[Home, Sweet Fucking Home (Late Summer 1990) tells of getting Kirk settled for his college career, and the consequent round of farewell, reunion, and greeting, and otherwise recreational rounds among our menagerie. As with all the stories in this series, this part is fiction and imagined in its names and details.]
After our trip to the Sturgis Rally, Marc, Kirk and I returned to Hidden Lake and enjoyed a couple relaxed days before we prepared to bundle Kirk off to college. Mostly we cavorted in the lake, Marc introduced to our freedom code of minimal dress or clothing optional. We shared the household chores and talked things over into the setting sun. Marc and I occupied Geo's bed of famed history while Kirk took to his cabin. I marveled at the privacy Kirk gave us and at his tranquil acceptance of someone else in my sex life. What a relief that his attitude contrasted so oppositely from Ben, his natural father, who was always in a snit over some real or imagined jealousy.
It took us a couple days to organize the packing. Kirk had a surprisingly limited wardrobe and about four dozen books besides his computer, CD player and radio that fit into my jeep. To haul the Harley I'd rented and now purchased for him, we had to buy a trailer. Marc and I rode our choppers but traded off with him driving the jeep. We made the trip in four stages of about 500 miles each, first to Council Bluffs, Iowa, then Denver, Beaver, Utah (really!) and finally San Diego. We stayed in trucker type motels along the way, more smoky and noisier, but cheaper.
Because we three shared a room, Kirk would say each evening, 'I guess I'll take a look-see around for a couple hours so you fags can do what you do.' Once gone, we went at it. No sooner was Kirk out the door but we stripped, made out, sucked and/or fucked and generally went wild so that we collapsed spent and so unconscious that we never heard him come back into the room. Next morning we'd get in the shower together no matter how tight the stall. You know us guys always like a tight fit. I assumed, knowing Kirk for the horny 18-year old he was, that he jacked himself while we showered. I supposed he also whacked off into the breeze whenever on his evening prowls since he never told of fucking anybody. He wasn't boastful as to his exploits, but he was always forthright about his sessions of sexual discovery.
Marc had arranged for us to stay a few nights with his younger half-brother, Anton Sjursen, in San Diego. That's where Marc had stored his personal effects after his divorce and before he took off for Sturgis. Anton was the principal software developer for one of those startup firms, and apparently paid well. He lived in a posh neighborhood near the La Jolla campus and his house looked expensive on the outside. On the inside only the barest furnishings of an essential nature occupied the rooms. 'It's an investment,' he said. Anton looked like the geeky computer genius he was reputed to be, a little disheveled and with a constant expression of puzzlement behind his horn-rimmed glasses.
He was completely nonplussed about three testosterone buzzed bikers moving in on him and couldn't care less what we did. He had at least one or two babes to himself in his room every night, and you could hear them moaning and screaming at odd hours in orgiastic delight. I suppose Marc and I made a little noise, too, since we also did one or the other every night; or sometimes each other. Kirk was in an adjoining room where his vigorous pounding in self-abuse rocked his bed against the wall behind us. If we hadn't had one another, that tom-tom of lusty, youthful self-abuse alone would have turned a guy on.
Finding a place for Kirk to live while in school took a little time. Thanks to Geo, he owned too many books back in San Felipe to share a dorm room. But actually, he wanted his own space; he'd grown up enjoying privacy, and he coveted solitude for the concentration on heavy study he knew was ahead. Otherwise he could have rented from Anton. Places near campus were expensive and more upscale than he needed.
While Marc and I were out Saturday night cruising the gay clubs in our jeans and bar vests, we talked to some guys in the Bourbon or Eagle that gave a lead. (I can't remember exactly where we were; San Diego has so many hot spots.) Some miles off in a converted factory was a 12-plex of efficiency apartments, owned and operated by two aging queens who lived there. This was the place, Kirk decided upon a Sunday visit, and Monday he moved in with our assistance to a third floor location on the northeast corner. He thought it ideal.
I had called Gregor on Sunday to bring up in his pickup the books Kirk had set aside in his room in San Felipe, and he came at once with it all to the new location. I introduced Gregor to Marc and they shook hands before Gregor gave me one of his power kisses that just about knocked me over. I was instantly tumescent and could feel him hard between my legs. Gregor broke away and said, 'I brought the furniture I told you about.' He'd made a king-size bed frame that he put together, so large it filled the bedroom in Kirk's apartment so that the matching dresser had to fit outside the room at the end of the hallway. He'd also made a desk and desk-chair for Kirk, and we busied moving the stuff in.
