CLOSETS CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The following is a work of gay erotic fiction. It does contain description of graphic scenes of sexual acts between adult males. If that offends you, if you are a minor in your jurisdiction, or if it is illegal to read or possess such material where you are, then stop right now.
I do appreciate the many kind comments and encouraging words.
THE STORY-BOOK ENDING
When I awoke that Tuesday morning amidst a tangle of hard male appendages, I was unable to decide what I most wanted to do. On the one hand, I longed to lie there and drink in those incredibly sexy and masculine morning sights, sensations, and smells. Bryce held me in a tight, somnolent grasp, his underarm laid across my face, his hard cock pressed into my ass crack, his leg thrust between my thighs. Lonnie sprawled next to him, his left foot hooked over Bryce's near knee, an elbow under Bryce's head, hard- on reaching past his own navel. Calvin lay half on Lonnie, knee pressed into his balls, hand on his chest, head resting against his shoulder, cock pressing into hip. The three of them were still making the soft, slow sighing sounds of sleeping men.
But I also wanted to wake them and have hot, nasty sex with all of them at once all morning. On the other hand, I'd love to get up and prepare breakfast for the lot of them, serving them naked in bed. Or on the balcony. Or on the patio. Or in the breakfast room. On yet another hand, I wanted to rouse them to spend the whole day at the poolside, splashing and sunning and drinking in their youthful beauty. And I wanted to scratch that idea and load them up and take them to the lake for a day of no-holds-barred, raunchy outdoor sex play. Perhaps a trip to the club was in order, a good, sweaty workout followed by a shower, a sauna, maybe a swim in the club pool, and a round of kinky sex in my room there.
Maybe I should invite Lonnie and Calvin to get lost for today, and let me have my hunky mate all to myself for this, our last day before he had to turn himself in at work in Columbia. Perhaps I should go with him to Columbia, and spend the day settling into his condo there. There were so many other hands.
Maybe we should just run away and forget Columbia!
At one time or another, since that morning, I've chosen all of those options. Five years have passed since that day, and I have had the opportunity to experience in turn all of the wonderful opportunities that I craved to have all at once on that golden June morning just days after Grand-daddy's funeral, at the very dawn of my complete fulfillment and happiness.
What I did then was get up and make breakfast: wheat toast, no-yolk eggs, Canadian bacon, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, with fresh-squeezed orange juice and rich, dark coffee. I did take it all up to the balcony outside my bedroom. The aroma of the coffee and toast had arrived before my clinking tray did, and there was already some stirring of tanned and hair-sprinkled manly limbs going on among the sheets. I finished the job by climbing atop the pile and kissing them all awake, ending with my lover-in- chief, the delectable Bryce. The sleepy-eyed, bed-headed crew crept, yawning and stretching, out of the bed and onto the balcony in search of caffeine. Lonnie, clutching his mug, pissed over the rail into the shrubbery below. Bryce and Calvin, scratching their asses absently, managed to stumble more respectably to the toilet, from which thunderous full-bladder sounds emerged through the open door. Men! You gotta love 'em.
Calvin and Lonnie did get lost for quite a while that morning. When they came back in the afternoon, Calvin was driving a new white Jeep Wrangler. It bowled me over that Lonnie, in his CRV, had proven to be the mature and level-headed one among us in automobile selection. They had also ordered some living-room furniture for their sitting room, which was to be delivered on Thursday. All afternoon, they worked diligently on their household tasks. Lonnie had the downstairs whipped into company-coming shape, got laundry spinning, and even did the grocery shopping while Calvin turned the sprinklers on the formal garden and weeded, naked, in the planting beds under the cooling sun-lit spray. His only complaint was that he couldn't figure out a way to trim the front yard grass in the nude.
Bryce and I did go to the club, where we ran eight miles, took a cooling soak in the pool, roasted our muscles in the sauna, and enjoyed side-by-side full body massages with release from strapping, muscle-bound naked masseurs in the therapy room. Ed and Joey, the massage therapists, were beside themselves with excitement over working on our bodies. They disappeared together into their office as soon as they were finished, both with cocks like rocks, leering at one another with lascivious intent.
