Who Laughs Last

Max H.  lilperv76@yahoo.com

Chapter 3

This story involves sex between guys.  If you shouldn't be reading such things, move on.

The characters in this fantasy may not always practice safe sex.  In the world we live in everyone should practice safe sex.

It's okay to print this story out or save it to disc, but it remains my property.  Don't transfer it to another website or archive without my permission.

My thanks to Evan Bradley, Paul Daventon, and Drew Hunt for helpful suggestions about this chapter.


By the time we got to my room at the dorm I was in a daze!  What a weekend that had been!  I still couldn't believe how much I loved having my ass played with and fucked.  I had just never imagined that sort of thing could feel so good.  I'd always just assumed that I was perfectly straight.  I'd have to think some more about that, I decided.

But there was also the surprise that Jamie was gay.  He said he'd always been gay.  How could I have not known that?  And more, he was gay for me.  I'd always loved my brother, but I'd never thought about being physically attracted to him.  I had to admit to myself, though, that I loved it when he fucked me.  

As soon as we were in the room, he pulled me to him.  We just stood there for a long time hugging each other.  Partly it was just good to be away from the three jocks, and partly we were reassuring each other that everything was all right. I noticed how good he smelled.  They'd let us shower before bringing us back to campus, and partly my twin smelled of soap and shampoo.  But partly it was just him.  I'd never noticed it before, but he smelled great.  He put his cheek against mine.  We'd never done anything like that before, and it was sweet.  When I began to feel his breath in my ear, I popped a boner.  

I wondered where this was going, but I didn't move.  Then he ground his package into mine, and he was hard, too.  

"Joey, are you mad at me for what happened this weekend?"

"Of course not, bro."

"Not that I fucked you?"

"No.  They made you do that.  Besides, couldn't you tell how much I loved it?"

He chuckled.  "Yeah, I sort of got that idea."  He paused, nuzzling my ear.  I almost went through the roof, but he had his arms around my waist, and he just tightened his grip on me, pulling our lower bodies even closer together.  "Joey?"

"Yeah, bro?"

"Are you mad at me because I'm gay?"

"How could you even ask that?  You know I'll always love you, Jamie.  I may be just a little pissed that you waited so long to tell me.  We've never had secrets from each other."

"I'm sorry.  I was afraid it was something you wouldn't want to know.  I never wanted to embarrass you or anything, you know."

"Yeah, babe.  I know."

"Forgive me?"

I pulled back so I could look him in the eye.  I grinned at him.  "What would you be willing to do, James, to earn my forgiveness?"

"Oh, I can think of several things," he said returning my grin.  He took off my shirt, pulled my tee over my head, unfastened the top button on my jeans, and began to undo the fly.  I just stood there, horny as hell, still amazed that my twin was turning me on so.  When he pulled my jeans off, he tried to pull my boxers along with them, but my hard dick got caught, so he had to untangle that mess.  Then he pushed me slowly backward to my bed, where he made me sit while he removed my sneakers.  When they were out of the way, he pulled off the jeans and boxers, and I was sitting there wearing nothing but white socks, a goofy smile, and a very erect tool.

When he began to take off his own clothes, I stood up and helped him.  Soon we were hugging again, this time with our naked bodies and hard cocks pressed together.

"Would it turn you off if I kissed you?" Jamie asked.  "I really liked that when they made us do it."

I laughed.  "You look better now than you did with all that makeup on.  And this time I won't have to taste your lipstick.  Let's give it a try."  Jamie told me later that he'd never done anything sexual with another guy except when we used to jack off together back in middle school.  I knew he'd date girls occasionally, though never the same one for very long.  I wondered how much sexual experience he'd had of any kind.  But the guy who kissed me knew what he was doing.  My rigid cock began to leak precum as we explored each other's mouths with our tongues.  He began to hump his cock against my belly, and I could tell it was slick with precum, too.

"Jamie, when you fucked me, did you, uh, like it?"

"I was afraid you'd hate me, so I didn't enjoy it as much as I'd always dreamed I would.  But it was good, yeah."

"Would you do it again?"

"Would you do me first?  I want to see what that feels like."

I had to admit I was curious, so I agreed, though the need in my ass was pretty strong.
I had him lie on his back on my bed while I got the lube and a condom out of the bedside table.  I was very careful to stick a finger in gently and to use lots of lube both on the finger and on his pucker.  I was watching his face to make sure I wasn't hurting him. After all, I remembered how tight I was when they first started working on me on Friday night.

