Black and White

All Disclaimers

BLACK AND WHITE

Chapter 41

"Hey," came a whisper from the doorway, "Wanna see Clay and Linc fuck?" The grin on Josh's face was contagious. Dave and I looked at each other and smiled lasciviously. Rushing from the bed, we joined Josh in a quiet race to our hosts' bedroom at the other end of the house.

The door to their bedroom was ajar about five inches. Josh stepped aside, probably having seen my uncle's mating with Linc before. I leaned into the gap between the door and frame with Dave leaning over my shoulder. Giving him a better view, I bent my knees slightly, allowing him to look over my head.

Linc's back was to us, his big, black cock spreading Uncle Clay's hungry butthole in long, deep strokes. "You loved Dave's big dick up Mike's ass, didn't ya, Poon?" Linc whispered sexily. "You love big dick in your hole as much as your nephew does." Dave leaned closer, kissing my neck. I could feel the object of Uncle Clay's lust rising against my right leg, then centering at my perineum. With lube still plentiful around my back door, I knew where this was going.

Josh moved in front of me and swallowed my expanding dick. He knew I'd be ready to spill another load if Dave started fucking me, again. Because I'm a visual person, turned on by porno videos and magazines, cumming again was a certainty as I watched Linc and Uncle Clay coupling.

Dave centered his thick cock on my lubed pucker and pushed as Clay rumbled, "Fuck me, Linc! I want your big dick as far up my ass as Dave's was up Mike's. I want your black babies DEEP in my ass!" I arched my back and pushed back into Dave, begging for more inches. Josh sucked with quiet determination on my tumescent weapon, sure to get my boiling seed. Linc leaned in, kissing Clay passionately, their mating going to warp speed. Clay's white hands were glued to Linc's mahogany ass urging his partner to fuck him hard, deep, and FASTER!

Linc broke the kiss. "Fuckin' cummin' in your ass, Poon!" His body quivered and shook as his climax crashed and roared over him. Clay responded with unintelligible, staccato, "Ung! Ung!"

"Ah, FUCK!" Clay muttered, bucking beneath his partner. His climax began as Linc's ebbed. With both of his hands on Linc's ass, Clay must have cum without either of them touching his dick. After 20 years of lovemaking, they knew how to hit all the right buttons.

Dave hit my last button when Uncle Clay shouted out his last words and I spray my load hard into Josh's sucking mouth. He drank me greedily. Dave slammed into me in short, deep strokes, then, blasted out hot cum up my needy butt. My squeezing climax spasms had some part in getting his second load of the morning.

Before discovery was inevitable, I broke away from our three- way and silently stole away back to our bedroom. Dave and Josh followed. Josh pushed Dave on to the bed and devoured Dave's still draining dick. That lad did enjoy cum.

As Dave didn't look to be in any danger (as if he ever were with Josh sucking on his cock), I went into our bathroom and started the shower. Within a few seconds, Dave and Josh joined me. "How about if I eat Dave's cum out of your ass, Mike, while Dave sucks the cum out of my dick?" Josh suggested. Dave and I could only laugh. Butt pig was Josh's new name. No question about that! We agreed, finishing our showers ten minutes later.

When Josh handed me a towel, he said, "You know, Clay and Linc were watching you two guys fuck this morning from the doorway. I caught them at it, but didn't let them know I knew. Clay had harpooned Linc as you two were really getting into the last deep strokes and nearly ready to cum. I couldn't see what you were doing, but they sure got off on it. After you came, Dave, they slipped back to their room. I knew they'd be fucking soon, but they took it leisurely. Lots of hugs and kisses and a fast 69 before Linc started fucking Clay. I knew there was time to get back to your room to see if you wanted to watch. I thought we'd get back in time as they usually take a long time to get their rocks off when fucking. They sure do love burying the bone."

Dave and I smiled. It wasn't the first time our lovemaking had been observed. But, it hadn't really occurred to me that Uncle Clay and Linc were just a couple of dirty old voyeurs like us who enjoyed watching a good man-to-man coupling. Dave said to Josh, "And why not? That's what a sound relationship is all about. Sex is a manifestation and a renewal of their love."

"That's what I want, too," Josh sighed. "I want what you and Mike have, and what Clay and Linc have after all these years. I'm a hopeless romantic."

"And a butt pig," I grinned.

"Yeah," Josh sighed. "Pretty pathetic, ain't it? Hot butts really turn me on."

"Whatever makes you happy, Josh," I said. "There's someone out there for you who enjoys it as much as you do."

Dave added, "And you have a lot of years to find that perfect man. Linc and Clay were in their mid-20's before they got together and Mike and I were in our 30's. You're only 20. Give yourself a chance. It'll happen."

We joined Clay and Linc downstairs in the kitchen. Clay was working on making biscuits and Linc on a tasty-looking mix that looked like home fries and fresh, chunked vegetables. "What kinda omelets you boys want?" Clay asked.

"What are you offering?" I replied.

"Just about anything," he smiled. "Josh will be fixing them, anyway. He's the only one around here who can do omelets right. I manage to make scrabbled eggs whenever I try it."

We put in our orders and offered to help out in any way possible. Linc suggested that we set the table (with appropriate directions on where to find everything).

After we consumed breakfast, I help Uncle Clay in the kitchen with the cleanup. "If we'd known we had an audience, we'd have really performed for you this morning," I quietly mumbled in his direction.

Clay looked over at me and smiled. "Just a couple of dirty old men, watching a couple of buff guys making love," he said without looking up. "Besides, the natural way you guys do it would have been less spontaneous if you'd known we were watching. You remind us of ourselves from several years ago. Thank you."

