family.

‘I see said Tom, and you probably enjoyed him already by the looks of your dripping cock.’

I came around the corner with only my boxers on and introduced my self and shuck hands. His hands wher very stong and rough.As we shuck hands he said’

after we get home from ahard days work we shower and stay naked until morning when we go to work, loose the boxers. I did so and stood there so that Tom could check me out.

As his rough hands fondled my balls and cock it began to grow and he said this will be a great weekend for us Buzz, its been a long time since we ‘ve had company. Then Tom began to shed his close and move to the shower.

Buzz and I went to the kitchen and i helped fix some supper. As I was helping Tom shouted that he needed a towel and Buzz asked if I would get one from the hall closet for him so I did. As i entered the bathroom I watched Tom shaving his cock and balls. Toms body was smooth and he was muscular like Buzz, Tom had no chest or body hair any where ecept armpit. His cock was standing straight out and he had the skin pulled back from his uncut cock so that I could see his huge purple head. His cock was about 2 inches longer than Buzz’s. Now I could see why Buzz said I would like Tom better.

Buzz shouted that dinner was ready so we all gathered in the kitchen. All 3 of us naked eating. And talking about where I was from and things I’ve done and visaversa. We cleaned up the dishes and went to the living room.

Buzz popped in a movie and when it came on it was Black men with white men in this big orgy fuck fest.

As we watched I was seated between Buzz and Tom on the sofa and could see there cocks start to rise and they could see mine. Then I grabbed both of there cocks with my hands and began to stroke them in unision. watching their cock heads apear and disapear as the fore skin went up and down their long shafts. I could feel their veins and heart beat as I stroked them.

Then Tom leaned over and started to kiss me and stuck his tongue deep in my throat and started to pinch my nipples. As he did that Buzz leaned over and started to suck my nipple and bite it. Then Tom moved to the floor between my legs and started to suck my cock. He sucked cock like no women ever had. and as he sucked he massaged my balls and rolled them between his rough fingers.

Then i felt his hand slip under my butt and then a finger pushed against my ass hole, in it went.

As he finger fucked me he sucked and stroked me.Buzz and I where in a good frech kiss and I was still stroking his meat. I was rady to cum but could not tell Tom for Buzz had his tongue in my throat. I began to cum and Tom sucked my shaft deep into his hot mouth and swallowed every last drop of cum not spilling a drop. He pulled his finger from my ass and told Buzz to clean it for him and he did so. then kissed me with a long deep kiss.

Then Buzz told me to sit on his lap and he was going to fuck me. He smeared precum from Toms and his cock on my hole and slowly i sat down on his shaft. I felt more pain than I ever have as it streched my virgin ass.

I grimced with pain and pleasure and asked him to stop. He did so for a few moments and then procceeded forth. Finally it was in and he began so lift my up and down his long thick shaft. I could feel my ass muscle contracting around this intruder as his cock battered my prostate.

While Buzz fucked me Tom moved to the front of me and told me to suck his cock so I did so. I took that enormous cock into my mouth and started to gag. He told me to relax my throat. I did so and as i did she shoved his cock all the way in. It took my breath away and i ckoed for a few moment until I relaxed.

Then he began to fuck my face holding my head so not to move. I reached up and played with his hairless balls and slowly stuck a finger in his ass and found his prostate and began to massage it. Up and down and in and out we went for what seemed like hours but was only minutes.

Then Tom moaned that he was going to cum and Buzz said he was also. Tom held my head tight against his grion as his load shot down my throat. I started to choke and he kept cumming load after load. then I felt Buzz cumming deep into my bowels as his hot cumm mixes with Toms. Then Tom pulled out and bent over and kissed me as his tongue explored my mouth seeking remains of his cum.

Then Buzz lifted me off and told me to clich down on my ass ring so not to loose any cumm onto the floor. so I did. and with out notice Both Tom and Buzz knelt on the floor behind me and started licking my ass and i let the ring go and Buzz’s cumm mixed with my ass juices flowed out to thier waithing tongues as they licked it up into thier mouths.

