Date: Sat, 01 Dec 2018 19:07:41 +0000
From: eightxsixat14@protonmail.com
Subject: Is That The Milk - Chapter 5

This work contains intimate sexual acts between men and boys for the
purpose of erotic fantasy.  I do not condone such acts in real life.  In
fact, I support all laws that outlaw such acts.  If reading such material
is illegal where you live, or if you personally find it offensive, please
do yourself a favor and do not read any farther.

Don't forget to donate to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.

is-that-the-milk-5

"Okay guys," Brian said, "as you will see, it is not as bad as it sounds.
It started over a year ago, shortly after my wife left me.  I told you guys
at the potluck that I was divorced.  Truth is, Susan, my wife, walked out
on Orson and me.  We'd been having a lot of problems in our relationship
almost from the day we married, and one day I came home from work, and she
was gone.  She took her car and clothes, emptied out our bank accounts, and
left town.  Fortunately, she left us the house and furniture.  She totally
disappeared; we haven't heard a word from her since, and I pray to God we
never do.

We are far better off without her.  All we did was fight, and she wasn't a
good mother to Orson.  She refused to breast feed him when he was a baby.
What kind of a mother does that?  They never bonded like Orson and I have.
I did all the straight stuff like sucking her tits and eating her pussy,
and it was okay, but I'm sure she could sense my lack of passion for her
body.  Fantasizing that I was fucking John, my bisexual lover, is what got
me off.  John is my sister's husband, my brother-in-law.  Anyway, she's
gone, and nobody, except perhaps her parents, gives a rat's ass.

During our marriage, when I went out of town to a meeting or convention of
some kind, I always sought out sex with men.  That is what turned me on --
men, butch men like you guys.  When I was home, there was my
brother-in-law, although finding private time to share with him was always
a challenge, since both of us were married and professional, career men.
Of course, it has been a lot easier since Susan left.

John figures prominently in the story I'm about to tell you.  For without
him, Orson never would have sucked my cock, at least I don't think so.  I'm
surprised Orson would tell Brody about me, and not John, or, if he did, why
Brody didn't mention it to you.  Anyway, John and I became lovers shortly
after Susan and I married.  That is another story, but I will tell you that
I have been in love with John almost since the day I met him some 7 or 8
years ago.  Unfortunately, he is not so much into me.  For friendship and
hot sex, yes, but that is pretty much the extent of it.  I would like my
lover to live with me, like you guys do, and be open about it, but it isn't
going to happen, not with John.  He needs the protection that a wife and
children afford him.  To protect John, and our relationship, if you can
call it that, I have to remain closeted, and I have mixed feelings about
that.  I will admit that it makes it easier for Orson, John, and me to
maintain the incredible sexual relationship that we now share.  But I'm
getting ahead of myself.

Well, with Susan gone, Orson became my responsibility.  Susan always
handled his baths before she left, but with her gone, seeing to it that
Orson had his daily bath became one of many new tasks that I had to handle
myself.  Thank God for the internet because that is where I got the answers
to most of my questions, there and from my brother-in-law, John, who, I
guess I didn't mention, is a pediatrician.  Not surprisingly, he is Orson's
pediatrician.  I learned that until the age of 6 or 7, children need help
washing their ears, feet, and ass.  And, of course, they need help
shampooing their hair and rinsing off.  John suggested that I would
probably find it easiest if I took Orson into the shower with me, and he
was right on that score for I had tried the bathtub routine and found it a
bloody nuisance.

Well, I discovered immediately that Orson's foreskin was so tight that he
couldn't pull it back and expose the head of his penis.  I also noticed
that sometimes when he peed, his foreskin would sort of balloon out with
pee before the pee could force its way out of the tiny opening in his
foreskin.  I tried for a while to force his foreskin back when I was
bathing him, but he would always yell "ouch," and soon he wouldn't let me
touch his penis at all.  I tried to get him to pull it back himself, but he
wouldn't do it.  Although he didn't see the importance, it worried me.  So,
one day I called John, and I explained the situation to him, and I told him
that circumcision was not an option; there was no way I was going to let my
son be mutilated that way.  John, jokingly, took offense at my choice of
the word "mutilated," as he himself was circumcised, and he reminded me
that I had never complained.  Before I could rationalize my way out of that
misstep, John said he understood, that he knew what I meant, and that he
would drop by on his way home from work and have a look at Orson's penis.

