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Chapter 5
From Ambush to Ritual Bondage
About a week had passed since that first, glorious, quick ambush. I was happier than I had ever been. Two guys had actually wanted me. Saw something attractive in me. They had gone to great lengths to ensnare me. I shivered involuntarily at the thought of that word "ensnare." A pleasurable trap, it had been. For two days, I had felt their fucks up my ass. But what really warmed me were the thoughtful gestures, the considerate words, the concern for my feelings. Utterly amazing. Every time I saw little Kenny in class, I loved the growing paternal sensibilities that he evoked in me. Oh, I was extremely cautious about keeping the previous dynamics between us the same. But a dam of pent-up feelings about him burst forth. Only once did I falter. The class had been writing a five-minute summary at the end of the class period, a summary about a short story we had discussed. I was studying Kenny, remembering the exciting fullness of his cock up my ass and the weight of his body on my back. I was smiling. He suddenly looked up at me, and a corresponding smile spread across his face. Before he looked back down at his paper, our eyes locked, remembering together.
I no longer walked the halls, looking for Robert and Kenny. It didn't seem wise. I was powerfully attracted to Robert's strength. He had clearly run the ambush. I knew enough not to intrude in that role. We had created stances for ourselves, but he was the stage manager. There was no impulse in me to change a thing or control the circumstances. How unlike me.
On Thursday morning, I had found a small white envelope on my desk with my name appearing on a computer-generated label. It contained a note that read simply "Tomorrow night!"
I heard someone entering the room. It was Susan Connolly, sans Troy Morgan, with whom she had begun keeping company, or her coterie of girl friends. Unusual. She was also there 15 minutes early. Something was afoot.
She sat at her desk, studying me as I was pulling folders for each class out of my attach‚ and rifling through them to organize their contents for the day's lessons.
I couldn't stand her scrutiny. It was making the hair on the back of my neck tingle. I liked that, but I was afraid she'd see one of any number of things I kept hidden away inside me. Finally, I just looked at her, asking, "What?"
She smiled warmly. "You've been on an emotional roller coaster these past few weeks, first your usual neutral self, then up, then down, and now way up. It's been a pleasure to observe you on the upswing, but not during the neutral times or down swings. You've spent too long not liking yourself.
Damn! How could she see so deeply into my soul? Tears sprang to my eyes, so I ducked my head. "What is wrong with you, Evan? Can't you control yourself anymore?" I thought.
"You're a tough teacher by nature because you care about us," she continued. "It's your way. Not everyone realizes that some of that toughness is cover. You are afraid people won't like you, so you build a wall of toughness so that you never have to risk finding out that someone dislikes you. But we like you, Mr. Halsey. Some of us even love you. Ease up on yourself."
I couldn't help it. Tears were running down my cheeks. I could count on the fingers of one hand-with fingers left over-the number of times in my life that I broke down in tears. Men did not do that in my family. I covered the bottom part of my face with my hand and squeezed my eyes shut to keep a sob from breaking out. I had to get out of there if I was going to hold it together. I grabbed a note pad and scribbled a message on it, pulled it off the pad, and reached into my pocket for a nickel. I handed them to her and powered out of the room. I heard laughter bubbling up out her throat as I headed for the restroom. I had written "Thank you, Lucy" on the paper.
I sped into the bathroom and into a stall, clanging the door shut. Fortunately, only one student was standing at the urinals, so he didn't see me. I just bowed my head against the wall of the stall as the tears came.
What was it with that amazing woman? I heard that interior voice, not snotty this time, explain, "To bond with people, Evan, you have to open yourself up. Susan touches you deeply somewhere inside, and you opened yourself up to that because, for some reason known only to your subconscious, you need it. Trust it. Go with it. It's a pure impulse. You thought only a man who loved her would feel her gifts conferred on him. But she just conferred a gift on you. Don't sully her gift by rejecting it. You're a stronger person than that."
I was still ashamed of myself for losing it, but she had given me a gift. For once I was going to be strong enough to accept it. I left the stall, stopping at a sink to splash water on my face, hoping that I had covered up my reaction. I got back to the classroom several minutes into the period, but, oddly, my students were visiting quietly among themselves. I had ducked my head down when I entered the room and kept it there, but I could see peripherally that they were all looking at me inquiringly. I just kept looking down as I started the lesson. I knew I couldn't do that all period, but I also knew that I couldn't look directly at them. So I kept moving my eyes along a line on the back wall just inches above their heads so that it would appear that I was looking at them.
