[In Gear for Sturgis (Summer 1990) tells of my further adventures and those, still more adventuresome, of my adoptive son, Kirk. As with all the stories in this series, this part is fiction and imagined in its names and details.]
Ben was glad to have me cavorting with him in his bed again, even temporarily. I kept his mind off Kirk who took advantage of his graduation party at Hidden Lake by latching onto one more gift. He led off to his cabin for a fucking good time Ben's current boy toy, Miles. Worse Miles seemed to go along willingly. Well, he always did slavishly whatever Ben wanted, and Ben had been too dumbfounded to say, 'Stop!' Further, I deliberately cut in to distract Ben so Kirk, who had been exploring his sexuality for the previous two years, could have another same-sex experience.
Ben liked tricking with me and I with him, except he was so very promiscuous that I insisted on condoms and he equated that with showering in a raincoat.
But we had a good time nonetheless; I'd come to prefer mouth-fucking over ass-fucking anyway and enjoyed total body massage and frott often on a par with the anal stuff. But that night I blew Ben the way his former buddy Gregor, also become a regular of mine, did it - lusciously wet and wild. Then I fucked him slow and steady till he was bucking and screaming under me, his fingers tearing at the bed sheets.
At forty years old that summer I should have attained some technique, screwing around since I was 17. I liked to think I learned over the years from all the friends I'd had and all the friends who had had me.
But by morning Ben was back to his usual ticked-off self. 'I've had it with that kid, this is the limit!'
I smiled at Ben's outrage; he always wanted everything his way. 'Ben, are you complaining about Kirk or Miles?'
'Well, Kirk's the kid. Miles is what? Twenty-six; twenty-seven? I'm through with both of them.'
'Meaning?' I pressed.
'Kirk is eighteen and graduated; from now on he's out of the house. And, I'm through with Miles. He can find another sugar daddy; and he's through with Clarke Construction.'
I cautioned, 'Ben, you can't do that; he can charge sexual harassment and discrimination. Do you want a union blow-up and all that press attention? Bad for business. You better find something else for him to do if he's going to be bugging you.'
Ben chewed on that for a while. 'So, Lance-baby, you put the kid up to this?' Ben had shifted the issue to my shoulders. Typical.
That got me. 'You asshole, you always blame me for Lance's wanting to be independent when you've never really owned up to being his father except by giving him things.'
'Why should I try,' Ben whined; 'you stole him away from me. Talk about who's an asshole.'
I shook my head, realizing the difficulty of arguing with Ben, typically too convinced he is right while always suspicious of others. 'Why not just let last night's event go by. You've always been open in your relationships. Certainly you and Miles have been with other guys in the last year or however long it has been. Just take up with Miles again.'
Ben glared at me, turning red. 'Do you think I'd plug a guy where my own kid had plowed ahead of me. That's disgusting.'
I laughed and said through my smile, 'Well, that certainly shows we each have our own values system.' I realized that now that Miles had been fucked by both father and son, he'd be comparing the two, and Ben could not stand being compared with Kirk whom he'd always had a hard time accepting anyway.
Then Ben said, 'I suppose those two have been sniffing around one another for a long time. I just wonder what was going on when my back was turned. Kirk isn't gay anyway; he's had his share of cunt as we well know. What a perv! Well, I'm kicking him out.'
'He's going off to college anyway,' I put in. 'Besides, we're all going to Sturgis together. It's all set. And were doing it out of respect and memory of Geo, whose bad ass and palanged cock we both had and in whose bed we're now having this argument.'
Ben was obviously in a stew. 'I just don't want those two screwing around in my house.'
'Well, Ben, we've come a long way since the day Kirk showed up on your doorstep at fourteen years and you were hesitant about taking him in because you didn't want him around the parade of gay guys coming through your door.'
'Well, I didn't turn him gay or whatever he is, fucking bi-guy. It's sick.'
I thought Ben would have spit if we weren't still in bed together.
'Bi is sick?' I protested; 'you're the one who made his mother pregnant.'
'I was drunk remember, and she came on to me.'
'Ah, the drunk excuse.' I mocked, ''You won't believe what I did last night: I was so drunk, but I wound up having sex with this guy, whom I didn't even know.' See what I mean, Ben?'
But he was at me again. 'How do I know you haven't been perving around with my kid?' He had me there since Kirk and I had been intimate when the kid wanted to show his love for me by inserting himself up my ass, not really fucking, but snuggling within me through the night.
'I could think the same of you,' I defended. 'You've had far more opportunity than I.'
Ben got out of bed, and I admired his musculature and award-winning cock once more. 'If we keep up all this perv-talk, I think I'll throw up. Let's go dip in the lake, just like we used to do.' That meant nude, and so we did and I horsed around in the water with Ben for a while, willing to do almost anything to play diverting games with him and improve his mood.
It was up to me, as usual, to mediate things. When we came in from the lake, and Ben went to a hot shower, I grabbed shorts and went to Kirk's cabin to explain the situation. Glenn was ahead of me, and though 52, was still in good shape; he continued to go around at the lake nude most of the time, clothed mostly in swaths of graying hair.
'Ben is ready to ditch Miles,' I told Glenn.
Glenn sighed. 'I'm not surprised, but I have an alternative. I'll take Miles off his hands.'
Good old Coach Markus, I thought, always able somehow to blend his own interests with those of someone he had the hots for. But then, he had the long-term hots for so many, including for yours truly. 'Let me talk to the boys,' I told Glenn.
'Okay,' he agreed and turned back to the cottage, shifting his balls and stroking his cock as he went, probably getting ready to bang again whomever or two he shagged during the night. I knocked on the cabin door.
'Who is it,' Kirk called. 'It's Lance; we need to talk.'
'You just made Miles lose his erection, go away.'
'Kirk, do you want to hear me out on the reality side or enjoy more fantasy.'
'It's really real in here, Dad.' He'd taken to calling me 'Dad' out of obligation for my part in his upbringing and increasingly successful life the last few years.
'Another half an hour then. I'm leaving for thirty minutes.' Public sex is one thing, but I like privacy too.
I thought about all the nasty and wicked stuff that I'd done myself over my life as a gay guy. I sucked and fucked my phy ed teacher (Glenn) when 17, circle jerked with two high school buddies, three-wayed with Glenn - Gordo fucking me as Glenn fucked Gordo, and got mutually aroused with Gordo in the locker room showers, caught, and expelled from school. Later, I joined in gang-banging Glenn by Gordo and me fucking him together. I started another relationship when I sucked and fucked a blind man and then 'married' him till he ended his life. I bounced back when I orgied with the old gang, three-wayed with Geo and Ben, and fucked Ben even when Geo and I were committed. I fucked with Gregor when he was Ben's fuck buddy, and in time took him away from Ben; made it with a stranger when I was lonely and get my horns off, and later with two guys I met over dinner. I'd even let Kirk plug me though I had qualms about his being 17 and my 'son.' Now I'd fucked with Ben just so Kirk could have a go with Ben's sex slave, Miles. Well, I was no saint, but I sure was generous, horny devil that I am.
When I got back to the cabin, the door was open and the handsome two-some had dressed. They looked happy and at ease. 'What's so urgent, Dad?'
'Just so you know, in order to let you two do your thing, I kept Ben occupied last night. He didn't get angry until this morning.'
Kirk threw up his hands. 'Well, duh? What's his problem?'