Gregor took Kirk in his pickup to buy a box spring and mattress - his treat - to fit the bed. Meanwhile, Marc and I went shopping for household utensils and canned, fresh or frozen foods to fill the cupboards and refrigerator. By evening Kirk was all set up and we left him in possession of his domain to return to Anton's house. Kirk's trust fund would pay his rent directly and send him $200 a month expense money. I gave him $500 up front for incidentals. There was nothing from Ben.
At Anton's, Marc excused himself to go to Kirk's former room, bowing out to Gregor who was obviously going to jump me any minute. 'Thanks, buddy,' Gregor said to Marc, 'I hoped you'd understand; it's been four months of wanking and wishing.' Marc just smiled and nodded before ducking into the room next door. We heard him pull the bed in there away from the wall.
We still had our clothes on, but my cock was pressing hard against the pouch of my jeans. It looked like Gregor's rod was on the rise, too. Quickly we tore off our shirts, pulled off our boots, and shucked our pants and underwear. My heart was pounding like I was some kind of virgin. Ye, gods, but Malkis looked good. 'Hot damn,' I said. I couldn't make out what Gregor said; he was already on his knees with his gulping head bobbing on my instant boner.
Yikes, but his Zapata mustache felt good as he roistered in my pubes. My fingers raked through his curly locks that ran down his back. I leaned over his shoulder and reached for his ass crack. He stood up, raising my arms with him and planted his thrusting tongue in my mouth. I tasted and smelled the heavy spice of my own penis on his breath as he explored within me, and my tongue dueled back at him. He lifted me back into bed and we wrapped arms and legs around one another turning over from side to side, trying to become one person in our embrace.
'Lance, I've missed you so much. So much more than I can say.' We talked then quietly between kisses and touches. Gradually I filled him in about the complexities of going sexual with Kirk, of befriending and tricking with Marc, about an indefinite future. Gregor never balked or frowned, but nodded and signaled affirmations, continuing to draw close to me. He'd made a lot of furniture, but had no permission to sell it in Mexico where he'd be in competition with local labor. He was solemn when he told me he might have to relocate to the U.S. and began to apologize. I kissed, licked and tongued him into submission and got him so roused he gave me the fucking of my life.
At the living end of that fuck, he stood at the edge of the bed with my legs over his shoulders and my ass up in the air as he gave me what for. Usually we come simultaneously, but this time, he shot first, turned me over and licked out his cum and then blew my raging hardon to kingdom come. We slept in one another's arms then, zonked till morning, when he nuzzled me awake and I ass-fucked him back with equal force and he fucked my face, something I dearly love.
Much to my surprise, when we went to shower down the hallway, Marc and Kirk in their ever loving altogether headed out of the bathroom. 'What the freaking fuck?' I gasped.
'All will be explained, Dad,' Kirk said. 'When you and your buddy boy are cleaned up, come to breakfast at my place. Marc and I will cycle over and be ready for you.'
Mystified, I hurried Gregor along, though I would have enjoyed a leisurely playtime with him amidst the soaping and washing under the hot spray.
Kirk told that in the middle of the night he had the urge for a farewell engagement with me and came back to the house. As he approached the room where he figured I was with Gregor and or Marc, he had second thoughts about intruding. Just then Anton came out of Kirk's former room with Marc, both in naked and headed for obvious action.
'Come on,' Marc invited, 'Anton wants to share pussy with us.'
'I know you bi-guys like it both ways,' Anton said.
'My bro likes to watch,' Marc said.
Anton had a specialty made bed in his master suite, 'emperor-size,' you might call it. Two nude, curvaceous and big-breasted blondes were in high heat, squirming and running their long red-lacquered fingers from their mouths and nipples to their cunts and asses. They reminded Kirk of his fling with the Munier sisters a couple weeks before.
'Follow me,' Anton said, putting his horn rims aside. He dove in between them and alternately licked one clit and the other so that they moaned and gyrated more than ever. Marc reached over and grabbed Kirk's whanger as they stood there.
'Okay?' Marc asked. Kirk responded in kind and they wanked one another for a few minutes to get hard.
'Go to,' Anton said, getting out of bed and regaining his glasses to stand watch. Marc and Kirk crawled in bed and found the honey buckets wet and wild. They slipped into the juicy cunts and turning to one another kissed and tongued each other as they began to pump pussy. Their homo action drove the babes to greater frenzy, bucking their hips to fuck back under them. Then the guys broke off to suck those big-breasted nipples and feel up the nubile duo.
'Switch around,' Anton urged, so Marc and Kirk pulled out and change places to plug the other cunt.
