Chapter 38: Climax
"Hi," I began, "I'm Mark."
Adam stared at me. I think he had expected me to say anything but that.
"I just figure we've never actually been formally introduced. I'm Mark and you're Adam."
"Nice to meet you," he said, dubiously.
"Nice to meet you, too," I echoed. "You're Adam, and you're a remarkably good person."
He laughed.
"Took you three weeks to figure that out?"
"Yes, actually, it did," I answered soberly. "That was one of the harder things for me to understand." Adam was looking more interested in what I was saying. I think he was reacting to the seriousness of my tone more than my words. "I had something of a breakthrough in the research. I think I understand what's going on now. In fact, I'm pretty sure of it."
"Yeah?" He answered with curiosity, but not, to my surprise, enthusiasm. "Okay, champ," he said, "tell me about myself."
"Well, let's see. I have a bunch of guesses I can make, but I think they're pretty sound ones."
"Shoot."
"You're an only child, or the youngest. Probably an only, though."
"True," he said.
"Only?"
"Only."
"You were very popular when you were growing up. Everyone wanted to be around you."
"True," he said, still unimpressed.
"But you didn't really have any friends. Lots of acquaintances, always the center of attention, but no one you felt was a real good friend."
The muscles on his jaw flexed. I had hit a nerve. "True," he said, after a beat.
"People always say that you do things to them or, more exactly, that you make them want things. But you don't feel like you do. That's to say, you don't feel like you're doing anything in particular when you're around them."
Adam stared at me intently, lips pursed, eyes slightly narrowed. I paused a moment, but when he didn't say anything, I went on.
"You don't feel like you're doing anything when you're around them because you've always felt like you were just reacting to them. You feel like they are the ones doing things."
We stared at each other as the reverberation of the sound of my voice died away. There was a light breeze. The sounds of branches swaying slightly mixed with the happy indications of frolic from the water. Adam was sizing me, looking into my soul again. I just looked back, waiting for him to see whatever he needed to see.
"True," he finally said. "My shrink has never gotten that. I keep trying to explain it to him, but he just doesn't get it."
I nodded. "It's hard to get," I said. "It's counterintuitive. That's one of the reasons it took me so long."
"Tell me something else," he said.
"You look incredibly hot in green silk."
He reached over and punched my chest, which rolled me onto my back. I grinned and recovered my original position. "Hell," I said, "it's not often I get your attention like this! The least you could do is allow me a little fun with it!"
He smiled.
"So tell you something else," I said. "Okay. You're a nice person. And you don't have to be. I don't think I'd be in your position. Someone taught you early on how to be good. You said, before, it was a decision. I didn't believe you at the time. Now I do."
He nodded.
"A teacher? A coach?"
"My dad. Both parents, actually. They're great people."
"I bet they are. Both very hard working, both devoted to you?"
He nodded again.
"And I'll tell you something else. What you do with people - it gets different reactions. And mostly you know what to do by the reaction you get."
"That's pretty good, Mark."
"Can you put it in your words?"
"Yeah," he said, and paused a moment to collect the thought. "It's like when I look at people I'm looking in a mirror, and the way I look tells me how to act. Does that make sense?"
He was unsure. He was, for a moment, normal.
"Yeah, Adam, it makes perfect sense. It does now, at least."
We looked at each other for a few seconds. He hadn't shaved that morning. The red glow of his cheek that had come out from the sun dissolved into a dark shadow of roguishness. His hand went to his stomach, and he began unconsciously stroking himself.
"And what do you see in the mirror now?" I asked.
"Satisfaction," he said.
I didn't know whether he meant he was satisfied with my work, or that he felt I was satisfied with myself.
Fifteen cold drips on my side broke the mood. Matt was standing over me, having run from the water.
"Heya, amigo."
Adam rolled onto his stomach, shut his eyes, and resumed tanning. The moment was over. He was distant again.
"Heya, bro."
"Dan's challenged you and him to a chicken fight with me and Shmu."
"He has, has he?"
"Yep."
"And what's on the line?" There was always something bet in these situations. I may not have understood the intricacies of gay political dynamics in the team setting, but I did understand that. The boys liked to bet on all competitions.
"You," Matt said, smiling.
"Huh?"
"You're the stakes."
I laughed. "Oh, do explain!"
"When we win, we get to get you for the night."
"That's a bad bet," said Adam. "You guys can't bet that." He had opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows at the first mention of the stakes. Adam, always to the rescue.
