This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage wherever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional; the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.




Chapter 93

By: Tim Keppler

 Edited by: Bob Leahy

Sometimes it's fun to make sex a game, isn't it? This is especially important when there are four of you. You have to keep it fresh, and fun. There's also a distinction between sex and making love. Sometimes you want one, and sometimes you want the other. On the menu today is sex, pure and simple. We're going to be getting each other off, but in a rather improbable way. The game is Dinh's creation, and Dinh has a lot of imagination when it comes to sex, or at least his imagination runs in a slightly different direction than Kenny's, Jason's or mine. Kenny, Dinh and I each have a stainless-steel ball, a little smaller than a tennis ball, up our ass. (Getting something that big inside you is half the fun because we all agreed that we couldn't insert it ourselves. Someone else had to do it. Kenny got mine inserted, and I inserted Dinh's. Dinh, in turn, inserted Kenny's.) The steel balls are actually bi-polar probes intended for use with a new T.E.N.S. unit we just bought, the Erostek ET-312. They're intended to deliver a jolt of electricity to the prostate every second or so, but there's a twist. The probes are sensitive to movement. If you stay perfectly still, you don't get jolted at all. You only get jolted if you move, and the way Dinh has the T.E.N.S. unit tuned, the jolt you get if you do move is not insignificant. It hurts. It hurts a lot. The Erostek has a "high power" option that really packs a wallop. Dinh loves it. I'm less enthusiastic.

But, it gets worse. Dinh, who is quite a good programmer, has hacked the T.E.N.S. operating system and programmed the unit so that if any of us moves, we all get zapped. It doesn't sound very interesting yet, does it? All we have to do is lie perfectly still on the bed and we'll be fine. There'll be no pain. The wild card is Jason. Jason isn't wired up. Jason doesn't have a steel tennis ball up his ass. Jason's job is to suck us off, to make us move, and Jason is a very good cock sucker. Have you ever had an orgasm without moving? Me neither. I imagine that this is going to be quite an interesting afternoon, and truthfully, we're all pretty excited about it. We're all hard before the game even gets under way. The sheer anticipation is exciting.

Jason starts by going down on me, and it's nearly impossible for me to stay still. As he slathers his tongue around the head of my dick, I groan and move my leg in absolute bliss. This causes the first jolt of electricity to hit us, and Kenny flinches from the pain, setting off another jolt. Dinh thrives on this kind of thing, but that doesn't mean he can stay still. On that second jolt, he moves to the side, involuntarily trying to avoid the pain, and this causes a third jolt, which hits Kenny hard. He jerks his legs, causing a fourth jolt, and that fourth jolt makes Dinh cry out, causing a fifth jolt. This goes on and on. It's sort of like dominoes as each of us sets off another electric charge. It isn't long before Dinh is in tears, and Kenny is right behind him, writhing in pain, writhing which, of course, perpetuates the pain as the T.E.N.S. unit continues to fire in response to the movement of our bodies. After about ten minutes of this, ten minutes of really excruciating pain, I scream and cum at the same time, and this has the T.E.N.S. unit firing nearly non-stop. Kenny screams probably ten seconds later and cums in a tsunami, firing clear across the room. But, Dinh hasn't cum yet, and that means that the pain will continue. Jason moves to Dinh, and starts to lick him, to run his tongue along the crease of his ass, something that always drives Dinh nearly wild. He writhes in pleasure and pain as Jason laps at his asshole, caressing it with his tongue, causing all three of us such agony. You know how it is when you've cum, but the stimulation continues. It's not exactly fun anymore, but that's what's so insidious about this torture. Your asshole continues to contract with every jolt of electricity. It's really too much stimulation, and we're all screaming with every surge. And then, thankfully, Dinh cums, and Jason turns the unit off.

We're panting, and we're crying, and we've all three of us had probably the most intense orgasm of our lives. Was there pain? Oh, my god, yes. I look across at Dinh, and he's snuggled against Kenny's back, while still sobbing. Kenny is facing me, also sobbing. I kiss Kenny on the forehead, and then on the lips. He continues to sob, but kisses me back. "How was it?" I ask him.

"I'm not sure what to say," he replies, choking on tears.

"Would you do it again?"

Kenny looks puzzled, but ultimately looks up at me and nods. "Probably," he says, "but it's one of those things that'll take some forgetting first. Before I could ever do this again, I'll need to forget just how much this hurt."

Dinh reaches around and hugs Kenny. "I'd definitely do it again, but you're right, it really did hurt."

I nod. "Yeah. I don't remember when I was last in that much pain, although it was good pain, I think. So, now we have two issues. We need to get these stainless-steel balls out of our asses, and...of course...we need to get...umm...Jason off."

"No...no...that's okay," Jason says, backing away from the bed, but not fast enough to avoid capture. Kenny grabs him by the wrist and pulls him between us.

"How should we do it?" Kenny asks as Jason struggles.

"Well, I could fuck him while you suck him."

"That'd probably work," Kenny giggles. Jason is still struggling, but we all can tell that it's half-hearted. He wants this as much as we do. Flipping him onto his side, I lube my dick and enter him in a slow thrust as Kenny begins to suck his dick. Dinh slides up to the head of the bed and he and Jason begin to kiss. I think Jason is going to have a lot more fun getting off than I did. I'm not enormously big on pain. Dinh is, and sometimes, like today, Kenny and I will humor him. We try to enjoy it. Something this intense will usually get me off, if only from the sheer idea of it. I think Kenny has the same response. It's just so painful that it's exciting. Jason probably has better sense than either of us. He refuses outright to go through this. He likes his spankings, but that's the extent of it. That's as far as he wants to go.