This went on all night fucking and suckingand into the next day until noon. We stopped for a while so Buzz and Tom could get some work done. I stayed at the house and rested and waited for my 2 Black studs to return home and started this fuckfest all over again. Until monday morning we fucked and sucked and slept and did it all over again. And on the way into town I sat between them both and stroked them off and licked the cumm from my fingers and again on the way back to the house.

That night we had one last good fuck fest and we tried every position posible.

One time i had both cocks in my ass and the filled me up good and not with just cock cumm too. Tuesday morning came and I hated to leave but I had already waisted 4 days That I was going to spend in Wisconcin with Family.

They invited me back any time, and as I pulled from ther dirt raod out onto the paved road I wipped out my cock and started to stroke my self thinking about the weekend I just had. I came all over my pickup seat and tried to clean it up with my fingers and licking them off.

I have a new out look on Blacks. I now look at them in lust and awe. They taught me a lot about man to man sex. And I wouldn’t have it any other way..

Another dull night laid ahead for Steve. He slumped in his chair like he did most weekends this late into the month, not a penny to his name. His weight pushing down on the seat the scrolled through the countless dating apps and sites he had signed up for months before hand, another night with bots and single mothers messaging him.

Not that he had minded, a few dates with some very nice women had ended *sometimes* in a sexual adventure but these were few and far between. Most had sought to milk him of all the money he had but that didn’t stop him looking.

‘Single mum, single mum, bot, obviously a man’

He poured through the matches, growing more and more depressed; then he noticed a new message.

‘Hey, I don’t normally do this. My names Barry Im 52 from Brighton. I usually pretend to be a woman to get the attention of other men, but I’m coming clean to a few people on here. I understand if you do not wish to talk, but I thought I would give this one shot before I leave the site for good’

Attached was one picture and one alone. A simple dick pic dominated the screen, and Steve could not shake the fact that it was a very large one. Steve quickly closed the message and went about his normal routine. He opened a new tab and typed in his choice of porn for the night and started to pleasure himself.

As the night went on every time he came close to finishing he would stop and click the first random link, amature went to lesbian, went to strap-on went to fem domme went to cuckold. His balls were aching through sheer pleasure but he wanted to carry on. With the next break he clicked, a simple video of a man jacking off in front of a camera. Steve’s cock twitching he began to slowly stroke his cock. His eyes flicking between the video and the dating site tab. He stopped and took hold of the mouse.

*Click*

‘Hi Barry, how are you?’

He sent the message and clicked back into the video, within seconds the other tab showed a new message. 

‘I’m well, you are the only person who has replied. I can understand if this is to say go away’

Steve sat there, cock in one hand contemplating what to do next, he opened the picture in a new window dragging it over to his second monitor screen and began to type one handed.

‘It’s ok, strange to see someone admit it without being caught out first’ he replied slowly stroking.

‘Yeah, I used to start all sweet and innocent, then become domme and get the guys to look at my cock pretending it was one I found to test them’

Steve was bemused by this but he replied:

‘Shame you didn’t do that with me lol I would have fallen for it without question’ he sent the message, it was true he would have done.

He sat there waiting for a reply, he started to think he should call it a night but something kept him locked on that site not moving. Seconds later another picture showed up, this time it was of his new friend but from below, obviously taken using a selfie stick it gave a point of view shot from below this towering man.

He was transfixed on the picture, scanning up from the muscular legs to the impressively long cock and big balls hanging down, just above a belly to rival Steve’s hung over the visually dominate cock. He couldn’t lie to himself, he was both in awe and aroused by this man.

‘Well, I can start to pretend now if you want I mean you know my secret so we can pretend, I can send you pictures of a woman, you delete every message before this and we start again you can even tell your friends we have met a few times and we have fucked but we can have some real fun, or I use another account’

Steve thought about this for a minute, turned on by this naughty little secret.

‘But, if you do, you have to tell me what you think of my cock’

Therein lie the deal breaker, he could exchange sexual messages just by saying something nice about this mans dick.