I started to tick off the list on my fingers. 'Jealousy, fears of inadequacy, suspicion, thinking he's been betrayed, the usual things with Ben; you most likely know your biological father better than I do.'
'Well, he's the boss,' Miles said simply.
'Yes, Miles, but he's also mad at you.' Poor Miles looked dumbfounded, 'I don't know why, I've done it with a bunch of guys over the last year - Glenn, guys in Chicago, guys in Mexico, other guys from work - three-way, four-way with Ben and trading off. That didn't bother Ben any.'
'Well, Miles, none of these guys was Kirk. That's the sore spot.'
'Oh,' Miles exhaled. I think he was beginning to see. He thought to make amends. 'Well, I'll say I'm sorry. I'll never do it again.'
I cautioned, 'You can give it a try, Miles, but I think you're out of luck.'
'Really?' Miles looked forlorn for a minute, looked wistfully over at Kirk, who shook his head despairingly at Miles' foolish naiveté, Miles and looked back at me. 'What am I supposed to do?' he asked me.
'Well, Miles, this is your lucky day. Ben is for dumping you, but Glenn is for welcoming you into his arms and bed. How does that appeal to you?'
'Good,' he said, 'I like Glenn just fine.' Miles smiled, obviously relieved at so simple a solution.
'See, not so bad, Miles; in fact I think if you went to Glenn's room now, you'd find him getting ready for you.'
'Really?'
'Really!' I emphasized. Miles looked around and waved good naturedly at Kirk. 'Bye, Kirk, it's been fun.'
'Bye, Miles,' Kirk said, 'that it has been.' And Miles hustled away to his new daddy; I wanted to believe it would be better for him.
'Lance, I hope you're not mad at me.'
'No, Kirk, I was glad to cover for you. I know you're into a discovery mode for new experiences.'
'Well, Dad; I did it on an impulse. Miles doesn't know it, but I fucked him once before when he was drunk out of his mind. This time I wanted to give him a fighting chance, but he's as submissive sober as when bombed.' Kirk smiled, a smirk-like grin that I'd never seen before. 'But he is so fuckable, warmer, more autonomic than a sex doll, I'm sure.'
'Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Now I'm here to tell you your father wants a parting of the ways. Presumably Glenn can take Miles back in the house, but you are to be out the door. I preyed on every scrap of reverence he has for Geo to save the Sturgis trip for us, so that's still on, but we'll have to make other arrangements in the meantime.'
Kirk didn't bat an eyelash. 'Okay, that's all right with me. I'm ready to go. I'll just move up here for the summer.'
'And you and I can take off every weekend when the others come up - Ben, Glenn, Miles, and whoever is next in Ben's bed.'
'I think it's a plan,' Kirk jovially agreed. Good yog, I thought, the flexibility of youth.
Kirk took my jeep down to Little Falls that day, a Saturday, cleared out his room, and trucked the stuff back up to his cabin, arriving on Sunday when the others were leaving. During the week, Kirk and I ate together, exercised, swam or canoed or hiked together, and watched the sunset. The rest of the time, Kirk worked on his Greek - he was hoping to test out of first year - as well as a couple years of Latin. I took care of the place and either read or tried to write saleable porn. We slept apart - he in the cabin Geo had put up for him when he was sixteen, me in Geo's bed where we'd been in love the good part of three years. Weekends Kirk and I rode out on our Harleys - my new one and the one I rented for Kirk - and were gone at least from Friday afternoon to Sunday night.
We went to Grand Forks one weekend, and I showed him where Wallace and I had lived, that grand Victorian house become more institutional in appearance since UND took it over. Another time we went to Minneapolis-St. Paul. I had Geo's palang made into a choker piece, the stainless barbell hanging from a band of braided elephant-hair, and Kirk got inked on both deltoids with ancient Greek theater masks of tragedy on the right and comedy on the left. I thought it should be the other way around. 'Sorry, you just don't understand, Dad,' Kirk said. We went to Duluth - a wonderful place - and did TJ's Friday night and The Main on leather night. I didn't want to risk trouble over the drinking age, but Kirk looked 21 and normally made one beer go a long way. Our biggest trip was to Winnipeg that we spread out over a whole week.
Of course, on those trips we shared a motel room and sometimes a bed. 'You've got to get over your hang-up, Dad, about you and me and sex. If it happens, it happens. I love you and I can't help wanting to be affectionate with you. Okay?'
I gritted my teeth; what was I afraid of? Offending Ben? Piss on that. It was that I seemed to be going against my word that I was not sexually interested in boys in general and in Kirk in particular. I finally decided that things had changed. Kirk and I were now on a different footing than when he was 14, 15, 16, or even 17. He was a man, and manly; I was a man. I was gay and he was ?? Ambidextrous, I guess you'd say; certainly more than curious.
We were both used to sleeping nude, and when he came into bed and started caressing me, it was heaven. I couldn't imagine anything more arousing and restfully relaxing at the same time. Of course, I got hard, and when Kirk lifted my balls or ran his fingers over my cock, I touched him back and found him hard as well. We lay for hours with our arms around one another, dripping the pre-cum lube if never ejaculating. I woke early and usually had to slip out of bed and jack off before the mirror or run the risk of a hardon all day. This went on until Winnipeg.
I'd gone into the bathroom, ran some wake-up warm water on my face and was about ready for my five finger exercise when Kirk came in and wrapped his arms around my chest. In the mirror, I could barely see his trim athletic frame behind my huskier body, but he stood about a head taller and he was nuzzling my neck. 'Oh, Dad, I can't stand it any longer; I'm no longer your little boy. I want you; let me do you.' He was rubbing my pecs and starting to tease and pinch the nipples, pulling on the rings that pierced them. I felt the length of his cock hard against my ass crack as he started to raise and lower himself against me, massaging my buttocks from the valley between them. He hoisted my balls and flexed my pizzle as he pressed me against the edge of the counter.
I bent over, resting on my arms so that I could see his torso, covered with sun-bleached auburn hair, as he stood gyrating his hips and ass, starting to move his prong into position. My lengthening cock and pulsing balls lay on the cold linoleum vanity top. He let saliva drip on his hands as he coated his cock and reached for the natural lube from both our tools to add to his spit. I was relaxed, totally trusting in the kid I'd help raise, and my sphincter opened to him as he slid in, mighty man like his natural father. I hadn't been fucked by anyone age eighteen since Gordo and I were eighteen, long before Kirk was even a glimmer in Ben's eye.
'Mmm,' I moaned, 'delicious.'
'Shhh, Daddy, just enjoy.'
Kirk took long slow strokes, almost pulling out, teasing that he would quit me, then sliding his way in once again, going up the channel to where he hit at the prostate. I shivered and began to tremble on my legs. He bent over my back licking and kissing, biting and sucking till I was tingling throughout my body and burning inside. Kirk held my cock and balls as tight as any well cinched cock ring and began to pound at me by hand in front and by his bone-on in back with an increasing rhythm. I could hear his breathing, the steady breathing of a track star doing his well-paced laps, regular and with increasing depth and volume.
I could see in the mirror that he was swinging his ass, bucking into me with those ten inches that equaled Ben's whanger. He was no longer ministering to me with care and technique; he was in the throes of passion. Dionysus or some other sex-crazed god possessed him. 'Unhh,' he called, 'unhh. I'm going to come. I'm creaming you, Dad.' His battering ram tore at me, thrusting the depth of my chute, hammering at the buzzing center of my own gonadal craziness. I felt the fired itch of my own hot fluids rising from the flames of my nuts, percolating up to the tight channel of my enraged red rod, rushing to burst forth from the hot purple inflammation that was my cockhead. 'Uggh,' Kirk cried, 'your mine, your mine.' I shot and shot hitting the mirror, smearing the counter top, lopping clots of Lance jazz into the sink.
