No Advantage - Chapter 18

No Advantage
Chapter XVIII

After finishing my morning piss, I turned on the coffeemaker and headed back to the bedroom. Flopping down on top of the bed I cheerfully told Rob, "Boy, that was one hell of a way to wake up!"

Rob looked over at me and smiled. "Think we might do something like that again in the near future?"

"I don't think there's any need to put it to a vote; the voters have all been bribed." I looked at the clock and told Rob, "Looks like we're running about fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. Can I suck some chest while the coffee makes?"

"You see me jumping out of bed to put a shirt on?"

After settling into position, I mouthed on Rob a little and then asked, "Where we gonna stay tonight, my room or your apartment?"

"Hmmm. Good question. You know something, we're gonna have to change our language some more. Is it now 'my' apartment or 'our' apartment?"

I felt somewhat like I was having a dinner conversation of sorts, stopping my oral activity to respond, then resuming when I finished speaking. It was really fun. "Well, you pay the rent on your place, and this is, well, you know. How 'bout we just say 'the' Shack or 'the' apartment?"

"That'll work." Rob started scratching my head. "I still can't believe your parents were so cool with us living together; I mean, actually telling us to live together rather than just giving their permission. I suppose we ought to get our clothes and stuff kinda split up between the two places for the time being. I really don't know what to do until something comes about one way or the other about me being able to start on the construction stuff."

"Well, with Dad, it will only be a question of time. If you wanna learn construction, he'll see to it. God only knows how he'll do it, but it will get done."

Rob began to lightly rub my back and shoulders. "You still in boyfriend mode?"

Pulling my mouth off his right nipple with a loud slurp, I replied, "Yep. I think that wonderful wake-up fuck took care of lover, husband and mate for a while."

"God, that was wonderful. Don't forget you still got a blowjob or a fuck coming before we get outta here, whatever you want."

I rolled onto my back to show Rob my incredibly stiff erection. "Why do you think I've been sucking on your chest? I needed to get the thing back up so you could tend to it like you offered while you were shoving that wonderful pecker of yours around in me. Sounds like the coffee's done. Be right back."

After handing Rob his coffee, I went back to the bathroom and pulled a robe off the back of the door and put it on. "You going somewhere, Donkey Boy?" asked Rob.

"Yeah, Bubble Butt. I only got one damned mug here in the room. I gotta go get another one out of the kitchen." I adjusted the belt tie on the robe to hold my cock against my stomach so the thing wouldn't be sticking out and went to the kitchen for a second coffee mug.

Walking into the den en route to the kitchen I saw Dad sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. Seeing me he remarked, "You're up awful early this morning."

In my mind I thought, "Sure am, Pops, let me whip open my robe and you'll see how up I am." Instead of that response I said, "Just got up and going. Only got one coffee mug."

"Oh. Where are you and Rob planning on spending tonight, here or his place?"

Continuing to walk to the kitchen I answered Dad over my shoulder, "We were just talking about that; haven't made up our mind yet." After getting a mug out of the cabinet, I began my return trip.

After I was back in the den Dad said, "I talked with Sam Reynolds last night about getting Rob into construction. He said he could stop by tonight about seven-thirty if that would be okay."

"I don't see why not. Let me go ask Rob."

"Well, if you insist, but I don't think that'll be necessary."

"Why's that, Dad?"

"Just a moment ago when I asked where you were spending the night, you said you hadn't made up your 'mind;' you didn't say 'minds;' you used the singular, not the plural. You two are thinking like a married couple."

What Dad told me stopped me dead in my tracks. Nothing gets by this guy. I walked back over, leaned down and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. All I knew to say was, "Thanks, Daddy."

Smiling at me, Dad winked and said, "You're welcome, Son."

Walking back into the bedroom I took off the robe, tossed it to Rob and said, "You might wanna put that on and go say good morning to Dad. He said Sam Reynolds, the builder guy, could come by tonight to talk if we're available. You gotta work late tonight or anything?"

Scrambling out of bed and grabbing the robe Rob answered, "Hell, Clayton, if they got me scheduled for anything they can take me off. I'm not gonna let anything stand in the way of this. Where's your Dad?"

"In the den."

Rob shot out the door, tying the robe in place as he went. Dad was right. We were beginning to think as one. After getting my coffee, I climbed back into bed and lit a cigarette. I began mulling over the apartment portion of the garage project. It was going to be a lot of fun. A lot of work, yes, but fun work. The first thing to get squared away would be the design, which would mean Rob and I having to determine exactly what we wanted in the living area. If Rob quit his job to work full time on the project, it really made no sense for him to keep his apartment. The thing really is too small for two people; it's really more of an overgrown, efficiency apartment rather than a typical one-bedroom unit. It would be no trouble for us to store all his stuff in the guest room in my (our?) wing until the apartment was finished. After thinking about it, that would work out well; with us living in the Shack, there would be no commuting from home to work and we would be in no rush to complete the interior finish-out of the apartment, thereby giving Rob plenty of opportunity to learn the nuances of interior finish-out. Our living costs would be zero since at a minimum, Mom and Dad would let us live here rent free in exchange for our labor. And Andy would probably let us work part time to pick up expense money; he always needs extra guys on weekends.

Rob walked back into the bedroom saying, "Looks like we spend the night here tonight." He took off the robe and hung it back behind the bathroom door, the walked back to the bed and pulled the covers off of me. The walk to the kitchen and thinking about building the new garage had distracted me from thinking of sex, resulting in the loss of my erection. Lying down on the bed, Rob began to fondle my cock, saying in a sad tone of voice, "Look at the poor thing; it got lonely while I was away. Guess I'll have to kiss and make up to it." He then began to gently lick and suck the head in a fashion similar to what I had done earlier with his nipples. This wasn't a sexual suck; it was a pleasure suck for him. Still, I began to harden.