"Oh, hell," I thought. "I'm probably not fooling them. When they want to, they can see the crack in the china. But maybe they'll go along with it and we can get through this hour."
As I dismissed the students at the end of the period, I stood with my hands on either side of a folder full of notes, my head down, as though I were preparing for the next class. My relief grew as I heard students moving out the door. But suddenly a soft, warm hand covered my left hand. Susan!
"Just so you know, Evan, I care," she said softly before walking away. I raised my head slightly, looking over the tops of my glasses. I noticed that Troy Morgan was watching us closely as he waited by the door for Susan. There was little Kenny, too, staring intently at me as Jarod Paine, Jeremy Wilder, LaKeisha Green, and Greg Dunwoodie looked on.
"Oh, no," I thought as I looked back at the folder.
That night I sat in my family room in a mush. I hadn't even pulled out the sketches or letter as had become my evening ritual after dinner and grading papers. I knew for a fact that I was not going to emerge from this period in my life unchanged. It wasn't that I was bothered by that fact. It was that circumstances had wrested my carefully constructed controlling mechanisms away from me. I was open, vulnerable, afraid.
I had studied authors who constructed a narrative persona like a veil that hid them from their reading audiences. They never allowed that veil to be pulled aside. So common was this that we had begun to regard the narrator of literature as a character worthy of every bit as much scrutiny and analysis as any of the other characters an author created for his short stories, novels, or poems. It was exciting, for it added a new dimension where one could experience and learn vicariously. Even though I was not an author, I was lamenting that my veil had been pulled aside. I was humbled that someone like Susan could pierce that veil so easily. I wondered how many others had done the same. Damn! I didn't want to be a walking book for anyone who cared to do so to read my "text."
One of those Joycean epiphanies flashed into my perceptual field: the controls I fashioned were really bonds more obdurate than the rope that had bound my hands during the ambush. Irony of ironies: I flashed on that lesson several days ago when I had students examining impressions and their ability to distort reality. My bonds had started with impressions of the way people would react if they really knew me, really saw into me. But Susan had seen right through my carefully constructed defenses without turning off on me. Could I trust that?
Well, I trusted Susan. I chuckled ruefully: Susan seemed to see into me so easily. Maybe I wasn't the well-constructed persona I had imagined. Humbling. Well, when wasn't a little humbling good for the soul.
But that was Susan. Perhaps she was unique in her acceptance. She certainly would not allow her impressions, probably carefully but skillfully reached, to be distorted by someone else. Not all people were Susan. I could tell that my ruminations had reached a stopping point.
Uncharacteristically, I didn't jerk off before sleep, fantasizing about my two captors as I had since the sketches, letter, and ambush. When I turned in, I imagined them on both sides of me, holding me close, protecting me and reassuring me. I was bothered by the fact that they were always attending me. I didn't really want to be the center of attention. I wanted to give as much as receive. I needed to do something for them. How can one do something for captors, I asked as I drifted off.
Surprisingly good spirits accompanied me the next morning, unburdened by the previous day's emotional events. I was actually looking forward to the day. "Well, of course," I heard the interior voice comment; you're going to be ambushed again tonight." Somehow, I didn't think the scenario would be the same this time. The tall one had indicated as much in his parting remarks: "We'll have special plans for you next time, Evan," he had promised. I finished breakfast and drove to the school.
I was humming a jiggy rhythm from Beethoven's "Leonore Overture" as I bounced along the walk to the school building when I spotted Jarod Paine ahead of me. As I reached him I put my hand on his shoulder: "Hey, Jarod. How's it going?"
He jumped at my little ambush, gave me a little smile, and quietly replied, "Oh, Hi Mr. H. Okay, I guess."
"You don't sound okay. You sound like a Gloomy Gus." I suddenly realized what was different. Jarod was always in the company of Valerie Cunningham, he looking proud to have such a cute, petite blond hanging onto his arm, she always smiling, proud to be connected with such a good-looking fellow. Valerie wasn't in any of my classes, but from the few times I had been around her, she seemed like a sharp, with-it person. I always thought it was a good match. Come to think of it, I wondered which of the two initiated the relationship. Valerie, I suspected. "Where's Valerie?" I popped off.
Jarod smiled wanly: "We're kind of on the outs now."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Why 'on the outs'?" I pressed.