‘Fuck Barry, if I was there right now I would be trying to ram that beast as far down my mouth as possible’

With that Barry went silent, seconds later a new message from a new account ‘Hey its B, thanks for the date last night. Such a big cock’ the message ended with a winky face, obviously from Barry. It was a good ploy, a fresh account, a few generic profile pictures. Steve read the profile, it was obviously written to drive people away from messaging it by stating 3 kids and on benefits, Steve chuckled to himself.

‘That’s ok B, was my pleasure’

With that Steve’s phone went off, it was his friend Stuart

“Oioi Steve, just cashed in £900 at the casino mate, fancy a few beers?”

Who was he to turn down free beer? He messaged “B”

‘Hey, going into town with a few mates. Downloading the App now so we can talk more’

=====

Steve walked into town, the night life had been in full effect for some time, drunks sitting outside smoking and chatting rubbish, men picking fights over women and a smattering of younger drinkers trying to keep up. Pulling out his phone he checked his messages:

‘Hey Steve, can’t wait to have some fun tonight. B x’ a picture was attached of a curvy woman taking a selfie in a public toilet. Knowing full well that the person sending was a man, the thought of it all turned him on.

Steve smiled and caught his reflection in a shop window, he inoffensive cock pushing through his jeans, any passer by would have thought, if to look, it was just where his jeans road up. His bulbous belly pushing out and just above, his man breasts were easily visible. ‘Fuck sake I need to sort my life out’ he thought, knowing the only thing going for him were his baby face and his height.

“STEVE!” a familiar voice broke his train of thought, Steve looked over to see Stuart, a slim but muscular man a head shorter than Steve bounding up the road his short blonde hair bouncing as he ran.

“Forgot to tell you, we switched pubs! Back up we go”

The night went on, the beers flowed and the messages between Steve and “B” became more heated, Steve had shown the messages and pictures to his friends and received overwhelming praise for this ‘girl’.

‘So, wanna have some fun?’ The message sent a jolt through Steve’s body

‘Ok’

‘As you know I am looking for a threesome, after our last fuck you said you would try and arrange it for next week? Want you all to myself tonight’

Steve blushed, though it was all fake and he knew it the thought alone made him aroused. Stuart leaned over and looked at his phone and read the message.

“Jesus” he said quietly “She’s keen”

Steve smiled and replied

‘I can have a look for you’

Within second his phone chirped again with a reply

‘Don’t worry if you can’t, I know someone who is always up for a little fun but you need to be comfortable around a naked man, do you think you could be hun?’

‘I dunno, I can try’

Stuart got up and walked to the bar signalling Steve over to help. “Mate, you are one lucky bastard, shame it’s not another girl though” he laughed as Steve’s phone went off again.

‘How does this make you feel?’

Attached was the picture of the same cock he saw earlier, he tried to hide it but Stuart saw it but didn’t say a word.

‘It’s ok’

They got their drinks and Stuart lead the way to the smoking area, very quiet at that time of night as people started to make their way to other more lively pubs. They sat down on a bench and started to chat small talk, both obviously trying to hide the fact that they wanted to read the messages that were being sent to Steve’s phone almost every few seconds.

“Go on mate, read them. She is freaky as shit”

Steve nervously pulled out his phone and unlocked it, a stream of messages lay before him.

‘Well if you would rather have a friend I understand, it’s not easy to get it up in front of strangers and I want you both nice and hard’

The messages continued

‘Both pounding me hard and cumming deep, you never know you might get off on fucking my mouth or pussy when it’s full of another man’s cum I mean fuck, last night you sucked your cum out of me and it felt so good!’

Steve panicked, though all lies this wasn’t what he wanted his friend to read, but it was too late, Stuart had snatched the phone and re read the messages. “Holy shit, you’re both freaky” he chuckled as a new messaged popped into the chat

‘What about that friend of yours, the one who has a big cock?’

“Woah… what friend would that be Steve?” Stuart looked on as Steve began to shrink into his seat, he knew he had never said anything about another man’s cock but he saw what the fake account was trying to get him to admit, he was meant to reply with Barry’s name to bring the whole conversation back towards him but it was not working the way Barry had planned, unbeknownst to Barry that Stuart had the phone.