Watching Rob enjoy himself on my dick I asked, "You want me to go by the apartment after school, drop off the sheets and stuff and some of my clothes and load up some of your stuff to bring over here?" Rob had given me a key to his apartment shortly after we got together.

"Sure." After a few more licks and sucks he added, "Why don't I just meet you there around four-thirty? Andy will let me off early when I tell him why. We could pack away some stuff in both our cars and we'd still have time for me to take a donkey ride before coming over here."

Donkey ride. The thought of me lying on my back while Rob rode up and down on my dick, jacking off and ejaculating on my stomach and chest immediately made me extremely horny. Looking down at Rob between my legs, up on his elbows, happily enjoying himself playing with my dick pushed me to the edge. I had to get off. "Rob?"

"Yes."

"Your mate needs to get off."

Rob immediately went to work. Rather than remaining positioned between my legs, he moved up by me in bed and took my cock into his mouth upside down as it would be if we were in a sixty-nine position, allowing him to firmly rub the sensitive underside of my dick head against the top and back of his mouth. Instead of mouthing up and down my shaft as he usually did, Rob concentrated all of his attention on the head of my cock. The sensation of the underside of my dick head rubbing back and forth from the hard top to the soft back of his mouth, coupled with him firmly manipulating his flattened tongue over the head while applying hard, continuous suction was incredible. Almost immediately after he started this, I could feel my dick beginning to surge and swell as the precursor to an imminent orgasm.

After about forty-five seconds, feeling my cock head flaring out as I was ready to reach my climax, Rob quickly inhaled a deep breath through his nose and then forced his head downward, pushing the head of my dick into his throat, initiating a swallowing motion that sucked my cock down into his gullet to finish this fabulous mouth massage. Within seconds, my dick buried in his mouth and throat as far as it could go and Rob lightly squeezing my ball sack in his cupped hand with his nose pressed between my nuts, I blew my first load of the day directly down his throat as his continued swallowing motion and nut squeezing milked my balls dry.

With my squirts finished, lying on the bed gasping for breath and my mind reeling, Rob slowly pulled his head off my dick. I could actually feel my dick head pulling out of his throat (after I climax, my dick gets super sensitive; it almost hurts to touch it until my erection subsides). When it got back into his mouth, he rapidly inhaled a large breath of air into his mouth around my dick into his lungs, making me shudder in a last burst of carnal pleasure. He then calmly leaned back on the bed, his head resting in the hand of his extended arm and cheerfully said in his happy-little-boy-hugging-his-puppy tone of voice, "I'm really beginning to enjoy this mode thing. Your telling me you were in mate let me know exactly what to do."

Turning my head and looking at him in amazement, I blurted out between my pants for breath, "God almighty, Rob, what was that you did? You've never given me a blowjob like that. That was incredibly unfucking amazing!"

Changing into the knowing tone of voice of a wise, old sage, Rob told me, "Clayton, my boy, that was my patented version of deep throating, although I've never taken a dick as big of yours like that."

"Rob, is that something you used to do with your customers?" I asked in wonder.

"Yep. Whenever I could. Always got 'em off really fast and I didn't have to taste their cum. Also helped bring in repeat business."

"Why have you never done that before?" I was almost ready to slug Rob for holding that technique back from me all this time.

"Well, I like tasting your cum for one. The other is, well, it makes me feel like a whore when I do that. Hell, who but a whore would suck paste like that? But you told me you were in mate, so I knew you wanted me like a whore, so I went for it. And, Clayton, don't feel bad about that. I really enjoyed it. Honest. That's the first time I ever enjoyed taking a dick down my throat like that. I thought it felt fantastic having that donkey dick of yours shoved in me, pumping out cum over my tonsils. Like I told you, when you're in that mood, I want to be your whore." Flopping down flat on his back, Rob looked at the ceiling and exclaimed, "Damn! This boyfriend lover husband mate thing really does have something to it."

Rising off the bed to lean over and look Rob in the face, I told him with great and happy sincerity, "Rob, this is getting wild. I never thought I'd be saying this to you, but I did want you like a whore just now, and I don't feel bad or guilty about that since I now understand what's going on. You also notice how we're talking dirty to one another when we're in mate? You calling me a 'little queer high school boy' earlier this morning while we were fucking, me calling you a 'cum sucking faggot' just now."

"Yeah. I'd always thought talking dirty was stupid, actually, sort of a turn off. But it makes mate sex even better. I'd never call you a 'slut' in lover or husband, but it seems perfectly natural in mate."

"Yeah, or in boyfriend in a playful manner." Looking at the clock, I told Rob, "Let's hit the shower, my darling slut."

"Okay, Cum Lips."

This morning the shower started off as usual, but since it was a quick "get to work" shower, we left out the mutual body rubs and the dick sucking, but did do one another's back, butt, legs and feet. After shampooing our own hair, we each left the suds in place and smeared it over our faces so we could shave. As we performed our ablutions, we continued our conversation.

"Rob, what you just did, taking my dick down your throat; when your dick gets to the back of my mouth, if I try to go any further it makes me wanna gag. I've wanted to take your whole dick into my mouth, but I can't. How do you do that?"