But I was wrong again. Adam was arguing the fairness of the bet, not the fairness of the stakes: "He can't be in it if he's the bet."
Shmu and Dan had left the water, and were walking up to join us.
"Adam says it's a bad bet," Matt called to the approaching boys.
"Why?" Shmu asked, arriving at our little spot on the beach.
"He says he can't be in it if he's the bet," Matt repeated.
"Ya don't bet whether or not the mouse is going to eat the cheese," Adam said. "The mouse always eats the cheese."
Before I had time to be offended, Shmu shot back with, "You do if you're betting whether or not the mouse is full."
"Naw," said Adam, "mice eat cheese. It's what they do. It wouldn't be fair. If you want to bet the mouse, you set the cats against each other."
Again, my offense was eclipsed by the thrill of what was shaping up.
"You and him?" Shmu asked, meaning Adam and Dan.
Dan smirked and nodded to Adam. Adam smirked and turned to Shmu. "It's a more interesting bet, don't you think?"
"So if you win?" Matt asked.
"No Mark,"Adam said.
"And when we win?"
"Me." Adam said.
I could actually see Matt's pupils dilate.
"That's a bet," Shmu said.
"Excuse me, but don't I get anything to say about this?" I asked indignantly. I could hear the crickets in the woods. Either the very thought that I might be interested in objecting was absurd or I had spontaneously grown a second head.
"Okay," Dan said, deciding, evidently, to ignore my silliness, "it's a bet."
Adam got up, and the four of them swaggered down to the water's edge.
Once in, Mark climbed up onto Shmu's shoulders and Adam onto Dan's. I had been curious as to which roles Adam and Dan would take, but their decision made sense. Dan was taller.
The battle began. Matt waged it fiercely, and the four athletes were evenly matched. Shmu put his team at an initial disadvantage by assuming he had to hold onto Matt's legs. Normally, this is the position the horse takes in a chicken fight, but the riders in this match were wizards at balancing. Both Adam and Matt wrapped their ankles securely around their steeds, and nothing was going to dislodge them. There are two avenues to victory in such a battle: unseat the rider, or trip the horse. The former was clearly not going to happen. Shmu soon realized that Matt was attached for good, and began to use his hands as Dan was.
A gymnast has the strange ability to move his shoulders and hips independently. When an Earth person twists his shoulders, his hips rotate a bit as well. But when a gymnast twists his shoulders, his hips stay perfectly centered. They have Slinkys for spines. Adam caught Matt's right hand in his, and began a series of feints. He pulled to the right then suddenly switched the direction of his force. Matt was not fooled. His arm gave way without his shoulders being affected. In a fit of delirium, once, I attended a mime class. The instructor was talking about body isolations. These boys did it as easily as I exhaled.
Meanwhile Dan and Shmu were jockeying for position. They were at close quarters, each trying to get a hold of the other's shoulders to topple him. Shmu got a good hit in, but Dan recovered readily and counterattacked by side-stepping and trying to use his hip as a fulcrum over which to lever Shmu to the water.
The gestalt of the scene was an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. Four stunning paragons of youthful masculinity fighting for the pleasure of a fuck. Two heads nestled firmly in the grip of four strong thighs, smooth golden skin dripping sparkling diamonds of fresh lake water under the bluest of mountain skies. Hands grabbed, gripped, groped. Shorts sagged revealing pale white cheeks.
I always laughed during a chicken fight. Not these boys. They battled in dead earnestness, stern concentration on their faces. Matt's expression was most striking, as, I think, the stakes were highest for him. He was happy with Shmu, of that I was sure, just as I was happy with Dan. But to know Adam was to want him, despite one's other satisfactions. You couldn't help it. Adam made you want things, not the least of which was him.
I wondered whom I wanted to win. Certainly, it would be lovely if the knights fighting for my honor prevailed. Fighting for my honor? Well, perhaps not - they seemed perfectly ready to sacrifice it should they lose. I wonder if it ever occurred to either Adam or Dan that they might lose? Maybe that was why they were so willing to bet - either they never lost, or they never thought they'd lose. On the other hand, I would be delighted for my new little bro if he and Shmu won. He should have an opportunity to be done by Adam. Everyone should. A reward for good living. There, on your deathbed, you float to the end of the bright light tunnel where you're greeted by St. Peter. "Yes," he says, "you've led a good and righteous life. Here are the keys to heaven. Take a left just down that hall and knock on the second door on the right. Adam's waiting to fuck you."