John showed up about 6:30 pm as Orson and I were midway through our dinner.
I invited John to join us, and he quickly accepted.  Claire, his wife (my
sister), was out for the evening anyway with her bridge club.  He called
his teenage children and told them to fend for themselves for a couple of
hours, something they often had to do and rarely complained.

During dinner John explained to Orson that he wanted to listen to his heart
and lungs after dinner.  He didn't want Orson to know the real purpose of
his visit Ð to look at his penis, reasoning that if Orson wouldn't let
me touch his penis, he probably wouldn't let him touch it either. That
didn't alarm or surprise Orson in any way for he knew that his uncle was
his doctor, and he absolutely adored and trusted him.  John had examined
Orson before at home, in fact as recently as 3-4 weeks earlier when Orson
was down with a bad cold.

So, after dinner the three of us went into Orson's room, and John asked
Orson to take off all his clothes just like he did when he was at John's
office for an exam.  I peeled his t-shirt off, and he readily slipped off
the remainder of his clothes.  He was totally lacking in modesty.  Ever
since he could walk, he would run around the house naked, and would object
strenuously to his mother's and my efforts to get him into some clothes.  I
never wanted him to think that nudity was something shameful, but there are
times, such as when company was coming over, that it was important to get
him into clothes.  Such times were always a struggle.

John and I sat down on the bed.  John decided to work his way slowly
towards his real goal, that being Orson's penis.  With Orson standing
between his knees, John asked Orson to say "aah" while he looked at his
throat, then, after fishing out his otoscope from his "Doctor's Bag," he
looked in Orson's ears, and then with his stethoscope, he listened to
Orson's heart and lungs, turning him around so he could listen both from
the front and back.

"Okay, Sport," John said, I want you to lie down on the bed for a few
minutes.  Orson quickly jumped up and lay down on his back with his head on
his pillow.  John knelt on the floor near Orson's thighs and motioned for
me to likewise kneel near Orson's chest.  He then carefully examined
Orson's feet so as to not tickle them, and then he began to gently stroke
Orson's legs.

"Brian, would you please stroke Orson's chest and belly.  We want him to
feel good and relaxed.  Put your hands behind your head Orson.  That's it.
Now close your eyes."  Orson obeyed.  I thought the exam had taken a
strange turn, but I trusted John; he was the pediatrician and surely knew
what he was doing, so I began to stroke Orson's chest and belly, my
fingertips occasionally and unintentionally dragging across his tiny
nipples, apparently enough to cause them to noticeably harden.

"Does this feel good, Orson?"  John asked.

"Yeah, it feels real good, Uncle John," Orson replied.

"Good," said John.  "I want you to feel real good."  John then leaned
forward and looked closely at Orson's penis, which was soft, maybe an inch
long, and poking out almost directly from atop his tight little ball sac.
"I can't really see it," he whispered to me.  He then spread Orson's legs
apart a bit, and began stroking his inner thighs, brushing now and then
against Orson's tight little ball sac.  Then I noticed that his thumb was
going under Orson's balls and stroking his perineal region, that magical
space between a male's balls and his asshole.

"Still feel good, Orson?"  John asked.

"Yeah, Uncle John, it feels real good."

"Good, that's what we want.  Brian, give his chest special attention."  I
dutifully did as he asked, ignorant of the fact that a boy's nips can be as
sensitive as an adult male's.  Orson giggled and moaned softly, indicating
his enjoyment of our ministrations.

"I'm going to examine your balls now Orson, and I will be very careful.
Keep your eyes closed and your hands behind your head."  He then gently
stroked Orson's balls a few times before gently trying to feel each nut.
His ball sac was so tight that I doubt John could feel very much.  Then I
noticed that he slipped his thumb and adjacent two fingers around Orson's
penis near the base and began to very gently massage the little cocklet
between the three fingers.  He was clearly trying to avoid the head of
Orson's penis or putting any downward pressure on the foreskin that would
cause Orson any discomfort.

" I need to see an e-r-e-c-t-i-o-n," he orally spelled out for me.

"Really?!"  I exclaimed.

"Really," he said.  "That shouldn't surprise you given the nature of the
problem.  Orson close your eyes again, Sport.  Your father and I are just
jabbering.  Does that feel good, my rubbing your penis like this?"

"Yeah," Orson giggled.  It was then that I noticed that Orson was getting
an erection.  His penis was clearly lengthening and thickening.  John and I
continued our sensual ministrations, and very quickly Orson had a
full-blown hardon pointing toward his head and laying almost flat on his
hairless pubic region.