Marc said, 'Mostly, it turned me hotter to think I was in the place Kirk had been.'
'I felt close to him, too,' Kirk said, 'strange as it may seem.'
Just when Anton thought the guys were close to coming, he'd call a 'switch back' and they'd obligingly change places. This went on four our five times. While Marc and Kirk continued fucking the blond duo, Anton got back in bed between the humping couples and shouted, 'Orgy time!.' The babes turned to him, reaching out and kissing or tonguing him as best they could. Anton was running both hands over his cock, now at a considerable length until he shouted. 'I'm going to come! I'm going to shoot!' The blondes with surprising strength turned their fuckers over and went to minister to Anton licking his dong and then lapping his gizz as he began to flood himself with the pearlescent spunk.
Marc and Kirk, not to be left behind, turned 69-ways and completed their orgasm by sucking one another off. 'In seconds the joy juice drowned the taste of too much pussy,' Marc said.
'Dad, I know now, why you like this guy,' Kirk grinned, before continuing. 'All of us lay there breathing hard; it sounded like the females had enjoyed orgasm, too. When they got cozy on each side of Anton, we left for the other bedroom and were soon zonked.'
'Interesting,' I said, feeling foolish to have said anything so inane.
'Different, I'd say,' Kirk said. 'Just the same, I doubt I'll do that scene for awhile. I've got serious work ahead of me. But, Dad, I still want a final farewell with you.'
I gulped, but Kirk was determined.
'Gregor and Marc, would you give us a breather for a couple hours so I can have my way with dear old Dad.'
'We could do three-way,' Marc said, and looked at Gregor, 'or four-way.'
'Maybe later, Marco, but I'm orgied out, and I need my daddy.'
They left, I went to piss and when I got out of the can, Kirk called me from his bedroom. 'In here, Dad.' He was sprawled out nude on the sheets, having closed the blinds over the east and north windows of this corner room. It was cool and restful in the semi-light, and Kirk stretched like a kitten as fetching as any cub could be. 'Come here,' he said holding his arms open for me. I wanted to look at him, not just his wonder rod, but stamp all of him in my mind, but I hurriedly wriggled out of all my clothes at once and curled in beside him. 'I love you, Dad; you're the best.'
I said, 'My darling boy, you're the best.'
We fondled, kissed and played, growing more and more aroused and passionate.
I tingled with first-time excitement. Kirk swung over me, sat across me just below the navel and bent to lick me, play with my ring-pierced nipples and drag his cock and balls across my mid section. I raised my head and he eased it up with pillows as I opened wide to take as much of his genitals as I could. 'Mmm,' I heard myself as he hummed too.
'So good, daddy. Let your boy fuck your face; please, daddy.' I nodded in the affirmative, all the while sucking and laving his prod and testes, too crammed with him to utter a word beyond 'Unhuh.' He rode up on me as he started his slow hump, gradually increasing the grind to probe me back to the tonsils, epiglottis and deep throat. My hands coursed his rounded ass cheeks, beginning to probe at his back door. 'Let me flood you, Dad. Then you can fuck me proper. Pack your thick whanger into me; don't give me any two-finger substitute.' He held my head by the long hairs at the back with his left and reached around behind to my cock with his right, yanking and pinching me as he banged me faster and more insistently.
Then he came in a rush, riding my head in slamming thrusts, holding me hard with both hands against his writhing most private parts. Talk about the intimacy Kirk always wanted. His fresh-flavored salty-sweet cum gushed into me and seeped from the corners of my mouth. He withdrew when his 'nads had shot their final spasm, and bent to lick the excess and kiss me. I let flow as much as possible of Kirk stuff and Lance saliva into his mouth - a lesson from Gregor - and Kirk used our mixture to lube my cock still mightily thrust into the air. Then he eased himself on my horsey prong, positioning it to his sphincter and into his butt end. I felt Kirk's chute walls tight on my tube. He had a beatific look on his face as he began to ride me and his ass coursed the length of daddy's delight.
I aided Kirk's buck riding by holding and hoisting him under the armpits. His own thruster was flopping invitingly as he did his happy dance on me, and his fuzzy boy nuts caressed my lower abdomen. I tried to make my lips lap up his cockhead once more, but I couldn't bend enough to reach him. Seeing how tantalized I was, Kirk got on his knees that changed the angle of the fuck in order to put his battering ram back in my maw. 'Fuck me, daddy; fuck me both ways. I said you were the best. Fuck me. Fuck me!'