Kirk pulled out and turned me upwards to him, clashing our wet and slimy cocks and pubes together, holding us head to head in a frenzy of deep kissing, tongue questing for tongue that we had never before known from one another. We held and swayed until our panting breaths quieted to their normal susurration.
'You're the best, Dad.'
I replied as only I could, 'At times like this, it's mutual.'
Afterwards, we showered together, of course, and, of course, we subsequently had sex together when we both wanted it and that was every night we were on the road and often when at Hidden Lake.
There was going to be no way to hide this when we got back together with the gang and making that known we had to do before we started on the Sturgis trip. The occasion was Glenn's traditional birthday party. In 1990, Glenn's actual birthday was a Thursday, but since the fourth of July was a Wednesday, most people could come then. Kirk and I stayed at Hidden Lake to get things ready; it was not going to be the huge orgiastic crowd Geo orchestrated that had gathered for Glenn's 50th.
Glenn and Miles arrived Tuesday evening, and I have to say that good old Glenn was trying hard to teach Miles to make his own decisions and move away from the slave mentality. Glenn readily accepted that Kirk and I were now a sometime couple. 'What do you expect?' he said, 'two handsome, discriminating, testosterone-filled guys alone together for days on end, guys who are already simpatico. It's more opportune than had you two been living in a submarine.'
Glenn prepared us for Ben, now occupied with his new toy, Thomas. They arrived Wednesday morning on Ben's chopper and the Harley, once mine, he supplied to whoever was his current buddy-boy. Ben had gained time to be civil towards us all and introduced Thomas Olson, a handsome, bond spiky-haired lad of his early twenties, making him about five years younger than Miles. Once again Ben had picked this comely stud out of his construction crew that always seemed to furnish him a constant supply of compliant, but so fuckable young hunks. Ironic, wasn't it that in our 40s and 50s each of us was paired with a much younger guy.
I'd say the 'boys' got on well for all practical purposes, especially at games and sports, but they were different personalities, not really social or hardly friendly, even conversational with one another, but positioning themselves like young bulls, and mostly devoted to their daddies. This was the group that would be going to Sturgis together, and we talked over the plans in detail. Because of the way Kirk and I paired off that night and went to Kirk's cabin, everyone knew what we were doing. 'Well, at least, that answers that,' Ben said as Glenn reported to us.
After that weekend, sometimes Kirk and I were at the lake when they were present, sometimes elsewhere. We went back to Duluth a second time and to Mankato and La Crosse other weekends.
The six of us left for Sturgis on Sunday, August 5, after rallying for the weekend at Hidden Lake. Glenn, who'd never biked much, drove Ben's new Dodge Ram pickup that carried most of our gear. The rest of us were in our leathers and on our Harleys, five hunky guys, tanned and fit, all of us with longish hair, tats, and some piercings, but no real beards except for Miles, who still sported a growth from his upper lip down and around his chin. Glenn had a handsome mustache, and Thomas was growing a juvenile round of hair over his lip and down the sides of his mouth and across his chin in the pattern of Miles, cute but hardly burly looking.
Our first leg was over to Minnesota 29 at Wadena and then south to U.S. 212 (The Yellowstone Trail) at Montevideo. We stayed the first night in Watertown SD, each pair in their own room, a far cry from the old days when we would have double bunked or in a six-way together, but now we needed psychological space. The next day was a short haul to Gettysburg with an early check-in. Kirk and I rode down to Pierre and visited some museums; the others explored the Missouri River and Reservation lands.
Tuesday, we went over the Missouri River between Gettysburg and La Plant, and another short distance to Mud Butte which was to be our base of operations, reservations we'd made a year in advance. It was sixty miles into Sturgis from Mud Butte, but I'd reasoned that with the expected hordes arriving for the 50th rally that we needed some distance from the noise and congestion, at least for my own peace of mind.
I never was much of a late night bird, and if I missed regular sleep I was hungover for days with a wretched headache. As it turned out, I was right. Early reports were 250,000 bikers, far more than anyone expected, and a 45-minute crawl of bikes into Sturgis from the major highways every day. We had an easier time from our northern end.
The town was wild and crawling when we went in on Wednesday: Sturgis Rally is a liberty spree with 'do as you wish' prevailing. Law enforcement was heavy: in fact the police had shot a guy from Australia the day before when he pulled a knife. And that day we arrived, a guy my age from Minnesota was killed in a head-on collision north of Deadwood. Main Street was crammed with choppers, mostly Harleys, and people - mostly guys - parading up and down the streets.
The babes present tried to outdo one another with as skimpy clothing as the law allowed. It was a big fandango of mutual showing off, seeing and being seen. None of us had thought to bring a camera, but there were plenty of others photographing us, and I got a most magnificently hirsute, long-haired, bushy bearded guy in his bar vest, his arms covered with tats, to shoot a roll and give us the film. We posed with Rod, Rodney he was, our arms around one another, but never saw him again in the hurly-burly of the crowd.
We six split up in our pairs and made the rounds of the shops and hundreds of vendors - about three dozen alone doing tattooing. It was like an immense red neck or blue-collar flea market with everything for sale from Nazi paraphernalia to Bibles and hagiographic statues and medals. I noted that amidst the crowd, that included plenty of hetero couples of various ages and body types and even some young children, there were few people of color, more Hispanic-looking guys than Blacks. I bought a turquoise bracelet and ring for myself and a turquoise-loaded silver cross for Kirk. Kirk bought a snakeskin belt to wear with his jeans and some black opal button-type studs for his pierced earlobes. He waited to replace the loops in his ears until he could soak the new studs in disinfectant. He gave me a Harley bandana and metal-spiked leather cock ring to wear prominently in my belt loop, my old one being worn to pieces.
After noon, Kirk and I got in line and ate at Bob's Family Restaurant. Because of the crowd, we chatted up the people around us, and Kirk accepted an invitation for the two of us to join Bill and Brenda and get the next available table for four. This couple was typical of others in the crowd, I thought, a somewhat older guy, a bit rough and bearded, and the busty babe, thighs exposed above her calf-height boots, when she lifted her well-worn almost transparent t-shirt that said 'Road Trips Are My Life.' Was she twenty or thirty? It was hard to tell, but she was an artful piece of work, blond, bodacious and bouncy.
They were energetic talkers, regaling us with all the places they'd been. It turned out that they'd just arrived that day and needed a room. Before I could say anything, Kirk invited them to share with us. We had two beds.
After eating, we decided to meet up again about 8, and Kirk went along with them while I took off in search of Steppenwolf, whom I heard was giving a concert at one of the campgrounds. I never found it, and I may have been given the wrong day. The smell of gas and oil, and the clatter of Harleys and other hogs never ceased. At meet-up time, Kirk informed me that he Bill and Brenda were heading back to our motel. He'd got to know them well enough that they'd invited him to 'get it on' with them. 'I imagine you can find other arrangements,' Kirk said.
'Okay,' I answered. What else could I say?
