This story involves explicit homosexual activity. If such offends you, or if you are underage, please read no further.
The story is completely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Reference to actual locations is made only to make the story seem more real.
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Copyright 2014 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
TO BE A BROTHER
by Macout Mann
Chapter VII
To New York a Mile High
Come June 6, Malcolm emailed Tom and Jim that his plane should be at Lafayette by eleven. Both sets of parents drove their boys to the airport. Malcolm's plane was already on the ground, and Malcolm introduced himself and greeted everyone warmly. "It's great that your boys could come," he told the parents. "It's not as spectacular as the Kentucky Derby, but it's something to remember."
"Well, anyway, it doesn't look like you boys will have to take off your shoes or get your luggage x-rayed," Tom's dad kidded.
"Oh, they don't get off scot-free," Malcolm laughed. "We did have to check to make sure they weren't on the `no-fly' list."
The parents watched as the plane taxied to the runway and roared off to the east.
Jim and Tom were overwhelmed by the Gulfstream 450. Malcolm said that it would seat fourteen and berth six.
"Of course we wouldn't need that much bed space, if we had our way," Malcolm laughed. "Normally, there would be an attendant on board; but since he has family on the west coast, and I'm flying right back on Monday, we gave him the weekend off. So you'll have to put up with my working the galley.
"Not having Jake on board does have some advantages, but we still shouldn't be messing around too much. The pilot's old school straight."
Both boys laughed loudly.
Once the plane was at cruising altitude, Malcolm did go to the galley to prepare drinks and snacks. "I only know how to make Martinis," he joked. "We can have a late lunch, when we get there."
En route Malcolm did initiate both boys into the Mile High Club. It was pretty clinical, but, as Malcolm said, it's something everybody needs to be able to say they've done. There was plenty of time. It took the plane almost as long to get through the landing pattern at JFK as it had to get to New York from Lafayette. Malcolm asked the pilot to put the air traffic frequency up on the cabin sound system, so they could hear how the air controllers handled the planes landings and takeoffs.
"It would be a lot easier to fly into MacArthur than JFK or LaGuardia," Malcolm explained, "but Islip's about thirty five miles further out on Long Island. Takes an hour or more to drive back. JFK is closest to Belmont Park, and Dad likes to stay at the Crowne Plaza at JFK for some reason. It isn't the New York Plaza or the Waldorf, but neither is anything else near Belmont."
A Crowne Plaza courtesy van was waiting for them, and soon they had checked in and had had a light lunch at the Idlewild Restaurant in the hotel. Malcolm mentioned that before JFK was renamed for John Kennedy, it had been called "Idlewild." "That was even before Dad was born," he said.
Reg and his father were at the race track, so Malcolm called them when they went in to eat. By the time they had finished lunch, Reg was at the hotel's entrance to take them to see the fabled Pirie entry in the Stakes.
"Hello, gentlemen," Reg said, "my name's Reginald and I'll be your chauffeur this afternoon." Once the others were in the car, he added, "And who's ready to get fucked."
"Your offer's a bit late, bro," Malcolm said.
"You mean they're already members of Mile High?"
"Right on."
"With Captain God-is-my-Copilot on the other side of the cockpit door?"
"We used the lavatory."
"Didn't seem different from being fucked on the ground to me," Tom said. "I still liked it."
It was a short drive to the race track. Neither Jim nor Tom had ever even seen a horse race, but they instinctively realized that being taken into the stables to see Mr. Pirie's pride and joy, Regie's Hope, was an honor indeed.
"Dad's other horse that lost the Belmont was named for me," Malcolm chuckled.
Tom and Jim were introduced to the trainer and the groom. Mr. Swanson, the trainer, was a sixty-eight year old who had worked with many winning horses. He told them all about how Regie's Hope just might win tomorrow. Reg then gave them the grand tour, ending at the paddock, where it was post time for the sixth race.
Malcolm excused himself to go and make a bet. Reg led the boys up to his father's box, where Mr. Pirie announced that Reg's horse in the sixth race had won.
Jim and Tom drank in the color and excitement of the afternoon. They were shown the Daily Racing Form and were offered the opportunity to place bets, but both said it would be a waste of money.
The last race was a claiming race, and the whole group went back to say goodnight to Regie's Hope. Then they returned to the hotel.
"You boys probably want to freshen up," Mr. Pirie said. "Come over to my room in half an hour, and I'll order drinks from room service."
"Your room is right next to Malcolm and mine," Reg announced. "I had them unlock the connecting door so we can mix things up."
When the four of them arrived at Mr. Pirie's room across the hall from theirs' he said that he had remembered that he already had a bottle of Sapphire and a bottle of Dry Vermouth, so he ordered glasses and ice and made Martinis. "If you haven't learned to drink them yet, you need to learn," he told Jim and Tom.
They all had a pleasant cocktail hour chat and then set out for the Essex. "There are only two really good restaurants over here," Mr. Pirie said, "the Essex and King Umberto. King Umberto's Italian. We can eat there tomorrow night, unless Regie's Hope wins. If he does, we'll have to go to Manhattan and raise hell."
The dinner was excellent, and when they returned to the hotel, Mr. Pirie suggested that tomorrow was a big day. "And I know you boys want to be together," he slyly added.
And they did.
They had a discussion about who was to partner with whom. It was decided that they would all toss coins, until the Pirie brothers got one head and one tail and Jim and Tom got one head and one tail. Then the heads would sleep together and the tails would sleep together. Since there were king sized beds in each room, Reg suggested that they just share one bed. "Make it easier to switch off during the night," he smirked. "I want to play with Malcolm too."
Reg wound up with Jim, Malcolm with brother Tom. Jim found the whole thing especially exciting. Listening to the sounds of sex coming from the other side of the bed made him hornier than usual, as Reg kissed his body and caressed his tool.
"I gotta have that dick!" Reg moaned.
"It's yours whenever you want it, man," Jim replied.
Meanwhile, Tom was already returning the favor that Malcolm had showed them on the plane. He pounded Malcolm's ass, both men grunting on each stroke, until Malcolm was full of Tom's hot cream.
"Yes, taste that motherfucker!" Jim cried. "Oh god, keep sucking that dick. No...I gotta have your ass, man."
"Ray...turh," Reg gurgled. He slurped harder and faster. Finally, Jim rewarded him with the nectar he was seeking.
They had all drifted off, but an hour later the insatiable Reg awoke and slipped from Jim's embrace to take on his real brother.
Reg wanted Malcolm up his ass. They hadn't been together since Aries. Both brothers were slaves to sex. Malcolm was sent to a fashionable boarding school. Not sent, really. He wanted to go. And once there he found what he had dreamed about. Dicks that were as interested in his, as his was interested in theirs.
He introduced Reg to man sex as soon as he could. There was six years difference in their ages after all. Malcolm did wait until Reg was thirteen. Malcolm was in college then. But Reg told him he'd been hot for Malcolm's body as long as he could remember.
Reg still had rather be with Malcolm than anyone else. But he'd rather be with anyone than not have his dick sucked or his ass plugged.
So Reg and Malcolm enjoyed each other, lying between Jim and Tom. When morning came and everyone woke up, Malcolm was spooning Jim and Reg was next to Tom. You can imagine what happened next.
Jim was turned on all the more by the sounds of sex on the other side of the bed. Fucking a kid thirteen years younger than he was made Malcolm feel like he was in prep school again.
The wake-up call they'd left told them that it was time to get up. This was the Big Day. Neither of his sons was as high on racing as Craig was. Nether of their guests gave a fuck. But they all now must become featured players in one of America's Racing Spectaculars.