I heaved into him and felt myself surging out from my balls, down the spillway and splatting through my prick slit. 'Hugghhah,' I shouted in as loud a fashion as his gagging schlong would allow me. Once again I tasted my boy's stew as he poured his stuff into my mouth and throat. While still coming, Kirk turned and swallowed my wasted pizzle in his mouth. We lay end to end for several minutes, caressing and licking one another as clean as we could. Then we cuddled head to head, kissing and touching.
Kirk began to cry. 'I know this has to be, this coming of age stuff and growing up responsible, but I'll miss you. I'll especially miss you because I know that even if we get together on the holidays and other special times, it's the beginning of the end. I dread the day when I'm an old married man and you are elsewhere.'
I didn't know what to say. I held him and kissed away his tears. He heaved a deep sigh, curled against me and after awhile slept. I slept, too, until Gregor and Marc came back and woke us up, sensitive enough not to come in but calling. 'We're back.'
We had coffee and apple-honey muffins that Kirk had baked the night before. While out together, sitting at the beach and smoking, Gregor and Marc had ironed out their differing problems to mutual advantage. Gregor would set up shop in Yuma, just north of Mexicali, and Marc would study for the Arizona bar exams to practice law in that state. He wanted to have his own office and specialized in wills, trusts and estates. This way, they could remake their lives as they wished; they'd be only a couple hundred kilometers from me in San Felipe, and one or both of them would be down frequently. I suspected that was not all, but that Gregor and Marc expected to hit on one another. How could I blame them!
So we parted. Gregor and Marc with Marc's baggage and Harley in Gregor's pickup headed for Yuma where they'd prospect for a place to set up. Gregor had a few thousand to get them started and I advanced Marc $10,000 to clear his debts rather then sell off his bike at a depreciated loss. I towed my Harley back to the Baja. Kirk waved us away from the parking lot.
By the following weekend, Kirk's letter told he was enrolled and his status.
He'd tested out of three units of Latin and one of Greek, was in more advanced courses of these languages besides starting German - he figured he already knew enough Spanish - and would begin his philosophy major parallel to the one in classics. He'd also tested out of intro to philosophy, so he was into formal logic and ethics. He really didn't need to earn his way with his full scholarship and trust money, but he got a job in mid-afternoons and on alternate Saturdays in an independent bookstore. 'I like keeping up with the new books,' he wrote, 'and I get a 40% discount over list.' That's where the extra money would go.
Meanwhile, he was getting to know the neighbors in his building, a range of ages and occupations, he youngest, the only student and most amateur among them. He planned to be down to San Felipe at break time, and for the high holidays.
Getting back to the house I'd inherited from Geo was really like coming home, a place that was mine, but different than when I left in the previous April. I saw it anew and for the first time mine, altered in fact and from memory, thanks to the work Gregor had done and my time away to break with the past. To begin the entry had a double door, and just inside Aguardo's commissioned painting greeted all comers with no doubt as to who lived here and what kind of person. Titled Dionysus, the painting represented me in the style of that god. I'd never owned a camera and had no family or school pictures, and all the years I lived with Wallace, who was blind, pictures meant nothing. But there was the Laaksonen portrait of me that Wallace had him make of me when we were in Finland. It was hard to believe that time was only five years before. Aguardo used that work and the sketches to show me, somewhat younger than at present, and if that homo-erotic artist had been asked to portray this particular bacchanalian divinity in his attributes as though me.
The Dionysian Lance stood tall, the skin in a glow of blush, with a head of long feathered blond hair that fell to the shoulders. Little horns sprouted from the crown of my head poking through the wreath of oak leaves and acorns. A minimal chiton hung from one shoulder, translucent so that chest hair across massive pectorals showed through as did the nipples, pierced with rings as big as those used to lead a bullock by the nose. The irregular folds of the garment angled across my torso, above the left hip to hardly reach down a quarter of the right thigh thereby showing heavy genitals. A black panther came from the right between the legs, its head turned to nuzzle there, licking the apple-size balls. The cock went beyond Tom of Finland's treatment so that he was nearly to the knees, though uncut so that it ended in a little nipple of foreskin.
Bronze armor covered the forearms and legs below the knees. Bare feet trod the fruitful earth, littered with ripe pomegranates. The right hand carried the thyrsus of Dionysus, a long staff wound with grape vines in leaf and fruit and topped by a pine cone, popping out of its husk like the erect phallus it was meant to represent. The left hand held a silver wine chalice extended in greeting to all visitors. At the feet to the left as viewed was the figure of Priapos, Dionysus' son by Aphrodite, who though an infant, had a perpetually erect penis, almost as large as himself and was about ready to penetrate the rabbit he toyed with in his arms.