I walked the streets for a while, bought cigarettes, and a beer, as the sky drew dark. All the time I had my gaydar going in this most het of all places. I saw this guy sitting on the top of a picnic table facing into the profiling of Hells Angels going one way against Outlaws going the opposite. It looked like the parade was going to go on all night. He was a dark-haired guy, moderately hairy on his arms and coming back on his shaved chest, about thirty and dressed much the same as me - bandana-socked head, bar vest but no shirt, chaps over jeans, Harley boots. He sported dog-tags while I wore Dok's palang as a choker and dangled a stainless gear of many spokes on a longer leather thong.
I took a pull on my beer, walked over and sat at the other end of the table.
With my pierced nips showing, I lifted my bar vest a little as I sat so he could see my new cock ring hanging from the belt loop (as if my homo-erotic tats weren't enough) and then said, 'Hi, I'm Lance,' and held out a cigarette to him.
'Marc,' he said, taking my peace offering. 'Thanks.' I lit his and then mine as we gazed in one another's eyes.
'I'm from Minnesota,' I said, 'you?'
'California - Riverside,' said Marc the man of few words; he did seem preoccupied.
'That's a far piece.' Dumb statement, I thought.
'True, but okay with me; I had to get away.'
'I've been clearing my mind too; time on the road is good for that.'
'Oh, yeah. I just went through a messy divorce.'
'Too, bad,' I tried to sound sympathetic. I wondered, Was this guy het, bi, queer?
'I'm sure its been tough, though I wouldn't exactly know; I've never been 'married' in the conventional sense, but I've lost three partners to death over the years.'
'Oh, yeah, I see. Well, I hope you understand me when I say death of a partner is most likely sweeter than a legal divorce with a big California-style property settlement and a lot of acrimony.'
'Wow, it was bad for you.' I moved closer to him on the tabletop.
'She was a bitch, big time,' he said. 'I tried to explain the situation to her, win her over in my best negotiating style; but she always was out for revenge.'
'What was the problem? I hope I'm not being too nosey.'
Marc took a big pull on his beer and drag on the cigarette, stubbed it out and asked, 'Would you give me another one; the nicotine makes me high, and right now I want it that way.'
'Sure, Marc.' I moved still closer, so that we were side by side. He looked at me, grinned, and took the Marlboro lite that I lit and followed with another of my own. I'm basically a social smoker.
Marc puffed and exhaled slowly. 'Well, Lance, I have the idea you'll understand.'
'I will,' I encouraged.
'I married after law school because to advance in the firm I needed a wife. Such stupidity! I'd been with guys since 10th grade, and screwed a few girls too, mostly in the dorm rooms and frat houses of UCLA. But I'd decided I had to do the het thing for my own good and career; and Elizabeth was pleasant enough, intelligent, and very social.' He smoked awhile before continuing.
'We had what is known as 'good sex,' especially since we had no idea of having children at this point. She liked her freedom, and I worked the typical 80-hour week of attorneys on the way up. However, I found I couldn't quit men. I was on the lookout for someone with whom I could be totally involved and abandoned, man to man.' He finished his smoke to the butt end and held out for another that I obliged.
'You ever been with a woman, Lance?'
'Not me, Marc, I think I'd throw-up first.'
'Well sex with the right woman, one who reciprocates, is quite good, but its rare. Most men I've had are more on an equal plane; they interact when having sex. They've done what you've done and know what you want and how to respond. Sex with women is physiologically easier given the equipment, and women who are relaxed and giving while being a tight fit and fucking with their whole bodies like men do is an absolute thrill. But it's the psycho-physical conjunction with men that really works for me.
'I made the mistake of suggesting to Elizabeth that I wanted to stay married to her; we could even have kids if she someday wanted, but I had to have men in my life as sexual partners. She wasn't even stunned, just exploded through the roof, and immediately dialed her cousin, a vindictive female divorce attorney. Those two bitches went after me tooth and nail. We just settled a couple weeks ago; the firm dumped me. I'm broke, in debt, and out of work.
'So here I am in this totally unrealistic place, trying to face reality, but wanting something more than the pathetic reality I have thrust upon me. Tell me, Lance, that life is simple for you.'
Hmm, I thought. I'm mixed up with a fuck buddy occupying my house in the Baja, with whom I'm not clear what our future relationship is to be. Then there's an adoptive bi son, ready to go to college, who is having sex with me on a regular basis when not experiencing the joys of discovery with some one or another else. 'I doubt that much simplicity exists in life. Unless, Marc, you limit your choices and live like a monk in a monastery. Somehow, buddy, I don't think that's our way.' I said it jostling against him.
He looked at me entreatingly and put his hand on my thigh. 'Shall we go to your place?'
'Marc, I'd like that, but I can't intrude on the party that's shaking there right now. Yours?'
'I'm camping; it's a tent.'
'Well, there's a first time for everything. Let's go. I'm Lance Davids, by the way.'
'Marc Sjursen,' he said.
We regained our Harleys amidst the thousands of others, and I followed him some miles off to a private campground in Belle Fourche, almost to Wyoming. It was sort of a pup tent with a decent air mattress base. We got down to our skivvies - jock strap for me - outside and clambered in. I think Marc was prepared for company because he had four air pillows and we halfway sat up for a while propped against them, smoking a couple cigarettes while we chatted comfortably about his future alternatives.
I encouraged he not beat up on himself, but think about what he wanted to keep in his present life and what he was willing to change. I didn't minimize the work of change, especially for someone intending to become established in their career and life. Whatever the investment now, if made in a well-chosen direction, would pay off in happiness and renewed energy in order to go after what he really wanted in life. He thanked, me, caressing and stroking me all the while enumerating all the things he liked about me - friendliness, helpfulness, being non-judgmental, encouragement, my smile, eyes, hairiness, adaptability - until I was getting quite hard and trying to pay back compliment for compliment.
Marc leaned into me, kissing deeply, and I reached around his neck pulling him as close as possible while our tongues sought one another and our bodies moved together instantly clashing and coursing over one another. He stopped a moment to let the flaps down on each end, tying them to pegs, and then we really went at it.
He cupped up my balls hard and stroked my cock with his other hand; leaning over he began to suck me long and luscious. I reached for his cock and hairy nuts, finding them a handful, playing with the ball sack as though with a couple of billiard balls. My hands slipped around to his well-thatched ass crack, and I ran them over his bubble butt, poking and teasing at his old roseola. Marc got up on his knees and I went down on his Montezuma, almost gagging as I took it on whole and hot. I crushed against his testicles and he moaned, letting the drool of my mouth wash over his tool, balls, and down the furry field of his crack. I rubbed the wet stuff towards his anus, turning my saliva loose and massaging his entry.
'Fuck me, Lance. I want your big cock in me. Fuck me hard and don't stop until we both come.' I gave his load length a couple more runs and then gabbed his thighs, tipping him up so that I could get my own prong into place. I started in easy, but he reached around and pulled by butt more forcefully into him. 'Ahh, ahh,' he moaned, and he began to mess around beneath me, pumping to meet the pistoning I began to give him.
Marc continued moaning softly though there was a fair amount of noise in the camp of machines and chatter, and I doubt that anyone was paying attention to us. He began to ply my ass with his fingers, poking around the rim and then putting one and then two fingers up my chute. Holding me close, he was finger-fucking me as I was porking him, all in the same rhythm. His quiet moaning picked up an edge to it, one that seemed to come from the raw center of his inner being.
I knew what was happening, my own erogenous zones were being taken over by prickly heat at the same time, that low level buzz of man to man electricity that fires all synapses in the body until all the nerves are aflame and the flood of forbidden but joyous lust courses in its madly waving ripples through all the senses. I was moaning myself; we were echoing one another so that it was one long raspy sub-vocalized cry of pleasure yearning to burst forth with the hope that it will never end until the pleasure is so intense, it must end if we are to recover and fuck another day.