After fifteen minutes or so, Jason is getting close, and Kenny plunges down on top of him, taking him fully into the back of his throat. Jason cries out, a cry that's muffled by Dinh's lips, and then Jason cums. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. As Jason cums, I cum too, but I really would like to be Kenny right now. I really would like to be swallowing Jason's dick, to have his cum coating my mouth. I really would like to be tasting him, consuming him. I really would like... Well, you know.

Dinh, Kenny and I manage to get the steel balls out of our asses and to drop them on a newspaper next to the bed. Dinh is the first to fall asleep, followed by Jason. They're both snoring softly in a matter of fifteen minutes. Kenny is latched onto me, snuggling affectionately. "How was it really?" I ask him.

He giggles. "That was, bar none, the most painful thing I've ever done. Yes, I'd do it again, because I love Dinh, but I'm hoping he doesn't ask me for a while." I flip over and kiss Kenny.

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly!" We kiss for several minutes, and then fall contentedly to sleep. The good thing about pain like that is it feels so good when it stops. I am utterly exhausted, spent, but I feel...umm...really comfortable right now, really, really comfortable.


The next morning when we all get up, we find Bryce in the living room playing with Thim and Quan, rolling a basketball across the floor and waiting for Thim to run after it and roll it back. It's cute. Thim is sort of a trained seal right now, and giggles furiously, having the time of his life. Thim is big on simple pleasures, so basketball rolling is likely to be the high point of his day. Bryce for some reason looks...what...radiant. There's a glow about him. No, that can't be true. This has got to be my imagination. He's all smiles, though. That's undeniable. As we head to the kitchen to find breakfast, Robbie emerges. He looks a little...worried. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He nods toward the office.

"Sure," I say, allowing myself to be led to the office. When we get there, he closes the door, and plunks down in one of the chairs. "Wassup?" I ask.

He makes a long pause. "I...umm...think I'm...falling in love."

I nod. This isn't exactly a revelation. We've all been watching it happen. We've all been watching Robbie slowly fall in love with Bryce, and Bryce slowly reciprocate. Robbie tends to wear his heart on his sleeve. You pretty much always know how he feels. He's sort of like me, I guess. I'm not good at concealing my feelings, and when I do, it's usually not a good sign. Kenny tells me that when my face is blank he tries to stay out of the way to avoid shrapnel. Robbie is a little like me. You see his joy, his elation, his sadness, and his anger. You see it all. Thankfully, he's a pretty happy-go-lucky guy, so what you see mostly is happiness. But you normally don't see happiness like the happiness we've seen in the past couple of months, and that happiness has clearly been tied to Bryce. They share an interest in food, and in tennis. They like the same music, and they both like to spend hours crawling through museums – they're both really passionate about modern art. But, there's something else, something less substantive (or more substantive). They both seem to have similar personalities, what I would call "quietly bubbly". Both are introverted, but have a generally positive outlook on life (despite Bryce's attempted suicide). They're both very sweet, and I think they'd make a really-happy couple. The challenge is going to be getting Bryce to couple at all, good baptist boy that he is.

"So, you're falling in love. And..."

"And...I...umm...don't know what to...umm...do."

I give Robbie a skeptical look. "It's not like Bryce is your first boyfriend. Do what you did last time."

"But, Bryce isn't anything like my last boyfriend. He's different. Really different. I don't know how to...approach him."

"Have you talked to him? Have you told him how you feel?"

"Nooooo," Robbie whines.

"You think that might be a good idea?" I ask with a laugh.


Suddenly I'm worried. "What do you want from him, Robbie?" I ask.

I'll grant you, this question is a little blunt, but I'm concerned. I was surprised when Robbie and Cliff broke up just before Robbie took off for college. I expected Cliff to go along with Robbie to Chicago, and I sensed a certain amount of anguish in Cliff after Robbie had gone. I had the sense that Robbie was the one who broke it off. I don't want Bryce hurt. Bryce is a very sensitive boy, almost too sensitive. If Robbie isn't serious, if he's not looking for something long-term, then he needs to end this right now.

"I don't know," he whines. "Love, I guess."

"You `guess'? Don't fuck with me on this, Robbie! Bryce is very sweet, but he's also fragile. I don't want you to hurt him. If you're not in this for the long haul, then stay away from him."

He looks at me, and I see that he's surprised by my passion. Then he hangs his head for a moment. Finally, he looks up at me. "I'm in this for the long haul. I love him. But we're going to have...issues."

"Such as?"


Robbie is right. The christian community has spent a lot of energy opposing equal marriage rights for two reasons. The first, and most obvious reason, of course, is that they hate faggots. The second reason is slightly more subtle. If one of the central tenets of your religion is that you can't have sex before you're married, and you then prevent gay people from marrying, you effectively prevent them from having sex. Now you'd think a smart christian gay boy like Bryce would work through this, but you have to remember that something like 45% of christians don't believe in evolution. You have to remember that many so-called scientists of the christian persuasion believe in creationism. You have to keep in mind that large numbers of people out there actually believe that the world was created in seven days, like the genesis bullshit says. When you have this mythology hammered into you for years and years, it's hard to get rid of it. It's basically brainwashing, and parents have been doing it to their kids since the beginning of time. It's unconscionable, but true. So, yes, sex is likely to be a problem, but we don't know that for sure.

"What do you want me to do, Robbie?"

He stares at the rug, tracing the pattern with his eyes. "Could you talk to him?" he asks very softly.