Scrubbing his chest and pits Rob answered, "You gotta learn how to suppress the gagging reflex, like a sword swallower does. You also gotta be turned around like I was so your mouth and throat are in a straight line; you can't do it if you're on your knees or between the guy's legs. It just takes practice is all, kinda like learning how to ride a bicycle. Once you learn, it's easy. You can't breathe when you got something in your throat; since you can't complete the swallow, you gag to try to force the thing back out. That's why you gotta take a deep breath and hold it. Guys also seem to like it better when you don't suppress the swallowing reflex once it gets in there."

Remembering what Rob had told me about practicing for intercourse with a cucumber, I hesitantly asked him, "Rob, when you say you practiced, did you, uhhhh . . . ."

Rob curtly cut me off with, "Yes, Clayton, let's change the subject."

"Fine by me," I quickly responded. "You gonna tell Andy and the guys at work about us?"

"Yeah, I guess so, although I'll just say we're living together and the commitment ceremony is scheduled for July."

After rinsing some soap out of my eye I replied, "I don't have a problem with that. I really prefer the term 'commitment' rather than 'marriage' or 'wedding' anyway."

"Boy, Eric is gonna shit when I tell him."

After spitting out a mouthful of water I was rinsing around in my mouth I asked, "Who's Eric?"

"One of the guys at work; didn't I tell you about him?"

After thinking a moment I responded, "No, you may have mentioned his name once or twice in conversation, but I don't remember anything."

"Damn. I thought I'd told you. He came there after you left last summer. He's queer."

"Is he out to the guys?"

"Yeah, after he found out I was in the open, he came out too. And boy, does he have the hots for you."

"What?" I couldn't see how someone I'd never met could have the hots for me.

"Yeah. That afternoon a couple of weeks ago when you came down to talk to Andy about working there again this summer. Eric saw you and asked me if I knew who you were. Of course I said 'yes' and that you were there to talk to Andy about working again this summer. He about flipped, going on about how gorgeous you were, asking if you might be gay or would be interested in some fun times, joking how he couldn't wait to get you into the back of a truck and stuff like that. Of course you weren't out yet, so I just played dumb, other than to tell him he'd piss all over himself if you took your shirt off."

"You never told me that. Hey, wait a minute. Is he that hunky blond guy who came into Andy's office while I was there?"

"About five foot ten, built like a brick shithouse?"

"Short hair, tight jeans and a bulge?" I questioned.

"That's Eric. Man, he is going to fall through the floor when I tell him you're my husband. I can hardly wait."

"He ever hit on you?" I asked with a note of mock jealousy in my voice.

"Of course, well, not really hit on me, he just asked me out for a date. I told him I was seriously seeing someone, but didn't tell him who. Eric's a good guy. We've gone out a couple of times after work for a beer and just talked. He's just like you and me. He knows I'm not into casual sex; he understands and respects that, so we're just friends. But you gotta admit, I wouldn't mind seeing him with his clothes off."

"Neither would I. When I was out in the warehouse I kinda checked him out too. Is he a gym bunny?"

"Not that I know of. He maybe works out once a week or so, but he's not addicted to it or into steroids or anything. His piss test at work must've came back clean or Andy wouldn't have hired him."

"Ever see his dick?"

"Nope, just the bulge. But he's probably a shower, not a grower. God, if he's a grower like you, with that basket of his he's probably got a twelve-inch dick."

"Hey, Size Queen, you gonna divorce me to get into his drawers?"

"Nah, he ain't got a hairy chest. Pecs galore, but not a hair one."

Getting out of the shower and toweling off Rob asked, "What's on your dance card for the day, sweet thing?"

"Nuthin'. I don't even know why we're going in these last two days. Since we voted not to have an out of town senior trip so the school would pay for us to have a party over here on Saturday, they gave us the last three days of school off. The seniors all finished our final exams last week so they could get graded and grade point averages finished to determine honors for the graduation Friday night. We ain't got shit to do. I think a lot of guys are just gonna skip."

"Why don't you?" asked Rob.

"I told 'em I'd help get the stage set up for Friday night." Seeing myself naked in the mirror, I remembered something else. "And, I gotta get somebody's goat."

"Clayton, what are you up to?"

I told Rob about Cameron Dolan, the kid with the big dick who was always showing off in the showers after gym. With my new body trim, I could now really give him hell and get back for all his sneering homophobic insults he made to guys, calling them queers and asking if they wanted to suck him off or get it up their ass. The little shithead. Cameron was a junior, so I knew he couldn't skip classes since he'd miss his finals. Not only did I have a bigger dick, I could really lay it on him being able to now be openly queer.

After hearing my plan Rob said, "Let's get you a little touched up. Got any scissors?"

"Yeah, top drawer by you."

Rob told me to get back in the shower, explaining that's where he did his trimming at home to make it easier to clean up the clippings. Duhhhh, Clayton, of course Rob keeps his bush trimmed. That's how he knew what to do and why his dick looks so good. After some minor adjustments and a little work with a razor, Rob was finished. I looked like a Playgirl man of the year. While admiring the view in the mirror, I playfully asked Rob as we started brushing our teeth, "Hey, maybe I could pick up some spare change being a nude model or a porn star."

"Nude model maybe, porn star no. You'd hate it."

"How do you know I'd hate it? I could get feature billing in the upcoming release of Massive Muscle Boys or something like that," I continued in jest as toothpaste foam ran down my chin as I talked.

"Clayton, believe me, you'd hate it. I was in one once."

"You were in a porn flick?" I couldn't believe this. Rob. My husband. He had a film career, so to speak.