We came as Marc wanted in a hot, viscous flood, he shooting over my abdomen, chest and face as I poured myself up his backside. We rode together for a while on an ebbing wave and then settled in one another's arms, face-to-face, saturated with sweat and the pungent glue of salty-sweet orgasmic joy juice. Marc provided shorts, towels, and flip-flops and we went together to the campsite's provided showers and got in a stall together. We soaped and appreciated one another quite a while; two other guys came in separately, went about their individual business and left while we were occupied there, but we didn't care and they didn't seem to either. Bless 'em.
Thanks to a long day and my evening workout with Marc, I slept well and woke with minor aches and stiffness. Fortunately it had been a warm night, and getting out and stretching started to limber me up at once. I donned my biker gear and headed for the jon to get ready for the day. Marc joined me shortly afterwards and we decided to go into town for breakfast. Over coffee, waffles and ham, we decided to go our separate ways for the moment - I told him I had to check with my travel companions - and then meet up again at noon where we'd met the evening before. I then headed for Mud Butte and the motel. Kirk was there, sitting outside on his Harley, waiting for me.
'I was going to give you until 10 a.m.,' he said, 'then head in to Sturgis. I assume you hooked up with someone last night?'
'You got it, Kirk, and most agreeably. I guess I can thank you for that. How did it go for you?'
He gave me an earful. Once installed in our motel room, Bill and Brenda started him on beer and marijuana, which he attempted to use moderately, and Brenda did a strip tease for the two of them. Bill, a fortyish accountant, liked to watch Brenda turn Kirk on, while Bill, himself, got real palsy with Kirk. Bill gave Kirk compliments, back rubs, and a friendly arm around his shoulders, massaging his bare upper arm. Brenda, a kindergarten teacher by profession, and Bill's third wife - he had kids by his first that were Kirk's age - was a complete nympho exhibitionist, who once she got her minimal clothes off flaunted her uplifted breasts, shaved pussy, rounded booty and rosy asshole.
'Straight out of Playboy,' Kirk said. She was skilled at getting the guys out of their clothes, and before Kirk knew it the three of them were in bed fondling and kissing all around. Bill bent to rim Kirk's asshole and lick Kirk's genitals from underneath with Brenda head-bobbing on Kirk's pole. When Kirk returned the favor to Bill, he licked one side of the guy's rod and met Brenda's lips, licking the other side. They alternately licked cock and French kissed one another.
Both men sucked on her tits for a while and then she sucked both their cocks at once. They lay in bed squirming and crawling over one another. Bill got down between Kirk's legs and started to blow him. Brenda sat on Kirk's face the wrong way around so that he, reaching around, could feel her tits while eating pussy and sticking his tongue up her twat. Meanwhile, she from time to time leaned over her husband's bobbing head to run her fingers through his hair or join in licking Kirk's cock or rounding on his balls.
And so they continued until Kirk came in Bill's mouth. Then Brenda rolled over on her back, her legs in the air, while Bill fucked her as he leaned across and frenched Kirk, drooling his saliva mixed with Kirk's cum into the lad's mouth. Brenda squirmed to all this sex mania, and Bill soon came in her and then fell over on the other side. Brenda snuggled between the two men, placing their hands on her to squeeze her bountiful boobs and their fingers in her flooded cunt. They sighed together and after awhile Kirk detected that Brenda slept, curled up like a baby.
Kirk went around the bed and got in the other one; Bill moved in next to him, and said, 'Fuck me, kid, but be quick and quiet about it.' So Kirk did, and then the two of them slept, their arms entwined.
Next morning Kirk woke to Bill's snoring. He heard water running in the bathroom where he supposed Brenda to be. Going in there, he found her washing up at the sink, still looking good after the night's orgy. She grabbed a clean cloth and washed off with warm, soapy water the damage Kirk had done to Bill's ass. Kirk had never before experienced that just getting his cock clean this way gave such a good feel.
As they danced one before the mirror, Brenda worked up Kirk's cock, so that he could stand behind her as she positioned his tom-foolery at her cunt to begin its ten-inch trip up her tight, hot, wet passage. He went for it as he teased her breasts and nipples and nuzzle-nipped at her neck and shoulders. Kirk swung into fucking her in this doggie fashion with Brenda's hooters shaking to his thrusts, their pleasure doubled by the mirror. Brenda lapsed into gasping and groaning on the loud side when Bill just about tore the door off its hinges and burst in on them.
'You queer, what the hell are you doing fucking my wife?'
'Oh, Bill,' Brenda said, 'hold your horses, this is just one for the road.' Kirk merely looked at him with a smile (how could he be upset after all they'd done together) and went on hitting her bull's eye, enjoying himself, as she screamed and squirmed, and he began to feel the quake coming, his eyes rolling back in his head. Gasping and shuddering he came up Brenda's vulva, as Bill, who was jerking himself by this time, looked on, his mouth watering.
Brenda fell against Bill and he threw her over his shoulder and carried her off to the bed the three of them had been in and gave her another hard fuck.
Kirk, getting ready for the shower, heard their moaning and screaming, amidst which Brenda carried on. 'Oh, Bill, oh God, you're the best. I know I've been bad; fuck me right. Oh, Bill, fuck me like I've never been fucked before; oh, Bill, you're the one. You're my big man.'
When Kirk was out of the shower, and they spent couple sprawled in bed, Bill and Brenda looked at him calmly and began to call him "sex-crazed twink, teen-age punk, juvenile delinquent, bastard, traitor, queer jail-bait," and assorted other names, saying they never wanted to see him again.
He said, 'Fine; you can shower and then clear out. I hope you find some other place to crash.' Kirk pitied the maids who were inside cleaning up while he, outside, at first waited for me and then related his story.
Kirk said, 'I figured I knew what I was getting into with those two. They were both coming on to me around town, and I figured whatever we did it would be tit for tat. If that's the right expression. I mean, I knew it was the pleasure principle at work. We'd groove together, have some fun, and go our ways. I never thought they'd abuse our mutual arrangement.
'Why did they think they had to turn against me? Was I only a part of their game, their dispensable plaything to fool around with me mentally as well as physically? I can't let other people's sex games, whatever they are, bother me. Did they think I would cling to them like I was in love with them or something? That I'd tag along expecting non-stop sex when they returned to their workaday lives?
'I ask myself now, would I do more than a one night stand with them? Probably. I'm not sure we ran through all the changes that we could do with one another, and they were really pretty good at the pleasure principle. Brenda is a babe extraordinaire when it comes to getting a guy hot and putting out, but it was hard to tell if she was boopsie babe to the core. Was that how she wanted to see herself, or it was all an act during Sturgis Rally or biker weekends and then it's back to being schoolmarm the rest of the time?
'Bill is an okay guy in the sack, but really mixed up as to whether he's swinging for fun or being seriously seduced by some other inner sex genie. Sure, for pleasure, I was using them and most of the time I figure that's how they related to me. But it turned to abuse. They manipulated me so that they could get off with one another; they took me like a drug so they could get stimmed to get it up and keep at it.
'So, now, would I do a next time? Probably not with the two of them, but either one? I could see myself jumping their bones if I had them long enough to make their true selves come out. So, Dad, what's next for you?' He paused a moment, having cleared his thinking by talking it out loud.