In the distant background two attendant groups carried on their attributed rituals. On the left, a score of orgiastic satyrs sported in various stages of fucking a heard of goats. On the right, a dancing ring of crazed Manaed's proceeded to tear apart a sacrificial bull. Though it was night, suggested by the full moon bearing the face of Semele, Dionysus' mother, the picture teamed with luminescence and vivid color.
I declare that I'm not narcissistic, but I couldn't help wishing that Dionysus would step down from the portrait right then and there and fuck me.
If so, I'd be fucking myself, like a wrote in my novel, The Youth Finder, where Professor Alexander time travels back to seduce himself when a high school graduate. Had I made my own history repeat that story?
Inside, against the wall that screened the stairs going to the bedrooms above, was the other work commissioned of Aguardo - three panels depicting separate feats of Heracles, that hero who became a god. We didn't know the model Aguardo had used for the naked Hercules, but in every pose he was muscular, hairy, in need of a shave, and exceptionally hung. The three labors the triptych portrayed from left to right began with the killing of the Nemean Lion. Hercules stands above the downed beast, even shaggier than Hercules, stretching its jaws apart so as to crack open its skull. His genitals hang pendulously over the animals gaping maw as though to be bitten off should Hercules fail and the jaws snap shut.
Though artists usually represent in other pictures Hercules wearing the skin of the lion he has bested, Aguardo shows Hercules with a choker of lion claws and claws also piercing his nipples. In the middle picture, Hercules wrestles with Antaeus and lifts him from the earth that gives him strength. With Hercules holding Antaeus out in front of him, he is obviously prepared to fuck him since his cock is tumescing towards the loser's ass. The picture of Hercules and the Cretan Bull mirrors the one with the Nemean Lion in that Hercules is holding the bull by the horns, his bare heels dug into the ground and is twisting the bulls neck to break it. His cock hangs below the slavering mouth of the bull.
On the seaside of the living and dining rooms, Gregor greatly expanded the views by installing French doors opening up onto the patio. And he made new furniture for the long living room so that two four-passenger couches faced one another at the center with room behind them for additional chairs, a game table, and, of course, the bookshelves that had become display spaces for indigenous art.
I wondered how Marianna and Iago would take to all this emphasis on male eroticism, but they were as unbothered as ever. The two stalwart caretakers carried memories for me of yesteryears, but they, too, acted as though with a new lease on life. Gregor had fixed so many things from the water supply to the steady hum of electricity that life was easier for both of them. She had an electric vacuum cleaner for the first time and a microwave she though magical, besides a toaster and broiler. And the fuses didn't blow out. Gregor had also installed an automatic watering system that appreciably cut down on the care of the garden. The house's two old-faithful retainers now had no sense of retiring. They were already half retired the way it was thanks to 'Senor G.'
I puttered for a few days before realizing how absolutely at loose ends I was. I did a little reading and rode my Harley out a ways in the evenings. Then I began to think about and fantasize over a black leather gay vampire and what it would mean if he was in love with the men from whom he sucked blood. I started making notes and spinning plot lines. By the end of the week I was into chapter one when Gregor and Marc called that they were on their way. Just then by happenstance, Hans Grudner dropped in; he'd heard from Glenn that I'd just returned and so he thought he'd stop by to welcome me back.
After complimenting the house, he said, 'Perhaps, you'd like to come over to my place.'
'Hans, come to dinner yourself. Two of my buddies are expected for the weekend, and you'd be most welcome to eat with us.' Hans was not my favorite acquaintance, and he'd never really been friendly though we'd missed hooking up the previous October at Hal's Guy Fawkes event. But I really didn't feel like facing the Yuma twosome right now and all alone.
'José Aguardo's with me right now and his nino, not a boy really but his "cub," I think you say it.'
'Okay, bring them, too. The more the merrier.' His bearded face lighted up at that in the biggest grin. 'Bring beer,' I suggested.
'Ja, voll!' And he was off.
When Gregor and Marc arrived we were in the throes of getting ready for a party on the back veranda and pool area. 'Stow your stuff upstairs.' I left it to them what rooms they'd take. 'It turns out Hans and some guests are coming over. I owe them for last Christmas. Gregor, José will be one of them; he has a friend.'
'Six of us,' Marc said; 'how convenient.' Gregor and Marc looked at one another, shrugged, and said in tandem, 'Later.' They bustled to settle their stuff and quickly joined in the preparations.
