Pete and the Straight Guys

Pete & Henry

Pete and  the Straight Guys

By Greg Bowden

Jg.ps@gte.net

I met Charlie at a party a couple of years ago and we hit it off right away. We pretty much liked the same things and thought about things the same way. We quickly found that we were also quite different--he was straight and I was gay--but that didn’t seem to matter much to either one of us. We even double dated sometimes and once our dates got used to it, we always had a good time.

So Charlie and I became pals. We often got together on weekends to watch whatever game was on TV or we played golf or went to the movies. I found it refreshing to have a male friend with whom there was no sexual competition and only a small edge of sexual attraction. Don’t get me wrong, Charlie was a hunk and I’d have taken him to bed in a heartbeat if I hadn’t thought it would jeopardize our friendship. However many orgasms he could wring out of me wouldn’t be worth that.

Shows you what I knew about friendships!

One Saturday, waiting for the game to start, I was looking through a stack of DVD’s he had on the coffee table. There were a couple of good movies in the stack but, at the bottom, there were three with fairly lurid covers. “These any good?” I asked Charlie who was coming in from the kitchen with beers and some chips.

Charlie smiled. “On a scale of ten, there’s a one, a three and an eleven.” He set down the tray he was carrying and handed me a beer. “We can check out the eleven if you want, after the game.”

The game was pretty ordinary and I think we were both just as happy when it was finally over. Charlie shut off the postmortem, got a couple more beers from the kitchen and said, “Well? Want to watch a different kind of sport?”

“Sure. I love straight porn.”

“Really? I mean…”

“Look, Charlie, there’s guys in straight porn, too. You watch the parts you want and I’ll watch the parts I want and we’ll both be happy men.”

Charlie shrugged and set it up. After the opening credits, the story, such as it was, began to unfold. The dramatic elements weren’t exactly Academy Award material but the three women were actually very good looking and the two men were spectacular. It made both of us hard.

About ten minutes into it Charlie was quietly rubbing his dick through his jeans. That got me to doing the same thing and it wasn’t long before well over half of my attention was directed at Charlie. He knew it--he was sitting right next to me--but it didn’t seem to bother him any; all of his attention was directed at what was going on up on the screen.

After a few minutes of this I said, “Why don’t you let it out, Charlie? Give it some room.”

He turned and looked at me. “You wouldn’t mind? I mean, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

I rolled my eyes. “Charlie, this is Pete you’re talking to, remember? The guy who, if given half a chance, would probably take care of it for you?”

Charlie grinned. “Really? Okay then.” He popped the buttons on his jeans and pushed them and his boxers to the floor. His erection flopped out, slapped against his belly and then took up a position standing away from his belly at about forty-five degrees. Nothing happened for four or five beats and then he flexed it, causing it to slap against his belly again.

Another four or five beats and he said, “Well?”

“Well, what?”

He sighed. “I thought you were the guy who’d take care of it for me, given half a chance. That was your half a chance.”

“Really? It was?” Charlie nodded.

It felt bigger in my hand than it had looked. Warmer, too, and slick at the head where he’d put out a little pre-cum. I ran my finger up the tube on the underside and was rewarded with some more. I wondered how it would taste but thought that might be pushing the envelope just a little too much.

Charlie, for his part, slouched back on the couch, sighed deeply and turned his attention back to the movie. Could I do that, I wondered. If some guy was holding my dick in his hand, slowly moving his fingers over it, could I go back to watching TV? Probably not. Then I thought, but what if it was a woman with her hand on my dick? Yeah, I probably could go back to the TV; might even need to.

I seriously wanted to take his balls in my hand and finally went ahead and did it. Charlie sucked in his breath and his ball sack pulled up and got all thick and wrinkled. After a while, though, it loosened up to the point that the balls inside were back resting on the seat cushion but every time I took them in my hand, the sack pulled up into his crotch. I found it fascinating.

I gently stroked him, using the lube he was putting out in larger and larger quantities. He seemed to like the long, slow approach and I knew I did. It gave me all the more time with his dick in my hand.

When Charlie’s breathing sped up I slowed down and when his balls began to climb up towards the base of his dick I almost, but not quite, came to a stop. I did stop when I felt his dick begin to swell in my hand.

He relaxed just slightly so I went back to it, working at keeping him somewhere near the edge without pushing him over it. I managed to keep him there, somewhere, for six or seven minutes before he quietly said, “That’s all.”

It took a few seconds for it to happen. In that time his dick grew bigger and, if possible, harder. The head swelled, forcing his short foreskin back, behind its flair and the slit at the top pushed out three tiny pearls of fluid. Then, two beats later, it exploded. Charlie arched his back and thrust his dick through my fist, lubricating its way with his cum. Then he bent nearly double, trapping his dick in my tightening hand. I squeezed it and was rewarded with more cum, lots more.

When it was over Charlie slouched back on the couch but wouldn’t let me take my hand off his dick for a while. “God,” he said, “I wish I could do that.”

Huh? “Do what?”

“Hold it on the edge like that.” He shrugged. “Once I’m there, I’m there and it’s all over. But you kept it up there, right on that ragged edge.” He smiled at me. “That was wonderful.”

When he let me take my hand off his dick it was dripping with cum. Charlie grinned. “Yeah, I usually put out a lot of that stuff.” He looked critically at my hand and his belly. “But not that much. Hope you don’t mind.”

I smiled at him and wiped my hand on his belly. “Charlie, less of it or more of it, you can put it in my hand any time you want to.”

“Really? You’d do that again? Even though you didn’t get… Well, you know, you didn’t get a lot out of it.”

I laughed and nodded at his crotch. “Oh, I don’t know. I got quite a lot out of it this time.” Charlie beamed and I think he was rather proud of himself. “But seriously Charlie, I did get something out of it. It was fun.” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it was fun for me, too. Remember, I’m gay. I like to do stuff like this.”

He looked at me and smiled. “Then I’ll have to see what else they have down at the porn store.”

He did, too. When I went down to his place the next week he had four new titles on the coffee table. “Here,” he said, handing me one of the disks. “I got this one for you. I watched some of it the other night,” he grinned at me, “but it was kind of boring. You’ll love it.”

I looked at the title: Aussie Studs. The cover featured a muscled young man wearing nothing but an outback hat and covering what he could of his genitals with his hands.

“I thought the Aussie accents might be fun. They were, kind of, but I fell asleep watching it.”

I shook my head, thanked him and put the disk with my keys on the desk wondering how a guy could fall asleep watching porn. Then it came to me that all the porn I’d ever watched had at least some men in it. Lesbian porn might be a different deal altogether.

We skipped the game. There was no subtlety about it, either. Charlie simply said, “Are we going to do it?” and I said, “yes.” He took off his jeans and shorts and was already hard.

