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Three Together

Part Seven

(By Nick)


I have to be totally fucking crazy. I am into this totally fucking crazy recurring orgy with two young boys, and one of them not only hasn't grown any pubes yet, but bosses me around worse than my ex ever did. I'm taking totally fucking crazy risks.


What if their mothers wake up and figure out they're not sleeping over each others' houses every other weekend? What if that nosey bitch from the third floor decides to get nosier? Whenever I run into her in the elevator, she looks at me with her eyes all squinty, and asks, "So how's your boy?" It's never "your son." It's always "your boy. And his friend."


I went to some Korean owned discount store three towns over last night, where I was pretty sure nobody would recognize me, and bought two packets of girls' panties. One was Robby's size. The other was Peter's. I figured if Robby had to play, Peter did too. Also, I bought four place mats, a corkscrew, a pasta grabber, and a gallon of windshield washer fluid. I didn't need any of those things, but I didn't want to just buy little girl underpants.


"These two different sizes, you know," said the Korean woman at the counter.


"Two girls," I said, probably looking very uncomfortable. "Can't drop off the laundry until tomorrow."


"Okay," she said. "Just want to make sure you know. No returns."


Peter called me from the pay phone at the railroad station this morning to tell me when to pick him and Robby up. He'd called me from his cell phone a couple of times, but that made me too nervous, so I'd poured half my change jar into his pocket, and told him to use the pay phone. I think train stations might be the only places they still have pay phones these days.


When we got to my place, I parked around the back, and we went in through the basement. Nobody was in the elevator. I was kind of relieved. I'd worked myself up into such a state I wasn't at all sure I could have a good time with my beautiful boys.


Well, I did, though -- and I have to admit, the girly underpants made it better.


"Did you get them?" Peter urgently whispered as the apartment door closed behind us. I nodded.


"Get what?" asked Robby.


"A surprise," Peter told him. "Something to make you even sexier than you already are!"


"And you too..." I said.


"You mean...?"


"Just to be fair," I replied. "You first. Bathroom closet. Yours are the white ones with the little yellow flowers."


Peter hugged me just as hard as he ever had, and ran for the bathroom. Robby just looked at me, confused. "What the hell are you guys talking about?"


"You'll see in a minute," I said, "and it ought to be pretty funny."


It was pretty funny. Peter burst out of the bathroom wearing nothing but those little white panties with the yellow flower trim around the waist. I think I guessed a size too small, but that wasn't a problem at all when he jiggled his little ass around, singing some lame dance tune from five or six years back. Robby couldn't stop laughing as we grabbed him and kissed him all over and nibbled his little half-naked buns and rubbed his little pantied boner.


Right then, all my paranoia went away, and I licked his tiny nipples until they went all stiff, and he was giggling way too loud for the sake of the neighbors.


"Your turn," Peter giggled to Robby. "Bathroom closet. You get the pink ones!"


"Pink?" asked Robby, turning a little pink himself.


"Just go do it!" Peter insisted, laughing. "It's fun!"


Robby went into the bathroom, but he took longer than Peter to come back out. "This isn't working," he said, with his hands covering his crotch. He blushed again. "These are too small to keep my boner inside."


He took away his hands, and we saw the head of his cock sticking out over the rose flower border at the top of his pink girly panties. It's not that they were too small, like Peter's, but that he was too big. Girl panties just are not made for an adolescent boy with desires.


Peter absolutely squealed with excitement and ran right over to Robby, taking Robby's exposed head into his mouth and kneading Robby's panty clad bottom. Robby looked at me with a look of, maybe, resignation, but pretty soon he was into it. I have to admit, it was a big turn-on for me.


They wore their panties all afternoon and most of the night, although a good deal of the time those panties were down around their knees. When we stopped for supper, Robby got soft long enough to stuff his dick into his pinkies, and that was when Peter decided Robby needed another buzz cut, because his pubes were showing through the pink. We gave him his trim after we ate, and before we ate each other some more.


It was around then that Peter found my old digital camera. It was not really great in the way of resolution, but it took a decent image and short bits of video. "We gotta take pictures!" yelled Peter.


"No!" I yelled back. "Pictures are what they also call evidence, and I do not want to land my ass in jail."


"Oh, we won't post them," Peter cajoled. "We'll just look at them and delete them. I bet I look real cute with Robby's dick in my mouth."


It was true. He looked really cute with Robby's dick in his mouth, especially in the picture with his big, wide eyes looking up at the camera and his mouth focused on Robby's dick like the camera was focused on him. I don't know why I ever did things like that! Pictures? Okay, you couldn't see my face in that picture of me going down on Robby's ass, but there probably were some identifying characteristics in view. I have birthmarks, and my ears might be different from the usual, although in a nice way.


I really wanted to keep that pic of Peter with Robby's dick in his mouth and the big, wide eyes, but it seemed like a much better idea to zero it all out, so that's what I did.


It was much later when Robby said, "Why doesn't Nick have to wear girl panties too?"


Peter let Robby's dick out of his mouth, although he continued rubbing it around his cheeks and his nose and the rest of his face, and said, "It's because Nick is our boyfriend. I mean, our manfriend. We're his little girlfriends -- anyway, his pretend girlfriends -- so we're the girly boys. We wear the panties. He don't."


Sometimes I start crying for what seems like no good reason, except there's always a good reason, and the reason I started then was because I understood that my "girly boys" would be big, muscular, hairy teens, maybe a year later, maybe less. Would I still want them? Probably not. I'd still love them, though, maybe. Love seems to last longer than lust.


..........


The boys won't be posting anymore -- at least not with me. I got a job offer in Denver, which is a hell of a long way away from here, and I'm taking it. I hope that the little bit of my life chronicled here will not catch up with me, but I've decided I'm totally straight from now on.


Maybe.




(NOT to be continued. This one is done-de-done-done. Next up from me will be called "The Next World." Your comments are welcome: heedon@tormail.org )