I was trying to be upset with him. He'd been spying on our most intimate moments without permission. It wasn't like we hadn't fucked in front of other men before. And he was family! It was embarrassing. But, after his confession and his gratitude, I could only smile and say, "You're welcome." I paused, wondering if I should reveal our spying. I decided not to. This was his moment to remember his past, and I shouldn't be intruding on that.

"By the way," Clay said, finally looking up at me, "we've been invited to a New Year's Eve party tonight. Well, it's really this afternoon. It is one of the managers at Mandalay Bay who has one every year. It's always fun, and he celebrates it at midnight, Greenwich Mean Time (that means 4 p.m. local time, New Year's Eve). That way, more people can come and he can go to bed early.

I laughed. But, upon reflection, I decided it was a good idea. Fewer drunks on the road after midnight, and you don't have to fight with other friends who want to throw a New Year's Eve party, too. Attendance would probably be quite high, and very few, if any, would arrive drunk at your party.

"Besides," Clay added, "he always has something special to drink to toast in the New Year. Last year, he served up some vintage Dom Perignon at midnight, GMT. This year will probably be something just as special. He has a lovely home, a very attractive trophy wife (who loves gay men), and invites only the nicest people. There are never the snooty society page folks there, nor are the A-list faggots (as you call them) invited. If you have attitude, you aren't invited again.

"Dave and I were wondering if you were going to be celebrating a quiet New Year's at home or you had some casino event that you had to attend," I revealed. "But, this party does sound like it has potential."

"We've been invited several years running. I asked the hostess if she had any problem with you boys tagging along," Clay grinned. "Of course, when I mentioned that you are a handsome, mixed gay couple like us, she was falling all over herself to include you."

"Nice to know that we have at least one fan at the party," I laughed. "Does it include a pretty mixed bunch of straights and gays?"

"Probably half and half, I'd guess. A nice crowd of people, nearly all are well traveled and well read. I've had fascinating conversations with several of them over the years. And there are a number of single gay men there who are always looking to get laid," Clay leered. "We've been hit on several times by them."

"Worthwhile?"

"If I were single or we had an open relationship, oh, YES!"

"I'll be sure to mention this to Dave," I beamed.

"You needn't worry, Mike. Your dance card will be overflowing before you've been there an hour."

"And what's the drag?"

Clay looked at me perplexed, then understood. "Oh, there's a theme each year. This year is Hawaiian. So, did you bring any Hawaiian shirts and shorts?"

"This is the dead of winter, and even in Las Vegas, it isn't that warm."

"Not to worry," Uncle Clay soothed. "Linc and I have enough of each to clothe you both. The only concern is the shorts. You guys are slimmer than Linc and I. I don't think we have anything here that will fit you like it should. But, the shirts are all big and full cut, so even you studs should be able to wiggle into those. Go get Dave and bring him into our bedroom. We'll do a quick fitting, just to be sure."

I located Dave in the sunroom and told him of the party this afternoon as well as the dress standard. Linc knew of the theme and came with us to find something more fun in his closet than "stuffy old Clay's casts off."

Linc's Hawaiian shirts were more fashionable, but Clay's were so funky and dated that they were kewl. Dave and I agreed on our shirts immediately. When I told him we'd have to go shopping for shorts, he suggested we needed to get some sandals, too, to complete the theme. "Do you have any tacky, plastic lei's, too?" Dave asked.

Clay laughed. "Of course, we do. Some really gaudy ones!"

"Well, if we find more while shopping, we'll bring them along, too," Dave promised.

With the party starting at 3 p.m., we promised to be back no later than 2 p.m. That left us three hours to shop. As Uncle Clay didn't need the car (or if he did, he could borrow Linc's), we took the Lexus. Linc and Clay had suggested several places to try for shorts, sandals, and tacky Hawaiian wear. With map, directions, and store names in hand, we began shopping.

The first two stores were a bust. The merchandise was nothing interesting, and sales staff was unhelpful. The third store was known for the gay clientele and friendly staff. Linc had warned us about a hot red head there. He hit on nearly everyone. We strode through the doors and wandered into the men's department. The music in the background was a strange mix of techno-pop and old disco. I liked it. And it didn't intrude on conversation. Other stores should pay more attention to the volume level like this one did.

As we pawed through the walking shorts on a circular rack, a strikingly handsome, dark-haired man with a bold, dark moustache (like Glen Hughes of the Village People (the leather guy)) smiled over at us. I caught his eye and he smiled even bigger. He stopped arranging shirts on a table and came over. His nametag said Mike. That made me smile, again.

"May I help you gentlemen with your selection?" he said in a sexy voice.

Without looking up, Dave said, "We need to try these on to be sure that they'll fit."

"Certainly," Mike said. "European brands and even some American brands are inconsistent in their sizing. You both look like 32's. Did you have a particular color in mind?"

Dave finally looked up from his selections. His stunned silence was almost funny. I thought the guy was handsome, but Dave nearly wet his pants! Their eyes locked. Mike smiled broadly. Dave only stared.

"Earth to Dave, Earth to Dave," I laughed. He snapped out of it with a sheepish grin. "We'll try these," I said to the sales clerk, "if you'll direct us to the changing rooms, that is."

"Sure," Mike, the sales person said. "Right this way." He led us to the back of the men's department to an alcove. On either side of the archway was a set of what looked like saloon doors. It provided privacy for your private parts, but allowed us to look over the top. As they were spacious, we used the same changing room.

Before we'd begun to change, Dave said, "That guy is so fuckin' gorgeous. I felt like such a fool just staring at him."

"He is awfully easy on the eyes," I agreed. "Wanna try to get him in here for some fun?" Dave's smile told me the answer. "Pull off your pants and make like you are putting on the new ones. I'll do the same." He knew instantly what I was going to do.