The tide of battle turned and turned again. Neither side could get clear advantage. Then Dan became devious. Slowly, he began to steer the combatants deeper into the water. After each engagement, they were two or three feet further from shore. Soon, the water level rose from Dan's solar plexus to his nipples, which is to say, from Shmu's nipples to his clavicles. Dan had an inch or two on Shmu. If he couldn't beat him, he could drown him. On and on they fought, farther and farther Dan lured Shmu into the deep water. Was Shmu cognizant of the trap into which he was being led? I wasn't sure. He gave no indications of disengagement, or the desire to get back toward shore.
By the time Shmu realized his predicament, the water was about his lips. Dan's chin still cleared the surface. Adam caught Matt's wrists and held on. With two good strides, they drew the doomed pair beyond the point where Shmu could breathe without jumping. And on the first hop for air, Dan pushed him over like a defective Weeble.
When both Matt and Shmu had again broken the surface, the laughter began. I know Matt was disappointed, and yet his joyous giggles bounced over the waves. The delight of a match among friends well-fought - even if lost - trumped the sense of could-have-beens. Shmu and Adam traded barbs about the next time and how much Shmu was going to enjoy sinking his dick into Adam when he won.
I walked down to the shore and waded into the water towards them. Its coolness was exhilarating. By the time I got to them, they had swum a little farther from shore, and were treading water.
"My heroes!"
"Don't feel too safe," said Shmu. "Next time, we do it with a ball. Then your ass is mine."
The banter continued, but I didn't pay attention. Dan had taken my ankles and was pushing me slowly back and forth, causing the water to rush over my shoulders. I had to concentrate on not bending at the waist so that no water went up my nose. It was a pleasant feeling, but only if I remained in the right position, which summed up, relatively well, the experience of being with Dan in general.
When we got back to the room, the boys dropped their suits and grabbed towels to take a shower.
"Not so fast, gentlemen," I said trying to sound like a displeased nun. They turned to look at me in surprise. How could personalities so commanding be housed behind faces that could become so adorable? "I believe my two knights deserve a reward for protecting my honor!"
"Protecting your honor?" Dan asked.
"Protecting his honor," Adam said to Dan. "He thinks we were protecting his honor. We weren't protecting your honor, champ."
"Protecting his honor. That's cute."
"We were keeping you from throwing the fight."
"Oh, ye of little faith!" I protested.
"I got faith," Dan said. "I got faith that you would be riding Sam like a fucking bronco."
"And that would make you jealous?" I asked.
"Not particularly," Dan said, smiling and refusing to rise to my bait, "but it would make you tired. And I'm gonna be the one that's gonna tire y'all out tonight."
We were in an unusual position. They were nude and I dressed. I don't think that had ever happened before.
"Still," I said, "I'm going to believe that you were fighting for my honor.
It's a bottom's prerogative. We get to paint you with all kinds of deep emotional motives you big dumb lugs are too stupid to have for yourselves. It makes us feel better."
They laughed.
"D'uuuuuh, jeeze, Danny-Bob," Adam said in a hillbilly-bubba voice, "I done think the boy's gone an' 'nsulted us!"
"Day-umn, Adam-Bob, ah think y'all might could be right! Course I don' know she-it 'bout such things, bein' such a lug an' all."
"Sucks bein' a lug, don' it?"
"That it sho-wa do, brother, that it sho-wa do."
"...And as such," I went on, ignoring their antics, "I'm going to reward my big brave knights with a gift."
They raised their eyebrows and mugged at each other.
"But I need your cooperation," I went on, dropping my suit to the floor.
"He's getting nekkid, Dan."
"You sure this is a gift for us, little man?"
"Don't make me hurt you." They giggled. I think Dan liked it when I did my impersonation of taking control. We both recognized it for the farce that it was, and it made him laugh.
"Adam, I want you on the floor here in a Russian split," I directed.
"I bet you do, champ."
"Don't be cute. Just do it."
Adam walked to the center of the room where I had indicated, got down on the floor and spread his legs to the sides in an effortless 180-degree split.
"Your point sucks for shit," Dan said.
"Yeah. I always had trouble with that," Adam agreed. "I used to kneel down and rock back on the tops of my feet when I was a kid to get them to stretch. Never helped much. Damn genes. Nothing I can do about it."
"You, there, please," I said to Dan, pointing to just in front of Adam, "also in a Russian split. Face to face."