"She doesn't know how to be with a man," he blurted out.
"How to be with a man?" I echoed.
"She doesn't know that a woman is supposed to follow the man's lead!" he responded with some vinegar.
"Follow the lead of the man?" I echoed again.
"Yeah, the man makes the decisions and the woman follows," he replied.
"Is that the kind of woman you want in a relationship?"
He looked puzzled. "What do you mean when you say 'the kind of woman'?"
"A trained pet who heels when her master commands. Or a woman who makes herself into a doormat, meekly allowing a guy to walk all over her."
"I don't know about the doormat part, but the man makes the decisions."
"The kind of woman you are describing won't be your equal. For a mutually rewarding relationship, you want the kind of woman who cares enough about you to challenge you to be your better self in every aspect of your life together-even in romance," I grinned wickedly. "Like everyone else, you need to grow and develop or you fall into a rut, become two-dimensional, dull."
"Hey, no woman has called me dull. Babes are happy with me-especially in bed."
"I hear they sell a fairly cheap, inflatable version of the kind of woman you are describing." He laughed for the first time in our conversation. "If a relationship is to move beyond that superficial puppy-love stage, both people need to be challenged in order to move into a deeper relationship. That's what a couple's first disagreement signals. It's not a bad thing. It's just life testing a couple to see if they want to commit to each other enough to resolve the issue and move to a higher level. And it happens repeatedly in a healthy relationship with each member challenging the other. If you follow your model for a relationship long enough, Valerie will become bored and go looking for someone better. And the next, smarter guy will connect with her in a way that does her justice.
I don't need someone to challenge me. I'm okay now."
"Even if your are 'okay now,' it's only for now, not the future. Besides, you seem to be telling me that Valerie isn't happy with the way things are going."
Perhaps our conversation had veered too close to what he himself had been thinking or fearing, for he changed tack. "What do you know about women? You ever been married?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes."
"You married now?" he asked.
"No."
"Doesn't sound like you know so much about what works with men and women."
" I learned something about what works with men and women the natural way, the way we humans learn most things-through failure."
"You telling me my problems with Valerie are my fault?"
"Oh, Jarod, fault isn't the issue here. I'm not putting you down. I'm just offering a different way for you to view your relationship with Valerie. You are certainly a strong enough individual to act on it positively for the benefit of both you and Valerie. Accept it or reject it. It's no skin off my teeth. But you'll be the loser. I have always thought Valerie was a vivacious woman well worth the attentions of a man wise enough to cultivate a relationship with her. You two look great together. You could make magic together. Why not jump in and let the dynamics between you two carry you further than you ever imagined? Paradise may be just over this little hill you two have reached."
He laughed, even blushing a little. Cute. We had reached the door to the building. As he opened the door and stood back for me to enter, I asked, "What is it with you, Paine? I just say hello and the next thing I know were having Life and Sex Education 101 out here on the sidewalk.
Again he laughed, punching me lightly on the shoulder. "I'm deep, Man. I challenged you to grow and develop, Mr. H. You didn't disappoint me."
I grinned; "Clever, Paine. You do know what a double-edged sword is. I always knew you had it in you. Get it? Sword in you? You lost the duel!" I chortled.
"Lame, Mr. H." he groaned.
"Well then, remember this: your best instincts are seldom those that serve only your point of view. Use your strengths to grow good things. See you in class."
As I moved through the foyer to the stairs going up to my second-floor classroom, I looked back through the glass doors, spotting Susan Connolly and Troy Morgan coming up the walk together. H-m-m-m-m. I smiled. Love is in the air, making couples everywhere. "Not for you, Evan," I heard the snotty voice observe.
"That snotty interior voice is the price you pay for allowing that smart-ass side of your personality develop," I thought to myself.
...........
After classes, I hung around my room, grading papers. I realized that I didn't really know what the script was, so I had better follow my previous timetable. After three hours, I called it quits, gathering my things and flipping off the lights.
I hadn't taken more than five steps down the hall when two people glided up behind me, each taking an arm. "Don't turn around, Evan. You know now that we're not going to hurt you. Just let us take you someplace for some fun." I did as they requested, looking straight ahead. While they moved me rapidly to the stairs, down the stairs and down the hallway leading to the gymnasium, I wasn't resisting at all. It was as though my body were moving faster than theirs.