"Mike? Could you help me out with this?" I called. In less than ten seconds, the handsome sales clerk was outside the changing room. He peered over the door. "This seems to be too big and I can't seem to get it to fit," I smiled as I went down on Dave's expanding cock. I pulled back after a couple of attempts at deep throating him. "See what I mean? Think you could help us out?"

Without saying a word, Mike pushed aside the doors, got on his knees and started sucking on Dave's dick. "I see what you mean," he said. "It is pretty big. Have you tried this?" The randy sales clerk opened his mouth wider and slipped Dave's 11" of hard cock even deeper than the first time. But, he also had the same results. He couldn't quite get it all down his throat. He pulled off. "I think I have the perfect solution. I'll be right back," he grinned.

I couldn't see what he was doing, but it sounded like he was rummaging through the sales desk. He returned beaming. "If it won't fit that way, let's try it this way," he suggested. His pants hit the floor, he turned around (having handed Dave a condom and lube), and bent over. "Try it this way. I'm sure it'll fit." In one smooth motion, Dave's mahogany pole slid into Mike's hungry asshole. With a loud sigh, Mike said, "That feels much better now. And why don't you see if yours will fit this way," he added motioning to me to get in front of him and fuck his face.

My precum-slicked dickhead barreled through his lips, followed by several inches of thick shaft. His tongue encouraged me to go deeper; his fingers on my boiling nuts pulled me closer to his face. In tandem, Dave and I fucked him slowly, deeply. The moans of pleasure encouraged us to go deeper and increase our speed. I leaned over his back and kissed Dave on the lips. His passionate response caused my cock to rocket down Mike's throat and jerk. If that happened more than a couple more times, our friendly sale clerk would be drinking my load, not tasting it.

Dave had reached beneath Mike and fondled his hard dick. "Nice one," he smiled as he rammed hard into our new friend. "I'll bet these big nuts hold a big load, too."

Mike swallowed my dick again, but moaned his agreement with Dave. "You do that again," I warned, "and you'll have my cum in your stomach, not your mouth."

As if challenged, Mike pulled my ass hard into his face, forcing my leaking dick deep into his throat. I jerked and thrust involuntarily. As promised, my nuts began to unload their ball honey in long squirts. I held on to Dave to keep from toppling over with each new climax wave. Mike was getting every ounce of my first four shots of daddy cream before he pulled off and tasted the last squirts and dribbles.

My sensitive dick made me push Mike away. He stood up in front of Dave, being nearly lifted off the floor with each thrust up his ass. His waving dick slapped against his abs, then his legs. Falling to my knees, I captured his wayward phallus at the moment it started to unload. His climax overwhelmed him so hard that he was shouting. Dave's hand clamped over his mouth, but not his nose, allowing him to breathe. The spasms of joy echoed through Mike's ass muscles giving Dave the last push he needed to unleash his big wad of man cream.

Each time Dave grunted out another squirt of juice up Mike's ass, I sucked down another hot fusillade of cream from the sales clerk's jerking, thick cock. I immediately assumed he was a vegetarian as his cum was as sweet as teen cum. Again and again, Dave rammed hard into Mike, hammering hard and forcing Mike's jerking, spewing cock deeper into my face. I pulled on Mike's nuts to get them to empty more of his sweet sperm. The reward was worth it as another big shot of cream hit my tongue.

Mike, the sales clerk, bent over, trying to get away from me and avoid the over-stimulation that I was causing to his dickhead. That only managed to impale him deeper on to Dave's black horn. Dave thrust hard into him again, lifting him from the floor, and knocking me off my feet on to my ass.

Dave shuddered a final time. He returned Mike to the floor, both of them breathing hard. Mike smiled as he pulled off Dave's huge dick and said, "I told you it'd fit."

All three of us laughed at his fitting comment. After cleaning up with towelettes (which he just happened to have nearby), Mike recommended that we stay with the 32's instead of going to the 34's. Although it was more fashionable to wear clothes loosely, the 32's would should off our great butts and big dicks to best advantage. Dave got gaudy blue flower print shorts and I got some green ones to go with my hazel eyes. They would match well with the shirts we'd picked out of Clay's closet.

He recommended sandals from their shoe department, which were comfortable and cheap. Mike wanted to know if we were locals, as he wanted a repeat performance sometime very soon. When we revealed we were not from Las Vegas, he was disappointed. But, when we invited him up to visit us at home, he immediately wrote down our phone numbers and address.

"When I tell Sean about this he'll be chartreuse with envy," Mike giggled.

"Who's Sean?" Dave asked.

"He's another sales associate in the men's department. He's been at lunch while you were here," Mike revealed. "He should be back at any moment. He's always bragging about some hot stud that he's fucked with in the changing rooms when I have a day off or I'm at lunch. He'll shit bricks!"

"Red head?" I asked.

"That's the one," Mike replied. "You know him?"

"Nope, just know of him," Dave responded. "Our hosts here sorta warned us about him."

"He's harmless," Mike suggested. "But, he does go after good- lookin' guys and generally scores. He's not my type, though, anyway."

We paid for our purchases and started to leave. Breezing into the men's department was Sean. His striking red hair and bright smile confirmed who he was. He immediately smiled at us in a more than friendly way. We thanked Mike again (more friendly than we probably should have, but it made Sean wonder what was going on and that was the point) and moved away. Before we were out of earshot, though, Sean could be heard to say, "You DIDN'T!"

We turned and smile, waving at Mike, again. The less than subtle confirmation told Sean that Mike indeed HAD enjoyed those two studs just leaving. When we got outside the store, Dave and I were still laughing.

Mike had told us that although his store didn't have any lei's or pooka shell necklaces, he knew of another shop a block away that specialized in crazy accessorizing. He was so right. The shop indicated was a collect of the most gaudy, overstated, tasteless kitsch on the planet. It was perfect! With lei's, straw hats, and pooka shell necklaces, we'd be the hit of the party.