Rob finished brushing his teeth, rinsed, spat and began messing with his hair while telling me, "And before you ask, no, I don't have a copy; no, I won't tell you the name of the film; and no, I won't tell you what my screen name was. It was just another form of hustling to me. Even if you were to see it you probably wouldn't recognize me. I had bleached hair and had to shave my body. Because of my looks they had me cast as a bottom. I gave one full blowjob and got it in the ass twice after suck sessions, each with a money shot, your own cum shot, that is; that's what they called it. The three scenes together didn't take up twenty minutes of the film but it took several hours each day for three days to shoot the sequences. It was a whole lot of hurry up and wait and the pay was pretty lousy for the time involved and all the crap I had to put up with. Like the guy in the first fuck scene couldn't get his dick up; they finally had to stick a vibrator up his ass to get him up and going. For the second guy, I gotta stay bent over on my hands and knees for about ten or fifteen minutes while he jacks off so they can get his money shot of him squirting on my butt and back. The lights made the place hotter than hell and you had to keep starting and stopping while they changed camera positions, put mirrors on the floor to film underside shots and all kinds of stupid shit like that.

"Talk about a bunch of whores. Jeez. The only reason I watch porno films is because I find 'em amusing, although every now and then you do see a couple of guys who are really enjoying themselves, but usually that's because they're actually boyfriends in real life." Realizing what he had just said, Rob quickly turned around to me, pointed his finger at me and said, "Don't you go getting any ideas about us going into show business together."

"I won't," I honestly replied. I was still pondering over having a vibrator stuck up your ass. I really didn't want to go there this early in the morning so I asked, "Is that how they film those shots, with a mirror?"

"Yeah. Those cameras aren't little things, and you have to keep them on a stand to keep them steady. So to get angle shots, you position a mirror to see what you wanna film and then shoot the reflection in the mirror. If you watch closely, you'll sometimes see the spots and streaks where they didn't get the mirror clean, or a guy's tattoo goes from his left arm in one shot to his right arm in another."

As we walked out of the bathroom Rob stopped me, put his arms around my waist and said, "Clayton, I apologize for pointing my finger at you like I did there in the bathroom just now."

I could tell Rob thought he might have offended me so I honestly told him, "That's okay. I could tell you were just venting. Don't worry about it."

Rob gave me a little kiss, and in a sincere voice told me, "Clayton, you know I'd do anything for you. And that includes anything sexual as well. If you want to try something different, even though it might be something other people might consider kinky or pervy, don't hold back with me. I know you're not ever going to play mind games with me. If you wanna try something, then let's try it. It might turn out like sucking chest has. Who knows unless we try?"

In my best, excited-happy-little-boy voice I asked, "Does that include cucumbers?"

Giving me a smirking grin for a moment, Rob broke into a loving smile and gave me a big hug while laughingly telling me, "Clayton, I'll let you shove a cucumber up my butt anytime you want to."

I'm telling you, love is really a strange thing.

As we were getting dressed and drinking our coffee, something occurred to me. "Rob, if you never got any pleasure out of anything you did back then, how did you manage to climax when you had to?"

"I just made myself. It's sorta like when you go to the doctor and he hands you a cup and says, 'Go pee.' Well, you don't need or want to piss, but you concentrate really hard and somehow manage to force it out. I just concentrated on making the head of my dick flare out, mentally telling myself the sooner I came the sooner it would be over with. The thought of getting it over with so I could leave was what got me off."

Remembering the incredible puddle of cum that Rob had milked out of his dick onto his stomach the previous morning after my unexpected ejaculation, I asked, "Is that what you did yesterday morning in bed?"

"Yep. First time I'd done that in about three years. But, it was a lot easier since I had you to think about."

I ceased my dressing routine, put my arms around Rob and told him, "I don't think you're the only one around here who will be learning things about his new husband." After giving him a kiss I happily added, "And I'm going to be looking forward to every minute of it. After seeing that cum shot of yours yesterday and the blowjob this morning, I think we need to create a new game of Hustler and Trick, my little whore."

Some marriage, huh? Haven't been hitched two full days and we're calling one another sluts and whores and discussing inserting vegetables up one another's butts. Ah, the magic of two queers in love.

After a quick hug and kiss session, sprinkled with the honest reaffirmations we loved one another, we finished dressing, refilled our coffee mugs, washed out the coffeemaker and went in search of some breakfast.

Walking into the kitchen drinking our coffee, we found Dad sitting at the table in the breakfast nook. Odd. We call it the breakfast nook, but also eat lunches and suppers there as well and the table is big enough for eight people; some nook. Seeing us, with his mouth partially full and motioning with his fork, Dad told us, "You got stuff in the warmer."

Opening the warming oven I saw three plates, one for me, one for Rob and one for Mom. Each had some hash browns, bacon and something in the middle that was covered in what looked like hollandaise sauce. Picking up a napkin and handing it to Rob, I used another napkin to remove one of the warm plates and handed it to him, then got a plate for myself, closed the warmer and went to the table. Rob and I both said good morning to Dad, who, having just taken a bite of toast, made some kind of "uhhhmm" sound with his mouth closed. After we sat down, Dad lifted the lid off a dish to reveal the toast which Rob and I both helped ourselves to.

After tasting the thing in the middle of his plate, Rob exclaimed, "Ted, this is great! What is it?"

Taking a drink of coffee to help him swallow, Dad replied, "Damned if I know what to call it. 'Eggs Pelletier,' I guess. Sorta like eggs benedict, but I used leftover duck meat instead of ham. Not bad if I say so myself."

"I hope you didn't go to any trouble to do this," added Rob.