"Well," John said, "It looks like you have a boner, don't you?  Is that
what boys call it when your penis gets hard, Orson Ð a boner?" asked
John.

"Yeah," giggled Orson, raising his head and looking at his penis, then at
me and John, trying to see if we were okay with him having a boner.

"It's perfectly natural, Orson.  All boys and men get boners.  Your daddy
gets them, and I get them.  Don't worry about it.  Boys and men get boners
when they play with their penises, or when someone else plays with their
penises, or sometimes for no reason at all.  You suddenly realize you have
one, and wonder, 'where did that boner come from'?"  Orson giggled and
rested his head and closed his eyes once more.

John was now carefully examining Orson's penis.  He didn't need to pull
down on the foreskin to see the problem, because it was drawn taut over the
penis with just a tiny opening visible.  He looked at me and nodded, and
then, taking his hands from Orson, he pushed himself up to a standing
position, and I did as well.

"Orson, I want to talk to your daddy for a few minutes, and then I will be
back to maybe examine you a bit more, okay?  You stay here in your room and
watch TV if you want, or play with your toys, okay?  Don't put your clothes
back on, although I guess there is little likelihood of that," he said
winking at me.  So, we went out of the room and out of Orson's hearing
range.

"Well, you are right to be concerned," John said to me.  "Orson has a
condition we call phimosis.  It just means that the opening of the foreskin
is too small to be retracted."

"Duh, that's why you're here, remember?" I said sarcastically.

"I've seen it in my practice a hundred times," he continued, undeterred by
my sarcasm, "but Orson's is rather severe.  You know, of course, that
circumcision is one way to cure the problem."

"Yes, but as I told you earlier, I don't want him circumcised," I said, in
frustration.  "That's not an option."

"I understand that.  Circumcision is off the table.  I just want you to
know that clipping off some of that foreskin would solve the problem.  As
Orson's doctor, I have to tell you that."

"In some boys," John continued, "phimosis corrects itself by the time the
boy is 15 or 16, but like I said, Orson's is rather severe, and I don't
recommend waiting to see if it will resolve itself.  For parents like you
that refuse circumcision, and the foreskin is so tight that it is doubtful
that it will resolve itself, there is only one good remaining option, and
that is simply to teach the boy how to masturbate so as to stretch the
foreskin slowly over time until it retracts completely from the head of the
penis.  Depending on the severity of the problem, the condition is usually
resolved in 3-6 months."

"Don't look so shocked, Brian, for Christ's sake!  It is a known and proven
treatment.  If you don't believe me, go google 'phimosis treatment,
masturbation,' and you will see that there are peer-reviewed articles in
medical journals that discuss the treatment.  Typically, I will explain the
treatment to the boy's parents and get their permission to discuss it with
their son; most parents are sophisticated enough to know that their son is
most likely masturbating already.  True, I rarely see children as young as
Orson with the problem.  Usually, parents ignore the problem until the boy
is in his early teens.  At that age, the boy makes it known to his parents
that he has a problem, and the parents bring the kid in to see me.  Of
course, I sometimes discover the problem during a routine physical.

Normally, I ask the boy to show me his usual masturbatory technique, and
almost always it is a technique that does nothing to alleviate the foreskin
problem, in fact, it is usually a technique that contributes to its
maintenance.  I then tell the boy how to modify that technique to one that
stretches the foreskin, and I may ask him to demonstrate that new
technique.  And, no, I know what you are thinking.; I don't have them
masturbate to orgasm.  Although, I should confess that I have had more than
one boy ejaculate on me, but that was never my intention."

"Oh, sure," I said skeptically.

"Well, I have to admit, it was kind of hot when that happened.  The
important thing is that masturbating works and that is what I recommend for
Orson.  We teach him how to masturbate so as to stretch his foreskin.  In
Orson's case, however, because of his young age, we can't just tell him
what to do and expect him to do it.  Until he experiences the pleasure of
orgasm, he simply is not going to be sufficiently motivated to do it.  It
would just seem too silly to him.  Trust me, I know this from experience.
We are going to have to masturbate him to orgasm, so he will experience the
pleasure and want to do it to himself in the future.  And, yes, that is a
bit unorthodox, but, God dammit, he is your son and my nephew, and we want
to resolve this problem, so he can have the best possible sex life.
Right?"