We veered off into the exercise room I'd seen in my nightmare. They were wearing ski masks cut off just below the nose. They led me to the parallel bars where they quickly undressed me. Then they took ropes, which they bound around my wrists and then tied the ropes to the bar on one side of the apparatus, leaving some slack so that I could move forward and back a small distance. The tall one explained, "We want to be able to talk to you and have you answer us, and since you didn't cause us trouble last time, we think you won't be yelling out this time-well, not for help anyway," he chuckled. His levity seized the little one.
The short one disrobed and walked over to the bar facing me. His cock was already hard, swinging back and forth as he walked in that exciting way it does with an aroused man. My cock was hard too.
I was surprised when the tall one took ropes and bound the little fellow to the bar in a manner like mine. I liked looking at him. Only light from the hallway illuminated the room, but it was enough to see the dark hair in his pits and around his dick. His nipples were dark circles on his pale skin. His chest wasn't as flat as with some runners, for he had defined pecs. Though slim, his thighs curved slightly outward with muscle, and I had noticed earlier that his ass "pooched" out sexily. There was that fat dick I'd seen in the drawing.
"Your are beautiful, erotic, exciting," I told him softly. "Always remember that when you get down on yourself." He smiled. While the taller one was taking off his clothes, the shorter one leaned forward and kissed me softly. I leaned into him with desire. He suddenly pulled back, starting a duel with our erect dicks. I playfully joined in. At one point our crotches touched electrically. Our cocks were side by side while our balls touched. "Is there anything more excitingly warm than one ball sac touching another?" I asked him.
"Not many," he replied. "I like the feel of yours too." We held there.
The tall one chuckled yet again: "So the cubs like to play, huh?" He walked up facing our sides, studying us, grinning mischievously. "But the lion is the head of his pride now. He must establish his authority."
Suddenly, he playfully but sharply smacked the small one on his ass. The little one groaned appreciatively. Just as suddenly he smacked my ass. I gasped, not out of pain but out of surprise. A smack back to the little one. Then to me. These were not light slaps. They were gestures of authority. After eight of these, he leaned over and kissed the smaller one passionately, reaching around to run his hand gently over his warmed ass. "The lion displays his power to his pride to demonstrate his esteem for them," he explained. I was holding my breath, telling myself that he wouldn't replicate that behavior with me because, after all, they were boyfriends. Wrong! He turned to me and planted his warm lips on mine, sucking my lips slightly inside his, pulling back ever so slightly to stab his tongue into my mouth, all the while rubbing his hand over my warmed ass.
He smiled. "My cubs are hot tonight." The little one smiled at me, swinging his legs up and around my waist, sliding his dick up my stomach. His precum gave it a slick glide path, prompting a moan from him with my moan right behind his. The big one stuck his middle finger in my mouth. Without needing an order, I laved it with my tongue, getting it good and wet. He pulled it out and moved it into my crack to my pucker. He slid the long, hard finger gently into me, eliciting a long "Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h" of pleasure from me. Then he stuck the middle finger of his other hand into the small one's mouth, moving that hand under his ass and up his hole. His moan mirrored mine. While the little one continued to slide his cock up and down my hairy stomach, the tall one finger fucked us slowly, sliding his finger over our prostates every once in a while. Occasionally, he would take a nip at the little one's shoulder, then at mine. Then his nipple, then mine, always treating us equally.
"The cubs love the master of the pride," I couldn't help exclaiming. "The lion rampant," I chuckled, glancing at his long, hard dick, thinking of the gold lions on the flag of England, but with erect cocks sticking out (with due apologies to the Brits).
"Oh, yes," the little one joined. "How much longer will the lion withhold his 'rampant' dick?"
The tall one laughed. "The cubs have his cock rampant all right. The lion bares his fangs not to hurt or punish but to show the power in which he enfolds his cubs," he explained. "Your hot, tight pussies make me feel like the king of the jungle because I own those pussies. Right?" he asked.
The little one responded, "Always and forever."
"Right?" he asked me. I paused, old Evan, the teacher, the authority figure, the great controller suddenly and frustratingly asserting himself. The tall one sensed my holding back. "Evan, it's not a matter of age. It's a matter of desire, commitment, strength, and role. Though I am younger than you, you want a master, a protector. I can happily fill that role. We have chosen you to join us. We shall never harm you. I shall honor you as I do my little bud. I shall protect you as I do him, for when you give your assent, you are mine, equal to my little bud. In the classroom, you are the lion. But when we are together, you are my cub. He and I have already discussed this. He agrees, don't you little bud?"