'Kirk, I realize today is the day the whole gang is going to meet at the foot of Mount Rushmore at 4 P.M. I've got a date to meet Marc from last night, high noon, at the corner of Junction and Main. We're playing it as we go. If he's not there, he will have hooked up with someone else; so it goes. But if he's waiting for me, I'll bring him along to our four fathers.
Okay?'
'Okay, Dad, I'll tag along with you for the time being.'
We took off for Sturgis and arrived down Main to Junction at about 11:45. Marc was waiting; he'd bought his own cigarettes and was smoking when we cruised by. 'Hey, Marc,' I called and he came running out to the street. 'Marc, this is Lance Donnelly, my adoptive son. Lance, this is Marc Sjursen, a new friend of mine.'
They exchanged glances, handshakes and greetings. 'Marc, we're meeting the rest of our party from Minnesota out at Rushmore and going to the Black Hills now. I want you to come along.'
'Sure,' he said, nodded, and went for his bike.
'Oh, Daddy,' Kirk purred, 'you really know how to pick 'em. How hot was he?'
'Listen, Son, I was willing to sleep outside with him in a crowded two-person, slant-sided hiker-biker tent for the first time in my life, if that's any clue. Of course, what was my alternative? Come back to the room where you were doing all your perverted stuff?'
'Okay, Dad, I see. I'll mind my own business.'
We joined the bikers taking in the sights of the Black Hills and finally met up by the monuments. Ben, not unexpectedly, was in a sullen mood, and dependent Thomas, as though he drew his happiness from Ben, very downcast as a result. Miles and Glenn, who had ridden out on the back of Miles' Harley, were all but groping one another they stood so close together. I introduced Marc all around, and his being there immediately perked up Ben, always brighter when a new prospect came into sight. We went up top of the mountain ledge over the monument and, looking out over the presidents between Washington and Jefferson, formed a semi-circle.
Lance had the canister; he held it up like an offering of the Eucharist host and said,
'Mighty creator of universal light and love, we give back to the earth all the physical remains of our beloved, Georgias Noressian, know to us as Geo and Dok, lover of men, and friend of all human kind, even the weakest, poorest, and most unfortunate, with an everlasting mission to bring among us more light and more love. Blessed be his memory to all of us, and blessed be his gifts to this needy world. Amen.'
And, we all said, 'Amen.' Then Lance leaned as far over the edge as possible. With Glenn and I holding onto him around his belt and over its rim under his jeans, Lance scattered the canister of Geo's dust out over the great granite portrait of the founders. There was stone-faced Washington (who loved Hamilton, Lafayette, and who knows how many other men) and Jefferson (author of the Declaration of Independence and the Virginia Statute of Religious Liberty), Lincoln (the emancipator and martyr for union), and Teddy Roosevelt who began the national preservation of our natural treasures. What could be more fitting for Geo? Afterwards, we decided to go back to Sturgis, find a bar, and hoist a few in honor of the good Doktor G.
We wound up at the Full Throttle Saloon, where Glenn, Ben, Kirk, even Miles a little, and I told Thomas and Marc stories about the wonders of Geo and his ways. We'd had, except for the ever moderate Kirk, three or four beers apiece when two bodacious women paraded their booties over to our table, littered as it was with empty bottles and cigarette buts. They wore spike-heeled black suede boots up to the knee and black stretch outfits that just about covered the legally required areas. These costumes exposed buttocks thanks to the thong back, bumptious breasts with aroused nipples outlined by the tight fabric, and most of the skin down there God gave them, but a good razor shaved smooth.
Both beauties had exotic looks, black haired and dark skinned to different degrees. They were blessed with slender frames, high cheek bones and long fingers, accentuated by long red-lacquered finger nails and sensuously full lips, so brightly red, that they shouted: "I give great sex."
One said, 'My sister and I have been watching you guys from over in the corner. Are all of you gay or what?
'Right, sister,' I jumped in, 'some of us more queer than others.'
'Well, Randine and I could help you straighten that out.'
'We don't want to be straightened,' Glenn said; 'we're happy with ourselves they way we are.'
'You don't know Andrea and me,' Randine said, 'what we'd be happy to do for you.'
'Try, him,' Ben said, pointing at Kirk; 'you're going to have more success with him.'
Randine and Andrea moved in on Kirk at once from either side, and he stood up between them, out of his usual politeness, I suppose.
'Hi, Andrea, Randine; I'm Kirk. Glad to meet you. Can we get you ladies some drinks?'
'Um, sister,' Andrea said, this one is the cutest.'
'Yes, possibly, Randine responded, 'this one here is starting to get me wet.' And she put her arm around Marc's neck and felt his bare chest where the hair was coming back.
'Sorry, I've got a date for the night,' Marc said, winking at me.
'Oh, I see,' Randine withdrew immediately. 'I guess you are right sister, Kirk is the cutest.'
Trading off, Andrea went on, 'Kirk, sugar, we have a little place outside of town; won't you come along with us for a visit. We'd could play a few games, and teach you a few tricks, that maybe you haven't learned in your ... years.'
'Eighteen years,' Kirk blurted.
'Oh, sister, Andrea squirmed and squealed, 'and such a big boy, too.' Her hand went down his furry-fielded chest, coursing the line of hair to his belt buckle.
Kirk adjusted himself and said, 'Sorry, guys, I guess I'll be going. See you in the morning or whenever.' He looked at me, 'I guess the room is yours tonight.' I saw him mouth the words 'Dad.' We all stood as the sisters left with our junior member in tow.
'You're letting him go!' Ben charged at me. 'Who knows what those hookers will do?'
'For Jesus' crying out loud, do you think I could stop him if I wanted to; would we all pile on him and carry him away. He's 18 for fucking sure and going to do as he pleases. Hookers they may very well be, but high class ones I'd say, and what can they do but show him a good time. They certainly must know that they aren't going to get any money out of him, and I don't think they're going to hold him for ransom.'
'Gee,' Miles said, pleadingly, 'why couldn't it have been a couple of cowboys who came over and wanted to hustle us.'
Marc intervened, 'Come on, Lance, let's go for a walk.'
We left and went over to Bear Butte Creek, where we sauntered along it slowly and smoked.
'Who is that kid to you?' Marc asked.
'I've helped raise him since he was 14. Ben is Kirk's natural father, but could never bring himself to fully accept his responsibilities towards him. Ben is gay all the way, but got the mother pregnant one night he was drunk. Really! We've tussled over him for these last few years, and now Kirk is ready to go to college - La Jolla. Kirk has been around us gay guys all this time and since sixteen has experienced a little bit of sex both ways. Being here, I realized, in this liberated space, is a way for him to explore his own sexuality deeper. Last night he pretty much ran the gamut with a bi kind of guy and his wife. Being with these two babes should be another experience as he sorts things out for himself.'
'Interesting,' Marc said. 'I admire what you're doing for this kid. I appreciate what you've done for me, too. I've been thinking over what you said about alternatives and making some positive decisions in the directions of what I want out of life.'
'Good, I'm glad for you.'
'Certainly, a lot of possibilities are out there; I just have to move in different directions. Change...' Marc drifted off.
'Shifts, I'd say, too.'
'Right, Lance, course corrections. Thanks.'
We stopped walking, and Marc turned to me. 'When are you heading back home?' he asked.
'Saturday; you?'
'I had no definite timetable on that score except to face up to reality some day. And then your heading with Kirk to California.'