Everyone arrived dressed in a very relaxed fashion - short shorts or cutoffs, unbuttoned opened shirts or cropped tanks in the cases of José and Eduardo, whom I'm sure I recognized as the model for winged Mercury that was in my bedroom. We had a few beers and smoked cigarettes or Hans puffed on a cigar while the natives, thanks to my backyard seclusion, shed their threads and swam naked in the pool. José was powerfully built, a self-portrait model for Vulcan in the guestroom, though trimly tapered in the waist, and Eduardo excelled him only in the majesty of his genitalia - bull balls and arching butt-buster out of exaggerated erotica pics.
Hans liked seeing their display of Latino flesh and hoisted his own balls into place from time to time with his hand inside his shorts; otherwise he teased his big ring-pierced nipples in the midst of his thickly hirsute chest. He was certainly of greater girth than any of the rest of us, but not so chubby as to lose my interest in this very bearish guy, whether he recognized that in himself or not.
We ate stew, bread, cranberry-rhubarb chutney and brandy-apple compote as sides and flan for desert with coffee and more brandy. People started to take out their cigarettes, but Hans passed a silver case of cigarillos around. Very aromatic they were and tasted of sweet liqueur, Benedictine maybe. We'd conversed in English for the benefit of all, but Eduardo had along his guitar and favored us in his mellow tenor with three wonderful Spanish ballads, one of his own composition, and a more classical piece by Albanez.
Gregor put some slow dance music on the sound system, and the pairing off began in earnest. José offered his hand to Gregor and Eduardo wanted Marcus. That arrangement made Hans and me the leftovers. 'Give me another cigar,' I said. We smoked awhile in silence.
'Lance, I'm sorry we haven't really gotten together before. We only live a kilometer apart.'
'Yes,' I answered evenly; 'why is that?'
'Probably my laziness; though, I did go to Munich to see my old mother for the holidays. I was gone six weeks. You ever been to Munich?'
'Zurich, I guess would be the closest,' I said.
'Ah, Zurich; very nice too. Munich, you would enjoy. It has everything from high culture to indigenous crafts and food to the most outrageous of gay sexuality. I'd love to show it to you.'
'Really. That's quite an offer.'
'To tell the truth, Lance, I've wanted you since the Guy Fawkes party at Hal's last fall. I wanted to hook up with you that night. As it was I don't remember who among the group I had, my thoughts were so full of you.'
'But now, here you are,' I said tonelessly, the irony lost on him. I leaned towards him and blew smoke in his face.
'Now, here I am,' Hans said. 'Shall we dance?'
'Sure. And later you can come to my room.' Obviously, he wanted to jump me, and I still wasn't sure how I could relate to Gregor and Marcus with my mind so often on Kirk.
We joined in the mating ritual as the CD player went through its program. The others were changing off, but we two continued to sway around solidly together. Then, though it was not a big pool, we all got in. Hans, who had been groping my buttocks while we danced took the new opportunity to blow me under water.
Gregor paddled over to me and said, 'Lance, you better excuse yourself before this gets any more disgraceful. We'll talk in the morning.'
'Okay,' I said and raised the head of the drooling, grinning putzmeister.
'Guten nacht,' Hans said to all. I just waved as we left our clothes behind and padded from the pool into the house and upstairs. Hans flopped back in the bed, raising his hands to lace fingers behind his baldhead. I noted he still had his watch on, that and barbelled rings through his nipples. I thought of Geo then and his palanged glans. I decided to ignore the fold of flesh across Hans' middle and just crawled in between his legs and started to lave saliva on his tubesteak. Quite a schlotsky it was, thick as mine and up to the ten inches of yours truly.
'Mein Gott,' he exhaled and put his hands on my back, starting to massage my shoulders and neck as I twisted my suck on his Mannheit.
I could tell Hans enjoyed my worship of his primary asset. He had his hands in my hair, coursing my head and keeping me from leaving him. He was started to moan and hump himself into me. But I guess he knew better of the deal and all of a sudden turned me over and was doing me as I had been attending to him. You never know first time with a guy just what you are getting into, or maybe anytime.
With Hans it was no holds barred for he was soon up to my pubes and pulling on my whole length while twisting at my balls with one hand and poking at my ass pucker with the other. 'Do we toss for which of us fucks the other first?' Hans asked.
'I have a better idea,' I said, going to a the bureau and taking out an old double-headed dildo of Geo's and some high-grade lube. Hans eyed the foot and a half rubber dildo, certainly as thick and round as we were in actuality. He grinned as per usual, knowing that he had not come back from the fist fucks of Munich leather bars for nothing.