On the drive home, I asked Dave if the Lexus were the kinda car he'd like to have. He said it was a dream to drive, and so quiet! Power was more than adequate, all the whistles and bells were there from navigation system to "bun warmers". "But, for this kinda money," he said, "I think we'd be better off putting our money into a remodel or a new house."

"How much do you think one of these things costs, Dave," I asked.

"Gotta be in the mid-60's," he replied. "I'd ask your Uncle Clay, but that'd be too tacky, even for me, to do."

"I'll ask him then."

"You really want one of these LS430's?"

"If the choice is the car, or a house we both want and love, NO!" I replied. "But, we do well enough we could probably swing both, ya know."

"Let's see what the house fantasy turns out to be, first. Then, we'll talk about a new car," he suggested. "I didn't think you were really ready for a new house or remodel or I'd have been pushing more."

"I like the house we're in, but for the two of us, it just isn't, well, it isn't OURS," I noted. "It'll always feel like my house, not our house. And I'm not sure a remodel would solve that problem. Besides, there are better neighborhoods and certainly neighborhoods with more faggots, if that's what you want."

"More queers around would be fun, but that shouldn't drive our purchasing decision," Dave told me. "And while I don't want to put too fine a point on it, this house'll always be yours, no matter what we do to it to make it ours. We really need something that's ours."

"You know any good real estate agents?" I asked.

"Several. But, I don't know how good they are," Dave said. "I only know them by dealing with them through the office. The ones I know have been very professional. However, you might want to think about building, instead of buying an existing home.

"The only problem with building is that buildable lots are way out in the `burbs. That's the last place I wanna live!"

"That sure settled that!" Dave laughed. "And I agree with you. I don't want to live 20 or 30 minutes from town, either. So, that means an old, established neighborhood near downtown. They won't be cheap."

"I know that, but I'm willing to look and see what's out there. We may find just what we want or something close enough that we can make it what we want," I suggested.

"Okay," Dave agreed as we pulled into the Sandbox's wide driveway. "We start looking when we get back."

The Party

After showing Linc and Uncle Clay our "treasures" (with considerable mirth from them), we ate a light lunch. As with all New Year's Eve parties, this one would involve some heavy drinking, and we didn't want to be blasted before the event, even if it was GMT. Besides, food in our stomachs would help keep us from drinking too much. After a quick rinse, we joined Clay and Linc for the short drive to our hosts' home.

Greeting us at the door were the hosts, John and Cynthia Wells. John was in his late 50's (if he was a day), but Cynthia was about our age and a stunning, beautiful woman. Clay introduced us (as they already knew Linc) as his nephew and partner. John was cordial, noting the family resemblance between Clay and I, and warmly greeted Dave like he was genuinely pleased to meet him. Our hosts kept the conversations going by remarking on what great outfits we had (telling us of the contest at the end of the evening for the best couple and best dressed person), asking where we were from, and what we did.

Dave mentioned his law firm, which John immediately picked up on. He knew a couple of the partners, so he and Dave exchanged "observations" about their skills in corporate negotiations. John had high regard for them, telling Dave he couldn't do better than to be working in that office.

Cynthia had me by the arm (remarking under her breath what great muscles I had), showing me through the house, with emphasis on the location of the wet bars and introducing me to a couple of neighbors and friends (all breeders). When Dave joined us, I whispered to him that this was beginning to look like the four of us were the token queers.

"Such a waste that the two handsomest men here don't play on my team," Cynthia sighed.

Dave smiled and said, "Thank you, Cynthia, but we think our team has the better players. I've certainly found the best one."

"That you have, my dear," she agreed. "Stunning is the first word that comes to mind."

"I have another word for him, but not in mixed company," he replied.

Cynthia thought that remark was hilarious. I was perplexed. I wasn't about to demonstrate my ignorance by asking what word he was thinking, but I'd be sure to ask him later. But, I was saved the embarrassment by the arrival of four more men whom Cynthia knew. She introduced us, making sure they knew we played on their team, not hers (much to her good-natured annoyance).

When she left us to mingle with other new arrivals, one of the men said, "Cynthia's a dear, but clueless. She assumes that because we're gay, we must have everything in common with other gay men," he sighed.

"Yeah, like we are supposed to know all the show tunes, latest decorating ideas, and how to make quiche," another one laughed. "With all those, I'm the clueless one."

"You see," I said. "Already we have something in common. I don't know any of those, either. I'm sure there'll be a knock on my door someday, and the faggot police will take my queer card away because I don't know which picture Barbra Streisand was first in."

"Funny Girl, 1968," said a third man. "Oh, shit!" he shrieked in a falsetto. "I must be a faggot!"

We all laughed. They were a delight. Dave and I haven't laughed so much at such silliness in ages. The four men were the hit of the party. They had a funny story or salacious bit of gossip for every conversation piece that was laid before them. Even the straight people found them engaging and entertaining. Two of them had gone all out to make their costumes perfect. Instead of being the tacky Hawaiian tourists that we'd become, they were native Hawaiians with matching King Kamehameha robes and headdresses.

Food of all descriptions and types was carried about the rooms on silver trays, offered to guests at a glutinous pace. The finger food ranged from small sandwiches to pastries. Dave and I tried to keep as much fat out of our mouths as we could, but the food was too appealing and we succumbed (we were on holiday, so why not).

By 4 p.m., our hosts had gathered us all in the Great Room at the far end of the house. The servers brought out more elegant silver trays laden with aperitif glasses filled with a tawny liquid.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," John said in a loud voice. "Please take a glass for our New Year's toast." He paused for a few moments so everyone could get a glass. "A toast to the New Year. May this 200- year-old Grand Marnier be a reminder of good friends and good times, and may the New Year bring us all prosperity and peace. But, most importantly, to love!" He leaned over and kissed his wife, then sipped from the glass. We all did likewise.