"I'm not into kinky shit," Dan warned soberly. It took all of my will power not to burst out into laughter. The position I was indicating would bring Dan and Adam crotch to crotch on the floor. For Dan, beating the balls of his willing victim wasn't kinky. Touching Adam's dick with his was. It was a very new world I had entered.
"You'll like this."
He eyed me suspiciously.
"Do you trust me?" I asked.
Dan slowly lowered himself to the floor, brought his legs out into a split and waddled forward so that he was within inches of Adam. They both leaned back on their elbows. I went to get the bottle of oil from Dan's dresser. The boys always had safflower oil on hand. Rich as it was in vitamin E, they constantly massaged it into their shoulders, hands, feet and lateral obliques in an effort to counteract the drying properties of the resin they used and to prevent stretch marks. I coated my hands liberally and joined them in the center of the room.
"This is for my brave knights." Dropping to the floor myself, I took each of their soft dicks in my hands and began to coat them with the oil. They responded appropriately, slowly filling and elongating. It was a joy to feel them transform in my hands. Starting with the consistency and sponginess of risen dough, they soon began to resist bending, feeling more like putty or wet clay. While straight now, they were still squeezable until, shortly, they became rubberized night sticks, then iron, finally granite. The boys were at full mast, slicked and steely.
"Push a little closer together, please."
Dan didn't move, so Adam nudged up a bit. This brought their balls in contact and, as was my plan, made it so that when I lifted each of their dicks off their stomachs, they joined at the perpendicular, frenum to frenum to make one massive pole.
Such a sight they were! From their pointed toes to their massive, stretched thighs across their crotches and back out to their toes again was a perfect line of perfectly toned muscle. Dan's legs were hairier - his shins especially - but Adam's crotch was. Each bush ended in a tantalizing trail of hair which crossed a newly regenerated tan line onto the broad, flat plane of stomach. In this position, leaning back on elbows, thoraxes horizontal, the boys' six-packs were invisible. Instead, their skin creased at irregular intervals up to their more vertical rib cages. There, Dan again sprouted a small patch of hair between his pecs, while Adam's was limited to an almost unnoticeable ring around each areola. But it was their shoulders which, after their dicks, were most beautiful. Their full, symmetric roundness, their dense power, the way the skin stretched over them, how they ended in distinct nodes which blended into bone or buried under other muscles combined to leave the onlooker with an unnatural desire to touch them, to test their reality, to tactilely marvel at their existence.
They looked at me, waiting to see what I intended to do. I think they still both thought I was just going to give them a joint jacking. But I had greater plans. Instead, I got up and straddled them, one foot near Adam's left hip, the other near Dan's left hip. As they were facing each other, this put me diagonal to them with my ass directly over their crotches. I began to squat, reaching down under myself to pull their dicks, again, to vertical.
"My oh my, Dan." Adam said. "I think I know what the boy has in mind."
"Impossible," said my man.
"Mind over matter," I replied as Adam's crown made contact with my pucker. "Besides: no pain no gain."
Adam's big head slid in, but only a half inch or so. Very soon, and while my sphincter was still expanding from his crown, it met Dan's. There I was stopped. I pushed down but made no headway, as it were. My hole was full of Adam, and Dan's head pressed on the outside of the ring of muscle. I grunted in pain but bore down more heavily.
"You're not going to be able to do it, little man. It's okay. I appreciate the thought."
"Just give me time," I said. "I'm giving this to you. I want to do it."
After three or four minutes of relatively steady pressure, I had still not made any forward progress. By gripping both shafts with my oily hand and stroking them as I tried to lower myself down onto them, I was able to keep them hard and straight. But my anal ring was not relaxing, just getting bruised from the poking.
I tried a different tack. Lifting myself off the two of them, I let go of Dan's dick and placed the second knuckle of my bent forefinger along Adam's frenum. This brought the tip of my finger even with the top of his dick. I again lowered myself down, taking the assemblage inside me with only a little more difficulty than I had with Adam alone. Now I could use my finger as a lever, stretching myself open for Dan. With my other hand, I reached down and brought his dick up to my ass. I pulled my knuckle as far away from Adam's dick as I could, using my fingernail as a fulcrum, but it wasn't enough to slip Dan's dick in.