'Yup, that's the plan.' I thought I knew where he was heading.
'How about if I go back with you to Minnesota and then return with you and Kirk to California? I'd like to think I'd be of some help.'
I looked at Marc, sorting things out in my mind, and said. 'I'd like that, too. You should know that after California I'll go to my house outside San Felipe in the Baja. If you wanted a place to work out the details of your next move, you could stay there awhile. My winter fuck buddy, Gregor, is sitting the house for me while he works on his future as a cabinet and furniture maker.'
Marc was silent for a few moments. 'Would all us guys together make it complicated for you?'
'Probably, but I'd like to think we've all been around the block before and know the score. We're all reasonable to a certain extent. I'd like a simple life, but I don't expect it.'
Marc smiled and said, 'You're a treasure; let's go somewhere and share what we've got some more.'
We cuddled and caressed that night at the motel, stepping out the back in the warm dark air, naked, to smoke and look at the stars. We couldn't stop groping one another with our free hands. Back in bed, after a lot of kissing and sucking, Marc fucked me once in the mouth, I fucked him once in the ass, and later, he fucked me up the backside. I fell asleep thinking of the future. Friday, we both slept late, unusual for me, but I must have been really relaxed and worn out from the week's events.
About noon, after Marc and I showered together, we pulled ourselves together, went to his campsite and packed up his gear. Then went back to our room that had been cleaned in the meantime. We dressed in jeans and T-shirts, the first time neither of his hadn't bared his chest in a week and found a place in Mud Butte for breakfast-lunch.
It was getting on to two o'clock, and still no sign of Kirk. I left a note saying Marc and I were into town to check out the vendors, but we would be at Bob's Family Restaurant at 6 p.m. and then back to the motel before dark.
Marc and I picked up a few Sturgis 50th Rally Ts, some of the more tasteful ones, and Marc got inked with the balance scales of justice on his right deltoid. We ate at Bob's and still didn't find Kirk when we got back to the motel. Marc and I got in bed and soon fell asleep too, despite that we were nude, and had cozied together for a while.
We all woke early, about 5. Kirk had come in accepting the situation of Marc's presence at once. I was relieved to see he had survived whatever adventure he had gotten himself into. He eager to tell us his experience with 'Randy and Andy,' as he called the women.
'You may have noticed that for sisters, they looked different - same mother, different fathers. They work out of Montreal, but their mother brought them over from Paris when they were girls and taught them everything they know, I guess. Andy, the older by a year or two, is the darker one; her father immigrated to France from Côte d'Ivorie (Ivory Coast). Randy, the Eurasian, is from a Vietnamese father, who was studying at the Sorbonne.
'They are "sex professionals" as they clearly put it, and on holiday. Because they take a break each year for the rally, they've put up a 'little place' between Sturgis and Spearfish to stay for a week to ten days each year. Since they were on vacation, I was their recreation, they said, which meant what they usually charged $1,000 an hour for, they were just having fun for free.
'First thing when we arrived at their spread - pool, hot tub, projection systems, industrial strength kitchen, the works - was that Reagan, their houseboy, came out to take orders. He's a Dakota, native to the area, that they picked up, a gorgeous guy, glowing skin tone and long lustrous black hair, falling in a long feathered shag out of some expensive Montreal salon, no doubt. Dad, I thought of your story about Gordo; you would have really gone for this guy.'
Kirk looked at me evenly, and went on. 'Reagan, a crazy name for a Dakota, dressed in a breech cloth, buckskin boots, and an open lab coat. He wore a bear claw necklace at his throat; he'd been tattooed with a wingspread eagle on his upper chest and I could see his nipple rings. I wondered about the lab coat until I was directed to a room to "freshen up." Reagan told that "the Munier sisters like a man who is as clean about the bowels as about the temples, as Whitman was wont to say."
'But before I got into the shower, he drew blood so that he could "run tests," doubtless assuring that I was clean. These girls took no chances. Good for them. The shower had hoses and nozzles, and I saw I was to clean out my shitter. "All is ready," Reagan said when I came out of the steamy shower. I dried my hair with a blower, and made for the boudoir down the hall as directed.
'Randy and Andy, and I really mean those names, were in a big round bed, naked except for their stiletto-heeled boots, and going at it in '69. I went over to look down at them and they'd worked up one another's clits so large that any bigger and they'd be fucking me. "Dive in," Andy said. They sort of parted and I got between as Randy scooted up to the hillock of pillows and grabbed on to me. I lay with my head propped between her hooters and my ass up against her juicy poon while she wrapped her legs around my thighs so that her heels were up against my groin as she played with my chest, teasing my nipples.
'From time to time, Randy placed her forefinger in my mouth so I could suck off the sex juice from her moist pussy and she could go to stim herself with the same finger wet from the saliva running from my mouth. Meanwhile Andy caressed my legs up and down and began to suck on each toe of both feet. They had quickly got me hard, and Andy bent to lick my erection and flaming nuts and then dip down to my crack, working towards rimming me.
'We shifted positions, and I was between them for awhile as we played with each other. The sisters would often leave off sucking my nips or licking my tool to French one another, pushing themselves to rub buxom boobs to boobs and fingering their nether regions. But eventually Randy sat on my face, the way Brenda had, so that I could chew and lick her clitoris and cunt, and Andy rode my cock. I played with Randy's tits and often the two doing me leaned together, touching, licking and kissing. I came amidst a lot of bouncing around. Amazingly, even as I was thrashing around under the double load I was able to buck my whole body and left both of the hooking Munier sisters in the air.
'No sooner had we finished that, but the sisters licked up what ever cum remained and then Randy ate out her sister's cunt supply of my spunk. Suddenly the two switched positions; Andy with her twat still wet from my cum traces and her sister's saliva sat across my mouth, and Randy flopped my collapsed dong between her breasts and licked it like a frosty pushup. I wanted to stretch out after that first orgasm, but they had me pinned. I saw out of the corner of my eye Reagan arrive with a tray and a glass of water. Andy picked up something from the tray and put in her mouth then took a big gulp of water; she shifted to kiss me and filled my mouth with the drink, I swallowed feeling the pills go down. Amphetamines, I figured; now I was on speed.
'Long story short, they made me come again. We lay together for a few moments, touching, licking and kissing. I could taste my own cum on the girls tongues. "We have a little surprise for you,: Andy said, and the girls hopped out of bed went over to a closet and came back with Andy sporting a cock harnesses from which hung a giant rubber dildo; Randy draped a long gauzy scarf around her neck. They crawled back in bed from either side, and the round bed began to slowly rotate as the Muniers moved against one another and began to groan, pinching and sucking one another's breasts and Andy laving Randy's clit.
'Then much to my amazement, after Randy had sucked on Andy's ersatz "cock," Andy entered Randy's cunt and began to simulate a fuck with her. The two groaned, squirmed and thrashed, and I found I was fantasizing myself between them, playing with my own tool as it once again turned woodie. After about half an hour of the simulo, when both these beauties acted like they orgasmed, they lay back for awhile inviting me over to kiss, cunnilingus Randy and fellate Andy 's "cock" that smelled of being in Randy.
'Reagan appeared again, and we took a break sharing a joint that he provided. "Shall we take our guest to the special room?" Randy asked out of the blue.
'Andy purred, "Oh, what a good idea sister."