This time we did it with me sitting on the floor between his legs, him slouched out on the couch, his balls hanging down over the seat cushion. I worked him slowly, my fingers wrapped around his dick, my thumb ridding along that V on the underside of the head, where his foreskin was attached. He seemed to like it that way and whispered that he wasn’t going to last long so I alternated it with playing with his balls. He liked that, too, but it didn’t seem to ratchet him up so fast.

While I was taking him up I was taking myself up, too, rubbing my dick through my light kaki pants with a couple of fingers and my thumb. I normally jack-off with my right hand but that was busy with Charlie’s dick and I found that the left worked almost as well.

I managed to make him last a little more than forty minutes. When his orgasm came he was all over the couch again, making funny noises in his throat. He clamped his hand over mine and wouldn’t let go, squeezing it down on his dick and grunting. I was surprised at how strong his hand was. I was also surprised at how strong my own orgasm was; I didn’t count the shots but I’ll bet there were seven or eight.

When Charlie finally let go of my hand I stood and looked at him. “Like that, did you?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “You might say that. Or you could say that it was perhaps the best jack-off orgasm I’ve ever had.” His eyes went to the big wet spot my crotch. “You came in your pants? Jeeze, Pete, you should take your own advice: take it out and give it room if you’re going to do that.” He nodded at the wet spot. “You better wash those soon as  you get home. That stuff’s hard to get out after it dries.” He looked up at me. “I’ll make sure there’s a cloth for you next time.”

“You going to let me do this again?”

He smiled. “It’s a matter of good management, Pete. When you find a guy who can do something way better than you can yourself, you delegate!”

“So I’m your designated masturbator?”

This time he laughed. “If you want to be. Of course I do it lots more than once a week so I’ll handle it myself as necessary when you’re not around.”

And that is how I became Charlie’s designated masturbator.

We did it a lot over the next few months, often two, and sometimes three, times a week. We missed a week here and there, of course, like when Charlie and his girl went on a Caribbean cruise or when Tom, my boyfriend-of-the-month, and I went on a camping trip but otherwise we were pretty regular about it. Charlie was true to his word and always provided a small towel for me to come in or wipe up with. He even got pretty comfortable watching me do it.

One Saturday afternoon, after we’d both come but before we’d put our pants back on, Charlie went to the kitchen and brought back a couple of beers. I was still sitting on the floor and he sat on the couch, his legs on either side of me.

After some comment about the game we’d watched, Charlie, kind of out of the blue, said, “You like to, you know… You like to blow guys?”

I looked up at him and grinned. “Charlie, I’m gay. It’s what we do.”

“You like it? To do it, I mean.”

I drank some of my beer. “Where’s this going, Charlie?”

“Well, I got to thinking about it and all and I just wondered… Well, you never seemed to want to… well, you know…”

I took the bull by the horns. “You mean I never seemed to want to blow you?”

Charlie took a big swallow of his beer. “Well, uh, yeah. I mean you never asked or anything.”

I reached out and hefted his balls in my palm. “Let me tell you something about me, Charlie. I’ve thought a lot about what it might be like to blow you. I jack-off to it sometimes. But I couldn’t take the chance.”

“The chance? What? That I might say no?”

I traced the length of his dick with my finger. “No, I could live with that. The chance I couldn’t take was that you’d think I’d gone too far, asked for too much, and you might want to break off the friendship. That’s what I couldn’t chance, Charlie. That we wouldn’t be friends anymore. So I couldn’t ask.”

Charlie looked off into space for a while and started to get hard. Then he looked at me, sitting between his legs with his dick in my hand. “What if I did?”

“What if you did what?”

“What if I asked you? You know, ‘Pete, would you suck my cock sometime?’ Would that change our friendship? I mean, it wouldn’t, would it? It’s not so different from what you… we… do now. I mean, I guess it is, but not so…” He ran out of steam. “Aw shit, Pete, would you blow me?”

My answer was to go down on him, right then and there. And he loved it from the very first touch of my lips. I’d thought he was enthusiastic about being jacked-off but that was a yawn compared to getting blown. He was all over the couch, pulling me along with him. Then he had his thighs wrapped around my head, pushing his dick as far down my throat as he could. When he tired of that he stood up and grabbed my head, holding it steady and slowly fucking his dick in and out of my mouth.

He’d come not thirty minutes earlier and he had good staying power anyway but this threw him over his edge in a hurry and before I could really comprehend what was happening he was pumping cum down my throat and then, pulling back, over my tongue, letting me taste it. It was sweeter than it was salty and there was a lot of it.

When he went to pull out of my mouth I pushed him back on the couch and buried my face in his crotch until he went soft in my mouth; then I relinquished it. When I did, I looked up at him and then both of us looked around. The couch was missing a cushion, the lamp on the end table was on its side and both beer bottles had been knocked over and spilled on the rug. I looked back at Charlie and we both burst out laughing.

“I think maybe you liked that, huh Charlie?”

“Jesus,” he said, “no wonder guys are gay. I mean, I’ve never had anything like that!”

I suddenly wondered if I’d been right: blowing him would mess up the whole friendship thing. So I asked. “Was it better than sex with a woman?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “No, but it was better than jacking-off. Better even than you jacking me off. But better than sex with a woman? I guess you wouldn’t know this Pete, but nothing is better than sex with a woman. That ran a hell of a good second, but still, second.”

Relieved, I asked the other important question: “We going to do it again?”

“Well, maybe not in the next three minutes, but yeah, I want to do it again. I mean, if you do.”

“Oh, I do, Charlie, I do. But you know? I still want to jack you off sometimes, too. Maybe we’ll have to alternate or something.”

We straightened up the room, both of us still without our pants on. We found the couch cushion beside the table with the knocked over lamp and decided that’s how it got that way. Charlie got some towels to soak up the spilled beer. Then, with fresh beers in hand, we sat down on the couch.

“Charlie? How come you let me do this? Jack you off, suck your cock?”

He smiled at me. “Well, for one thing, it feels good. For another, you like doing it.” He turned and looked directly at me. “You know what finally convinced me that all this was okay? When you stopped trying to hide the fact that you were jacking off too.”

I started to say something but he cut me off. “Yeah, I know you said you liked doing it but for a while you seemed uncomfortable jacking off. Or maybe it was jacking off in front of me. Anyway, when you were comfortable enough to take your pants off and jack-off while you were jacking me off, I knew we were both getting pleasure out of it.”