"Relax, Jamie.  I've gotta stretch you a little, but I'll try not to hurt you.  Tell me if I do, okay?"


"Are you sure you want me to do this, bro?"

He grinned.  "I've dreamed of having sex with you for years!  I realized part of that dream when I got to do you.  Now it's time for you to make the rest of it come true.  So will you just shut the fuck up and get on with it?"

Like I said, I used lots of lube.  I'd always tried to look out for my brother, not that he'd needed much looking after.  Maybe because I was bigger.  Maybe it went with being a jock.  But even though he was the older twin, I always thought of him as my little brother.  Whatever.  I didn't want to hurt him.  What I really wanted was for him to learn what I already knew, that being fucked was as good as fucking.  Or maybe better, I thought.

So I used one finger, and when he seemed comfortable with that, worked in a second.  He grunted when the second one went in, so I stopped.  "No, it's okay.  I've just never felt anything quite like that before.  Go ahead, babe, please!"

I scissored my two fingers, trying to stretch his muscle.  Meanwhile, my cock was throbbing, anticipating being in his hole.  I'd been introduced to all kinds of man-to-man sex that weekend, but I still hadn't experienced my cock in a guy's ass.  The idea that this was Jamie's ass just made me hotter, for some reason.  Anyway, by the time I put in the third finger, he was getting impatient.

"Yeah, yeah, you've got me loose, Joey.  And more than ready!  Please put your cock in me!  Hurry!"

I did it very gently, not wanting to hurt him.  The first thing I noticed was how much tighter his chute was than a woman's pussy.  The feeling was indescribable.  With his encouragement and a grimace or two on his part, I slowly pushed until my pubes were resting against his shaved ass.  I still got a jolt every time I looked down at his totally hairless body.  I mean, we weren't very hairy guys, but we both had a little hair between our pects and a trail leading from our navels to our pubes.  Or we both had had that.  Now he was completely bare, like a little boy.  But his cock, which he was fisting slowly, wasn't a little boy's cock, nor did his big balls look like a kid's.

I moved in and out gently, not wanting to hurt him, wanting to prolong the pleasure as long as possible.  I was having intense emotions, too, because I was making love to my twin brother.  I'd thought we couldn't ever be much closer than we were, but this made me feel closer to him than ever before, closer than I'd ever have thought possible.

Always I watched his face.  He looked steadily back, and I could see love in his eyes, not just the satisfied look that comes from good sex.

Because we'd both come so often that weekend, neither of us came quickly.  It was a long, slow, beautiful thing we were doing.  After I had come, I collapsed onto his chest and we began to kiss.  He took his hand away and began to hump against my belly again.  That's when he shot off, covering both of us with his cum.  Exhausted, we fell asleep.  

We woke up late Sunday morning.  When we had taken care of our morning need to piss, I reminded him he'd promised to fuck me.  He corrected me, saying he would make love to me.  And he did.  "Making love" to him the previous night had been wonderful, but I knew that I wanted to be the bottom most of the time in what was a very new and exciting relationship with my twin.


It's amazing how much sexual stamina Joey and I had back then, when we were both 19.  Despite all the forced sex we'd had that weekend, when we were in his dorm room that night I asked him to fuck my virgin ass, which he did.  He was so careful about not hurting me and about wanting me to enjoy it, I realized once more how much he loved me.  He'd gone through all that shit over the weekend to protect me from having my hands crippled.  

The whole experience of that weekend, besides being potentially dangerous to both our careers, had been tough, humiliating.  It wasn't just being naked and being forced to have sex on camera in front of strangers.  I'd never felt so helpless as when I understood I really had to do whatever these three guys said.  On the other hand, it had brought my twin and me together in a beautiful new way, and I was grateful for that.

After he introduced me to the pleasure of having his cock up my ass, we both slept soundly.  It was late on Sunday before we woke up.  Joey pleaded with me to play with his ass, to finger it, and finally to fuck him.  It was for both of us, I think, more than fucking.  It was making love.  And Joey, I discovered, was an energetic bottom.  He loved having his ass penetrated by my playful fingers and willing cock.