I was speechless.  Teach my son to masturbate!  Fathers don't teach their
sons to jack off!  I couldn't see myself ever doing that.  And I had
questions.

"Masturbate to orgasm?  A 5-year-old boy can't have an orgasm, can he?"  I
asked.

"Of course, he can.  Many people don't realize, and you are apparently one
of them, that we humans can have orgasms as soon as we are born, both boys
and girls.  We can't do it ourselves until we get to be about 3-years-old;
it takes that long to develop the appropriate eye-hand-body coordination to
effectively masturbate.  For a child younger than 3 to have an orgasm,
somebody has to masturbate him, either a parent, a sibling, a babysitter,
well, obviously, anybody.  It's unusual, of course, but it happens.  And
although children over 3 have the skills to masturbate, they rarely figure
out how to do it for some years yet.  Often, of course, in the case of
boys, an older boy teaches them how to do it before they can figure it out
for themselves."

"But a boy Orson's age can't ejaculate, can he?"  I hesitantly asked.

"No, of course not.  A boy can't ejaculate until he goes through puberty,
usually around 11, 12, or 13, but he can still have an incredibly intense
orgasm just like you and me.  Didn't you jack off before you could cum?" he
asked.

"No, I didn't jack off until I was 13, and I ejaculated the first time," I
replied.

"Well, you were a late starter, Brian.  Most boys learn to masturbate to
orgasm before they can produce semen.  An older neighbor boy taught me to
jack off when I was 8.  After that I jacked off at least 2-3 times a day.
I think I started ejaculating with my orgasms when I was 11.  So, shall we
get started?  There is no better time than the present."

"John, I don't know.  Isn't such a thing illegal?  I asked.

"It would only be illegal if we were doing it for sexual gratification.
I'm Orson's doctor, for Christ's sake, and I'm recommending a
scientifically tested and proven treatment for his severe phimosis.  Yes,
there could be some questions because of his young age, but I'm willing to
risk it, and you should be too.  He is your son, Brian, and he needs help.
And you refuse to let me circumcise him.  Now stop thinking so much, and
let's get in there and begin the process."  With that said, he started to
head back to Orson's bedroom, leaving me still concerned and confused, but
with no choice but to follow him.

Before reaching the door, John turned to me and said, "He needs to know
what we are trying to accomplish.  To do that, he needs to see a normal,
uncut penis with normal foreskin that moves easily back and forth across
the head of the penis.  Has he seen your penis before?"

"Well, yes, of course, he has walked into the bathroom a few times when I
was getting in or out of the shower, but he has never seen the foreskin
move back and forth."  I replied, somewhat fearful of where John was going
with this.

"Okay," John said, "we are going to show him your penis.  He has already
seen it, so no big deal.  I do want to show him, however, how a normal
foreskin easily retracts.  It's not a big deal, Brian.  Now let's get in
there and get the show on the road."  He then turned and went into Orson's
bedroom, leaving me once again speechless at the turn of events.

"Orson, how are you doing Sport?  Listen, I want you to sit down next to me
here on the bed, okay?  And Brian, you stand here in front of us okay?"  I
hesitantly stepped in front of the two of them, and John reached up and
unbuttoned the top button of my 501s.

"John, are you sure about this?"  I asked, my face knotted in a frown of
disbelief.

With his hands on my zipper, John looked me in the eye and said rather
sternly, "Brian, man it up bro, we don't want Orson to get any negative
vibes here, do we?  Of course not," the latter said with a forced smile.
And he continued to unzip my pants and pull them down to my knees.  "Step
out of them Brian, please?"  I reluctantly did as he asked.  Orson didn't
say a word but was watching with great interest.  John then grabbed my
boxer shorts at the waist and pulled them down to my ankles, saying "You
might as well step out of those too."  And like a mindless robot I did as
he asked, leaving me standing there in nothing but my stocking feet and
t-shirt, the bottom hem of which just reached the top of my slightly
inflated cock.  ÊI never felt so completely naked.  My foreskin was
covering all but the tip of my cockhead, leaving my piss slit clearly
visible.

John grabbed the shaft of my cock with his left hand, and said, "Orson, now
watch carefully."  He had little choice as his smiling face was within
inches of my cock.  John then retracted my foreskin slowly revealing my
entire cockhead, which is quite large with a pronounced flair at the
coronal ridge, at least I think that is what John calls it.

"See that skin that I pulled back," John said looking at Orson.  "That is
called the foreskin.  Say, 'foreskin'."