He was quiet for a moment and then grinned at me. “Oh, yeah, the other reason? I like you Pete. We’re so much alike, you and I, well, except that you have sex with men and, other than you, I have sex with women. We like the same things, we laugh at the same jokes and neither one of us likes anchovies on pizza. That in itself is reason enough to let you suck my cock.” He drank some of his beer. “Now, same questions. Other than the obvious ‘feels good’ answer, why do you jack me off or suck my cock.”

I knew he wouldn’t take some glib, off the ceiling answer so I had to think about it. “You know, Charlie, I think one of the reasons is that you’re safe.” He furrowed his brow but didn’t interrupt me. “Safe in the sense that I’m not going to fall in love with you, at least not that way. I can’t; you’re straight. By the same token there’s no sexual competition between us. That’s why I like double dating with you. I have every assurance that you’re not after my date and you have the same from me so we can just have fun, all of us. Then there’s your openness. You like being jacked off and don’t hide it or make excuses about it. You just like it. And you don’t care that I like doing it.”

I reached over and took his balls in my palm, not fondling them, just letting them rest there. “And then, of course, there’s the obvious stuff. You have a big, handsome dick with big, low hanging balls. You’re responsive and let me know when something feels especially good.” I looked at him. “And you like me. On a deep, fundamental level, you like me in the same way I like you. I never had a brother but if I did, I’d want him to be you.”

And so I became not only Charlie’s designated masturbator but his primary cock-sucker as well. I was only the primary cock-sucker because he had a couple of women friends who would do it too, but only as a preliminary to what Charlie called “The Main Event.” You could hear the capital letters when he said it. With Charlie and me, the blow job was the Main Event.

One afternoon about six months after that first time Charlie and I were sitting on his couch, basking in the afterglow of one of our better sessions. “You really like doing this, don’t you, Pete?”

I nodded. “You know how it feels good to you? Well, it feels the same way to me. Maybe not exactly the same but I sure have some fine orgasms while I’m doing it.”

“Just with me? Or with everyone you do it with?”

This was sounding serious but I couldn’t figure out where it was going. “Not everyone. Not just you. It depends on the guy, my mood, how long it’s been since I came last, lots of stuff. I will tell you, though, that sometimes when I’m jacking off, I think about you. About how your cock feels in my hand and in my mouth. How your cum tastes.”

Charlie nodded and looked perplexed.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Charlie. I think about other guys too. You’re not taking over my love life. Or my sex life either. Not by a long shot.”

He smiled. “I hardly thought so. I asked because of something that came up and I don’t quite know how to approach you with it.”

“Sounds like maybe we need another beer to get into this, Charlie.”

“I’ll get them.” He went into the kitchen and returned with a couple of cold ones. After he handed me mine, he sat next to me and spread his legs so I could fondle him if I wanted to. I always wanted to.

“Okay. Here’s the deal,” he said, touching his bottle to mine. “There’s a young guy at work I’ve become pretty good friends with. I think he sees me as a wise old guy he can go to for advice--even though I’m only four years older than he is.” He laughed. “Anyway, his problem is that his wife is six months pregnant and has lost any desire for sex and he’s going nuts. He says he masturbates a lot but it’s never much good and of course, being married and a faithful husband, he can’t just go out and find some woman to have sex with.”

“Let me guess. So you want to fix him up with a guy? A guy because that wouldn’t be cheating on his wife?” I grinned at Charlie. “Is this what you engineers do all day? Sit around and talk about your sexual frustrations?”

Charlie blushed. “Well, not all day. Sometimes we talk about fantasy football. Anyway, I thought since you like doing what you and I do, and the kid isn’t ugly, I could introduce him to you and you could…”

“Take care of his little problem for him?”

Charlie blushed again, this time a deep red. “It, uh, it isn’t a little problem, Pete. I saw it in the men’s room one day and believe me, it isn’t little.”

“Careful, Charlie. Those big ones can really capture a guy. I might have to give you up for him.”

It surprised the hell out of me that he’d actually thought about that. “I doubt it. He’s married less than a year, wife’s sexy as hell, smart, too, and when she’s not carrying a kid she’s evidentially something else in bed. No, I’ll loose you someday but not to him. Not to any straight guy.”

And just what does this guy, the horny husband, think about a guy getting him off? Did you ask him that or is all of this all going to come as a surprise to him?”

“No, no, Pete. I wouldn’t do that. We talked some and he said a guy would be great because with a guy he wouldn’t be disloyal to his wife. He just doesn’t know a guy  who’d do this for him--or at least he doesn’t know that he knows any.”

“Let me think about it.”

I did, too. For a couple of days.

The first consideration was the wife. Oh, I know, I know, but women are people too and often don’t deserve the shit dumped on them, especially by men. How was this going to affect her? On the plus side it would calm the husband down and probably make him a lot easier to live with. Another plus was the attitude of the husband. He couldn’t go with a woman because that would be cheating but sex with a guy would be okay because that wouldn’t be cheating. An interesting concept which I couldn’t think about too much because it gave me a headache.

The only problem I could see on the man’s side was that he’d be so thankful for a decent blowjob that he’d fall in love with me and want to leave his wife. I didn’t give that a lot of weight in the equation so I decided what the hell, I’d do it.

Charlie set it up for the next Saturday morning, at his place.

When I got down to Charlie’s, the young guy was already there, standing at the window, drinking a beer. He looked nervous.

“Pete, this is Billy. Billy, my friend Pete.”

Billy nodded and didn’t offer to shake hands, I think because his hands were already shaking. He also had a hard-on pushing at the fly of his pants. Charlie had been right: it didn’t look small.

I figured subtlety wasn’t the word of the day here so I went over to him, took the beer out of his hand and said, “Shall we get on with it?”

He looked grateful for the direct approach and nodded. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He looked down at himself and blushed. I don’t think he’d realized how much it showed.

“In there,” Charlie said, waiving down the hall towards his bedroom. “I gotta go out for a couple of hours but if you need anything, Pete, you know where everything is.”

In the bedroom I said, “We gotta take our clothes off. It’s more fun that way.” The man had a very expressive face and one raised eyebrow was all it took to ask the question. “Well, it’s more fun for me that way.”

He took off his shoes and his tee shirt and then turned his back while he took his jeans off. “Billy? Don’t worry about it. I’ve got one, too.” He turned and glanced at my crotch. “Don’t worry, I take care of that one, too.” He looked relieved. He was also still wearing his socks which I found just slightly charming.

“Where…”

Charlie had cleaned off the little settee which was usually covered with dirty clothes. There was a fresh sheet laid over it and a little stack of hand towels on the floor in front of it. “There.”

He sat like a dowager at a tea party, back straight and not touching the back of the settee.