Bryce whipped up a salade nicoise for our lunch. Living with him makes keeping trim easy and pleasurable. He makes healthy eating a gourmet experience. And there is nothing like a tall, dark, and handsome naked man in the kitchen to stir the appetites.
The pool cabana was the perfect place to enjoy our lunch, with a glass of nice Chablis, and we did languish most of the afternoon there in and near the pool, as in my morning vision. That day-bed in the back where Bryce caught me humping with Lonnie a few days earlier? It saw plenty of hot action again that afternoon, too. He fucked me, I fucked him, he fucked me again even harder, I cried uncle and sucked him off. Twice. By five o'clock, our lips were sore from sucking and kissing. And I loved it!
Lying in the hammock on the far side of the pool, Bryce brought up the subject we both dreaded.
"I have to be up at 5:00 tomorrow, Sweet-butt." Pause.
"That means I really need to drive to Columbia tonight." Pause.
"Can you come with me for a few days?"
Well, I thought he would never ask. I breathed a deep sigh. Oh, yes, could I ever go, to Columbia, to Zanzibar, to Singapore-anywhere that I could be with him.
I had a ton of business to attend to. But mine could wait until Monday, his could not.
Lonnie appeared with a pitcher of Lemon Drops and the news that he had brought some very nice, fresh shrimps and scallops from the market. He had them marinating in the fridge back at the house. Calvin joined us, and we took a group-grope outdoor shower between sips of our drinks. I can no longer understand why anyone showers alone.
We fired up the grill pool-side, and Bryce grilled the seafood and slices of eggplant, while I ran inside to chop up a taboule salad. We broke the news that we would be leaving after dinner, Bryce for ten days on duty, me until Monday morning. The boys took it gracefully-they'd have the run of my big house to prance around naked in and fuck one another silly while I was away, not that they weren't free to behave exactly the same with me in residence. They finished the cocktails, and Bryce and I switched to spring water with lemon, since we were traveling.
The concept of packing clothes seemed alien and incomprehensible to both of us. What made people think of wearing anything in South Carolina in June? It was ludicrous. That points out one of the many things I love about my man, Bryce. He is absolutely at ease with nudity. He has a way of standing or moving about in nothing but his beautiful skin with complete comfort and panache. I won't say he is unconscious of the devastatingly handsome figure he cuts-in fact, his very awareness of it is expressed in generosity and good grace. He simply accepts with pleasure the fact that he is generally the best looking man in any room, and that has no effect whatever on his ability to enjoy the beauty and talent of others. He is appreciative, not proud. And I love the fact that being barefoot is part of being naked to him. He pads around confidently and comfortably in clean, well-groomed bare feet, with perfect naturalness. Not many grown men can pull all of that off, especially good-looking ones.
In the end, it dawned on Bryce that HE did not need to pack anything at all, outside of a pair of shorts to get from car to door in. I was the one who needed clothes in Columbia. So I did manage to stuff a few items into a bag, and we were set to go. That was when it hit me. We would have to drive both cars, because I had to return Monday, and he would be coming back the following Friday. That took the starch out of my collar for sure.
I didn't even know where he lived. I would have to follow along carefully all the way to the condo.
It was lucky there was a guest parking pad next to the driveway, because we now had a crowd of nice cars at the house. Bryce's and mine were inside the garage, meaning that we did not have to dress to get to them. We drove all the way to his place slap-ass naked, with no worse consequences than a couple of horn-hoots from truckers we sped past on the highway. It was dark when we arrived, about 11:00, and there was no one about. So we streaked to his doorway in the buff, giggling as we leaped up the stairs two at a time. This time, just at the top, only yards from the apartment, we got caught. We ran smack into his next-door neighbor, a genial-looking bespectacled retiree, whose eyes bulged at the sight of two naked strapping young men cavorting on his stairway.
"Oh, sorry, Mr. Morris, it's just me-trying to sneak in unobserved-guess that didn't work out, huh-well, please excuse us."