"I suggested it, I chose it, I want it, Evan" the little one replied.
I was struck by the ritualism of our interaction. The mythologist, Joseph Campbell, would observe that we had reached a primal moment. We didn't need shelves of ancient texts to tell us about that moment. Our blood, masculinity, need, and desire pointed us at the moment. The darkened room, the ski masks, our bodies bound to the bars made it seem even more so.
Damn! This was hot! I could feel my precum anointing the small of the little one's back, making me shudder from time to time. He smiled, reacting to my anointing. I could feel tears moving down my cheeks. Had I ever thrown off the traces!
"Right?" the lion asked again.
"Right by conquest," I replied. His smile was quick; he was pleased by my reply.
"I have enough cock and cum to keep both my pussy cubs happy." I know I blushed again. He licked up the tears on the side of my face closest to him.
Suddenly, he popped his fingers out of our holes. Then he knelt behind the little one, sliding his hands gently up the sides of his ass up to his ribs, licking his ass, nibbling at his ass cheeks, and licking his hole. The tall one moaned: "Baby, your man smell turns me on. Always has. I am one of the luckiest men alive." The little one chuckled proudly.
"No wonder Kenny seems so happy," I thought. I couldn't help my reaction-again precum squirted out of my dick onto his back. The tall one wasn't even talking to me, but he could cause that kind of reaction. Total amazement on my part. Clearly, there was much I had to learn about the kind of power another man, even one younger than I, could have over me. I wasn't going to allow the point to intrude now, but I could tell that I would later think a lot about the pleasure that came with giving up power to the right man. No, to the right men, for little Kenny was clearly intending to occasionally assume a masterly role over me, and I was amazed that I welcomed it. Even better, I felt no jealousy, just happiness for Robert and Kenny.
The tall one came around behind me, putting his hands on my hips below the little one's legs, still clasped tightly around my waist. He leaned in and nipped my right ear lobe. I quickly drew in my breath. He chuckled. "You're easy to turn on, Evan. You have never had a real man's attention. Makes you a push-over. You're lucky we claimed you as our own. The wrong kind of guy could have hurt you 60 different ways."
"Wow!" I thought. He was right. I hadn't been wise closing myself off, insisting on control. I could put up all the barriers I wanted, but in a flash of intuition, I realized that barriers didn't automatically lessen my vulnerability or my need. How could I have been so foolish?
Suddenly, a scene from my undergraduate days flashed into my mind. One spring night a panty raid was staged on one of the women's dorms (dorms were like convents in those days: no men allowed!). The housemothers and RA's were barricading the front doors, protecting the virgins' virtue by keeping the men out while the virgins were hanging out four stories of windows flinging their panties down to the men. I chuckled about humankind's ageless sex drive.
The tall one asked, "What?"
I responded, "You're right and I've been so wrong."
He ran the back of his hand gently over my cheek. "But we find you a turn-on too, little Evan." The little one squeezed me tighter in his legs as though to underscore what the tall one had said. The tall one dropped behind me, licking up the inside of my thighs, nibbling on the bottoms of my ass cheeks while he caressed the upper cheeks with his gentle hands. I couldn't help it; I moaned again. Then he plunged his tongue into my crack right on my hole, earning a startled squeek from me. Pulling back, he said, "Always spicy, Cub. Makes my dick hard."
"But how can you love two of us equally?" I asked, feeling stupid and out of step with my question.
"My love is great. If you weren't worthy, I couldn't love you both equally."
"I can understand your loving the little one. He's beautiful, precious. If he gives his love to anyone, they will be enriched and empowered with that love."
He walked back to our sides. "Oh, I see-Evan, the Unworthy. Look into my eyes and heart, Evan. Do you doubt my feelings for you? For my little bud?"
I looked long and hard. We had been playing metaphorically and sexually, but I knew that this moment was the crux of our future together. It would either cement the ritualistic chemistry that had occurred or shatter it forever. How amazingly clear it all seemed. I remembered my exhortation to Beth Walker days earlier that she could leave the trenches where she felt my homework placed her to scale Halsey's battlements if she but changed her perspective. Ironies again. I was at that same point. They waited patiently. "No," I replied.
"Remember this moment, Evan. You chose us just as we chose you. Never revisit your doubt and misgivings again, for you will not only weaken the bond among the three of us, you will weaken yourself." I couldn't help it; I shuddered with the power of his insight, his wisdom, his protective hold over me." Again tears rolled down my cheeks.