'Bring it on,' he said.
I rimmed him, just for fun, and started inserting globs of lube up his innards. So he did the same for me. We creamed the device and inserted the pseudo cockheads into each of our assholes, scooting together in the middle of the bed. We had our right legs over the left of the other guy and started gyrating our butts clashing together. With our left hands, we held Dumbo's dildo between us, and with our rights we stroked one another's hefty cocks. Glory be, manipulative old Hans was starting to look good to me. This was turning into great fun.
In good sex, the best comes when you have the temper of the other guy and feel you can control his cum as he controls yours. This is the true mutualism and joy of gay sex, of not using the other guy, but of total sharing in the most generous and loving sense. I had let Hans think he was seducing me because I felt alienated and had to be really treacherous to myself and others to break away from Kirk, whom I now realized I had come to love in the fullest of gay ways, and must of necessity accept my loss.
I didn't know how I stood with the Yuma twosome; I could not imagine what that relationship might be, and I didn't want to face it because it put the cap on my lost love for Kirk. I was a fully acknowledged homo of long standing, yet I wanted to live as a born again Bible-belt het, that is, monogamously. Though that desire in me, even when actual, had never been possible for the length of life I wanted.
Hans' eyes were starting to roll back in his head. He was quivering and his ass was really humping. I had all I could do to stop the monster phallus between us from being forced up to the danger zone within me. Hans reached for more lube and his coated hand slipped deliciously on my joystick. I favored him with the same treatment and he was starting to stammer, in German, of course. I thought I needed Kirk here to translate for me but suppressed that. The buzz was in me and I began to feel that deep down in my gonads the juice was beginning to boil over. Krakatowa, here we come.
Hot spunk erupted from both our dickheads, great clots of spermy jetsam, that sticky, silvery gunk that in the sex act glues two or more gay guys together. Cum. Come on, cum. We convulsed and thrashed our bodies involuntarily in honor and commemoration of the god that hovered on the wall above us, winged Mercury, der Merkur, Mercure, Mercurio, the fleet-footed messenger. As cunning in eloquence as inventive in music, trickster and prankster, Hermes, by his Greek name, brings lovers together. He is ultimately the god of lucky finds, of flocks and shepherds, and the guide of wayfarers in this world. 'Mein Gott,' Hans said as he had at the beginning of our fuck. Now thank we all, our God, I thought.
The dildo cast on the floor, we were overwhelmed with gemutlichkeit and nestled together cupping one another's balls and smearing the love juice over our abdomens, thighs, and lats. 'I never want to leave this place,' Hans said. 'I never knew what I was missing without you.' Oh my God, I thought, what now?
Marc found me early next morning as I sipped coffee on the front porch, catching the first sun's rays. I'd pulled on a jock strap, taken laps in the pool, and was huddling now over my java, an oversize sweatshirt shielding me. 'Gregor and I love you,' he said, 'we want you to know that.'
'Thank you; that's good to hear. I think I want to and can love you, too.'
'We want what you want, first and foremost.'
'I want us all to be happy and to find a way to keep that happiness.'
'Gregor and I have had sex together.'
'Of course, you have; why would I think otherwise?'
'We think we can share fully with one another, the three of us. What do you think?'
'I think we should try to be both committed and free, a gay ideal we should make possible.'
'And what about Kirk?' Marc asked.
'Kirk will come and go, whether for a long time or not. And then he'll just go.' I could say no more and cried while Marc rocked me in his arms.
Marc led me to the guestroom where he and Gregor had parked, and the three of us nestled together below the portrait of the mighty smithy, Vulcan, not so ugly as in the myths, but burly and bulging beneath his leather apron. Gregor and Marc did their best to sooth me with kisses and caressing strokes, and I reconciled myself to how understanding we all were of one another.
They'd found a building a few blocks off from other prosperous business streets, a bit run down itself, but for sweat equity, and a two thousand deposit they got a five-year lease. Gregor was already remodeling it for an law office up front, a workshop in back and apartment above. 'We want you to see it as soon as you can,' Gregor said, ever the energetic and excited carpenter. Marc spent his days studying for the bar in the county law library.
When I'd gained calm that we were all okay and had good things to do, I left to deal with Hans, an obvious late sleeper. He was prowling the house nude looking for me. 'Lance,' he said on first sight, 'you disappeared; I thought we'd have another go at it.'
'I'm an early riser, Hans. Besides, I had to get squared away with my buddies.'
'Buddies?'
'Gregor and Marc; we're a trio.' Hans grinned recognizing and liking the kinkiness of it.