No one seemed to notice that the gay men kissed their partners, some far more ardently than did the straight couples. Dave and I were more guilty than most. The Grand Marnier was amazingly smooth. It was no wonder that this stuff was over $200 a bottle (at a deep discount liquor store), when you could find it.

Servers circulated among the guests, offering refills of champagne or Grand Marnier. Dave and I opted for another Grand Marnier (and a chance to see the bottle). The server handed us the bottle to examine. It was the shape of a Grand Marnier bottle, but was also a work of art. The hand painted detail and filigree was exceptional. The server noted that the bottle came in its own special box.

"However, you have no idea how smooth this is until you conduct a taste test with the current distillation," he added. "It's an open bar, after all," he smiled. With a wink, we joined him at the wet bar. He poured a small amount of the regular Grand Marnier into another aperitif glass. We each sampled. The face that Dave pulled was priceless. I laughed out loud.

"This stuff is panther piss compared to the 200 year old brew," he stated flatly. "And I'd always liked the regular Grand Marnier."

"Once you've had a taste of the old brandy base in the special Grand Marnier, you'll be forever spoiled," the bartender agreed.

"Damn, this is good stuff," Dave exulted. "You ever had it before, Mike?"

"Nope. Just the regular Grand Marnier, but this old stuff is sure smooth. We'd better get some before we leave Nevada. I know prices are better here than at home for this kinda good stuff, IF we could even find it at home." We'd ask Uncle Clay or Linc the best place to find it before we left for home.

"Good idea," Dave agreed. "We need to add this to our liquor cabinet, such as it is. We'll keep the good stuff hidden away from our inebriate friends and keep this just for us," Dave conspired. I smiled. I doubted he'd do that. He'd want to show this stuff off. The taste test would be performed many times in our future.

One of the other gay couples won the prize for best couple (the King Kamehameha costumes) and a woman won best costume for a sarong festooned with orchid blossoms. By 7 p.m., we'd said our good- byes to the Wells couple. (But, not before Cynthia again chided us for being on the wrong team. However, in her opinion, we were the most handsome couple there.) Instead of handshakes, we got kisses and hugs from Cynthia. I asked Dave in the car if he got groped like I did. He confirmed that his ass got a firm pat and a squeeze.

On the ride home, Clay and Linc said that all the gay men get that treatment. "So don't feel so special," Linc laughed. Clay and Linc had no plans for the rest of the evening, but did suggest that we might want to stay up and watch the fireworks from the edge of the pool in their back yard. The casinos always do something spectacular for New Year's.

Agreeing that we thought a quiet evening at the Sandbox was a good idea, we left for the gym at 9 p.m., sure that we'd be back no later than 11 p.m. About half way through our workout, Dave and I noticed that we practically had the gym to ourselves. But, one man in particular stood out. He was about 5'10", 200 pounds, with dark (Italian?), swarthy good looks with a heavy five o'clock shadow on his square jaw. He personified the term "a man's man". Wearing a baseball cap, a dark gray t-shirt, and matching sweatpants, his broad, thick shoulders and chest bulged and rippled with each movement. When he reclined to do bench presses, the bulge in his sweatpants looked inviting and big.

Dave smiled at me, nodding his agreement with my obvious lust for the guy. As luck would have it, the Italian stallion asked me to spot him on his next set. I didn't do more than keep the bar steady. He lifted the weights easily enough. I noticed he smiled up at me a couple of times during his set. Smiling back, I remembered that I hadn't worn my jockstrap, letting my dick and balls swing free. He'd probably looked up one of the legs of my shorts and checked out my dick and nuts.

I worked out another set of my incline flies, then spotted him again. He moved his head farther up the bench to be sure he had a better view. I looked down his solid body and grinned. The lump in his sweatpants was larger. That gave me an instant pulse to my dick, which increased to about 6". The head was dangerously close to peering out the leg hole. "Nice," he said. "And thanks."

"Glad I could help," I smiled. "And yours looks nice, too." He moved away and started working on the pec deck. As Dave was at that end of the gym, he was asked for help in getting the last push through to the end of the last few reps. With Dave standing in front of him to assist, the guy leaned forward each time to squeeze the pectoral muscles hard. That nearly pushed his face into Dave's crotch. His hot breath made Dave's dick expand to nearly full proportions.

"You sure are a big dude," the guy said to Dave. Dave's thick, obvious, trouser snake embarrassed him, until he saw the outline of the big dickhead of the guy he'd been assisting.

"You are, too," Dave complimented him. "My partner and I enjoy helping out other big guys," he grinned.

"Do you, now?" he grinned. "Something deep and satisfying?"

"As deep and often as you need it."

"I'm just finishing up in another few minutes. Maybe you could help me out in the steam room?" he proposed.

"I'll talk to Mike. I'll sure he'll like the idea. I'm Dave, by the way."

"My name's Joe," he said holding out his hand. Dave shook it warmly.

"Catch ya later, Joe," Dave smiled.

"For sure."

Dave told me in rapid order what Joe was proposing. I was all for it. We hurried along with our workout routine, keeping an eye out for Joe. When Joe left the free weights area, we finished our current set and joined him in the locker room. Joe had stripped out of his sweaty clothes and was bending over his locker to grab a towel.

"Fine ass," I commented as I strode by. I patted his hairy butt to emphasize I meant him. "I'll bet that eats REAL well," I added with a smile

Dave's locker was across from Joe's. He made sure that Joe was watching when he pulled off his shorts, exposing his expanding, black butthole stretcher. Joe whistled appreciatively, grasped the head, and squeezed. A glistening pearl of precum rolled out on to Joe's fingers. Joe licked off his fingers, then went to the source with his tongue and lips. Dave's monster slid in deeply, giving Joe as much dick as he could swallow.