I went and spread his legs and kneeled between them. “Not like that. You’re too stiff.” He laughed and relaxed a little. “Here,” I took hold of his knees and pulled them towards me. “Regardless of what your mother told you, slouch.” I took hold of his balls and he sucked in his breath. “You want these to hang down. That’s it. Good.” I patted him on the thigh and then moved in, taking hold of his dick. It was clean and smelled faintly of soap, even when I pulled the foreskin back. When I put it in my mouth, he came.

He came a lot, like he’d been saving it up, and it was very salty. When his contractions stopped he started to get up but I pushed him back down, resting one hand on his chest and one on his belly. His dick stayed in my mouth.

It took a little longer this time but in less than ten minutes I had him back on the edge, his balls pulled up tight in his crotch. I licked his balls for a while and that helped to pull him back a little but when I went back to his dick he groaned and tried to thrust it deeper into my throat. I wouldn’t let him do that and he finally got the message: relax.

I kept him as close to the brink of orgasm for as long as I could but it was a loosing battle. When he very politely asked me if he could please come I gave up and helped him do just that. This time it lasted a lot longer than the first one. I figured that one had been more relief than pleasure. This one was pure pleasure.

I stayed on him for a while, wondering if he’d get anywhere near soft, but he surprised me by starting up the trail again almost immediately. He turned out to be a playful son-of-a-gun, thrusting into my throat like there was no tomorrow and then relaxing and letting me do it at my pace. For a while he held my head steady and very gently thrust in and out of my mouth, using only his dick-head. He’d push it through my lips, stop when the flare of the head was barely on the other side of my teeth and slowly pull back until all I had was the little slit at the tip.

I decided that if he could play at it, so could I. I licked my finger and gently touched his ass. He groaned and stopped what he was doing, letting me hold him still in my mouth. I wondered what was going through his mind; did he like it, was he concentrating on the feeling or was he afraid I was going to try to put something else up there?

I licked my finger again and pressed it harder against him. He slowly opened and let me in up to the second knuckle. I figured that was about as far as I should take it so I gently withdrew and pushed back in. He made a sound almost like a cat’s purr. We did this for a while before I felt his dick swell in my mouth. I pushed my finger a little further into him and he came. A lot. For a long time. I slipped my finger out of him while he was doing it.

He was quiet for a long time after and his dick went fairly soft in my mouth. I wondered if he might be falling asleep until he ran his fingers through my hair and said, “I gotta pee. Bad.”

He seemed to have lost all self conscious when he got up and went into the bathroom; he didn’t even bother to close the door. I went in after him and he simply stepped to one side of the toilet, making room for me.

When we were dressed again I offered him another beer and he surprised me by taking it. I’d figured he might be a little up tight about what we’d just done and simply want to get out of there and away from me as fast as possible. It turned out he wanted to talk.

“That was wonderful,” he said. “I’ve never had anything like it. And that thing with your finger, that was really something.” He laughed. “You know, Cindy told me if you did it better than her, don’t get used to it. I guess I won’t but man, I sure could get used to what you were doing.”

“Cindy?”

“Yeah, my wife.”

“You told your wife what we… why you were coming here?”

Bless his heart, he shrugged, as though every guy in the world told his wife when he was going out for a blow job. “Sure. Look, Cindy and I, we have about the best sex of anybody, but this baby thing, it’s made her hormones or something go all crazy and she just can’t do it.”

“You, on the other hand…”

He blushed. “Yeah, my hormones are just fine. Well, maybe not, you know? I mean, jerking off just doesn’t do it. It’s a kind of relief I guess, but it’s not really much fun.” He grinned at me. “Hasn’t been, ever since Cindy and I first did it. Now, with her hormones all messed up, I was hurting.”

“So you decided you could do it with another guy and it wouldn’t be cheating?”

He drank his beer and thought for a moment. “I guess. I mean, we really didn’t think about cheating but I knew no woman could do it for me so we decided I could try a guy.”

Amazing! Just amazing! “Tell me something, Billy. Am I the first guy you ever did stuff like this with?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged again. “I guess I’m kind of slow but I was in college before I knew guys really did stuff like this. Even then, I only found out because I went back to the dorm one time and found my roommate and the guy from the room next door doing it.”

“Did that bother you?”

“Why would it? They were liking it.”

Either this was the most innocent, unaware boy in the world or he was living on another planet. In either case, I thought it best to stop and get to the other question on my mind. “Uh, Billy, are we going to do this again?”

He looked at me and grinned. “Could we? You wouldn’t mind? I mean, you didn’t even…”

“Don’t worry about me, Billy. Unlike you, if I have to, I can take care of myself.”

“Well, yeah. Yeah, let’s do it again.” He looked at his watch. “Next week? Next Saturday?”

“Sure, Saturday’s great. Why don’t you come to my place around ten?” Since I live four floors above Charlie it was pretty easy to give him directions.

He looked at his watch again, finished his beer and said, “I gotta go.”

Just as I was reaching for the door it opened and Charlie came in. “Hey, guys.”

Billy stuck out his hand. “Thanks for everything, Charlie.” He turned to me. “Thank you.” Then he was out the door.

Charlie put down the packages he was carrying and looked at the clock on the mantle. “I make that two hours and thirty five minutes, Pete.” He grinned. “I take it you two clicked? Or was it all talk?”

“Ten minutes talk, two hours twenty five minutes… well, the other.”

“You spent two and a half hours giving that boy a blow job?”

I laughed. “Yeah. He liked it. He popped three times.”

Charlie ran his hand over his crotch. “Three times? Man, you must be better than I remember.”

I reached out and replaced his hand with mine. “You want to find out? Poor me didn’t even pop once. Putting that thing of yours in my mouth sure would help me to do it right.”

He took me to a late lunch, after.

So for the next three months Billy visited me every Saturday morning and every Saturday morning he got off at least twice, often three times. One morning, when we were between sessions Billy seemed to want to talk. That was fine with me; it gave me more time just to look at him and play with his dick. Since I wouldn’t let Billy wear clothes those Saturday mornings, he was naked. Well, except for his socks; he never took his socks off. I was also naked which he never paid any attention to, other than once pointing out that I didn’t have any hair on my balls. I told him I shaved them so they would feel better to guys playing with them. He didn’t say anything but at our last session I found that he’d shaved his. Perhaps it was a present for Cindy.

A couple of weeks after the baby came and I lost Billy, Charlie asked me if I’d mind taking his nephew out.

“Is this another needy husband? Because if it is…”

He laughed. “I doubt he’s ever been needy, at least not that way. He’s gay.”

“Hey, gay people have needs, too.”

“Maybe. But not Byron. Anyway, he’s in town as a guest of the college, giving a two week seminar. Actually, though, they’re trying to lure him into their math department. Sally managed to cop four tickets to the opera next Wednesday and I thought you and he might like to accompany us. I’ll even buy dinner.”