I was panting from the strain of the stretch and a drop of sweat fell from my nose directly into Dan's bellybutton. He watched me work. After another few minutes, my thighs gave way. What started as a tremble in the legs turned into a Parkinsonian shake as my quadriceps began to protest the continuous squat. I abandoned the effort again and stood up, shaking out my legs as I looked down at their dicks and tried to determine what my next approach would be.
"Maybe...maybe if..." My voice trailed off, and I considered further what to try.
"It's okay, Mark," Dan said. "Look at me." I looked into his beautiful ice blue eyes. "Y'all want to. That's enough for me."
"It's not enough, Dan," I said. "You've already taken me beyond so many limits I thought I had. I want to give you one all on my own. It's the only gift I have."
Dan smiled. "You are so clueless," he said.
"Huh?"
"Y'all think you have to do this. Y'all think you haven't given me a whole lot of gifts already. You have, little man. Plenty."
"Then one more. I want it. I want it for you."
"Give me a crack at it," Adam said. "Maybe I could help."
Adam directed Dan over to his bed, where he lay down on his back. Next, I was instructed to kneel over him, puppy style. My knees straddling his knees, my elbows at his shoulders, we were face to face with my ass in the air. Adam climbed onto the bed behind me and kicked my knees apart a little more, lowering my hips.
Dan reached up and brought my head down, my lips to his. His kisses were, as ever, insistent and demanding. But there was an element I had never noticed before. It was more than desire. It was more than mastery. It was more than control. It was fondness. Had it always been there?
As I marveled at the complexity of his kiss, a new sensation assaulted me from behind. Adam had bent over the back of the bed and was rimming my ass.
Voltage shot from my coccyx along my spine to where it arced out the front of me into Dan's mouth. Dan responded by ravaging me.
Dan liked to chew when he kissed. His jaw dropped and raised again in an undulating motion as if he were switching back and forth between singing the vowels ah and oo. As he did this, his tongue swept forward and back, fucking my mouth ferociously. Dan's tongue felt enormous. It was everywhere in me at once - my teeth, my alveolar ridge, my cheek, my soft palate.
Meanwhile, Adam's tongue was doing tricks a number of my friends would pay big money to learn. From laving my crack with the elixir of his spit, he slowly focused his attention on my pucker. It gaped in response to his lingual prodding, welcoming him in. He fluttered, he chewed, he inserted and began a muscular vibrato that sent shivers up my spine. Soon his two index fingers were in to the first knuckle, sandwiching his tongue. He pulled his fingers apart, diving deeper with his mouth. Then it was two fingers from each hand. Then it was up to the second knuckle. With each new stretch, his tongue covered the affected muscles with spit and tingles. I found myself moaning into Dan's mouth.
He kept up his ministrations for a good ten minutes. By the end, it was I who could take no more, not he who could give no more. After a particularly intense stretch, I lifted myself off of them and, in a voice so thick with desire and need I hardly recognized it as my own, told them that I was ready. I got up and reached for the oil.
The boys took their position again, crotch to crotch. This time Dan's skepticism was gone and he readily inched forward until the insides of their thighs touched. This was as intimate as he had ever been with Adam. This was probably as intimate as he ever would be with him. That was the gift I was giving them. The double fuck joined them inside me as partners, as equals.
I poured the oil over them and rubbed it in. Stepping over the assemblage of crotches, I took my position. Dan was in front of me and to my right, Adam behind and to the left. I squatted down.
Lifting their two large clubs together, I inched into position, making sure they were pointed firmly at my hole. Again, Adam's made first contact, but rather than slipping it in until I felt Dan's, I pushed out as if I were taking a son-of-a-bitch crap and plunged downward with force and speed. Adam's head popped in, as did, shortly thereafter, Dan's.
The pain was just shy of unbearable and I froze as soon as Dan's crown cleared my ass ring. Five seconds later, some neuron deep in my limbic system reminded me to breathe. I began to push air out of my pursed lips, like a diver about to go deep without tanks. The wave of pain did not readily subside. I continued to bear down from the inside, willing myself to relax and accept the stretch. I switched to panting in shallow Lamazian breaths. Sweat began appearing on my brow.
Dan looked on with concern. I made eye contact with him, determined to lose myself in the blue rings of ice. It helped. There was a story to read in them that helped to take my mind off the fire below. The concern was caring. The concern was a desire that I not try to go further than I could safely go. I was his, and he didn't want me damaged. I grinned as the initial wave of pain finally ebbed.