"He accepts, Little Bud," the tall one spoke. He kissed me; then the little one strained forward to do the same.
"The bond is sealed," he said.
He walked around behind the little one. "Evan, I'm going to fuck my Little Love here. I need your help. Like you, he has thought he was not worth much. So like cubs. But you recognized the good in him. He trusts you. We're going to make love to him because we both care for him very much. Right, Evan?"
"Absolutely," I replied, ignoring the implicit message that I knew who they were. "He's the mythical Golden Child; he just doesn't recognize it."
The tall one retreated to their piles of clothing, returning with condoms and lube. He covered his dick with a condom and then lube. As he slid in the little one's ass, pushing him against me, Kenny-who was I kidding-joined his lips to mine. I pushed my tongue into little Kenny's mouth. He jerked with pleasure. I moved back. "Notice, Little One," I said, "how surrounded by love you are. You have to already have been good and true to excite the lust and love of men like us. Feel our love filling you," and I slid my tongue into his mouth as I rubbed our slippery cocks and balls together.
"Mercy, I thought; does it get any better than this?"
Robert leaned around Kenny and nipped his ear lobe. Then Robert and I moved our lips together. Oddly, with all our thrusting, no awkwardness existed. It was like a magical ballet. "No, primal dance," I thought. I noticed Robert began his Monster Pump; little Kenny moaned. I whispered in his ear, knowing Robert could hear me, "Kenny, so gifted that you can catch in just a few strokes the surface of life, someday your sketches will capture the inner realities of your subjects. The magic of your eye and heart. Let our master's power fill you." I felt Kenny's cum spurt on my stomach. He turned his head back for Robert's kiss. I was shivering with the bliss of it all. Kenny hung there, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
"You nearly drained me, Little One. But I promise you, Evan," said Robert, "that I have enough cum for you too," he stated as he slowly pulled out of Kenny's ass. Kenny slowly dropped his legs, wobbling a little as he stood. After a moment, he moved forward, pushing himself into his cum on my chest and stomach, plastering us together, while Robert changed condoms and lubed himself again.
As he walked around behind me, I tensed up. "Evan, put your legs around the Little One's waist as he did you. I grabbed the bars with my hands, swinging my legs up and around Kenny's waist. The heat and hardness of his body against my legs made me shoot out a little precum. "Evan, your shooting precum always tells me that you are enjoying yourself," Robert chuckled. I could feel his still hard cock nudge up against my hole. Gently but insistently, he slid into me. I shivered. Then he pulled nearly all the way out and slid back in again. I hadn't realized how the muscle around my hole derived pleasure from his cock sliding in and out and from his frenum pulling up against it. I could tell that he was moving toward his Monster Pump.
"Evan, I couldn't believe it when you started pointing out what was special in my writing in English last year," Kenny explained quietly. "That's why I fought to get your class this year. I couldn't get enough of your insights into me. I knew you wouldn't lie to me. You encouraged me to believe in myself. That's how I gained the courage to come onto Robert."
"You should have seen it, Evan," Robert continued pumping away. "The little cub just came up to me after a football game while I was walking back to the locker room, grabbed my helmet, and started singing my praises for my moves on the field that night. When he mentioned my strong body for the second time, I knew I was hearing from more than a fan. I took his cherry that night. Now I have added you to my harem. You both make me proud."
I was moaning, for the pleasure was near the breaking point. While Robert was talking, Kenny was kissing my eyes, my ears, my throat, my lips. Suddenly, it was like all the feelings coalesced into cum shooting out of me onto Kenny. As my ass clutched Robert's cock, he grunted, cumming too, biting my shoulder. I had never had an orgasm that powerful. I wasn't certain I could ever move again.
Robert pulled out, and released Kenny from his bonds. They moved to their clothes, dressing quickly. I waited patiently. When they were dressed and had gathered up their things, they returned to me, both standing so that our bodies touched. They began unbinding my wrists. "Our love-making has been intense, Evan. Soon your feelings will cycle down," Robert said softly. "They have to. Because of where you are now personally and because of the necessary circumstances, doubt and fear will set upon you. Just remember that we love you, you are ours, you are joined to us, you belong to us." He kissed me passionately on the lips. Kenny followed. "You okay?" Kenny asked.
"Oh, yes," I mumbled.
"Until next time," Robert promised.
(To be continued.)