“An offer I can’t refuse, Charlie. Especially with dinner thrown in. So this guy…”

“Byron.”

“Yeah, Byron. He’s your nephew? He’s not jailbait is he?”

Charlie laughed. “Not unless you are too. No, he’s two years younger than me but that still makes him… of age. His dad is my uncle on my father’s side. The smart side of the family. He’s good people.”

When I got to Charlie’s on Wednesday evening Sally was already there, talking to a man in a well fitted tuxedo. When he turned and smiled at me all I could think of was a well turned out 1930’s movie star. One of the rugged ones. His smile lit up his face. “So you’re Pete,” he said, “nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Byron.”

As we shook hands a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, “Don’t screw this one up, Peaty boy. He’s a keeper.”

The evening went well and, if I do say so myself, I didn’t screw it up. We had a light dinner and conversation never lagged. The opera was Tosca which was well done and turned out to be a favorite of all of us. Afterwards we had a drink in a quiet little bar Charlie and Sally favored.

Walking home I figured it was now or never. “Hey, Byron, how about dinner Friday? I know a nice little place that’s quiet and has awfully good food.”

Charlie turned and said, “Gee, Pete, Sally and I won’t be able to join you. But you go ahead. Don’t worry about us.”

I was about to say I’d invited Byron, not them when I saw the little smirk on Sally’s face. I wondered if she’d put him up to it or if it was his own idea. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Charlie,” I said. “We’ll try hard not to worry about you. We may not even think about you at all.” Byron laughed out loud.

On Friday we met in the lobby of Byron’s hotel. When he stepped out of the elevator he caught my eye and I think we both grinned.

We had a drink in the hotel bar and Byron told me about his seminar. Well, not the subject matter which had something to do with the derivation of a variation of the calculus. He told me about working at the college and how hard it was to keep his mind on the subject with all the hunky guys in the class. He also told me about the lunches and dinners he’d been invited to and some of the subtle pressure they were putting on him. They were even planning a cocktail party for him the next week.

“It sounds like they want you pretty badly, Byron,” I said. “You going to take the job?”

He grinned. “I don’t know, really. A lot depends on how the next couple of weeks go.” He changed the subject, asking me about my job. “Uncle Charlie tells me you’re an editor. What do you edit?”

“Just about anything someone wants edited, I guess. I’m kind of a Jack-of-all-worlds. I just finished an article about dogs and how their owners get to be more like them than the other way around. Before that I edited a piece on bio-diversity in the Sahara. And before that I did the instruction manual for a particularly obscure, very poorly designed digital camera.”

“Wow! That’s impressive.”

“Not really. I don’t write the stuff, I just untangle the words and put them in the right places, in the right order.”

After dinner I suggested we go for a nightcap somewhere. Byron offered to buy me a glass of wine at the hotel although, he said, all the wine in the in-room bar was in screw capped bottles. That gave me the opening to suggest he come up to my place where I had some very nice Cabernet in corked bottles. It was a little convoluted but that’s the way seductions are.

With the wine poured, Byron looked at me with an odd smile on his face. When I asked about it he took the wine glass out of my hand and pulled me into a tight hug. After a brief kiss he said, “Uncle Charlie says that you give the best blow job on the planet. I’m wondering if I’m going to have the privilege of experiencing it and then trying to top it.”

Another kiss, this one longer and deeper. “Your Uncle Charlie talks too much.”

We never did drink the wine. And, from my point of view at least, he did top it.

In the morning, after another round, we were sitting up in bed, holding hands and drinking coffee. “Did Charlie really say that?” I asked. “That I give a good blow job?”

Byron laughed. “His exact words, I believe, were, ‘If it weren’t for Sally, and if he’d do it every night, I’d marry him.’”

Well, I’ll be damned. “Has he always had a guy around to… You know, to take care of him that way?”

“I don’t know for certain, of course, but if I had to put money on it I’d say you were the only one. That’s high praise from him, especially since from the age of twelve on I’ve tried to get my hands on him without any success whatsoever. What’s it like?”

I turned and kissed him. “It’s nice. Not as big as yours maybe but a nice mouthful.” I made a grab for his dick. “You hungry?”

He ran his hand down my belly. “Yeah, but maybe we should have some real nourishment, not just protein.” He kissed me.

We had waffles, sausage and juice. His first, then mine.

Byron went back to Cincinnati that night and it amazed me how quickly you can come to miss someone.

Sally was out of town Tuesday night so I went down to Charlie’s to comfort him. Afterward, with me still sitting on the floor, lazily playing with his balls, Charlie asked me what I thought of Byron.

“He’s handsome, funny and thoughtful. Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I just wondered if you two hit it off, is all. You compatible in bed?”

I looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

I think he actually blushed a little. “Well, when two guys… I mean, you can do more things than… but I’ve heard that sometimes one doesn’t like what…”

For however many times I had blown him, I’d never really talked much about sex with Charlie so I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. I told him as much.

“I mean… Oh, hell, I mean fucking.” Even the word made him blush.

“Oh, I get it! Without unnecessary detail, there are guys who favor the top position and guys who like the bottom. You want to know if we… if we complement each other?”

He blushed again. “Yeah. I mean it’s none of my business but I thought… Well, I hoped you would be, that’s all.”

I wondered where the hell this was going. “I tell you what, Charlie. I’ll tell you about guys--me--in bed if you’ll tell me what this is all about. Okay?” He nodded and I took a deep breath. “In my world, Charlie, everyone blows everyone. It’s just something we do and I’ve never met a gay guy who didn’t do it. As to the other, fucking, your nephew and I  haven’t given that one a spin yet.”

Charlie cocked his head. “No? But I thought… Well, maybe it’s just a straight man’s point of view, but I thought that would be the best part of it.”

I laughed. “Oh, it is, Charlie, it is. And for some guys it’s the first thing they do when they get into bed. But not me. I have to get to know a guy, get to really like him before I’ll do that. It’s too intimate, too giving of myself to do it casually. We didn’t talk about it much but I have the impression that Byron feels pretty much the same way.”

Charlie nodded. “Makes sense. You’re both bright guys. As to why I’m interested, well… Remember when I told you I knew I’d lose you one day?”

I nodded and, oddly, his balls pulled up in their sack, towards his crotch. My hand followed them.

“Well, it may be the other way around. You may lose me.” He grinned. “And I thought it’d be nice to keep you in the family.”

Well, well, well. “Sally?”

“Yes, Sally. And unlike Billy’s wife, I don’t think Sally would take too keenly to the idea of you getting me off every once in a while.” He took my hand off his balls and put it on his dick which was halfway hard. “I can’t say I won’t miss this, because I will. But…”

I finished the sentence for him. “’…loyalty to Sally comes first.’ Of course it does. But like you,” I took his dick in my mouth, pushed it into my throat and swallowed on it before continuing. “I’ll miss it too. When?”