This is a huge can of worms, and Robbie has just handed me one of those ancient can openers that you used to take camping, the one only your dad knew how to use. Robbie is actually very shy. I remember when he and Cliff first got together, the discussions about sex were really painful for Robbie. It was Cliff, quiet little Cliff, who ended up asking all the questions. I really don't think that it's my place to have this discussion with Bryce. But, I realize that if I don't, this relationship will go nowhere. I agree, and Bryce and I have the discussion the next day. I'm in Evan's back garden splashing around in the pool, and Bryce joins me. After a while, I get out and move to one of the chaise lounges. Bryce follows me, taking the chaise next to me. We sun ourselves for several minutes, just enjoying the warmth of the day. Finally, I look across at him. "You know that Robbie's in love with you?"

He smiles and nods shyly.

"I mean, he's really in love with you. I don't remember seeing him this happy in a long time."

He nods, smiling.

"But he's worried about something, Bryce." He looks concerned. "He's worried that you...umm...might not want to make love with him."

Bryce looks at me quizzically.

"Robbie is sexually active. Well, no more than anyone else, I guess, but sex is important to sustaining any relationship. It's a form of intimacy. It establishes a level of vulnerability and commitment. Robbie is afraid that you might never want to have sex...with..."

"Marriage isn't legal for..."

"I know that, but that's not Robbie's fault, or yours. It's the fault of the California voters. Can you ultimately let them make such intimate decisions as this for you? Is it their right to prevent you from making a commitment to someone?"

We pause for maybe two minutes. Bryce stares vaguely into space. Finally, he responds. "No. It's not their right. And, it's my right to find happiness. It's my right to love whoever I want to love, and in whatever way I want to love him. I think I'm in love with Robbie, but I need a little more time to make sure that that's true. If it is, I'm going to want to mark our commitment in some way. If not by marriage, then by some kind of public ceremony. And I'm going to want him to make love to me." He's right on the verge of tears. "I've thought about this, Tim. If I fall in love, I'll want it to be forever, and I'll want everyone to know. I'll want the world to know. I'll want my parents to know. I won't care if they approve, but I'll want them to know anyway. And...and...I'll want to make love, probably endlessly. I've dreamed of that. I've dreamed of marrying someone, being committed to someone who'll love me, and take care of me, someone who I can take care of. That's what I've always wanted. I think maybe Robbie is that guy. But, I...umm...need to be sure."

I nod. I know what he means. A woman I used to work with told me that she'd never been out on a date. A date seemed to her like a one-night stand. She wanted commitment or nothing, and that's what she had for a long time – nothing. Then she met David. She met him at work. They worked together, and had lunch together. They used to carpool from Santa Cruz to San Jose. Every single day. That's about forty minutes each way. Then one day David asked me if I'd be his best man. They were getting married. They were head over heels, and had never been out on a date. This reminds me of that old Nat "King" Cole song:


"When I fall in love it will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love
In a restless world like this is
Love is ended before it's begun
And too many moonlight kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun."

Bryce is holding out for love. He's holding out for forever. I can't blame him for that.


It's Jason's birthday. He's twenty-something. I've lost count, thankfully. "What do you want to do for your birthday?" I asked him. His answer was a little complicated, but he'd thought it out. Thoroughly.

"I want to leave the boys with Evan the night before. They can spend the day swimming. I want to get up in the morning, and I want us all to be naked...for the whole morning – like we used to be. I want Kenny to make me his Spanish Omelet, and then I want you to take me to bed and fuck me thoroughly. I want to nap for about an hour, and then I want Kenny to join us in bed for another round. I want him to fuck me. Then I want another nap, followed by lunch – Dinh's Vietnamese Sour Catfish Soup and Spring Rolls. Then I want to go back to bed where Dinh will suck me off. Then, in the afternoon, I'd like to go to the beach, to Santa Cruz. I want to spend a couple hours working on my tan, and something else. Then, for dinner, I'd like Kenny's Stroganoff."

"So, let me recap" I say, laughing, "You'd like your birthday to consist of a full morning of sex, and then an afternoon at the beach. Is that right?"

Jason giggles. "Yeah, that's about right."

"What's the `something else' in Santa Cruz?"

"You'll have to wait and see," Jason responds.

"Fine," I say, smiling. "That I think we can arrange. We can stay over at the beach house tomorrow night. I'm sure Evan won't mind babysitting. But...I have a little something else, something that I'm going to give you now rather than waiting until tomorrow." I hand him a box that's about four inches wide and about an inch high. It's wrapped in silver paper, and has a gold ribbon. Jason looks at it for a moment, and then looks at me. Then he tears off the ribbon and paper to find a wooden box inside. He lifts the cover, and inside is what looks like a bracelet. If you lay this out flat, it looks like one solid band of gold, but in fact there are links that are hinged, allowing it to encircle an ankle. Set into each of the links is a diamond. I'm not usually big on ostentatious jewelry, but this is really stunning. It was made by a jeweler I know in Carmel. I told him that I wanted something special for Jason's birthday, and this is what he came up with. He designed it, and made it over the course of about a month. It's spectacular. There is a hitch, though. The clasp is permanent. Once it's closed, there's no way to remove the anklet short of sawing it off.

Jason gets teary-eyed as he stares at it. "I love you, Jason. I was trying to find something that's as beautiful as you are. That was a foolish hope. There's nothing I could have found that's as beautiful as you are, but I like this anyway. I think it'll look good on your ankle. But, once it's on, it can't come off. It means you're mine...forever."

He takes it out of the box, and holds it up to the light. The diamonds are spectacular. They sparkle in the sunlight. "Which ankle?" he asks, choking on tears.

"How about the left?"

He nods, and prepares to attach the anklet.

"Let me," I say, reaching forward to take the jewelry.