He stood, dumbstruck.
"One of you boys is a bad influence on the other, I should say," Morris observed dryly.
"Both of us, I'm afraid. Regards to Mrs. Morris. Again, sorry to disturb you."
He got the key in the lock and we lunged inside, leaving the neighbor shaking his head dubiously. "Madge will be disappointed she missed that!" he was observing to himself as the door slammed.
We collapsed in a heap, sides splitting, in the apartment entryway.
Bryce's home was attractive and comfortable, but not large. It had two spacious bedrooms, each with private bath, and a large open-space living, dining, cooking, and working area with a high, sloping ceiling. There was a nice fireplace, and a roomy deck. I was glad to note that it had solid walls to the rail, so that we could have privacy out there. The furnishings were tasteful, contemporary, and rather sparse. It would make a nice town home.
Bryce graciously vacated half the drawers in the bedroom, over my protests. I didn't need much space right then, but he insisted I'd be bringing more stuff over with every trip, and adding new things as well. It was to be fully half mine!
Then, I got perilously close to the bed, and he tackled me and mock-raped me. Yes, there were condoms at his bed-side just like back in Hebron (and, I must admit, at my apartment up North, which by the way, I needed to vacate soon). It was never so much fun to be violated by a strong, sex-drenched man who would not take no for an answer. I never learned to say no, anyway.
While he humped away at my ass, his eyes drilled into mine with sheer animal lust. A lock of his black hair hung down between his brows, trembling with the force of his exertion. I wrapped my legs around his waist contentedly and locked my ankles. I was as happy as a man can be, getting boned by the sexiest man alive. I never thought there could be such joy.
And it has been that way ever since. I didn't see much of Bryce those few days, but I knew it was to be that way. When he was there, we were genitally connected one way or another, most of the time. I shopped some, kept house for him, spent hours on the phone with my office back in Hebron, which I'd never even seen yet, but which seemed to run on auto-pilot, for the time being at least. I introduced myself to Mr. and Mrs. Morris, who looked as if they expected me to strip naked in front of them at any moment, and kind of wished I would. I met some of Bryce's doctor friends, mostly straight and married men and women, when we went out for drinks and dinner a couple of times. He made no bones about who I was to him, to my pride and delight. When he pinned me to the corner of the booth in a busy restaurant and kissed me passionately and lovingly in front of two of his associates and their wives, I knew the closet days were closed out forever. And the associates took all this in stride. Both wives looked at me enviously, however, and then glanced a bit reproachfully at their husbands.
On Monday, I returned to Hebron to find Lonnie naked on his hands and knees swabbing the kitchen floor tiles, with head-set blaring in his ears. I stuck my finger up his ass by way of friendly greeting, and he jumped so high he hit his head underneath the countertop. Then, I had to suck him off to show how sorry I was. Then, he had to suck me off to show he accepted my apology. Employee relations can get so sticky! Calvin was out back pressure-washing the walk-ways in the buff. I figured Lonnie would tell on me, so I sucked off my bewildered gardener, just to even the score. Damn, I was glad to be home. I also missed Bryce like my own heart.
When I did get to the office, I discovered that my entire staff were male club members, except for Adelle, the lesbian receptionist. It seems Grand-daddy was the principal employer and recruiter of gay workers in this part of the state. Indeed, many had come here specifically to work for him or start businesses in his properties. Our enterprises occupied all four levels of a corner of the block on the far side of the club's main entrance. We had back exits into the club on all three of its floors. Some of my employees did deal with the public down on the street level. Most, however, worked in offices and cubicles upstairs, where they did their business on-line and by FAX and phone.
So I called a meeting, introduced myself, and made my first decree: the upper level offices were to be clothing optional work-space from then on. I ordered a locking door at the foot of the stairs, with an "authorized personnel only" sign. And I took over the corner office with big, sunny windows on the top level for myself. A door right beside it led into the hallway of the club just a few doors down from my room there. The staff cheered. The new boss was a hit. Adelle said, "Well, don't think I'm going to be impressed with anything you got, you slackers." I could tell she would be able to hold her own, even if she did take her refuge on the ground floor.