“Oh, not for a while yet. I haven’t even asked her. And who knows, she may turn me down.”

I licked along that V on the underside of the head. “If she does, you can always marry me.”

He laughed and said, “I think I just might do that. After all, old dogs can learn new tricks.”

He started to say something else but it got all mixed up with sighs and groans.

Byron called on Thursday. He said he was coming back to do the second half of the seminar. He said he’d be in the same hotel.

“The one with the screw cap wine? I don’t think so. Why don’t you stay here with me instead. Save the cost of the hotel.”

“Truth? I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll bring some wine with a cork. Tell Uncle Charlie I’m coming, will you?”

“Right now?”

“Well, you might want to wait until you see him.”

“No, I mean you’re coming right now? Can you wait until I catch up?”

He laughed. “You idiot. No, I’m not coming that way. Haven’t done that for two days. I’m saving it up.”

”Uh, oh. You’re still ahead of me.”

“Go get some of Uncle Charlie’s to make up for it.”

On Saturday morning we were sitting up in bed, drinking coffee and holding hands again, something which was becoming a habit. It had been a very good night. For that matter, it had been a very good week.

“Pete, would you do me a big favor this afternoon?”

I waggled my eyebrows at him, the way Groucho Marx used to do at Margaret Dumont. “Of course. But I thought you had some sort of college thing to go to.”

He kissed me. “I do. And the favor is that I want you to go with me. Please? I want to see how they react to me bringing along another man.”

“You mean like a date? Wouldn’t Sally be a better choice?”

“No. that’s the point. I’m gay, which they may or may not have figured out, and I want to test the culture of the place. See how they react to a gay couple in their midst.”

I laughed. “You want me to go as your boyfriend?” He nodded and I kissed him. This time not just a little ‘do me a favor’ kiss. More like an ‘I want to blow you’ kiss. Then I followed through.

The party was important for a several of reasons. For one thing, I saw that Byron liked the people there. For another, the people there obviously liked Bryan. Third, they were all very kind to me and just sort of accepted that Byron and I were a couple. There was also a fourth and more important reason: I found I was falling in love with him. Two weeks and I was falling in love with him.

Stupid? Yes. Adolescent? Yes, again. Not like me? Third time’s the charm. Nevertheless, it was happening. And it scared the shit out of me. It also let me carry off the boyfriend role flawlessly. I was the perfect blend of solicitousness, respect and affection. I was polite, friendly and let him do most of the talking. I was amazed at how easily--and naturally--it all came.

After the party Byron wanted to go to a gay restaurant so I took him to LeCock which was one of my favorite places. It’s a bit upscale but not at all pissy. Byron seemed to like it a lot. After dinner we went home and spent much of the night doing what gay guys do.

On Monday Byron spent the afternoon out at the college. A little after four he called and asked me to make reservations at LeCock. He wanted to talk about something, he said, and thought a quiet restaurant might be the perfect place.

Byron came in around five. “Reservations are for seven-thirty,” I said, handing him a glass of wine. “Gives us plenty of time to have a short nap before we get ready.”

He sipped his wine. “Sounds good only in a different order.” He made a show of sniffing his armpit. “I think we need a shower, then what you euphemistically call a nap, then dress.”

We showered together and spent a lot of time washing each other and I was thankful that we had central hot water in the building. At one point, after he’d washed my feet, my legs and my ass, Byron pulled my buns apart and kissed me squarely on the little pucker hidden in there. Then he stood, pulled me back against him so his dick was pressed into my crack and whispered in my ear, “You know, we haven’t talked about this much but…  Well, just for the record, do you like…”

I turned in his arms and pulled him closer, until our erections were laying side by side, pressed against out bellies. “Byron, I love to do that. Both ways. But like you, I think, it has to be with the right guy. I’ll suck cock with just about anyone but not that. I have to at least like and respect a guy before… Well, before I’ll fuck with him.”

Byron kissed me for a long time before he pulled back and looked in my eyes. “Do you suppose you might… well, someday, want to do it with me?”

I kissed him back. “Yes.”

“In the meantime,” he said, humping my belly, “can I suck your dick?”

“If I can suck yours.”

We were late for our reservation but only by a little bit.

Over cocktails I asked him how the interviews had gone.

He smiled and looked just a little bit shy. “Better than I could have hoped. Much better than I could have hoped.”

“They offer you a job?”

He suddenly looked like he was going to explode. “Yes! Full Professor! Teach whatever I want. Research whatever I want with however many assistants I want.”

“Good salary?”

His eyes got a faraway look in them. “Pete, they offered me exactly three times what they pay me where I am. Three times! And the benefits, the benefits are unbelievable.”

I laughed. “So I take it you’re going to take the job?”

He turned suddenly serious. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

I thought for a moment and decided now was as good a time as any. “I see only a couple of small problems, Byron. First, of course, we’ll need a bigger place. I mean, we each need an office and it’d be nice to have some sort of guestroom in case anyone ever comes to visit.”

He looked at me strangely for a moment before he caught on. Then he grinned and said, “Yeah, and we both like to cook so we’ll need a bigger kitchen. And a big shower, big enough for several of us.”

The waiter came over to ask if everything was all right. Byron looked up and said, “Actually, we need a bottle of champagne; a good one. I think we just got engaged.”

The waiter grinned at us. “Right away gentlemen.”

Byron looked at me. “That right isn’t it? That’s what we just did?”

“That’s what we just did. There’s one other small problem but we can discuss that later.”

When the waiter had poured the champagne we each lifted our glass and, as though it had been scripted for a bad 1930’s movie, simultaneously said, “I love you.”

Dinner was probably pretty good although I don’t remember much about it except I discovered that Byron has the most amazing blue eyes and they can see right through to my soul.

At home we took another shower together and this time, when Byron kissed my little pucker I said, “Yes. Tonight. Now.”

In the bedroom we almost had our first argument but sidestepped it by flipping a coin. I won and got to be the bottom.

It had been a long time and Byron was very gentle but I came before the head of his dick was completely inside of me. This sent him over his edge and he came the whole time he was pushing into me. There are no words to describe what each of us was feeling but each of us knew exactly what the other was feeling. It was a level of communication I’d never experienced before.

We spent most of the night at it; first me, then him, then me again. After a short nap it was his turn again. At seven we woke, both of us ravenous, so we dressed and went to a fast food place where we feasted on Double Cheese and Bacon burgers, French fries and chocolate milk shakes. Then we went home, took a shower and went to bed where we replayed the night before.