“Just a guy I work with, he was swinging it around in the toilet the other day like a jerk” Steve replied, Stuart handed back the phone laughing.

‘Well?’

“You could always introduce her to me Steve” Stuart said. They both locked eyes for a few seconds before their concentration was rocked by the door opening and their friends pouring out.

“Lads, we are heading down the road, you coming?” One of them shouted, Stuart replied “Will meet you down there soon we are having a heart to heart” with that he shot them a stern look almost to say “Steve is upset, go without us” and they did, the door shut behind them and they could see through the window the group of men leave through the front door.

======

Steve looked at Stuart “Are you sure?” he said, Stuart just nodded.

‘I have a friend with me who would be up for it’

‘How big is his dick?’

Steve showed the message to Stuart. “9 inches mate” he said with a smirk

‘9 inches, B’

‘Mmm very nice, much bigger than yours lol would that put you off?’

Steve looked up at Stuart again, he could see the smirk on his friends face getting more smug by the second.

‘Oh no, not at all’

‘Can you show me both of you together?’

Stuart grabbed the phone and took a selfie of them sitting together and sent it, Steve’s eyes were locked on his friends ever growing cock under his jeans.

‘Aww your friend looks cute, but I mean your cocks together lol’

Steve looked shocked but relieved at the message ‘like that would happen’ he thought to himself, but Stuart stood up and got Steve to stand with him “Come on”. They walked together back into the pub, Steve looked around the pub, there were only 3 people left in the pub and they were the bar staff casually chatting. Stuart pulled Steve into the disabled toilet and locked the door behind him just before pulling his jeans down exposing his erect cock.

“Come on Steve, a quick pic and we can move on”

Steve, filled with embarrassment pulled his jeans down to show his 5 inch cock fully hard. Stuart spun Steven around to face a full body mirror attached to the wall and snapped a selfie and quickly sent it, staring at his friends phone waiting for a reply.

‘Wow, I guess you are the friend then as you seem to be holding my babies phone’

‘Yes love’ Stuart replied

A few seconds past and a picture popped up of a curvy woman, the same one from all the other pictures but in a different pose.

‘This is me, I just noticed my baby is staring at your dick in that picture lol’

Stuart looked at the picture he sent and it was right, Steve had been looking. Stuart looked at Steve to find him staring still at his cock.

‘Yeah, he still is lol’ Stuart replied

‘Get him to hold it lol, need to make sure he’s comfortable with another cock around’

Stuart showed Steve the message, Steve’s hand slowly crept up and grabbed his friends cock as Stuart snapped another picture and sent it.

‘Ahaha so cute! Right I’m going for a shower, speak soon’

====

Steve and Stuart snuck out of the toilet without being seen and went to the bar. A bar maid approached them “Guys we are closing in soon so this will be your last” Stuart agreed and ordered 4 pints. “We will drink them in the beer garden and put the empties behind the door so you don’t need to wait for us” the barmaid nodded and took his money, change given the friends walked outside. They sat in silence for a few minutes, barely looking at each other. Waiting for the messages to start again. A harsh chirp cut the tension and Steve shot for his phone.

‘Baby, your friend seems nice. Can I get his number? Or do you both use kik? If you do will give you my username as would be easier than you both using one phone lol’

Stuart quickly downloaded the app as did Steve, within moments they were both on, Steve sent the message confirming that they both had kik installed and he received the username with a second message simply reading

‘Don’t worry, you’re mine.’

Within seconds of both of them adding “B” a group was formed between all 3 of them.

–Group Chat entered

B: “Hi Boys x”

Seconds later a picture popped up of the naked woman dripping wet from the shower

Stuart: Hi there, what’s your name?

B: Im Barbera but you can call me B for short

Stuart: Ok B

B: So, Steve baby, how did it feel holding that dick lol

Steve: Ok I suppose

Steve started to blush again, deep in his mind he could only picture Barry’s cock and Stuarts both in front of him. A feeling that was Alien but so natural.

B: It’s ok to like it baby. Tell mummy how big it was

Steve: It was massive

B: Not as big as the toy I used on you though lol

Stuart looked up at Steve with a puzzled look on his face before going back to his phone

Stuart: Lol what toy?