'Three-way, four-way, no matter. I thought we had a thing going.'
'I'm grateful to you for last night. Still, I've got a lot going on in my life.'
'I hope then, that we'll have other times together.' Once started, Hans seemed never to give up.
'I expect so as long as you can show me that you are safe and healthy.'
Hans grinned again. 'Then I live in hope,' he said.
I offered him a shower or a swim, and he chose the pool as long as I would do laps with him. By the time we'd done half an hour's worth, Gregor and Marc set up breakfast on the patio and brought towels so Hans and I wouldn't scrape our buttocks on the benches. Hans had gained aplomb and conversed sociably with the guys. He talked up going to Munich again, and asked me once more to come with him.
'I expect Kirk home for every holiday,' I said.
'Kirk?' Hans was mystified.
'You must have seen him around over the years. He's 18 now and at university in La Jolla.'
'But, who is he?'
I looked Hans straight in the eye and said, 'My son.'
Hans lost his perpetual grin as his mouth fell open.
'Lance helped raise him,' Gregor filled in. 'His biological father is Ben Clarke, you might remember, a guy not as attentive to the boy as Lance is. Take that for a fact.'
Well, thanks, Gregor, I thought.
I thought it best to escort Hans on his way out. Up in my room before he got his shorts and shirt on, he embraced me, kissed me deeply and we rubbed our cocks together. Man-loving queer that I am, I almost went overboard in 30 seconds from frott to fuck with him, but managed to restrain myself. He said he would check with Hal if there would be a repeat on the Guy Fawkes gathering, made a date with me for the following Wednesday, and urged that I think about a time to make the Munich trip. I agreed, and he left for home, down the road, finally out of my hair, so to speak.
The rest of the weekend was moderately quiet. Gregor gave Marc a top to bottom tour of the house and grounds, and when I told them I was working on a new novel, they made up a picnic, took the jeep and toured around San Felipe and the hills. With those two back late afternoon, we swam nude, had happy hour, and grilled steaks. As evening wore on, we retreated inside to lounge in the living room the three of us on one of the couches and naturally moved into fooling around.
'I guess we're ready for our first three-way,' Gregor said.
'Amen to that,' chimed Marc. And we climbed the stairs to the biggest bed in Geo's old room, now mine.
I thought of the threesomes in my life. When a teenager, Gordo, whom I dearly loved, fucked me while Glenn, who'd introduced both of us to the life, fucked him. A couple years later, Gordo and I simultaneously fucked Glenn, the birthday boy, when he stood all comers. After Wallace died, Ben and I frequently shared Geo's bed with him, my most pleasant memories. Then the previous fall, I mouth fucked the Amharic Ronald (great head!) while his partner, Kenneth, fucked him up the ass. Now I was about to have my first three-way with two guys I felt I really knew and especially liked, thanks to all our history of some meaningful duration.
Gregor and Marc were especially good to me between them. We kissed and felt one another languorously for a long time and the guys licked my thunder stick together, trying to kiss one another around its thickening circumference. Alternately, they presented both their super dubers to me so I could clutch them both and suck them together at one blow. Then Marc sucked my aching cock while Gregor rimmed me, starting to tongue fuck me up the ass. They repositioned to each take a D-ring and nipple into their mouths. I thought I would have cardiac arrest from the wild frenzy in my body while one hand fingered my mouth, one pumped my jackstick, one stretched and cupped my balls, and one fingered its way into my shit chute while they still plied my nipples.
Gregor moved around and swallowed my cock as I gobbled up his. Marc was behind me and I felt his considerable poker start to pork me. At that moment, I felt I was having an out of body experience, as though I could look down from above at the three of us sex-crazed studs doing hunky monkey with one another. The vision of the intense action I felt all over my body made the excitement all the more intense. I didn't know if I was going to explode into bits or implode in flames. Few things excited me more than the feel of Gregor's wiry pubic hair up my nostrils, the bush of his mustache over my cock and balls and the thick brush of Marc's new beard over his square chin on the back of my neck. These outside strokes escalated the pistoning throb of their awe-inspiring members within me.
We three came together in convulsive bursts that wracked the sturdy bed Gregor had made. We shook and shouted our various kowa-bunga cries as we shot our hot swelling loads, gasping and holding on to one another for dear life. 'I think I'm ready to die,' I moaned as we clutched and nestled into a closer harmony.
'You can't die,' Gregor said. 'There's a lot more to come.'
'Welcome home,' Marc said.
'Home, sweet fucking home,' I sighed, drifting into never-never land.