It was Wednesday before things settled down to some semblance of normal--well, normal for us. We went to lunch at a place that had a reputation for excellent salads and found the reputation well deserved. Over his Fisherman’s Delight Byron said, “Monday night you said there were a couple of small problems to our… Well, I guess to our partnership.”

I had to think for a moment before worked out what I’d been referring to. “Oh, yeah, there’s the small problem of Billy.”

“Billy?”

“Straight friend of your Uncle’s.” I went on to tell him the story of Billy and his three months of Saturday morning visits. “The thing is,” I said when the story was told, “the thing is, Billy and his wife are not going to be satisfied with just one child. And if Cindy reacts to another pregnancy the way she did to the last one, ole Billy is going to be knocking on my door at some point.”

“Our door.”

“Huh?”

“It’s our door now.” He grinned at me. “And, if you have no objection to it, it’ll be our Billy and our responsibility to make him a happy man.”

“With that out of the way,” I said, finishing my Chicken Caesar, “I fail to see any hindrances to our partnership. Do you?”

Byron stood and formally held out his hand. I stood and took it in mine and we shook. “It’s a done deal,” he said. We spent the afternoon looking at rings.

I flew back to Cincinnati with Byron and we did all the stuff you have to do to move half way across the country. Then we went home and found a place for the two of us to live. We looked at a couple of condos but decided we’d rather have a real house which turned out to be easier to find than a condo. Byron’s only stipulation was that we have a gardener because he had no intention of mowing lawns. Mine was that we have a pool where we could swim naked.

By the time Summer was over and Byron started teaching, we’d settled into a domestic routine which seemed to suit both of us well.

Right after school started, Charlie and Sally announced their engagement. They were married on Thanksgiving Day and promptly went off to Brazil for their honeymoon. A few months after they returned, Charlie called.

“I don’t know if this is going to be a problem for you,” he said, “but Cindy’s pregnant again and Billy asked me if I thought you might help him out again.” Charlie chuckled. “He made it sound so civilized.”

“Not a problem, Charlie. Just tell him there’s two of us now, for better service.”

Billy was a little hesitant about it and actually put us off for a week before the pressure in his balls got to be too much for him and drove him to our couch. We spent three hours on him that first time and made him come four times.

He’d called early in Cindy’s pregnancy; I calculated it to be less than two weeks after he’d gotten her that way. So we had eight months of spending Saturday mornings working Billy over. I think we were both a little disappointed when she finally gave birth.

Things evened out and for the next five years life became steady, predictable and comfortable. We traveled a lot, often with Charlie and Sally and always had a wonderful time. All four of us were pretty laidback and traveling together seemed to suit us.

Sally became fascinated with Brazil and she and Charlie went there a lot. She was writing a book about two tribes who lived along a stretch of the Amazon and seemed to have a love-hate relationship with each other. She was trying to understand how this had come about.

But life can’t stay on an even keel for very long. One Wednesday night in early June Charlie called and asked if we would come to him. I could tell from his voice that something was wrong.

When he answered the door his eyes were red and his face swollen and puffy. He’d obviously been crying. “She’s dead,” he said as we stood in the doorway. “Dead!”

Byron took charge, leading Charlie to his chair. He pulled a stool up to the chair and said, “How?”

It wasn’t a long story. Sally had had to make a quick trip down to Brazil to verify something. The little plane that was to take her up the Amazon had crashed on takeoff and all aboard had been killed.

Life for Charlie--for all of us--was very difficult for the next weeks. Byron and I arranged for the body to be flown home and arranged a small funeral service. Charlie notified everyone he could think of and tried his best to be strong.

Two days after the funeral Charlie called and asked if he could stay with us for a few days. “I just can’t be in this place any more,” he said on the phone. “I just have to get away from… from all these memories.”

“Of course you can, Charlie. You can stay as long as you like. You want me to come get you?”

He tried not to let me know but he was crying. “No. I’ll take a cab.” He hung up, I think because he just couldn’t talk anymore.

A half hour later the doorbell rang. When he came in I had to bite my tongue. He obviously hadn’t eaten, or slept or even, for that matter, changed clothes for several days. In a word, he looked like hell.

I put his bag on the floor and led him to the guestroom. “Okay, Charlie, which will it be? Something to eat, a bath or sleep. You’re going to get all three but I need to know in what order.”

He gave me a blank look and nodded but didn’t seem to know what I was talking about.

“Then we’ll do it this way: first a bath, then food. Come on, get undressed.”

He tried to undress while I ran a bath. He came into the bathroom wearing one sock and an athletic shirt and complained that he didn’t like baths. “I always use the shower,” he whined. Since there was no way I was going to trust him to stand in the shower it was going to be a bath or nothing and I told him so.

I managed to get the athletic shirt off him but he got into the bathtub with the sock still on.

At that moment Byron came home. “We got company?” he called from the living room.

“In here,” I called back. “Uncle Charlie.” I looked down and saw that Charlie had drifted off to sleep. “Get into some old clothes, will you? I’m going to need some help in here.”

Between the two of us we washed Charlie down and managed to get him out of the tub. Then we each took a turn holding him up while the other toweled him off.

When we finally got Charlie into bed Byron looked at me and said, “I need a drink. You?”

We let Uncle Charlie sleep while we had cocktails and tried to lay out a plan. “I think,” Byron said, “he needs to stay here with us for a while so we can keep an eye on him.”

Two months later Uncle Charlie was still in our guestroom.

Actually, things worked out pretty well, with only one exception: Charlie would not go back to his--their--place. He wouldn’t set foot in it and was determined to sell it. Byron and I cleaned the place out, packed his things and put them in storage. The condo sold in six weeks.

It took a little longer for Charlie to deal with his grief but that was done too and his usual smile slowly took over his face. I don’t think any of us thought about it and I know we didn’t talk about it but we became a family. Granted, an odd one, but a family nevertheless.

One Friday night, just after Byron and I had gone to bed, there was a knock on our door. It was Charlie. “Can I… Maybe…” He took a deep breath. “May I stay with you for a little while? I… Well, I’m lonely.”

Byron got out of bed and lifted the cover. “Of course you can. Just lose the boxers and get in.”

Charlie started to say something but evidentially thought better of it, pushed off his shorts and climbed in between us. “Thanks, guys,” he said, settling his head on my pillow. “I don’t know why but going to bed I was overwhelmed with this feeling of loneliness and a need for… I don’t know, for contact with another human.”

We talked a little and Byron and I made sure we touched Charlie; not sexually but a hand on his arm or a leg against his. It wasn’t long before Charlie drifted off to sleep. Byron and I followed.

It was odd, sleeping with a third person in the bed. Once I turned on my side and pressed against Charlie, thinking he was Byron. He didn’t move for a moment and then pressed back. I put my arm around him, moved my hand around his belly a few times and went back to sleep.