I moved in behind the bent over figure and pulled Joe's hard dick back between his legs. It was a fat, uncut cock about seven inches long. I licked the head, slipping my tongue under the foreskin, slurping up his drizzling precum. His bull nuts boiled against the bridge of my nose as I sucked more dick into my face. A couple of my fingers slipped along his ass trench, then centered at his back door. He moaned with anticipation.

"Let's move this to the steam room before someone interrupts us," Dave suggested. Grabbing towels (and a couple of condoms with lube), we hit the showers. After a quick rinse, we pulled one another into the steam room by our hard dicks. The room was thick with warm fog, but not so thick that we couldn't see. The steam room was empty.

"Both of you are gonna fuck me, ya know," Joe insisted. "I know I don't look like a bottom, but I am. Unapologetically, too." He was certainly correct in his assessment. The man exuded butch, a top, masculine, aggressive fucker. The only part that wasn't right was top. He was all the others in quantity. And Dave and I were eager to top his hard, hairy, butch ass.

"Who you want first?" I asked.

"Let's play around a little and just see what happens," Joe suggested.

"In that case, let's get back to what you were doin'," Dave proposed. "You're a great cocksucker."

Joe leaned over and sucked up Dave's big cockhead, swallowing several inches of shaft. He played with Dave's heavy balls with one hand while working Dave's nips into a hard erection. Meanwhile, my tongue hadn't been idle. But, instead of sucking his dick, his butthole got my tongue and lips. His hairy hole was so eager to please. My tongue darted between his ass lips, playing with his grasping pucker. I stroked his fat dick, sliding his heavy foreskin back and forth over the leaking, purple head.

The hunky Italian moaned at the pleasure Dave and I were giving him. His heavily muscled body stretched and bulged to the rhythm of our entries into his orifices. One of his big hands pressed my head hard into his ass, urging me to eat his manpussy deeper, opening him up for the dick drilling he needed.

I released his hard cock (allowing it to slap hard against his abs), rolled on a lubed condom, and split his round, muscular ass globes with my thick 9" meat missile. His groans of pleasure amplified around Dave's nearly buried cock. Joe bucked back into me, sliding more fat inches into him. I pulled his round, furry butt into my hips and ground in the thick dick root. He pulled off Dave's blowjob, stood up, and whispered hoarsely, "Fuck! That's just what I need! Hot, fuckin' cock!"

Dave used the opportunity to give some liplock time to Joe's cock. For several minutes, our trio fucked and sucked, bringing each other to near climax heights, then pulling back. Whether it was Joe's milking ass channel or my inability to hold out doesn't matter. I flooded his condom-protected asshole with a hot load of dick gravy, hammering his ass hard and deep to gain maximum pleasure for my climax. Dave was nearly successful in making Joe cum, but Joe held out just long enough to get me off, then beg Dave to fuck him with his 11" monster.

Handing Dave the special condom for his big dick, I moved to change places. Joe bent over to give Dave a perfect shot at his already well-fucked ass, and to suck spent cum from my dick. Try as I might, my cock was too sensitive to allow more than a couple of sucks before I had to pull away. However, I knew that Joe needed to get his rocks off, so I started working where Dave had left off. Playing with Joe's nuts and fingering his asshole, I sucked on his fat 7" Italian sausage, paying particular attention to the nerve bundle underneath the head. I knew Dave's fat, long dick in his ass would make Joe cum sooner, rather than later.

Dave had always been an easy target for well-muscled men. Joe's broad, muscular back and round, hairy ass made his cock extra hard and sensitive. Joe's talented ass tunnel added to the stimulation that would bring Dave's climax to him hard. Grabbing Dave's ass to pull him harder into Joe's ass, Joe knew he would get Dave's nut.

"Eat my hole while Dave fucks me, Mike," Joe pleaded. "That makes me cum real hard!"

I was eager to please, and always enjoyed tonguing Dave's balls and thick shaft while he fucked some hot stud. My face on Joe's nuts added more stimulation to Joe, compounding the brutal fucking that Dave was administering. When Dave got this carried away, he was within seconds of a debilitating climax.

Still pulling Dave hard into his ass, Joe bucked into the side of my face with his boiling nuts, tried to hold off until Dave came, but couldn't. Filling his request to eat his ass while getting fucked was the last button to push. I could feel Joe's butthole tighten around Dave's dick, Joe's balls were hard against my face, then jerked. I felt heavy drops of hot cum rain on to my back and shoulders as Joe began to cum. He power bucked back into Dave to bury deeply Dave's squirting mahogany tree into him. Dave hammered his hole in wild thrusts and lunges.

Both men abandoned their higher motor functions to ride out the crashing waves of pleasure washing over them. After the fourth drenching squirt of cum on to me, Joe began pounding his pud to gain additional seconds of sexual joy. Dave's shooting cannon was balls deep and squirting hard.

Dave finally pulled out and stripped off the condom. I cleaned off his dick, swallowing twice to get as much of his dripping cum as I could. Joe sat in the corner, recovering from being power fucked by his two new friends.

"Damn! You guys sure can fuck. You just join the club?" Joe asked.

"Nah, we're from out of town. Just here for a visit," I sighed. We left the steam room and showered.

"What a fuckin' shame you don't live here," Joe claimed. "I could use a hot fuck like that a few times a day," he bragged. "I can always find someone to get it on with me, but seldom find two hot fuckers at once. You guys ever get fucked?"

"We both love it," Dave revealed. "Generally each other, though. That 9 to 1 ratio seems to hold true."

"That's been my experience as well," Joe sighed. "Too much competition to get fucked by great tops like you."

"You're such a stud, you could get anyone you wanted," I protested.