"None at all," replied Dad. "I love to cook, it's sorta like building food in the kitchen. Oh, that reminds me of something. I got a favor to ask you, Rob."

"What is it?"

"Get Andy to loan you one of his vans and get your ass moved in here. It's easier for me to cook for four people than it is three. The proportions just don't work out right when it's just three. I'm always having too much left over and I'm tired of having to throw it away."

Rob and I looked at one another. Guess the question of where we would live just got settled. So Rob answered, "Yes, sir." Rob was already learning how to act around my father. Dad's abrupt ways when he does nice things for you is just his way of avoiding having to go through a lot of "thank yous" and "your welcomes." Dad knew Rob was grateful.

Mom walked into the kitchen. While exchanging morning pleasantries with the three of us, she poured her coffee, got her breakfast out of the warmer and joined us. After run of the mill breakfast chit chat, Dad finished his breakfast and asked, "Rob, Clayton, you notice anything unusual or out of the ordinary about this morning conversation and setting?"

Rob and I looked at one another quizzically and each replied that we didn't notice anything odd.

"Well," observed Dad, "I'm very happy to know that. My queer son and his new husband are having their first breakfast with the parents and nobody feels the least bit out of place about anything. I also think I deserve an award for political correctness as well. You will notice that I have not made the standard morning inquiry of 'did you sleep well last night' to avoid embarrassing the two you."

As Rob and I both turned red in the face and Mom gave out an annoyed "Teeedd," Dad happily turned his chair around so he could rest his left arm on the table and leaned back, asking, "Rob, you mind if I smoke at the table while you finish eating?"

"No, sir, doesn't bother me a bit."

"Good, 'cause even if it did I'd still do it." (Actually, if it did bother Rob, Dad wouldn't have lit up; it's just another example of my father's form of humor).

Puffing on his cigarette and finishing another slurp of coffee, Dad in a serious tone of voice said, "About that garage apartment. I spent last night going over the inventory of stuff down at the Quarry. With another little project I have in mind, if we build the new garage the way I outlined it to you in the back yard yesterday afternoon there won't be enough exterior brick and stone to go around so everything will match, and there's no way I'm gonna change the exterior finishes on this place twenty-three years into the project."

Looking at Rob, I could see he knew what this meant and was as disappointed as I was. Just to be sure I asked Dad, "So the apartment deal is off?"

"Yep." Dad took a long drink of coffee as Rob and I toyed with our food in disappointment. Taking another drag on his cigarette, after exhaling he continued, "You boys are just gonna have to settle for a two-story house instead."

Rob and I stopped mangling the remainder of our breakfasts and looked up at Dad, our mouths hanging open. Eventually, Rob managed to mouth out, "Sir, did you say a two-story house?"

"Yeah. Two stories. Single story won't work. About three thousand square feet total, excluding the three-car garage. Means I have to redesign the whole goddamned thing, but I did the preliminary estimates last night and it will work. I should have rough floor plans for you to see tonight when Sam comes over. Basically, the garage and shop will be side by side, facing south toward the pool rather than east to the back of the Shack as I originally planned; plus, I gotta shove the whole thing over north about thirty feet to line it up directly with the driveway. The house will be back to back with the garage and shop facing north with the storage area in between. See, sticking the storage area between the house and shop reduces the amount of exterior wall you gotta cover in brick. It also provides the soundproofing, so I don't waste any mattresses. Your car garage will be on the ground floor of the storage area on the far side away from the Shack. See, that was another thing; I was also short on paving bricks with the plan I told you about. You'll have to have a separate driveway coming up on your side of the hill since the pavement finish will be different. I coulda' put your car garage on the other side of the storage area and used the existing driveway, but I just don't like being able to see a garage from the front of a house, even if it is someone else's garage. To me, that's like having an outhouse in your front yard or a washing machine on your front porch." Dad paused for a moment in thought then said, "You know, I like that."

"Like what, dear?" asked Mom.

"Outhouse. Calling this thing a garage is gonna get confusing since we already got one of those. Why don't we just call the thing the 'Outhouse?'"

"Ted, that's awful," replied Mom.

As Mom and Dad debated calling the thing the "Outhouse" (a debate I knew my father would win), Rob and I excitedly exchanged comments until something else Dad had said hit me. "Dad, you said something about another little project you had in mind. What's that?"

"Well, I figured while we had everything rounded up to build the shell of the Outhouse, with it being two stories tall, we might as well go ahead and add the Dance Hall as well."

"The Dance Hall!" I yelled out. "You're actually gonna do it?" Dad was serious about going all out on this project for Rob to be able to learn construction.

Rob looked at Dad, Mom and me in confusion, asking, "What's the Dance Hall?"

Turning my chair around to face Rob, I excitedly told him, "The Dance Hall is the last part of the Shack. It's a second story addition over the entire central portion. It'll be this huge room that covers the area over the Saloon, living room, dining room, kitchen and den." Looking back at Dad, I asked again, "You're really gonna do it?"

Dad took another slurp of coffee and, still in a bored sounding monotone voice, said, "Got to. When I started digging the hole for the Cellar when we first got the Swamp, I promised Kathleen it wouldn't take me more than twenty-five years to finish the place. She thought I was joking at the time, but I wasn't. And I got just over a year and a half left to do it. I've never broken a promise to Kathleen and I'll be damned if I'm gonna start now."

Mom looked at Dad, smiled, then resumed eating. She didn't say anything, but I could see a little tear in one of her eyes.