"Foreskin," Orson repeated.

"Yes, and this is the head of your daddy's penis," John said as he touched
my cockhead.  "Now you say it, 'head'."

"Head," Orson again repeated.

"Good, now watch as I slide the foreskin back and forth over the head."
And John proceeded to slowly slide my foreskin back and forth, back and
forth.  My penis was still hanging but was seriously fluffing up now.

"John, I'm getting an erection.  You better stop doing that," I said.

"No, this is great; it's a teachable moment, and we are not going to let it
pass us by.  Go ahead and let it get fully erect," John said, as if I had
any choice in the matter at that point.

"So, you see, Orson, this is what the foreskin on your penis should do.  It
should slide completely back like this, so the head of your penis is fully
exposed, and then it should slide all the way forward to cover the head of
your penis like this."  At this point, I was fully hard with a raging
hardon, pointing directly at John and Orson.

"Daddy, your penis is huge!" said my son, his eyes getting bigger by the
second.

"Would you like to touch it, Orson; would you like to move your daddy's
foreskin back and forth like I'm doing?" John asked.

"Yes, yes, yes," Orson screeched.  "Can I please?"

It took a second for me to comprehend John's offer to Orson, and as soon as
it sunk in, I immediately took a step backward.  "Whoa, wait a minute,
John, I think this has probably gone far enough.  Orson now knows how a
normal foreskin should function.  Playing with my penis surely isn't
necessary."  Even though I had stepped back, John still had a strong hold
on my cock.

"Brian, Brian," John said somewhat impatiently.  "Trust me for Christ's
sake.  I know what I'm doing.  Who's the doctor here?  Now step back up
here and don't say another word.  We need to strengthen the concept that
stroking the penis is pleasurable.  Remember we are trying to instill a
desire to masturbate so as to cure the phimosis.  You don't want him
circumcised under any circumstances, remember?"  I hesitated, and then
shook my head in disbelief and uncertainty, but relenting to John's pull on
my cock, I stepped back to where I had been before.  Precum was oozing out
of my piss slit and threatening to drip to the floor.

"What's that?"  Orson asked.

"That is your daddy's precum, Orson, you will make some of that someday
when you get older, maybe when you are 11 or 12."  John then proceeded to
smear it over my cockhead, and I couldn't help but let out a moan of
pleasure.

"Did you hear your daddy moan, Orson?  He moaned because touching his penis
gives him pleasure.  Here, grab ahold of your daddy's penis," John
directed.

Orson excitedly wrapped his right fist around the middle of my shaft, and I
involuntarily moaned as he did.  Seeing that little hand on my big cock was
a shock, and much to my surprise, I must confess, damn hot.  John then
placed his hand on top of Orson's hand and started stroking my cock, being
certain that my foreskin was drawn completely over my cockhead and then
completely off of it.

"Let's pretend that your daddy's penis is a one-eyed monster.  Look, this
is the monster's head," and John touched the head of my penis, "and this is
the monster's eye," and he pinched the tip of my penis from top to bottom
so that my piss slit opened wide.  Orson giggled.  John placed his hand
back on top of Orson's and said, "Okay, now let's hide the monster in his
cave," and he moved Orson's hand along the shaft of my cock so that the
foreskin completely hid my cockhead.

"Okay," John said, "Now, let's let the one-eyed monster out of its cave,"
and he moved Orson's hand down along the shaft, so the foreskin completely
retracted from my cockhead.  John then withdrew his hand and said, "Now,
Orson, let me see you put the one-eyed monster back in its cave." And Orson
easily did as he was told.  "Okay, now let him out of his cave."  Orson
giggled some more as he successfully did as he was told.  "Okay now you do
it by yourself; hide the monster, then let it out, then hide it, then let
it out, okay?  Wow, what a good boy you are!  You are doing that perfectly.
Now, do you think you can do it a little faster."

By this time my balls were swinging wildly, and I was beginning to swoon
with the dual pleasure of all the wonderful feelings emanating from my cock
and of watching my 5-year-old son excitedly stroking my raging hardon.  It
was one of the hottest sexual situations that I had ever been involved in,
and this wasn't even sex.  It was education, or was it?  What was John
really trying to do here?  I knew it had to stop or I was going to cum, but
I didn't want it to stop.  I was so fucking conflicted.  This was wrong,
and I knew it.  I wanted to prolong the pleasure while at the same time
stopping before I shot my load, because I knew that would be terribly
wrong.  Perhaps John could rationalize what we had done so far, but there
was no way he could rationalize my shooting my load onto my son's face.