In the morning we’d turned over again and Charlie was pressed against my back. I could feel his dick against my buns and when he moved a little I realized it was hard. Then I felt Byron’s hand on me so I moved, letting him find Charlie’s dick. Charlie sighed and made no move to disengage himself from us. It didn’t take long and it didn’t take much effort on Byron’s part before Charlie groaned and came. It was strange but both Byron and I felt Charlie’s pleasure when he did.

We dozed for another half hour before we got up.

“Hey, not fair,” I said, patting Charlie’s dick. “I didn’t even get a good feel.”

“Don’t worry,” Byron said. “You’ll have your chance tonight.”

“Tonight?” Charlie said. “Will I be in bed with you again tonight?”

“Only if you want to be,” Byron said, running his fingers along the length of Charlie’s dick.

“Of course I want to be,” Charlie said, pushing Byron’s hand away. “But if you don’t stop doing that it’s going to be a very short day.”

It was anyway. We went to bed right after we finished doing the dinner dishes, skipping our usual coffee and brandy. When we undressed, all three of us were erect. Charlie was still that way after the toothbrush-mouthwash ritual. He stood at the toilet for a bit but finally gave up. “I just can’t pee when my dick’s hard,” he said, shaking his head.

“Nobody can,” I said. “But don’t worry, Byron and I will see to fixing the problem.” We did, too, but it took a little time.

Between us, we took Charlie up the mountain of pleasure and stranded him at the top until he was ready to call for help. Then, with Byron on his dick and me with his balls in my mouth, we took the long ride down. It nearly did him in.

After that night we took to sleeping together on weekends. The physical contact seemed to make Charlie blossom and within two or three weeks he reported that he was back to masturbating fairly frequently, something he hadn’t done at all since Sally’s death.

Then Byron had a bright idea. We were lying in bed, coming off the joy of making love when he said, “Hey, Pete? Don’t you think it’s time we taught the old dog some new tricks?”

I kissed him. “Which old dog and what new tricks?”

“Charlie. Let’s teach him to fuck.”

“Byron, I think he’s aware of how that’s done. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah, but,” he pulled me tight against him, “guys?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I wonder how he’d react to that?”

“Look,” Byron said, “it’s not that different from getting his cock sucked and God knows he likes that.”

“How?”

“That’s easy. He’s on his back and I’m on his dick. You come out of the bathroom all lubed up, climb on the bed and sit on him. Then you ride the hell out of him.”

“How come it’s me and not you. You’re the one who’s wanted to get on him since you were twelve.”

Byron sighed. “Yeah, but you’ve been blowing him for a few years and I’ll bet you’ve had more than a few fantasies about how he’d fuck. And don’t worry. I’ll get my turn. Uncle Charlie’s going to love this.”

So plans were laid. And like all plans, especially those of mice and men, ours, too, went awry. And surprised the hell out of both of us.

It was Friday night and we were just getting started. I excused myself to go to the bathroom where I cleaned and lubed myself. The anticipation had made my dick so hard it actually hurt and it swayed out in front of me as I went back into the bedroom.

Charlie was making little sounds in the back of his throat, appreciating what Byron was doing to him. As I walked up to the bed Byron pulled off of him and held Charlie’s dick straight up. When I got on the bed Charlie grinned at me. When I straddled him he raised his head and said, “Huh? What are…”

As I sank down on him his eyes got big and he whispered, “Oh, my God,” over and over. When I pulled up a little he thrust up, pushing himself back into me. I pushed him back down onto the bed. “No, Charlie, let me do it, okay? You just enjoy it.”

I established my rhythm, doing it slowly, rocking back and forth on him. After a minute or two of this, he stretched up, took hold of my shoulders and pulled my head down to his. Then he kissed me. On the mouth. He forced his tongue into me and said something but it came out more of a moan than words. Then it was over. Charlie came like it was his first time and he--and I--were all over the bed and might have fallen off if it hadn’t been for Byron making sure we didn’t.

When I went to disengage from him Charlie tried to hold me in place. “Not yet,” he said quietly, “please?” He flexed his dick inside me and grinned. “God, that feels good.”

I nodded. “Yes it does.” He did it again and I leaned down and kissed him. Then Byron moved in and the three of us were kissing.

Charlie eventually went soft enough to slip out of me. Byron got a couple of damp towels from the bathroom and cleaned us up, first me, then Charlie. After that we snuggled up together, Byron gently playing with Charlie’s dick and me running my hand over Charlie’s belly and chest.

It turned out that Charlie’s nipples were very sensitive and he moaned when I played with them. He also got very hard.

“You want to do it again?” Byron asked, petting Charlie’s dick.

Charlie nodded. “Can I be on top this time?”

“You can be wherever you want to be,” Byron said. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned in and kissed Charlie. It was a long kiss and before they broke they were both growling in their throats.

I helped Byron get settled with a pillow under his ass and spread his legs. Then Charlie moved in and gently pushed himself into Bryon.

It took longer than with me but not a lot.

Later, when we were lying in bed sipping glasses of wine, Charlie laughed and said, “I guess that just proves that some things come naturally.”

“What does, Charlie?”

“Having sex with another man. I’ve never seen it done but I just did it.”

“Twice,” I laughed.

Byron, who’s often a little faster on the uptake than I am, said, “You want to see it done?”

Charlie quietly said, “Yes.”

So we put on a little show for him. He moved to the bedroom chair to give us the whole bed and we fucked for him. First Byron in me, lying on our sides, and then me in Byron, doggie style. We got very wrapped up in it but not so much that we didn’t notice Charlie slowly jacking off through the entire performance. At the end I jacked Byron off and we came together. Charlie came then, too.

It was a very rich night.

Interestingly enough, Charlie never spoke about kissing us, he just did it. Over the next few months he took to kissing us hello and goodbye, too, like in the morning when he went to work, he’d find each of us and kiss us, usually saying, “For later.” When we came home in the evening he’d always kiss each of us, usually saying, “Missed you.”

The other thing that had never crossed our minds occurred the morning after our little show. We were lying on our sides with Charlie inside me. He was using long, slow strokes, stretching it out, when he took my dick in his hand and stroked it, in time with his strokes in me. When he came, he made sure I came too. Then, a half hour later, he did the same thing to Byron. We’ve never spoken about this, either. He just does it, every time he fucks one of us.

We’ve turned into an odd family, Charlie, Byron and I. A close, loving family. It feels very comfortable and very right. We know we may lose Charlie one day--he still goes out with women occasionally and one of these days another Sally may come along--but until that day, we’re content. All three of us.

The End

Comments always appreciated.

To Greg Bowden