"Women are hittin' on me all the time," Joe laughed. "That doesn't do me a lot of good. So, I wear a wedding ring to keep most of them at bay. It doesn't always work, but most of the time, it does."

"How about men? Surely you get them falling all over themselves to get into your pants," Dave probed.

"Nearly every one of them is a bottom," Joe sighed again. "Not exactly what I'm looking for."

"Well, you got a nice fat dick to please any man's tight ass," I suggested.

"I find a hot one occasionally that I'll wanna fuck (like you guys), but that's not very often," Joe explained. "Getting fucked is what I need. And nearly all the guys that come on to me want me to fuck them," he wailed.

"Most guys are gonna think you're a top. Everything about you shouts masculine, hot top," I observed.

"I'm not suggesting that I'm an exclusive bottom, but I know what I want. And that's a couple of hot studs like you bangin' my ass a couple times a day," Joe insisted. "But, I'd be more than willing to eat butt and hammer it with my Italian meat. However, that's not my primary need. So, you guys need a houseboy?" he laughed.

"If we were a couple of tops who needed an awesome, full-time bottom around the house, we'd sure put you at the top of the list, Joe," Dave smiled. "But, we're more versatile that what you're lookin' for. We like fuckin' each other so much there wouldn't be much cum left for you."

"I was just jokin' ya," Joe grinned. "But, there is still some truth to what I said. That's the reason my last boyfriend and I broke up. I wanted more sex than he was willing to give me and he wanted to get fucked more than I wanted to fuck him. He had a nice big dick, but didn't share it with me often enough."

"You'll find someone eventually. But, you'll have to keep holding `auditions' until then," Dave snorted. "And we sure enjoyed it."

"You guys leaving town soon?" Joe asked.

"Not until tomorrow," I said, as I pulled on my pants. Dave was pulling on his shorts when Joe pushed him over, pulled Dave's shorts down, and started to eat his ass. I got behind Joe and started eating his hole, again. That hairy hole really turned me on!

"Damn!" exclaimed Joe when he came up for air. "I was hoping you'd be around a few more days to service me. I really need it BAD!" Joe laughed. "You wanna fuck me, again? Or come back to my place and we can fuck all night long."

"Well, we did have some tentative plans with my uncle," I began. Dave looked up at me and smiled. I knew that meant he was willing to forgo the fireworks at the casinos for some fireworks in Joe's bedroom. "But, I can make a quick call and cancel those plans," I finished.

Joe beamed as I pulled the cell phone from my gym bag and dialed Uncle Clay's number. After Clay called us "sex pigs", he said that he'd not look for us until tomorrow morning. "Just be good to the Lexus," he warned. I assured him I'd take good care of it.

"All set," I said. "We're yours for the evening, Joe."

"YEAH!" he exulted. "I want one of you fuckin' me while the other one sits on my face for the rest of the night. I rarely get one hot guy let alone two to fuck me. This is gonna have to last me for a while."

We followed him to his ranch style home, not far from where Uncle Clay and Linc lived. A neighborhood of modest homes and palm trees looked like anywhere else in suburbia. His neighbors probably thought of Joe as that single, masculine guy down the street. The women were, no doubt, always trying to set him up on a blind date with a daughter, niece, or friend. The d‚cor was equally masculine, as you'd expect from a stud like Joe. The bedroom was functional, with a minimalist approach. There were no extraneous doodads or other dust catchers. A king-size bed, a lowboy chest of drawers, a lamp and table completed the inventory. The curtains were mini-blinds, functional and nondescript.

Joe offered us a beer, soda, or wine. Dave took a beer and I opted for a soda. I'd had enough to drink already this New Year's Eve. Sitting around the kitchen table, we talked about ourselves, what kinda work we did (Joe owned a small landscape company), how Dave and I met and I seduced him, and how Joe first discovered the joys of man-to- man sex.

He'd been seduced by a teammate on the college football team, who then introduced him to others on the team who liked men for sex, too. Joe had resisted getting fucked, thinking it made him less of a man. But, when he saw what a good time other team members had as bottoms, he tried it with a line backer. The guy was gentle and caring. Joe's first experience as a bottom convinced him that he'd found Nirvana. "Getting fucked was the best thing you can do with your clothes off or on," Joe smirked.

"Enough talking," Joe announced. "My ass needs dick!"

For the next three hours (except for a short break after the first round of fucking Joe's ass to ring in the New Year with champagne), Dave and I fucked Joe as a tag team. We were either in his ass or sitting on his face continuously. Joe was insatiable for fat dick up his asshole. But, by 3 a.m., Dave and I were out of cum and out of energy.

Joe graciously knew that and suggested some sleep to recharge our batteries. Dave and I quickly agreed. But, at 8 a.m. as the sun was coming up, Joe was on my dick again, trying to swallow my morning hard-on. Dave rolled on another condom (his last one) and plugged in to Joe's well-fucked, yet hungry, ass.

My dick was sensitive to all the action it had been getting, so I pushed Joe off and suggested that his fat Italian sausage take a turn at my ass. Joe's face slipped off my dick, nuzzled my nuts, and then dove for my sweaty butthole. He rolled on my last condom, stretching it to accommodate his thickness and pushed inside me. Although he wasn't as long as Dave, he was every bit as thick. It felt good to get fucked again.

Dave's pistoning action pushed Joe deeper into me. My legs were pinned to my chest with Joe hovering over me, working my nips and kissing me. His ass was pounded by Dave, which translated into my ass. Joe was just along for a good sandwich ride.

The stimulation on Joe's prostate, coupled with my tight pucker tunnel, raced Joe into a climax he couldn't avoid. Shouting out his climax and jetting cum, Joe shot out his fourth cum-soaked climax of the night. Dave wasn't far behind him, hammering Joe harder into me until he also came in torrents. I was just along for the ride, and didn't need to cum. My dick couldn't have tolerated any more friction, anyway.