He nodded slightly at me, seeing that I was okay. Go on, little man, he was saying with his eyes. If you think you can do this, you may. I sank an inch. New stretch, new pain. New pain, but different. The worst of it was over - having expanded my anal ring, the rest was, comparatively, the creamy filling of the cake.
Another inch. I was panting again, pushing the air out through tight lips to try to force more oxygen into my lungs. I had a hand below me on each of the boys' hips now, helping me stay up so that the pressure was not entirely on my thighs as I squatted. Another inch. I found if I bobbed a little, it helped. Up three-quarters of an inch, down an inch more. Up three-quarters, down one. In this manner, slowly, painfully, inexorably, I made my way along their two slick, giant poles.
When I got beyond half way, the curve in Adam's dick made his head want to pull away from Dan's deep within me. A new pain to deal with. This was a stretch I had never encountered before. I was okay with the forced relaxation of voluntary muscle. That was what getting fucked was all about, and I was, to say the least, well-practiced at it. But this was a stretch of the smooth muscle deep within my gut - the ones responsible for peristaltic motion. I had no control over them, and the pain at their stretching was something new and difficult to describe.
But that pain paled in comparison to what was happening at my asshole as I inched down the final third of their dicks. This was where they became thickest, and the combined girth was breathtakingly difficult to manage. I was grunting now, making involuntary vocalizations as my short, sharp pants pushed through my lips. Women dealt with this process, but in reverse. They had lives come out of them. I was putting life in.
Finally - how long had it been? I had no idea - the reward. I could feel the scratchiness of their bushes against my ass cheeks. I had taken Dan and Adam to the hilt - together and as one, as they belonged.
It took me another minute just to relax my quadriceps as I came to rest on them. I was finding that I had to concentrate completely on each muscle before it would respond. I was tense from head to toe in the effort to relax.
"Whoa," said Dan. "You feel that?"
"Yeah," said Adam. "Pretty intense, huh?"
By the third grunting pant, I was able to vocalize the syllable, "What?"
"I can feel your heart beating."
"Me too," said Adam. "From the inside. Can feel it thumping."
I put a hand on my abdomen, sure that I could feel the knobs of their dicks if I pressed my lower belly. But I couldn't. They were pointed up me, not through me. I smiled at the idea that I should rather have stuck my fingers in my mouth just past my uvula to catch hold of them.
"Check this out," Adam said, and I was soon treated to a new trick. Adam clenched the muscles he used to bob his dick. This forced a thimbleful more of blood into his already tremendous erection. Both Dan and I felt the flex as his girth swelled by the least perceptible amount.
"Whoa," Dan said, as I grunted. "What are you doing?"
"Clamp down like you really have to pee bad but can't," Adam said. Adam's dick returned to its normal enormity while Dan's twitched.
"There ya go," Adam said while I grunted again. They were pressed so closely together inside me, they could feel the most minor of movements in each other. They took turns flexing and releasing in alternating rhythm.
"That's pretty cool," Dan said.
"Yeah," Adam agreed.
"I think we can actually fuck him like this," Adam said, rotating his hips just a little to test the range of motion he had in that position.
"Just be careful with him," Dan said.
I loved that they were talking to each other while they explored this position which was, clearly, new to both of them. I loved that the first truly new experience they shared as equals, as fellow explorers, was made possible by my willingness to help and ability to do so. I loved that Dan was concerned for me, and had the presence of mind to warn Adam. My safety came before his fellow Alpha's pleasure. That was one of Dan's gifts to me.
"Lift up a little, little man." Both boys brought their hands to my cheeks, Dan's from the front, Adam's from the back, and helped hoist me about two inches from the bases of their cocks. I still had to concentrate on my breathing. Without their support, I don't think I could have lifted myself. Using muscles I couldn't even point to on a chart, Adam found a way, in that position, to rotate his hips up off the ground enough to slide in the remaining inches. I think what he was doing was something like a stomach crunch. What I know for sure was that he was filling me again, and that his head had passed Dan's inside me, finding a new depth to explore. Slowly, he rotated out and Dan copied the maneuver, pushing deep.
This became the pattern. In and of itself, it was a gentle fuck - the strokes were no more than three inches from nadir to zenith. But for each of us, to characterize it that way was absurd. For my part, even that much motion was more, almost, than I could bear. How many times had I cringed at hearing the word 'episiotomy'? And each time, the woman had rolled her eyes and said, "You don't feel it. It ends up being a relief." I finally understood. As one of them retracted, the other pushed in. Their heads met so deep within me that if you had asked me to point where they were, I would have indicated somewhere around my left nipple. And when they met, the stretch was unreal. Were it not for Adam's tingle permeating me, calming me, I don't think I could have done it.