"Brian don't lose focus of our objective here.  Let Orson know how much
pleasure he is giving you.  Does that feel good?"  John asked me.

"You know damn well it feels good.  Why do you think I have this big
frigging hardon?"  I said haltingly, as I tried to control my breathing.
Orson giggled, at what, I'm not sure.

"Calm down now, it is important that we let Orson know that stroking your
penis gives you great pleasure, and he can have the same pleasure if he
strokes his own penis.  Let him know now just how good it feels."

"Does that feel good, daddy?  Does this give you pleasure?"  Orson asked me
proudly.

"Yes, sweetheart, it gives me great pleasure, more than you will ever
know."  At that, John gave me a knowing look in the eye, then a wink.  He
knew that having my son jack me off was arousing me more than I had
probably ever been before.  Did John engineer this experience for Orson's
sake, to help him with his phimosis problem, or did he engineer it for my
pleasure, or, possibly, for his own pleasure?  He later confessed that it
was for all three reasons, that he had come to believe over the years that
Orson was gay, that he would take like fish to water having sex with an
adult man, and that it would be better if that man was his own Daddy who
loved him dearly, or for that matter, his uncle, who also loved him dearly,
as opposed to some stranger who might force him to do things he didn't want
to do, or hurt him, or who knows what.

"Orson, it is time to stop," I said, as I felt the feelings of orgasm begin
to gain force.

"No, Daddy, please, I like your big penis, and I like giving you pleasure."

"Sorry, Sweetheart, you have to stop," as I shoved his hands away.  "Oh,
shit, John, oh no, I'm going to cum," I said terrified, as I realized I was
past the point of no return.  "Oh, shit, shit, shit!  This can't be
happening!"

Orson had a frightened look on his face.  He didn't know what was
happening.

"No problem, Brian, just cum; go ahead and shoot it; it's just another
teachable moment.  No big deal.  No big deal.  That's it, just shoot it
into the palm of your hand.  Fucking hot, but no big deal."

By this time my knees were buckled, and my face contorted in the throes of
a monstrously pleasurable orgasm.  I shot numerous thick wads of my hot
jism into the palm of my hand, and, as my ecstasy diminished, I used my
other hand to strip my cock from base to tip, wrenching every morsel of cum
and pleasure out of my cock that I possibly could.  I was in orgasm heaven.
But seriously conflicted.

"Are you okay, Daddy, are you okay," asked my frightened 5-year-old son who
had no idea why my penis was shooting white stuff into my hand, and why I
looked so pained.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No, Orson, no, you didn't hurt your Daddy," said John.  You gave him a lot
of pleasure, and you made him have an orgasm, and orgasms are the most
wonderful thing in the world.  They are amazing, and they give you lots of
pleasure.  You can have orgasms too, Orson.  Once you have your first
orgasm, you will want to have one or more every day of your life.  Brian,
tell Orson how wonderful that felt."

I was so weak from hyperventilating that I thought I might pass out.  I had
to sit down on the bed.  I sat there, on the edge, holding the head of my
rapidly deflating cock in a large pool of cum in the palm of my left hand.
My eyes were closed as I tried to re-enter and deal with the reality of
where I was and what had just happened.

"Yes, Orson," I said, "that was absolutely amazing.  You gave me so much
pleasure that I had an orgasm, and orgasms are intensely pleasurable, as
you see.  Yes, when a man or a boy strokes his penis it feels wonderful,
and it causes him to have an orgasm, which is even more wonderful, "I said,
trying to get back into the game plan, trying to save what I thought was a
situation that had gone terribly out of control.

"What is that white stuff?"  Orson asked.

At that I stood up and said, "I'm going to wash up.  John, I'm going to let
you deal with that question."  The last thing I heard as I left the room
was, "Well, Orson, it's called Daddy's Milk."

"What the fuck," I thought, as I headed down the hallway, "John, John,
John, What on God's earth are you doing?"

At this point Brian paused, shaking his head, almost as if disbelieving
what he had just told us, and said, "Well, guys, there is much more to tell
regarding my introduction to man-boy sex at the hands of my lover, my
brother-in-law.  I trust you want me to continue?"

Peter and I responded at the same time, almost too eagerly, "Yes, yes, by
all means continue."

Stay tuned.