When Dad met Mom, she was engaged to marry some really rich guy; had she married him, she would have lived in a mansion with a ballroom. Instead, Mom married my father who was just about to graduate from engineering school and didn't own much more than his car, his clothes, apartment furnishings and Kildare. Using his drafting skills, Dad made a large, detailed drawing of a mansion with an upstairs ballroom, had it framed and gave it to Mom as a wedding present, promising her that one day she would live there. That drawing has hung in various places over the years; it's now over the fireplace in the living room. With the completion of the Dance Hall, Mom will have her ballroom and the Shack will finally look exactly like the drawing, other than for minor differences in cosmetic details.

"There's also one change I gotta make to the master plan. With your butt out of the Shack, Clayton, I can convert your wing into a single bedroom suite for me and Kathleen, then use our current suite for my office. The one thing that I did not anticipate when I did the original drawing and plans was Kathleen getting an MBA and doing her own consulting work; I figured she'd stay in real estate. The Cellar just ain't big enough for me and Kathleen both now that she'll be starting a new career. Besides, that way we'll each have separate entrances to our offices so neither of us will be disturbed by the other's clients when they stop by. And one guest suite will be enough. There's also something else I'd like for you to be considering, Son."

"What's that, Dad?"

"Instead of starting college this fall, I'd appreciate it if you took off a year and ran the project. I've got to stay at the company at least another three years so I won't screw up my retirement package, and if I have all this going on at once I won't have the time to properly supervise it by myself."

Before I could answer, Dad continued, "And Rob," said Dad, turning his attention to him.

"Yes, sir."

"If you have any influence over Ape Boy here, see if you can convince him to take me up on my suggestion. After all, you have a selfish motivation of your own. You said you wanted to learn construction, well, here's your chance."

Rob and I finished our breakfasts while talking with Dad about the whole project with Dad doing most of the talking. The Dance Hall was a lot more than simply a place for Mom to have her parties. It was also a means for Mom and Dad to add to their retirement income.

The Dance Hall would be a very large room with a combination wood and stone floor. Along the back wall it would have two, large lavatories, one each for ladies and men, as well as a service area somewhat like an overgrown butler's pantry between the lavatories that had access to the kitchen below via a dumb waiter (and, of course, a washer and dryer as well). The dining room downstairs would be completely torn out and replaced with a large, curved staircase going upstairs as well as an elevator that would access the Dance Hall and the Cellar below (Dad saved one elevator for himself when he tore down the hospital; it's a really cool antique thing with lots of brass and a set scissor doors on it, like the ones in the movie Titanic).

Dad's plan was to rake in extra bucks in two ways. First, he could rent out the central portion of the Shack for big, expensive, catered weddings and receptions. The lavatories in the Dance Hall would provide plenty of room for the bride and bridesmaids to get changed. As guests arrived, they would be escorted to either the bride's entrance on the south end of the living room or the groom' entrance to the north. They would leave superfluous, outer garments in the large cloak closets located within each entrance and then be escorted to their seats in the living room. If it's an overflow crowd, the excess guests go in the den and watch the ceremony on the wide-screen television via a closed-circuit camera (people with crying children automatically get exiled to the den so the ceremony is not disrupted). Following the bridesmaids and the groom's helpers, the bride makes a grand entrance down the staircase, with music coming from the organ that would be tucked away in an area under the staircase or the baby grand piano already in the living room in the bay window area. Unlike a church, the guests are seated with the staircase to their side so they don't have to crane their heads around to see the bride make her regal entrance. The couple then exchange their vows at an altar set up in the bay window area (or, if they wish, in front of the huge hearth on the wall dividing the living room and den).

After the marriage ceremony concludes, the guests would then retire to the Saloon for a drink to kill the time while photographs are taken of the happy couple (the Saloon already has ladies and men's lavatories at the back of it, accessible either from the Saloon or the living room). Everyone then goes upstairs to the Dance Hall to attend the reception; persons with ambulatory difficulties can use the elevator rather than the staircase.

All catering is provided from the restaurant style kitchen already finished downstairs (Mom even took a cake baking and decorating class years ago). As guests finish with plates, cups and tableware, they're washed and stored in the butler's pantry; soiled napkins and tablecloths get tossed in the washer and dryer.

After the reception, the newlyweds then retire to the guest room downstairs in the south wing to change clothes to go on their honeymoon (and also have a quick fuck to consummate their marriage as well, should they wish). The bride and groom then walk out the door of the south wing to their limousine waiting in the drive out front (the driveway is three cars wide, so plenty of parking is available on each side of it). The guests are waiting for them in the garden patio area already built in this area and can sling all the rice they want; they're outside, so it won't mess up anything.

Secondly, Dad could run a type of incredibly fancy, high dollar, by-reservation-only type of restaurant to indulge his cooking hobby. Patrons meet in the living room, have a drink before dinner in the Saloon, and then go up to the Dance Hall to be seated at their table. During pleasant weather, they could dine al fresco on the balcony that runs along the entire front side of the Dance Hall overlooking the front yard. Dad's old office area in the cellar becomes a wine cellar. The interior stairs going down to the Cellar (not being needed with the new elevator) get ripped out and a walk-in cooler gets installed to store perishable items in quantity. Orders, food and other stuff go back and forth to the kitchen via the dumb waiter (it's a double one; as one unit goes up, the other goes down to avoid traffic congestion). Plates, tableware, serving dishes and the like my parents have accumulated over the years, paid for by the paid functions they've hosted, are already stored and waiting in one of the pantries in the kitchen just waiting to go into service.