Then, I went to see Ed for a massage. With release.
I spent a lot of time, naked, in my office over the next several weeks. I had to familiarize myself with what I had so that, when probate was settled and taxes paid, I would be in a position to sell off some things. To pay the taxes, I would have to! But over the next year, I made some strategic sales and careful reinvestments, and saw that in very little time, I'd be back up to J. P.'s level of wealth while maintaining his level of income throughout.
One week in August, while Bryce was socked in with sick babies at work, I drove down to the coast and put out a hefty down-payment on a fifty-eight-foot yacht, along with a six-foot captain and a five-foot-ten mate to sail her. Both the boat and the men were in their thirties, all very trim and well-maintained. I was up-front with them about me and Bryce, our sexuality, our cousins, our nude lifestyle, and our tendency to have spontaneous sex in front of people. They grinned at me.
"Shit, man, that sounds wild," drawled Captain Joe, a bronzed and weather-beaten blue-eyed blond of a hundred and eighty-five brawny pounds. "I ain't into that gay stuff, myself, aside from the occasional blow job, but hell, you pay the bills, you do what you want on your own boat."
"Can we go naked, too?" queried Ronnie, the mate. He was tanned and brown- haired, with a sexy, trim goatee and crew cut. He filled out 32-inch waist jeans just fine, especially in the crotch and butt.
I assured the men that they could, indeed go naked on my boat, and they were in.
Two weeks later, the four of us cousins had our first long weekend outing over Labor Day, and it was great fun. We cruised down the Georgia and Florida coastline and back, naked and sexed out on one another the whole time. Captain and mate never wore a stitch, either, and both seemed to enjoy it. One or another of us blew both of their cute little six-inchers several times a day, but they never kissed anyone or engaged in butt- play. Being straight didn't stop them from watching us at it, though!
"I gotta admit, you guys know how to have a good time with your thang," Joe grudgingly admitted.
"Damn, I gotta find a woman who would munch out my butt like that," lamented Ronnie, rapt over Calvin lapping at Lonnie's stern-side. "That has to feel fantastic!"
"You'll have to turn queer, then, Ron. I don't think you'll ever find a woman who'd do that." Their eyes were glued to Lonnie's tongue-gouged pucker.
Later that evening, Ronnie caved and made a leap toward queer-dom. I came across him, nude of course, leaning against the deck railing near the bow of the boat, with Lonnie sitting cross-legged between his spread-out feet, face buried in Ronnie's ass- crack. Ron's little dick stood straight out from his crotch and quivered. His mouth hung open, sighing-sounds emanating sporadically as Lonnie's tongue hit a particularly acute nerve ending. Lonnie was getting off on breaking in this nice specimen with his first- ever rim job, and he slurped and gouged energetically. After a while, he reached around Ronnie's hips, grabbed his dick and gave it maybe three strokes, whereupon it flung out a long stream of milky cum overboard.
When he regained his composure, Ronnie said, "Damn, I hope that don't make me turn queer. But if it does, so be it. That was the best damn cum I ever had in my life!"
By mid-September, we were cleared for bareback amongst ourselves. The first time Bryce stuck his naked dick in my ass, I thought I would cream the sheets just from the thought of it. Having the freedom to go at one another any time, any place without concern for latex gave us a new lease on sexual life. Among the four of us, the financial savings alone allowed for a very nice night out on the town each month. We had been going through frightening quantities of rubbers.
We decided to use the yacht instead of the house in Hebron for our wedding in mid-October. Being out of the closet is one thing, but rubbing our relationship into our neighbors' faces, this being South Carolina, was another. We were moored in Charleston Harbor, and that was the setting. With Fort Sumter in the background, we exchanged vows of love and fidelity, dressed in elegant tuxedoes, under the supervision of the lesbian Unitarian minister and witnessed by eighty or so of our closest friends. Our bonds had no legal status, but we had enough lawyers among family and friends to nail down most of the issues the law omitted. The honeymoon excursion out to sea which followed, wedding guests jettisoned, was satisfying and memorable as well. In our stateroom, Bryce's tender wooing almost made me feel virginal again. Sporting around naked in the warm, autumn sun the next day with Lonnie and Calvin was fun, too. Our rainbow flag flapped proudly on the masthead.