B: 12” strap on x Steve loved it deep in him, kept moaning someone’s name lol

Stuart: Lol? Really? 

B: Yeah, it’s ok though I wasn’t jealous when doing it, was cute to hear him moan a mans name

Stuart: OMG! Who? Lol

Steve: It wasn’t like that

B: He kept moaning “Barry” when it was in his mouth and Stuart when it was in his ass lol

Stuart: Ew! Lol oh well, I’m up for the threesome if you will have me

B: Depends, how controlling can you be. I was going to get my friend to help me dominate your friend lol

Steve felt his small cock pressing against his jeans, he felt so humiliated letting it go this far.

Stuart: I can be B, give me an example

B: Lol ok, for example if we were all together Steve was tied up little cock rock hard. What would you do to make me horny, I won’t judge x

Stuart started to type but Steve spoke up “Please mate, you don’t have to” he whimpered but Stuart looked at Steve “Is your cock hard?” Steve nodded “They we are doing this”

Stuart: I would make him suck my fat cock like a good little whore, all 9 inches deep in his mouth, ram it in so my balls smack against his face and cum in his mouth. But I wouldn’t stop there, I would keep going, let him make me hard again so I’m ready to fuck your juicy pussy.

B: Mummy likes a lot! 

Stuart: Daddy is happy about that x

B: So, mummy daddy and …? 

Stuart: Sissy, bitch, faggot any name you want to give him I will use.

B: How about out of sexual context, sissy or baby lol in sexual context faggot or bitch lol

Stuart: Fine by me Mummy

B: Well, we should begin training him lol. Daddy, would you fuck the faggot for Mummy?

Stuart: Hell yea, if I get a crack at Mummys sweet pussy I will

Seconds later “B” sent a video of a woman fingering herself.

Stuart: Oh fuck yes

B: Would you fuck him tonight?

Stuart: Yes Mummy, but you need to send me a video of you eating your juices.

Within a minute a video popped in. They both watched and listened to the woman fingering herself.

“Mmmm Stuart, your thick cock deep in me, filling me up and our little faggot cleaning me out, so hot”

Steve watched in confusion, how was Barry doing this? Was it a twist? Was the catfish thing a lie to get this attention? He sent B a direct message:

‘How are you doing that?’

‘It’s a surprise!’

==== Group Chat

B: Fuck him and film it, you can watch me finger and fuck whilst you train our new toy Daddy

Stuart stood up “come on Steve, we are going to mine”. They both walked out of the beer garden to the front of the pub and headed towards the center of town for a taxi. Stuart messaging back and forther privately to B before smirking and making a phone call. Steve took the opportunity to quiz Barry some more.

‘Seriously, who is that woman and how did you do that’

‘If you must know, I have been watching you for a while Steve, I’ve wanted to put you in your place and fuck you hard for months so I formed a pact with my younger sister who incidentally has been trying to get a date with your friend for some time. The fact that he offered himself up has made my life so much easier. Simple fact of the matter is, I have enough on you now to make you my bitch so you can’t chicken out. But you won’t be going to your friends house tonight, you will meet my sister with Stuart… and me’

Stuart kept trying to make a call before finally connecting. A brief chat and some giggling later he hung up. “Change of plan Steve, we are going to B’s house and I’m so fucking horny I might burst so your going to give me head in the back of the taxi” Steve looked at him shocked, his heart racing and cock rock hard he knew he would, he could picture it clearly in his mind. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice the Taxi pull up.

“You alright lads? Oh ello Steve”

Steve broke from his daydream and looked at the driver. His co worker sat in the driver’s seat smiling. Dan, an older man who had done nothing but make his work life hell for 4 years, now spoiling what Steve wanted to do, a weekend ruined because Steve forgot he was on duty that night. They both got into the car, Stuart gave the address and the car pulled off. Steve looked over at Stuart shaking his head as Stuart unzipped his jeans pulling out his rock hard cock.