All of the big stuff collected for years in the garage and everything at the Quarry gets used up. Dad also picks up some extra bucks by renting out the vacant Quarry to the electric company so they'll have a place to park their utility vehicles next to the electrical substation (Dad had it black topped so grass and weeds wouldn't grow there).

The storage area in the Outhouse is mainly used to store all the tables and chairs and other event stuff when it's not needed for a function; when a function is going on, the living room stuff (and the stuff in the den, if necessary) goes into the storage area as the tables and chairs come out. Transporting the items back and forth will be a snap. Out of storage, down the driveway, through the double doors into the front entranceway of the north wing and then into the living room.

If Mom and Dad don't want to be involved in a function, they just close off the den and their remodeled north wing from the rest of the Shack. Because the Dance Hall has no windows on the west side where the lavatories and butler's pantry are, nor any on the south side where the staircase and elevator are, nobody in attendance at the function can see into the back yard or into the Woods so Mom and Dad would still have their privacy. In theory, a wedding could be going on inside the Shack while another event was going on in the patio area in the back yard and neither would disturb the other; Mom and Dad, if they wished, would then just hang out in their suite.

To reduce construction costs for the whole thing, the shop in the Outhouse is finished first to provide cabinet making facilities to do all aspects of the interior finish out on site. Additionally, building materials can be acquired well in advance in bulk and kept in the storage area until needed.

To pay for the whole thing, in conjunction with Sam Reynolds, Dad builds and sells some expensive town homes that get built on a strip of land on the far south side of the Swamp by the electrical substation (and out of sight of the Shack). If any interim construction financing is needed, he just takes out a home improvement loan on the Shack and pays it off as the town homes sell.

When it's all finished, Mom and Dad will be able to retire at just after the age of fifty and live in a fourteen thousand square foot mansion on a ten-acre estate free and clear of any debt. While the Shack and the Swamp will be worth several million dollars, having just eight or so weddings and other large events a year pays for all the upkeep on the place. Because they truly enjoy hosting events, there will undoubtedly be other weddings, receptions, outdoor cookouts and other celebrations that not only will keep them entertained and active, they'll get paid for doing those as well such that they can indulge themselves in other hobbies and activities.

Can my parents do long term planning or not? And it all started with Dad making a promise to Mom, and then beginning to fulfill that promise by digging a hole in the ground in the middle of a swamp where nobody wanted to live.

With the outline of my father's scheme and its future possibilities whirling in our heads, Dad brought Rob and I back to the present reality by looking at his watch and noting the time. He told Rob that he would meet him outside by Dad's van in twenty minutes, then got up and went back to the Cellar. Having finished our breakfasts, Mom, Rob and I got up from the table; Mom said she'd take care of the dishes, so Rob and I headed back to the bedroom.

Getting back to the bedroom, Rob and I made the bed then flopped down on top of it thinking about what all Dad had thrown in our lap this morning. My adrenaline was pumping, and I knew Rob's was as well; plus, we were both extremely happy. I could still feel my ass buzzing from the fucking Rob had given me that morning. He was right. I'd be sitting in class all day long feeling this and remembering getting fucked first thing in the morning. God, if the people sitting next to me or my teachers only knew. Even though I'd had a blowjob less than hour before, my excitement and happiness over the project was making me feel rather frisky.

"Hey, Rob, I gotta question."

"What is it?"

"You remember any of what you were saying this morning while we were fucking?"

"Yeah, little bits and pieces kinda. Clayton, you really had me turned on. That was a superb fuck. Waking up, still a little sleepy, knowing what I could do and that you wanted me. I loved it."

I put my arms around my lover and cuddled up telling him, "You weren't the only one, I thought it was great."

Returning my cuddle Rob told me, "One of the things that made it so good for me was knowing that you were waking up while I was doing it. You never said a word like you always do in the morning until you're fully awake. But your moaning and other sounds really turned me on."

"Rob, do you really sometimes just get a sudden urge to throw me down in the floor and fuck me?"

"Well, yeah, I do. Does that bother you?"

Realizing that for whatever reason my dick was getting hard again, I told him, "Not in the least 'cause I just wanna butt fuck you right now and get another nut before I go to school." Grinning at Rob, I told him, "I don't know why, but I think a quick, horny, boyfriend fuck would be fun right now."

A huge grin came over Rob's face and he started pulling off his shirt. Once we were both again in a nude state, I lubed Rob then myself. Rob was face down on the bed and I told him to grab the headboard and spread his legs wide apart, which he did. The sight of Rob naked on the bed, willingly stretched out before me, legs spread to offer me the use of his magnificent ass made my dick throb. I gently pushed my dick into his butt and lied down on top of him to stretch my legs out between his. Rising up on my hands and arms, I worked my dick around in his butt a little to get settled in, then happily asked, "You ready for it?"

Rob wiggled his butt a little, looked back over his shoulder at me, gave me a huge grin, then turned his head back and cheerfully said, "Give it to me, Donkey Boy; show me what that big dick of yours is for."

I started pumping fairly hard and fast, telling Rob, "Man, I don't know why, but I just looked over at you and I got this sudden urge. Not like earlier though. I want you just as my boyfriend now. For some reason, telling you I wanted to butt fuck you just turned the super horny switch on."

"Don't feel bad about that, Clayton. I like this, getting a playful fuck. It's really cool knowing I turn you on this way."

I was so happy I started to laugh a little as I told Rob, "I'm glad you do 'cause you're going to be getting it again. And if you need to do it to me, just tell me. I won't say 'no.'"

Rob began laughing as well while I pummeled his butt. "Clayton, I really like fucking like this. This is nuts. Getting horse fucked like crazy and I'm laughing."