'We got out of bed. Randy ran to the closet for a moment and came back with a dildo harness of her own. She took the scarf off and wound in around my waist, up and down between my buttocks and wound it around my cock and balls. Andy had come behind me and I could feel her strapped-on dildo moving against me. Distracted as I was, Andy grabbed the scarf and blindfolded me while Randy had my arms, moved them behind me, and I was in handcuffs.
'What the fuck?' I heard myself saying.
'"Oh sugar," one said - their voices sounded the same - "this is just a little fun. You'll like it, we guarantee."
'"But first," it was the other one speaking, "you need this slave collar." I felt myself fitted with a broad leather strap that stretched my neck, and though blindfolded knew it was being buckled closed and then padlocked. And I detected the collar had a leash on it.
'One sister led me out of the room and down what seemed the hallway to a door that I heard open, and the one behind me said, "We're taking you down steps, honey. Too bad you don't have a Prince Albert; we could have leashed you there."
'I had the sudden feeling of vertigo like I was going to fall down the steps head first, so I felt slowly with my bare feet as we moved down. I counted twenty steps going down and could feel the temperature change from the air-conditioned bedroom to the moister, natural chill of being underground, even in such badlands as these. "Are we in a cave?" I asked.
'''Such a noisy guy," the one in front said; "we'll have to stop that." And before I knew it, I had a leather strap across my mouth with a kind of rubbery mouth guard between my teeth. They led me to some kind of table where I was made to lay on my side and momentarily my cuffs were off, but then my wrists and ankles were buckled into broad leather straps and I was bound, arms out above my head and legs spread eagle. Then one of my captors sat on my nose so that I could hardly breathe except to inhale the powerful sex smell of her livery cunt, and the other momentarily sucked on my balls and cock before she started to rim me.
'Then I heard cranking and the sound of chains moving. I could feel I was be pulled, first sliding down to the end of the bench that I was on, then my legs, still apart and up, my ass was being lifted off the ground. I thought of the medieval torture racks and the scenes in Onstott and Horner's Child of the Sun (1966), the novel about the sex-crazed, teen-age Roman emperor, Heliogabulus the Transvestite. I could hear the sisters cooing and giggling and the sound of kissing and sucking. Then the one at my business end began to slap my elevated butt, spanking and saying with each hit, "Bad boy! Naughty boy!" My buns started to tingle; I was getting numb.
'A big instrument began to play at my asshole where a tongue had been, and I didn't even try to protest a garble through my gag, but thought, Oh, God, save me from being torn apart by that monstrous cock. Could I take it up the ass, the way Randy had taken her sister's whopper? But the cock was already in me and spread the first sphincter to enter farther down my chute.
I used all my will to relax and let it enter. "Have your way with me, take me," I said in my head, making it a mantra as I breathed evenly to relax, each inhale smelling rich poon fluid.
'The rod was hitting my 'nads, I could tell, and surprisingly it was starting to feel good; I relaxed all the more, and realized I was enjoying the scene. I let my mind go on the feeling not the picture of being ravaged and ripped. In a minute even my toes were tingling, and then I realized, whoever was fucking me was all the way in. Fourteen-16 inches? No. My fucker had wiry public hair slamming my ass, and the sisters sported shaved pussy. They'd tricked me into thinking I was been probed by the artificial cock when really, and most probably it was Reagan, the faithful Dakota houseboy, who was doing me.
'Then I really let go and enjoyed. After three or four cums - I'd lost track - I shot more buckets. I could feel three mouths lapping up all my gizz.
'They lowered me on to the table, unstrapped me, massaged my wrists and ankles and took out the gag and removed the blindfold. The lights were at first too bright but as they pulled me up to a sitting position and I could see around me. I realized I was in a well-equipped dungeon, with all kinds of gear on the walls.
'Andy said, "See just like I promised; you're all right."
'I grinned, "Thanks, ladies; that was some thrill."
'"Thank Reagan, too," Andy said; "remember Reagan."
'"And how!" I said. We shook hands while I admired his nude body. Beyond what I'd already seen, he had native symbols tattooed on his upper arms with a lot of color ink used, and a good sized schlong, no monster - thank yog - but enough to fool me that it was. "This is some place," I said, sounding gosh-wow-boy-oh-boy.
'"We meet some of our best paying customers here. You'd be surprised what those big money boys want to do or be done to some times."
'The four of us went up stairs and out to splash around nude in the pool. Reagan and I did several laps, not racing, but swimming at a slow enough speed so that we could exchange compliments. We lounged in the hot tub, smoked a couple shared joints, and as it was getting light gloried in the rising sun while Reagan went to make breakfast. We ate in the nude on cushioned chairs on the patio by the pool, and the sisters invited their houseboy to eat with us.
'"You want another go with Reagan, I suppose," Andy said, not asking.
'"I'm agreeable to that," I said.
'"Okay," the sisters chimed, "but we always like to watch a couple guys get it on."
'Reagan took me by the hand to his room. A wild West motif set the décor with plenty of authentic plains Indian memorabilia on the walls - blankets, arrows, indigenous jewelry of bones shells and skins. Almost as good sized as the boudoir, a rectangular king-size bed in the center suited this space.
We got in bed and started nuzzling; the girls came in still nude and moved up video cameras - four of them on dollies - and aimed at the bed from different directions. I felt slightly less conspicuous because they didn't watch us directly but on the monitors.
'Reagan was novel in his foreplay, dwelling on the hidden areas of pleasure - pits, navel, the wells of the ears and cavities behind the knees. I did the same for him, and we were breathing heavily when he pulled me over into him and I fucked him powerful hard so that he bucked back like the wildest of untamed broncos. When I was done and flopped back, the girls jumped in bed and Reagan got up to run his houseboy errands.
'Andy and Randy had me tongue their clits once again, alternating, as they changed off kissing me and one another. I got another dose of speed, and then when I fucked Andy, Randy popped ice cubes up my ass to contract the glands and make me come exploding like a furiously fucking volcano. Then Andy rode me as I lay between Randy's breasts. That's how we'd started eighteen hours before.
'I felt utterly exhausted; there couldn't be an milliliter of jazz left in me, and I conked. When I woke, I was stiff, numb and hung over. I didn't know what day it was and was too wasted to worry. All I thought was, Great God; I've become a casualty of the sex revolution.
'Fortunately Reagan got me back to life. Tomato juice, vitamin B shots, a massage, hours of sleep in the quite, cool dark, and a limbering swim and relaxing soak. "The Muniers have gone about their business; we're here alone," he said. He told me it was Friday night, and I relaxed. We fucked together, doing each other one more time, and I had a normal night's sleep, and here I am.'
Marc and I were strangely turned on by Kirk's story, and when we made for the shower, I had to fuck him standing up in the shower spray-his request and my desire. Meanwhile Kirk was out packing all our stuff and assembling the crew for our trip back. We dropped down from Maurine to Wasta and took I90 back, staying Saturday night in Sioux Falls. Working in a stop at the downtown gay bar, visited by quite a few Sturgis Alumni, we met some guys Ben and I knew from the Atons, although we hadn't seen them lost in the hordes at the Rally.
I think there was some hooking up among Ben, Glenn et. al. and their company. The three of us - Marc, Kirk and I - continued to share a room but were so worn by the week - not much biker culture but a lot of gay stuff (or bi in Kirk's case). And we slept without incident.
We left notes for our buddies who were not up with us in the morning. And then went on to take Minnesota 23 from Beaver Creek to Minnesota 71 and from there to Motley, retracing our way back to Hidden Lake. It was time to get ready to take Kirk to California and get him settled for school.