“Hey taxi man, do you mind if my friend here just helps me with something?” Stuart panted stroking his big cock, Dan looked in his mirror and saw the cock on show “oh… you’re a bunch of….” Dan stopped himself before saying any more, Steve felt sick to his stomach as he saw Stuart trying on his phone, seconds later his own phone going off.

Stuart: Suck it, I film it, we both get freaky pussy tonight

Stuart leaned back, cock fully erect and in prime position for Steve and said to the driver “Oh no, I’m not gay *laughing* this faggot is though” as he pulled Steve down onto his throbbing cock, Steve struggled as his best friend moaned deeply. The laughter coming from the front seat turned Steve’s stomach but this new feeling was intense.

This was his first cock, he had dreamed a little about this before but he had never imagined how it tasted. Stuarts smooth skin on his cock gliding in and out of his mouth, Steve could feel it, his tongue could feel every vein, every bump on this cock slowly pushing in and pulling out of his mouth. 

Every thrust getting deeper, Steve could see his friends balls getting closer with each thrust, Stuart began to talk dirty but the second he called Steve a faggot again was it, he gave in to the feeling and put one hand on Stewart’s balls and the other started to jack his friend off whilst he face fucked him. 

The force of the cock made Steve gag, but he pushed through it, his hand leaving Stewart’s balls and unzipping his own jeans, pulling out his tiny dick he began to pump, it wasn’t long before Stuart’s body arched and shot his thick stream of cum down the back of his friends throat, the torrent of cum forced its way into Steve but it was too much, he started to sputter trying to pull his head back but Stuart wouldn’t allow it, that loss of control was enough to send Steve’s body into spasms as he too shot his load over his jeans and down the back of the drivers side seat.

As the moment of unadulterated pleasure came to a close the car stopped and Dan got out flinging the door open and dragging Steve out.

“YOU WILL PAY TO CLEAN THIS UP FAG”

The words burnt deep into him

“Not only that, you will do as I fucking say whenever I say it. I have you sucking that fags cock in my car and I will show people how pathetic you really are”

Steve started to panic as the older man grabbed him by the arm, Stuart slowly getting out of the car and zipping up his jeans watching the two go at it.

“Hey Steve, we are here. Tell your friend to come in and I’ll sort out the money.”

The house lights sprang to life as the door opened, the curvy woman from the pictures stood there phone in hand, dressing gown open exposing a g-string and nothing else, she watched bemused as the argument took place in the street. Giggling she looked down at her phone and played the video Stuart had sent her from start to finish before calling after the friends

“Hey boys, are you coming in or what?”

All three stopped and walked towards the house, entering and closing the door behind them.

========

As they walked in Steve could not help but notice a number of toys and outfits laid out neatly in the living room with a laptop open with pictures that he had sent from his phone early in the night. The mystery lady turned around and dropped her dressing gown to the floor, she looked at the three men standing in her hallway and walked towards Stuart

“You’re the one I want”

She took him by the hand and led him towards the stairs before turning to Dan and Steve

“Dan, if you make a mess, clean up and this is the last time I help you do this”

She smirked and lead Stuart up the stairs, the remaining pair in the hallway, sounds of things being knocked over and moaning already emanating from the upstairs bedroom.

“Strip”

Dan had his hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing softly

“I told you I have been watching you, didn’t think you would be so easily led astray though”

Dan took out his phone and opened up the gallery, 100s of pictures of Steve naked, wanking, cumming. All ones he had sent to girls online who had asked for them. Little did he know at the time it was large catfish to get him into this situation.

“Why” Steve said softly

“Because my dear faggot, a few months ago I was receiving messages from a lovely girl, I gave her pictures, videos and heck, even money. Imagine my surprise when a cocky little fat shit at work goes home for the day leaving his computer on, and the page he was looking at? The account details for that same woman I was speaking to”

Steve had always hoped he wouldn’t get caught catfishing but he never expected revenge.

“So here is how its going to go down ‘Sarah’ oh yes I remembered the name oh so very well, we are going to have a little fun tonight and when ever I say. But more importantly, we are going to make you a brand new profile for the site so everyone can see how pathetic you fucking are”.

End of part 1

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