Keeping the boat was going to be a burden on my pocketbook, but it gave us a wonderful, isolated home away from home where we could entertain friends and be our uninhibited, raunchy selves. We made use of it for the Columbus Day and Veterans' Day long weekends. Thanksgiving, though, was at the DuPrees', with Peter, Emmy, and Dalton-who surprised and pleased us by showing up with a hot-looking, fiftyish boyfriend named Dan. It was a good sign, I thought, that he looked nothing like Daddy and me, but was a medium height, fair-skinned redhead. Dalton was moving on.
We spent Christmas at our own house in Hebron. The 'rents, including not only the Thanksgiving crowd, but also Lonnie's mother, his sister Rhonda, and Ruth Ann and Otis, came for dinner Christmas Eve. My mother was with her fiance's family in Vermont.
A few days later, Lonnie and Calvin revealed that Rhonda had offered them a unique and amazing Christmas gift, which they had talked over and decided to accept. She wanted to have Calvin's baby as Lonnie's surrogate. We were all blown away by the idea. It was early in Lonnie and Calvin's married life, and they were awfully young, but this opportunity would never come along again, and must be seized, they thought.
I had to admire that Rhonda for a gutsy and self-differentiated straight woman. It was not exactly as if she was giving up her virginity. On the contrary, she was as great an admirer of masculine charms as I was. She shocked Lonnie by announcing that there would be none of this artificial-insemination crap for her. She was going to breed with Calvin the natural way, the fun way. Lonnie could watch if he wanted.
He most certainly did not. When Lonnie asked Calvin if he would really be able to have sex with a woman, and not any woman, but his sister, Calvin said, "Honey, I could fuck a pumpkin. In fact, I have fucked a pumpkin before. A pussy is not going to get the best of me! You better start crochetin' booties, because we are going to have us a baby."
"Why would our baby wear booties? We never wear anything!" Lonnie retorted plaintively.
When the fateful night arrived when Rhonda decreed that she was a ripe pumpkin, Lonnie and I stayed over at the club (Bryce was at the condo). Neither of us could stand to be in the house with hetero sex going on down the hall. I fucked the grief-stricken Lonnie, and he cried, until about two in the morning, when Calvin suddenly showed up. The fateful deed was done, and no, he had not enjoyed it.
But Rhonda swelled up rather like a pumpkin in fact, and in due time, she presented her brother and his mate with a beautiful, brown-haired baby boy with almond, green eyes. With Calvin not yet through school, the guys were not ready to buy their first house. So the next bedroom down the hall became a nursery for little Darrien Alonzo McGinnis, named for Calvin's birth father and Lonnie's real name. It took all four of us hapless men sometimes to keep the little tyke fed, dry, and quiet. That one of us was in pediatrics was not incidental to our success. There is nothing quite like sitting naked in a wooden rocking chair at 3:00 in the morning holding a bottle in the mouth of a diapered infant. Darrien wormed his way into all of our hearts.
I had given Rhonda a part-time job whenever she was out of class at the office. With her unabashed appreciation for male forms, it was no big deal for her to have to run an errand upstairs from time to time. She recovered quickly from her adventure into maternity, and in no time she was shagging the UPS man.
She was not finished shocking us, however. She announced that she needed a full-time job, but wanted to be in school full time, too. Those needs did not seem to be compatible on the surface. But she had an idea. She really liked making babies that she did not have to care for afterward. It seemed she had found her calling. What if she made one for me and Bryce, she wanted to know? And, incidentally, stayed on the payroll for another year.
We talked it over as if it were an issue, but it wasn't really. Bryce and I were both as excited as a bird dog in a chicken house from the beginning. We were raring to go.
Rhonda was still intent on natural methods of conception. And she had a plan. When next she ovulated, she wanted both of us to service her, and let the best sperm win.