"No," he says. "I want to do this. This represents my commitment to you, to us. I love you, Tim," he says, snapping the clasp into place. Gold against Jason's bronze skin is just so luscious. It sort of blends with his flesh tone, but the diamonds don't blend. They sparkle and glimmer. The overall effect is spectacular. He is nearly beside himself wanting to show it off, and runs to the bedroom for a pair of shorts so that his legs will be exposed. Then he saunters into the kitchen where Kenny, Dinh, Nathan and the boys are hanging out. It takes about fifteen seconds, and then I hear a shriek from Nathan. Kenny is next. "Oh, my god, Jase, that is so beautiful. That's just spectacular. Is it from Tim?"

"It's an early birthday present."

"Wow!" Dinh says. "I want one of those." Little does he know that I have my Santa Cruz jeweler friend making two more, one for Kenny, and one for Dinh. My guys will be adorned alike.

When we awake the next morning we bounce out of bed and into the kitchen for one of Kenny's Spanish Omelets – onions, bacon, bell peppers, some chopped Jalapeńos, and about ten eggs. It's delicious. As Jason requested, we're all naked, and this brings back very fond memories. I can't help but ogle the guys. They've maintained their grooming habits from the time they were houseboys, and have continued to shave away their body hair. They look really stunning. Personally, I clip, but I don't shave. None of them wants me to. Opposites attract, I guess. Dinh, Jason and Kenny all like what little body hair I have, they tell me. Me? I like their smoothness. They feel so good this way, and of course, they look really cute. I reach over and give Kenny's dick a couple of strokes, and it's like I've delivered an electric charge. He gasps. In truth, though, I didn't add much to his erection. The excitement of being naked in the house again has excited all of us. We all have hard-ons.

When breakfast is over, Jason and I excuse ourselves and adjourn to the bedroom. I hug him, and we kiss. "Before we do this, I'd like you to spank me, please. You haven't spanked me in a couple of months. I want the razor strop."

This surprises me a little. Jason has never been a big fan of the razor strop. It hurts too much, he's said in the past. Today he wants it. He spreads himself out on the bed while I go the basement to retrieve it. The last recipient of the razor strop was Dinh, and he usually likes to be spanked while hanging from the spanking frame downstairs. He relishes the feeling of helplessness and immobility. The last time Dinh was spanked, I attached the sperm extraction machine to his dick and left the room for forty-five minutes. This was the same machine we used to inseminate Meilin in order to produce Thim. Dinh was shrieking and crying by the time I got back. Then I laid into him with the razor strop. By the time I'd given him a mere nine strokes, he was sobbing. Then I fucked him, and the sobbing got more frantic. By the time I came he was babbling incoherently, and begging me. "Please...Tim...please...I can't...please!" But this time, he wasn't begging me to let him cum. He was begging me to turn off the extraction machine that had made him cum six times in the last hour. We've had a lot of fun with this machine. It is the purest form of agony for Dinh, and that's what he likes best.

Returning to the bedroom with the razor strop in hand, I begin to spank Jason. It isn't until we get to twenty strokes that he begins sobbing. He doesn't usually hold out this long, and so I'm sort of curious. I carry him to the big leather chair in the corner where we sit and cuddle. When he's calmed down sufficiently, I ask him about it. "Why so many strokes, Jason?"

"Usually, when you spank me, I don't really know why I want it. This morning I knew. Nadia (the assistant Concert Master at the San Francisco Symphony, and Jason's subordinate) was really unhappy with me. I haven't given her many opportunities to lead the strings section recently. I've been really selfish, mostly because the music we've been performing includes some of my favorites. But they're some of her favorites, too. She came to me in tears yesterday afternoon. She was very frustrated. I felt really bad. I was going to ask you to spank m last night, but you surprised me with the anklet, and I forgot. I needed this for a specific reason."

I nod. Then I giggle. "Can I...umm...fuck you now?"

"Yes, please," he says, brightening.

I carry Jason back to the bed, lay him on his back, and snuggle up next to him. We begin to kiss, and I'll bet we kiss for half an hour. I love to kiss, and I especially love to kiss Jason. Kissing Jason can make me harder faster than nearly anything. Not that I need much encouragement for an erection. Once he's naked, I'm usually very excited. Breaking the kiss finally, I reach across for the lotion, lube my dick, and slide into him slowly. Jason is the sensual one. Kenny likes it rough, and Dinh, well... Jason likes it smooth and easy, and that's how I fuck him today, leaning over and kissing him again as I fuck him. He's squirming in no time. I begin to suck on his earlobes as I continue to fuck him slowly. His breathing becomes ragged. After twenty minutes of this, twenty minutes during which I've kept my rhythm slow to keep myself from cumming, he begins to beg. "Please, Tim. Faster." If this were Dinh, I would continue to tease him for probably another twenty minutes. But, this is Jason, and it's his birthday. He can have whatever he wants. I speed up, ensuring that my dickhead grazes his prostate on every thrust. After five more minutes, he begins to moan non-stop while thrashing his head back and forth. I begin to kiss him again, and finally he groans and coats us both with spunk, sending me over the edge at about the same time. This has been a really nice orgasm, slow and delightful. It lacked the frenzy I reach with Kenny and Dinh, and frenzy-free is often how I like it.

I kiss Jason again. "So, you want a nap, I think."

He nods.

"In about an hour, I'm going to send Kenny in on his own. I think he'd like to take you without me. I think he'd enjoy it. And I think you'll enjoy it. Dinh and I can tag team after lunch. I can fuck you again while he sucks you off. Good?"

Jason nods with a drowsy smile. "I'd like that. I'll enjoy Kenny."