For their parts, their dicks were in a tighter tunnel than they had ever before experienced: warm, wet and pulsating with my heartbeat. They were squeezed together with such force that movement - even the slight back and forth motion they had engineered - generated heat from friction. Their foreskins fully retracted, their frena, packed so closely together, massaged each other to new heights of sensitivity. Soon they were breathing as shallowly as I was, though for different reasons.
And Dan got an added advantage. I watched him watch me intently, seeing my look of pain and determination reflected in the bliss of his expression. He was mouthing words, but I couldn't make out whether he was trying to say something, or just taken as fully with the intensity of the moment as I was.
All too quickly, the boys began to increase the pace of their see-saw fuck.
Marshaling whatever reserves of strength I had left, I added a new effect: I began to bounce in my squat, lifting an inch before letting go and plummeting back down. It was nothing in terms of absolute motion, but given the circumstances, it was quite enough. The two boys began moaning, oblivious to what they sounded like, or the impression they would make each on the other.
I had finally been able to return Dan's and Adam's favor. Together they had worked me to the point where I could lose myself in them. What emerged was, paradoxically, not less of a person but more. And there, fucking them together, taking each of their impossibly large dicks up my ass in a maneuver so impossible the Kama Sutra had not even devoted a page to it, I had brought them to that same point of senselessness to which they had brought me. In front of me, Dan's eyes were rolled back and his head hung backward from his shoulders slack-jawed as a steady growl emanated from deep within. His stomach was tense now, washboard protruding, as his hips jerked his dick in and out of me in a rhythm beyond his control. Behind me, Adam had a series of expletives pouring out of him like water from Aquarius' jug.
He, too, was jabbing without reason, thrilling at the completeness of the sensuality of the experience.
I raised up as far as I could one last time - farther than I had ever before - and fell on them heavily with a grunting scream. As my legs gave out from exhaustion, one of them began to shoot. His bucking brought the other over the edge, and within seconds of my falling on them, my two men were joining me in howls of release. They each, quite involuntarily, I'm prone to believe, rotated in to bury themselves as deeply as they could for their orgasms. I was lifted off the ground as they ground into me. Dan's stomach muscles spasmed and twitched below me. Adam finally found his point. Wave after wave of their cum washed into me and in an act of transubstantiation no priest could sanctify, their flesh became mine.
When it was over, I could not move. Gently, tenderly, Dan rotated out of me then drew me forward in his arms as Adam withdrew with a plop. Dan lifted me up onto the bed and, joining me, held me in his arms while Adam, exhausted, retreated to his own bed.
It was a half-hour before any of us spoke. It was finally me who did.
"How could I have been so wrong about you at the beginning?" I asked of Adam. "How could I have been so wrong about me?"
Adam shrugged his shoulders without opening his eyes.
"It's easy to misread people when we're too sure of ourselves," he said.
"What?" I asked, stunned.
"I said it's easy to misread people when we're too sure of ourselves," Adam repeated lazily.
I broke free of Dan and sat up on my elbows.
"What, little man?" Dan asked, concern in his voice.
He didn't have to tell me - I could feel myself having gone white.
"Adam," I said, mouth dry and voice trembling, "how did I come to be here?"
"I told you. I convinced Johnston to get you."
"Yeah, I know. But why me?"
"I had heard you were doing some research that could help me. You know, help me find some answers."
"You'd heard?"
Adam had opened his eyes and was looking at me guardedly. Dan, too, was sitting up now, trying to understand what had so upset me.
"Yeah," Adam said, "I'd heard."
"And how did you know I was gay? And submissive, to boot?"
"I can tell that just by looking at you. You know that," he said warily.
"Yeah, Adam, I do know that," I said. "But you told Matt that I was gay on the bus here. He said you told everyone before you even got to camp. And you were working to fix me up with Dan from the second I arrived. How did you know before we even met?"
He looked at me in silence. His jaw flexed. A beat passed.
"Adam," I said, "when a grad student does research, what do you think he does with it?"
He shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "Turns it in and gets an A?"
"No, Adam," I said. "He publishes it. He publishes it for the world to see. And you know who gets the credit for it?"
He stared at me in silence.
"Mostly his advisor," I said. "His advisor gets most of the credit."
Adam frowned.