"Yeah, really feels good, doesn't it. You like hearing those slaps on your ass when my groin hits it, big boy?"

"I've always loved that sound when we fuck, regardless of whose dick we're using."

As our laughter continued I told Rob, "Start flexing your muscles. Be my hunky boyfriend and show off for me, like you did for those two girls in the car last summer." The memory of what Rob and I had pulled on those two unsuspecting girls out boy watching caused the intensity of our laughter to increase. I intensified my concentration and speeded up the pumping, causing Rob and me both to begin grunting out sex noises between our laughs. In essence, I was using Rob's butt instead of my hand to jack off with, but I didn't feel the least bit guilty about it. I was as happy as I could be.

Watching Rob flex his biceps and listening to him laugh, I remembered the smile on his face and the way his chest and arm muscles flexed and moved when he fucked me last summer in the grass after we had done the yard. It was still a favorite jack off memory of mine. Thinking about Rob being in a porn flick, between my grunts I asked in a higher pitched voice caused by my straining, both from the fucking and the laughter, "Hey, Rob. The next time. You get the urge. To just fuck me. Like this. Do something. For me."

Between his fuck noises and guffaws, Rob spat out, "Sure. What's that?"

"Next time. You wanna. Do this. Do me. A favor. Let me. Videotape it. I wanna see. What you. Look like. When you. Fuck me. That okay. With you."

"Yeah. I'll be. Your. Porn star. Anytime. C'mon. Keep giving. It to me. Clayton."

The thought of being able to watch Rob's entire body moving while he fucked me for his pure sexual pleasure sent me over the edge. After I had planted five or six shots of semen in Rob's butt, I waited for the final surging to pass, then pulled my dick out. Panting and laughing for breath I told him, "C'mon. We gotta get cleaned up." In the bathroom, I soaped up a washcloth that we used to tidy up with, brushed our hair back into place and then got redressed. After a short hug and kiss session, we started walking out to the driveway to kill the time waiting for Dad. As we got to the door leading out to the patio Rob put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me. "Clayton?"

"Yeah."

Rob gave me his trademark little boy grin. "Uhhh." He reached down, unzipped his pants and pulled out his fully erect dick.

Rob and I again burst out into laughter. What was I to do? My boyfriend needed me. Ever give a blowjob while both of you were laughing hysterically? Probably not; most people are just too damned serious when they're having sex. People just need to lighten up. We all talk about how much fun sex is, so why is it somehow inappropriate to laugh while you're having fun? Isn't that part of the deal?

After just a couple of minutes I stood back up, rudely licking and smacking my lips to let Rob know I enjoyed tasting his cum as much as he enjoyed getting his second nut of the day. Rob was right; not being able to taste his cum would be a drawback to deep throating him, but I still wanted to learn. But unlike Rob had to do, I would have a real dick to practice with. Also, with his cock upside down in my mouth, being curved, it would be easier for his to go down my throat.

Finally reaching the driveway after our ten or fifteen minute interlude, we leaned back against the trunk of Mom's car next to Dad's van to settle down. Rob and I both lit a cigarette; they really do taste better after sex. Rob looked at me then shook his head, saying, "I can't believe this. I go for years having to make myself get off. I meet you and I start jacking off once, usually twice a day. We get married and I'm getting off three and four times a day now."

"So you still wanna go for a donkey ride this afternoon?"

"Hell yes," he happily replied

After a few puffs on our cigarettes I asked, "Rob, we've talked in the past about how our orgasms felt different from time to time, and the way we felt differently after them. But we really never had a good way to describe them so the other could understand, like we now do. Just now, I felt like I was in boyfriend mode the whole time, both fucking you and sucking you. How 'bout you?"

Taking a drag off his cigarette Rob thought for a moment and said, "I think I was too. Except for the orgasm, both yours and mine, that was more than just the playful feeling."

"Yeah, me too." After thinking about it I asked, "When you came, did you kinda feel like you're in all four modes at once, you know, like I need you and am really thankful you're here as my boyfriend and my lover and my husband and my mate?"

"Hmmm. Yeah, that's a pretty good description of it." Thinking for a moment Rob looked at me and sincerely told me with a smile, "Yeah, that is it. I was just really happy and was thankful to have you as my boyfriend, my lover, my husband and my mate," then leaned over and kissed me.

The nice warm feeling of love and contentment tickled all over me. Looking over at him I asked, "Wanna know something really scary, Rob?"

"What's that?"

"Dad said something to me this morning. He said that he could tell that you and I were thinking as a couple, rather than just two individuals." I then told Rob the story about me using the singular word "mind" rather than the plural "minds."

"Clayton. This is getting scary. But in a good way. A really good way." After a moment or two Rob said in a pensive tone of voice, "You know something, maybe what we just did back there in the bedroom was what you would call casual sex; having sex just for the fun of sex and staying in boyfriend mode the whole time, before, during and after."

After thinking a moment I replied, "Probably so, but I don't think it's like how most people have casual sex."

"How's that?" asked Rob.

"Well, just look at us. When we first started messing around together we were just friends mostly. And we had sex just to be having sex. It was fun and it felt good, but now that we recognize we're also lovers, husbands and mates, just having sex as friends is even better, a lot better. There's no guilt and the orgasms are a hell of a lot better."

"Yeah, you're right about that."

I had something else I wanted to ask Rob but Dad came bursting out into the driveway, saying, "Sorry, got tied up on the phone."

Rob and I gave one another a quick good-bye, see-you-later kiss and we all headed off to our separate destinations.