"Can you fuck a woman? Lonnie's sister?" I asked Bryce dubiously.
"Don't see why not," my lover answered. "I've fucked women before."
"You what?! When?"
"Med school, couple of times. It was almost impossible not to, in school with all those hot interns and nurses. I was horny enough to fuck anything sometimes. Hey, if I had liked it all that much, would I have taken up with you?"
Well, law school was pretty rowdy, too, but I had only fucked every man I could get, in those days, never a woman. I feigned shock and jealousy, but I wasn't really all that taken aback that my stud hoss could perform under challenging conditions. But could I?
"Maybe I can keep it up if I can look at you while I do it."
"I'll be right there, Sugar-butt."
So we bred Rhonda. I won't describe it, because I don't really like to think of it. But being gentlemen, we both tried to give her a good ride. She was really turned on, and she came for both of us, which was a nice affirmation.
"Why are so many of the good-looking men gay?" she wanted to know. "And why is it that the only way I can get them into bed with me is to promise to have their baby?"
It was weird sticking my dick into that opening where there ought to be something, if you know what I mean.
But in the summer following, Rhonda presented us with our first son, which the DNA test told us was Carter Peter DuPree. One of Bryce's little swimmers had beaten mine to the goal, and that made him the daddy and me the mom.
Bryce had long ago explained to me the DuPree system. Their men got their mother's maiden name for their first name. What about Peter, I had wanted to know- that one didn't seem to fit. Turns out, his mother's maiden name was Peters, they just lopped off a letter to make it work better.
Now a nursery was established in the bedroom across the hall from ours. I could hardly bear to leave the place for the first few weeks. I had taken up Bryce's old habit of just sitting and staring at the thing I loved, in this case, our incredibly beautiful, dark- haired child, the issue of my lover's own loins. I thought life could get no better.
But it did. When Carter was six months old, Rhonda still wanted to be on the payroll, and she announced that she was ready to give my wigglers another chance, this time with no competition from Bryce's. I gave her another nice orgasm, while Bryce coached from the bedside, and in due course, we came home from the hospital with Penn, or James Pendleton Carter VI, as the business card would someday proclaim. That made all three remaining bedrooms on the front of the house kids' rooms for a time.
Peter and Emmy moved to a condo in a retirement community a few miles away. Dalton and Dave declined their house, but did buy the smaller place next to it to use when they are in town. They have proved to be terrific grand-dads to the all the boys. Peter generously offered financing for Calvin and Lonnie to purchase his and Emmy's place, and with their incomes growing from their careers with my businesses, they are going to make it there just fine. The gate between the properties is usually open now, with much traffic in between, right beside the niche in our side of the wall where J. P.'s ashes were interred the week after his funeral, and the niche in the opposite side where Peter's ashes will someday join them.
Hebron's only pediatrician retired two years ago, and Bryce has taken over his practice. With small children to raise, I sold the boat. Maybe we'll buy another when the guys are big enough not to fall overboard. Bryce and I tore down the old cabin and built a new one, larger, brighter, and more up-to-date. We spend most of the warm weather months out there, along with Calvin, Lonnie, and Darien. We rarely wear a stitch, either at the lake or at home, and all the boys do the same as soon as they give up diapers. Toilet training, by the way, is a cinch if you let your toddler run nude.
We still have the sex drives of nineteen-year-olds, and we can still heat up the sheets once the boys are in bed. Lonnie and/or Calvin often joins us. We were together in our king-size bed at the cabin one night last week, when Bryce decided to get up and check on the boys once more before we slept.
"What the...?" I heard his voice trail down the hall. He left Penn's room to look into Carter's, and then further down to Darien's. "Guys, you've got to see this."
The three of us went to look, bare-ass, as Bryce was, too. He was at Darien's doorway, and we all peeked in. Our three sons, naked and innocent as the babes they had so recently been, were all piled up like puppies in Darien's bed, sound asleep. Their little trunks and limbs tangled all over one another. We laughed softly and drew our arms around one another.
"Well," said Lonnie. "Here we go again!"