An hour and a quarter later, Jason emerges from the bedroom to find Kenny waiting in the living room, reading a magazine. The latest issue of Out has arrived, and it has a picture of Sasha Baron Cohen in his Brüno character on the cover, a flamboyantly-gay Austrian fashion reporter that Cohen created to resurrect all the old gay stereotypes. Kenny and I have discussed this movie, as you might imagine. We saw it together. Actually, we saw it with Dinh and Jason as well. Well, we sort of saw it. Jason and I left half way through. We went to Starbucks for coffee. Kenny and Dinh stuck it out. I found the movie tasteless and unfunny. Those were its major problems. I also found it insulting. It dredged up every stereotype about gay people that we've ever been tarred and feathered with. It reminded me, actually, of Mr. Obama's vigorous defense of the Defense of Marriage Act, in which he compared homosexuality to adultery and pedophilia. All the old stereotypes were resurrected. Paramount's claim was that they were making the movie to confront the audience with their stupid beliefs. Bullshit! They were encouraging their audience to laugh at us and vilify us once again. Kenny ultimately agreed with me, and I have to give him credit for sitting through the whole thing. I couldn't, and am sorry that I paid Paramount $7.50 for admission. It was disgusting.

When Jason finds Kenny, he leans over the back of the couch, pulls Kenny's head back, and kisses him. "Your turn," he says, lustily. He takes the magazine out of Kenny's hand, lays it on the couch, grabs his hand, and leads him to the bedroom. That's the last we see of them for nearly an hour and a half. At the end of that time, Kenny emerges first in a sort of a daze.

"You okay?" I ask him, meeting him in the kitchen.

He nods. "Did you fuck him?" he asks.

I nod.

He smiles vaguely. "Well, Jason is on fire today."

"It was fun, wasn't it?" Jason asks, walking into the kitchen.

"Umm...yeah," says Kenny enthusiastically. I learn later that Jason made use of one of the toys we have stashed in the night stand. He took charge...well...sort of. Jason is usually quite a passive lover. He typically likes someone else to take charge, someone else to "lead the dance". He's never going to fuck anyone. It's just not in him. But, he knows Kenny is "versatile," and so what he did, apparently, was to penetrate him with the inflatable butt plug, and as Kenny fucked him, he inflated it. He gave the inflation bulb a squeeze with every few thrusts, and Kenny say that it nearly drove him wild. "I don't know how big the thing was ultimately, but I felt very full. And he had the vibrator on. Oh, Jesus, I don't think I've ever felt anything like that before. It was one amazing orgasm."

Lunch is on Dinh. He's made his Sour Catfish Soup, flavored with tamarind. Fruit pulp of the tamarind tree is edible and very popular in Southeast Asia – the Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, Cambodia, and Vietnam. It's very sour, and gives soups a tantalizing favor. The Vietnamese like to mix it with catfish, and it makes for a very interesting dish. I'm not especially fond of this soup, though, because the fish isn't filleted, and I'm not crazy about picking fish bones out of my teeth. Jason, however, loves it, and tells me that I'm too finicky about the fish bones. But, like my mother used to do when I didn't like something she cooked, Dinh has given me an alternative. He's made Shrimp Spring Rolls, and I'm crazy about those. You take a piece of rice "skin" and load it up with bean sprouts, scallions, rice noodles, and shrimp. Then you roll it up. They're very much like Egg Rolls, except they're not fried. They're basically raw, except that the bean sprouts have been blanched, and the shrimp has been cooked. You dunk the Spring Rolls in a dipping sauce made of soy sauce, hot sauce, water, and (I'm not kidding) chunky peanut butter. They're just wonderful. I have no idea where he learned to roll these things so tight. I can't do it, but he can. I think it must be genetic.

Kevin, Kai, and Feng are absolutely ga-ga about this soup. Tan, Quan, and I are a little less enthusiastic about it, concentrating instead on the Spring Rolls. I like the broth of the soup, the sourness of it, and have a couple of bowls of that, but I avoid the fish. It's a very nice meal, however, and when we're done, Jason washes his hands, and leads Dinh and me to the bedroom. When we get there, he plunks down on the bed. "I think I'd like to change the plan a little," he says with a smile. Dinh and I look at him quizzically. "Both you and Kenny have fucked me, and I can't tell you how good that felt. I think for my birthday, I'd like to give Dinh a gift." He says this as he pulls a pair of butterfly nipple clamps from the night stand. "I think you should fuck Dinh, Tim, while I suck him off." Dinh's smile is from ear to ear, although he groans in pain as Jason attaches the nipple clamps. "Hands and knees, Dinh," Jason tells him. Dinh gets into position, and Jason slides up underneath him, flicking his tongue across his dickhead as I lube myself with lotion and slide into Dinh abruptly. Dinh is so tight today for reasons I don't understand. He groans, and screams, and sobs. He does this for probably twenty minutes, and then he cums, firing down Jason's throat. It takes me a couple more minutes of pistoning in and out of his ass, but the orgasm is definitely satisfying, very satisfying. Here I have two of the most beautiful guys I've ever laid eyes on. We are one.

It takes a serious nap for the three of us to recover from this, but we're awake by 2:00 P.M., and in Santa Cruz by 3:00 P.M. We drop the car at the condo that I bought from Nathan when Gary died, and wander down to the beach, but when we get there, it isn't the Seabright beach that Jason stops at. He heads off to the right, and we end up walking in the sand for probably half a mile, toward the Boardwalk. We come to a cove. There are surfers here, like probably everywhere in Santa Cruz, but the small expanse of beach is sort of isolated by rocks. Jason unfurls our blanket, and lays it on the sand. He kicks off his flip-flops, takes off his t-shirt, and then pulls off his bathing suit. He's naked, well, except for his dazzling new anklet. No one on the beach seems to notice. Here is one of the three most beautiful naked guys I've ever laid eyes on, and no one else on the beach seems to notice. Not the surfers. Not the volleyball players. No one.