Leaving Joe with our home address and phone numbers, we told him to visit us soon, and we'd introduce him to some spectacular tops. Joe was eager to take us up on our offer, as this was the slow time of year in Las Vegas for landscaping jobs.

Safely parking the Lexus at the Sandbox, we collapsed on to the sofa in the living room. Clay and Linc had only begun making breakfast, so they rousted us out of the living room, and into the showers. The hot water felt good on our tired, fucked-out bodies. Dressing for the trip home, we packed up our bags, leaving them by the front door.

Linc called us to breakfast and conversation. After telling them about Joe's nonstop need for being topped, Clay and Linc confessed that they knew him and his former boyfriend. They hadn't heard of the breakup, though. Clay described the former boyfriend as a hot man with an obviously big dick. The big bulge it produced in everything he wore was testimony to that. But, if they were sexually incompatible, that would explain the breakup. They weren't the first couple they'd known who "split the sheets" over arguments about sexual frequency and position.

At the appointed hour, Clay and Linc drove us to the airport, after a detour to the liquor store to buy the last bottle of 200 year old Grand Marnier. As our flight wouldn't leave for another hour, we convinced them not to come in and waste time seeing us off. We pulled carry-on luggage from the spacious trunk of the Lexus and bid them farewell (with head turning hugs and kisses). (Fuck `em, I decided. I don't know any of you people and don't care about your opinions, anyway.) After promising to come visit us during the Spring when the flowers were at their best and Las Vegas was already getting too hot, we left them at curbside and walked through the main concourse doors.

Checking the monitors, we saw that our flight would be on time and would depart from gate D-22. Rolling through security quickly, we found our gate. Boarding passes were being handed out to the few early arrivers. As this was noon on New Year's Day, there were few passengers. Hangovers and late night parties kept most travelers away from the airport until late afternoon or the following day.

The gate agent smiled warmly, asked us for identification, ran through the "has your luggage been out of your possession" routine and gave us boarding passes numbered in the low teens. I asked if the plane would be full today. He said that as of an hour before flight time, it would be about half full. That would give us a chance to stretch out in the cramped seats and perhaps sleep.

We spent the next hour admiring or suppressing giggles about our fellow passengers. Some of them had gotten up too early, had stayed out too late, or had been dragged through a chain-link fence, backwards. But, several others looked pretty good, even to our fucked-out eyes. They smiled at us, but we got no other vibes as to what their sexual preferences were.

Our plane arrived, disgorged the Las Vegas passengers, and added our group of fewer than 30 new fliers. This was a continuation flight from Texas, so other passengers were already on board. A tall cowboy with a belt buckle the size of a dinner plate was standing in the center of the plane, trying to stretch his legs. He smiled at us as we approached. Other aisle seats were taken, so we were at the center of the plane before any were vacant.

"You boys might as well sit here," he drawled. "They get even more cramped in the back, it seems."

"We don't want to take your seat," Dave smiled. "You got long legs that need an aisle seat, too." Dave's up and down appraisal was not lost on our friendly Texan.

"This here's my seat, so take these two in front of me," he suggested.

We turned and stretched, pushing our carry-on luggage into the overhead bins. The Texan murmured something I didn't quite catch, but Dave did. "Yeah, we are," Dave said. I wasn't sure what it was, but the way we were being looked over, I was guessing it has something to do with our sexual preferences.

"Fine as frog hair," the Texan smiled. "The name's Beauford, but everyone called me Junior," he claimed sticking out his meaty paw. Junior was the last name I'd think of for this rangy 6'4" cowboy. Dave and I took his offered hand in turn, introducing us. "Helluva day to be travelling," he said. "We should be home, drinkin' ourselves into a stupor, watchin' the football games, or just wakin' up from tyin' one on last night. You boys party last night?" he asked as more passengers squeezed past us.

I smiled, embarrassed. "Well, we had an early party, then found some special entertainment later in the evening."

"I'll just bet you did," he laughed. "Some of the local Las Vegas talent? I hear those casino revue dancers are a lot of fun." I only blushed, neither confirming nor denying his suggestion.

"That was another time," Dave admitted. "Last night was a new friend at the gym."

"Yea, doggies!" Junior squeaked out. By then, the passengers were in their places, the jetway had been pulled away, and one of the stewards was telling us about the safety features of the Boeing 737, etc. The plane was pushed away from the gate. The twin jet motors roared as we taxied towards our take-off position. "Sometimes, these damned things take so long to taxi out to the main runway that I think they're gonna drive us there!" We smiled at that. I agreed with him. There were gates at some airports that seemed to be miles from the main runway.

Finally airborne, Junior unfastened his seatbelt and sat on the Dave's armrest. "So, tell me, boys, how long you been together?"

"Since March," Dave said. "The details are pretty sordid as to how he seduced me," he added smiling at me. No other passengers were nearby, so Dave's voice didn't carry too far. And I didn't care if it did.

"I love a good tale," Junior grinned. "Don't leave out any of the disgusting details, Dave!"

Dave murmured the story into Junior's ear, the noise of the aircraft preventing me from hearing most of it. Junior's smiles of recognition and guffaws of laughter at the right places told me that Dave had once again entertained with his salacious version of our first sexual encounter.

"That's a good `un," Junior exclaimed as he stood up. The enormous tube steak running down his right leg demonstrated how much he liked the story. "Soon as I stretch some kinks out of my legs, I'll tell ya about mine."

"That hog leg in the middle looks like its already stretched," I pointed out.

"Nah, that's just half a stretch. You should see it when it really enjoys a yarn," Junior laughed.

Junior's tale, visits from out-of-towners, house looking are all in future chapters. Comments to gymhunk@msn.com.