Kenny is surprised, I think, but Dinh is not. Dinh strips quickly until he's also naked, and Kenny isn't far behind him. Finally, I strip. I'm no stranger to public nakedness, but I don't remember it ever being quite as luxurious as this. The weather is perfect. It's probably 82° F. The sky is clear blue, with not a cloud in it. The sand is soft, and the water was warm as it lapped up over our feet and around our legs. I'm not sure I'm ever going to want to put my clothes back on again. It's perfect here. Utterly perfect.

"This is the `something else' I want to do in Santa Cruz. I want us to make love. The four of us. I want us to do it here on the beach. I want you to fuck me, Tim, here on the blanket, under this clear blue sky, and I guess I want Kenny to fuck you. I guess you could suck me off, Dinh, but I think I'd prefer it if you'd kiss me. I'd like to kiss you. If we get arrested, we get arrested. It'll have been a wonderful birthday."

A good friend spent the summer working at the High Line garden in New York City. He's a horticulturist. The High Line is a fabulous new garden built on a former railway bridge in the meat packing district. It's very close to Chelsea, the current gay neighborhood. You get to High Line either via an elevator on 16th Street and 8th Avenue, which doesn't run before 7:00 A.M., or from a set of stairs on 20th Street and 8th Avenue. The stairs are monitored twenty-four hours a day, and one dark early morning, the cameras monitoring the stairs caught two gay guys fucking on the second level. The police were called, and came quickly. This isn't a particularly interesting story so far, is it? The thing that amazed me was that the police, who ultimately arrested these two gay guys for public nudity, let them finish copulating before cuffing them and taking them to the station. One of the policemen stood at the top of the stairs, and one stood at the bottom. They waited. This story just fractured me when my friend told me. I asked him how he knew this, and it turned out that the entire staff of the High Line had seen the video made from the surveillance cameras. New Yorkers are the most watched people in the world. There are cameras everywhere. These guys must have known they'd be watched, and they found that sufficiently exciting to do it anyway. So it is with us. We find the prospect of a four-way on this beach, on this warm August afternoon, among the surfers and the volleyball players, sufficiently exciting to get on with it.

Jason positions himself on his hands and knees, and Dinh positions himself under him, his face to Jason's. I crawl up behind Jason and Kenny positions himself behind me. Kenny and I lube up with a bottle of lotion that Jason has thoughtfully brought with him, and then we start to go at it. I enter Jason slowly, and Kenny enters me, while Dinh and Jason begin to kiss. I'd be lying if I said that we attract no attention. We attract plenty. But, I learn later, this is the gay beach, and nakedness is tolerated here. I don't think it's actively encouraged, but no one really cares. No one's going to call the cops. Everyone knows what they'll see if they come here, and that may be half the reason they do come here. Ultimately, we have quite the audience. Two volleyball games are suspended, and two groups of surfers, who were intent on getting into their wet suits, have given up that pursuit. They all watch us, and I think we all feel as though our bodies are being licked by their eyes. It's a voluptuous feeling. It's very liberating. And very stimulating.

It takes us twenty minutes. Kenny and I are going slow. We want it to last. Dinh is kissing Jason while at the same time stroking him. Finally, Jason breaks the kiss. "Please, guys. I need to get off. Please, can we go at this a little faster?"

Kenny giggles, and speeds up his pace. I do the same, and maybe five minutes later Jason cums all over the blanket. Kenny is next, I've no idea why. Then I cum. We all slump, to applause from a group of surfers to the left of us. "Gnarly, man. I've never seen anyone fucking on this beach," one guy calls out.

Poor little Dinh has not gotten off, and that's a problem for us. Jason swings around and snuggles in next to him. He kisses him fondly, and then goes down on him while penetrating him with his finger. I continue Jason's initial kiss, while pinching Dinh's nipples viciously. It takes about five minutes until Jason is drinking Dinh's spunk. I wish it were me. Dinh tastes really good. But, it's Jason's birthday, not mine. He can have what he wants, and if this is the dessert he wants for lunch, that's fine with me. We'll have a carrot cake for dessert at dinner. It'll have candles. Somehow, though, I suspect that this dessert will have been more delicious than any carrot cake, and that leads me to a mental image of Dinh on his belly with a candle sticking out of his ass. Oh, my! Let me think, now. When's my birthday?

We dress, and gather our stuff, getting ready to leave, but get sucked into one of the volleyball games for forty-five minutes or so. I'm not wild about volleyball, but Dinh and Kenny are. They love to play, and it actually turns out to be fun today. Even Jason enjoys it. Finally, at about 5:30 P.M. we wend our way back to the condo where Kenny whips up a batch of his Beef Stroganoff. Kenny's interpretation of western food is always interesting. Bryce was the one who taught him to make Stroganoff. But for Bryce, Stroganoff is a comfort food. It's reasonably bland. That's not true for Kenny. Kenny's Stroganoff has all the usual stuff – sour cream, paprika, onions. But Kenny's Stroganoff also has a healthy dose of cayenne. It packs quite a punch. We love it! And then for dessert, out comes the carrot cake, which is a favorite of Jason's. Jason blows out the candles, we remove them, and I cut slices. We're all naked again, and it doesn't take long before we're all smeared with carrot cake. It's that cream-cheese icing that makes it a perfect choice if you're into nakedness. I basically mash my slice down Jason's chest, across his belly, and onto his dick. And then I lick it off...slowly. As you'd expect, this starts us on a whole new session of lovemaking. It turns out to be quite a wonderful day.


A couple days after our Santa Cruz trip, Robbie catches me in the back garden. I'm dead-heading roses. "I proposed," he says.

I look a little confused. "Proposed what?"

"I proposed to Bryce."

"Really? And what'd he say?"

Robbie looks so happy. He's teary-eyed. "He said yes."

"That's wonderful!" I say, reaching out and hugging him.

"But there's so much to do."

"What's there to do? This can be as simple or as complicated as you want it to be. Where do you want to get married? And, what does marriage mean to you two?"

"Bryce wants a ceremony. I don't think he really cares if it's a civil marriage or not. He wants to tell our friends. He wants promises. He wants vows. I guess I do, too."

"Well, that makes it simpler. We can call the Unitarian Church and set up a blessing and ceremony. You can both invite as many people as you want. They do this all the time."

"How soon could we do this?"

Suddenly I get it. "Robbie, what are your goals for this relationship?"

He knows I'm on to him. "I love him, Tim. I'm sure of that. I have no doubt. But...we can't make love until after the ceremony."

I have to giggle. This is Bryce talking. Bryce requires commitment. Good baptist boy that he is, he can't entertain the idea of sex outside of marriage. But he can't get married. That's the Catch-22 that the good christians have engineered. If you can't have sex outside of marriage, and you're prevented from marrying, then you're prevented from having sex, right? If A = B, and B = C, then A = C. In fact, these strictures prevent almost no one from having sex. They merely drive the devout into a closet so deep that there's virtually no escape. They impede relationships and ensure promiscuity. They create Ted Haggards, and Lonnie Lathams, and Jon Paulks. They destroy lives. But, you've heard all these arguments before, and repeating them yet again will change nothing. This is especially true given that the largest gay advocacy group in California, Equality California, has decided to wait until 2012 before trying to repeal Proposition 8. (Given their incompetence, that's probably a good thing. They need to find new leadership and a strategy before moving forward.)

"Well, Robbie, I think you're going to have to wait, and frankly, I think you should wait. I mean, you could go to Iowa, or Vermont and get married, but how much meaning would that actually have? When you come back to California, you won't be married any more. Bryce needs a ceremony. He needs to tell the world that the two of you are partners. That's something that's tremendously important to him. If you love him, I think you should give him what he needs to be happy. I think you should wait."

He nods, glumly. "I know. But, can we..."

At that moment, Bryce wanders into the back garden, and encircles Robbie from behind with his arms. He rests his chin on Robbie's shoulder, gazing across at me.

"Robbie tells me you've agreed to marry him," I say with a smile.

He nods, happily. "I finally concluded that I'm in love with him. No other conclusion was possible. But, he's upset that I can't..."

"I know. He told me."

"Is that unreasonable?" he asks in all seriousness.

"What you need is never unreasonable. I told him I thought the two of you should wait."

Bryce nods.

"Where do you want to have the ceremony?" I ask.

"I don't know," Bryce replies. "How do gay guys do these things?"

"Well, one way would be to do it at the Unitarian Church in downtown San Jose."

Bryce's eyes light up. I though they might. The idea of a church wedding excites him. "They'll do that?"

"They've done it for years, baby. The Unitarians know that you're perfect as you are. They've been blessing gay relationships for years and years, and honestly, you won't find a more affirming congregation anywhere on earth than the Unitarians of San Jose." God, I'm stupid, I realize again. I should have taken Bryce to the Unitarian Church months ago. A congregation is basically a community. If your community rejects you due to intolerance, you need to replace it with one that will embrace you. The Unitarians will certainly embrace Bryce, both because he's looking for a spiritual connection to something outside of himself, and because he's so sweet.

"Please, can we do that?" he asks Robbie.

"Sure," he chokes. "Who do we call, Tim?"

"I've been going there for years. Let me call their senior minister, Nancy Jones, and see what she can set up.


"We're here to celebrate the love of two people, two men who yearn to commit themselves to each other in the presence of their community. In your presence."

It's six weeks later. That's short notice for a wedding, but the stars somehow aligned. The Unitarian Church had a cancellation for a Saturday event, and Nancy herself was free for the ceremony. We have 230 people sitting in the main hall of the church. We have family, friends, neighbors, and a vast number of Bryce's "groupies," the kids who come to his sessions every week to receive guidance and hope. We do not have Bryce's parents, who didn't respond to his letter announcing his marriage. The entire staff of the Center is here, though, including Jimmi, the office manager, who's in the front row, sobbing even before the ceremony has begun. Robbie's best man is here, Thomas Keller, the owner and executive chef at The French Laundry in Napa, considered to be one of the best restaurants in the world. And, Bryce's best man is also present – me. I don't know about Mr. Keller, but I'm not confident that I'll make it through this without bursting into tears, especially when we get to the music. Jason has brought his quartet from the San Francisco Symphony, and they're going be playing some Bach, some Mozart, some Poulenc, and some Leong – Jason Leong. Jason has written a sonata for solo violin that is captivating. I've heard him practicing it. I don't think I'll survive it dry-eyed. And, if that doesn't destroy me, he's planning to play "The Chairman's Waltz" by John Williams, part of the soundtrack for Memoirs of a Geisha. This is one of the most beautiful pieces of modern music composed in the last twenty years. It's another virtuoso piece for violinists, and Jason plays it with amazing subtlety.

"When two people love each other as devoutly as these men do, the best we can do is to consecrate their devotion, to affirm their commitment to each other and to love. That's why we're here today."

Glancing out into the audience, I see Kenny, and remember fondly the ceremony that he, Jason and I shared. Jason and I were already married. We needed to symbolically include Kenny in our relationship, for his good and for ours. We needed to recognize him in a way that was meaningful to him. He needed a ceremony, and I admit to cherishing my memories of that ceremony. Kenny is surrounded today by our family. Nathan and Thao are here, as are Evan, Joaquin, and our six boys. Thim is bouncing up and down on Kenny's knee. Thim has a part to play in this ceremony, a part we've rehearsed with him. We're hoping we can get him to move on cue.

Nancy's speech isn't long, all of maybe ten minutes. She tries to set the stage for the vows, which ultimately she invites Robbie and Bryce to recite. "Robbie, is there something you'd like to say to Bryce?"

"Bryce, I love you with all my heart. I promise to give you the best of myself and to ask of you no more than you can give. I promise to accept you the way you are. I fell in love with you for the qualities, abilities, and outlook on life that you have, and won't try to reshape you in a different image. I promise to respect you as a person with your own interests, desires, and needs, and to realize that those are sometimes different, but no less important, than my own. I promise to keep myself open to you, to let you see through the window of my personal world into my innermost fears and feelings, secrets and dreams. I promise to grow along with you, to be willing to face change as we both change in order to keep our relationship alive and exciting. And finally, I promise to love you in good times and in bad, with all I have to give and all I feel inside in the only way I know how ... completely and forever."

Robbie barely made it through these vows, and had to pause a couple of time to regain his composure. Bryce isn't in much better shape.

"Bryce, do you have something you'd like to say to Robbie?"

"Robbie, I love you with all my heart. Today, I want everyone to know how lucky I feel for having found the one perfect person for me, the one who suits me so comfortably and who gives me joy and boundless hope and anticipation for the future. Every day we're together, you do nothing but make me happy. The day we met was the day I became truly alive again, and today — our wedding day — I declare my love and devotion to you before the entire world. I make a vow to stand by your side through the best and worst of times, and to give you the best of what I have from now until the end of our days."

"Do we have a little ring bearer?" Nancy asks, looking at Kenny, and smiling.

Kenny sets Thim on the ground and whispers in his ear. Thim has the rings clutched in his two hands. Kenny gives him a nudge, and Thim motors to the front of the church, stopping when he reaches the grooms. "Bwyce! Wobbie!" he shrieks. Everyone laughs and claps, which surprises Thim. He turns to face the audience, shocked and a little bit frightened. Then Bryce leans down and whispers in his ear. Thim turns back and drops both rings into Bryce's hand. Then he runs back to Kenny, completely flummoxed, and giggling furiously. Bryce hands his ring to Robbie.

"Robbie, please repeat after me. `I Robbie Hayes take you Bryce Faulkner as my spouse, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse, as long as we both shall live.'"

Robbie repeats his vows and slides the ring onto Bryce's finger.

"Bryce, please repeat after me. `I Bryce Faulkner take you Robbie Hayes as my spouse, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better and for worse, as long as we both shall live.'"

Bryce repeats his vows, choking on tears, and slides the ring onto Robbie's finger.

"Love is the answer, the only answer," Nancy says. "More than ever before, we need to recognize this simple fact. And what love means is negotiable. What loves means is different for every couple, and for every individual. Love each other," she says, looking at Bryce and Robbie, "Love each other in a way that's meaningful to you. Be good to each other. I now pronounce you committed spouses, which I think is a lot more meaningful than anything the State of California can offer you. You may kiss."

And it is some fucking kiss. I was told by a wedding-planner friend that the kiss at the end of a wedding ceremony should last no more than three seconds, and should be...umm...relatively...chaste. That's not what we get here. What we get here is tongue, and this is at least a fifteen-second kiss. It's such a good kiss, in fact, that the audience applauds. Filled with a lot of teenagers, the hall explodes. I think there's a good deal of longing in the audience, and that's pretty evident by their response to the grooms.

After the ceremony, we all adjourn to the reception hall for cake and punch, and for music. This marks the end of me. I pace along the back wall, sobbing. Jason starts with his own Sonata for Violin in E-flat Major. He follows this up with the John Williams piece. By this time, I'm a mess. Jason moves next to Poulenc, and I try desperately to move out of the reception hall. I try to escape, but Kenny won't let me. He keeps holding my hand, and pulling me back as I try to reach the exit door. "No one will care, Tim," he keeps reassuring me. "Enjoy it." And, ultimately, I do. Jason's group, the San Francisco String Quartet, is just so good. The Poulenc is lush and gorgeous, but the Beethoven strikes me as a little stiff. The musicians redeem themselves with the Mozart, though. Kenny and I stay at the back of the hall, and I just keep mopping my eyes. Finally, the reception comes to an end, and I'm allowed to escape, and go home. Kenny drives. I carry Thim, who has passed out. He's asleep in my arms. Tan and Quan are likewise comatose, lying across the laps of Jason, Robbie and Bryce. Bryce and Robbie kiss for the entire ride home. They are completely besotted, and I suspect will do things tonight that Bryce has never done before, things that he has perhaps longed to do, but couldn't figure out how to do without dishonoring himself in the eyes of his god, whoever the hell that is. I have to confess that if I didn't love this boy so much, I'd probably have pretty deep-seated contempt for him. Luckily, he's adorable. He's very sweet. Without that his blind faith would make me pretty angry.

When we get home, we have dinner, an Asian menu concocted by Jason and Nathan, and get the boys to bed. And then all of us pass out early. Notably, Bryce ends up in Robbie's room in our house rather than in his own room in Evan's house. I suspect that's how it'll be from now on. This is a milestone in his young baptist life. Hopefully, as he matures a bit, he'll become more comfortable with who he is and a bit less squeamish about his sexuality. Hopefully.

Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/