By the time we'd finished, we were both really grungy.  We even had dried cum on our chests and abs left over from the night before.  After we had showered, we went out to get something to eat.  Since his roommate wouldn't be back until evening, we returned to his room, which reeked of cum.  We opened the windows to air it out while we talked.

On the way back to campus, very early that Sunday morning, the guys who'd kidnapped us explained that it might be a while before we heard from them.  We might never hear from them, in which case, one of them chuckled, they'd at least have some great porn vids to watch.  

They went on to say that when and if they did get in touch with either of us, it would be with a "request."  If we didn't go along with the request, then the still pics and vids would be shown to people we didn't want to see them.  The threat was pretty clear.  They owned us.  Whatever they demanded, whenever they decided to demand it, we'd pretty much have to do it or else face the loss of career, friends, everything.  

Joey and I talked about the possibility of going to the police.  After all, they had kidnapped us, raped us, and forced us to commit lewd acts on one another.  (Lewd?  I wonder if they knew how much we both enjoyed some of those acts.)

But it would be terribly humiliating to admit what they made us do, and it would all have had to come out.  Besides, we didn't have a clue who they were.  They'd never given away their names.  We didn't know where they took us, except that it was within about an hour of campus.  As the SUV had driven off the previous day, although the car was spotlessly clean, Joey noticed that the license plate was covered with mud.  So there was no way to trace them through their car.  All we knew was that they were three thirty-something jock types who had or had access to a big house within an hour's drive of campus and drove a black Escalade, maybe theirs, maybe a rental.

For days we expected to hear from them, but nothing happened.  The end of our freshman year came, and we moved back home for the summer.  Both of us had summer jobs working with kids at a summer day camp run by the parks commission.  We were very careful not to let anyone see the new relationship between us, but we managed to have some great nights.

We took an apartment near campus that fall and lived in it until we both graduated from the university.  So much time passed without hearing from the three guys we managed to forget for weeks at a time about them and the threat they posed.

Finally, after waiting three years for the other shoe to drop, Joey heard from them in the fall of our senior year.  He was the number-one quarterback on the university team, which was having a great season.  One day during the week before the game with our arch-rivals, Southern State, he got a phone call from one of them.  He said he thought it was Blackie.  He told Joe they wanted him to see that his team didn't win over Southern by more than ten points.  He protested, but they reminded him what would happen if he refused.

He told me all about it, of course, and he was panicked because what they wanted him to do was illegal, probably, as well as being just plain wrong.  As it turned out, Joey was injured when the score was 7-0 in our favor early in the second half.  He didn't play the rest of the game, but the team went on to beat Southern 14-7.  

They called the next week and gave him a point spread for the upcoming game.  That was the last game of the season, but Joey's cracked ribs hadn't healed, so he didn't get to play.  The team won big that day.  I can't remember who we played.  I'll have to ask Joey.  He'd remember.  We didn't hear from the trio.  We were both afraid they might express their displeasure with the score by carrying out their threat, even though Joey couldn't play because he was hurt, but they didn't.

Looking back on it, we think they were expecting Joey to play in the NFL so they thought they could continue to blackmail him for their betting purposes, but he didn't get any offers that he felt very good about and decided not to go the pro route.  And that made him worthless to the three guys who had expected to use him.

Meanwhile, it looked as if I could have a real career as a soloist.  Even before I graduated from the university I was being asked to play lots of solo recitals and occasionally with one of the symphony orchestras in the smaller cities in our part of the country.  

As we thought about what would happen after graduation, Joey said he didn't care about a career in the NFL0.  He wanted to be with me.  I was able to go to New York to study piano with Franz Schmidt, one of the great piano teachers, so Joey worked on an MBA at NYU.  Even while I was studying with Herr Schmidt, I was able to play and make some money at it.  My career was said to be on the "fast track."  The plan was that Joey would be my agent, publicist, and, if necessary, bodyguard. He would also be my live-in soul mate and lover.

We continued to share a small apartment in New York.  When I got gigs, Joey usually came along with me, especially after he finished working on his degree.  The gigs were more and more with good orchestras, and I played recitals on a lot of university campuses around the country.  There was even a small article in People Magazine when I played with the Baltimore Symphony.  They said I was the young pianist "to watch."  The article pissed me off, though, because it talked more about how good-looking I was than it did about how I played the Rachmaninoff 2nd.

Time passed, and I was getting better and better gigs.  We were elated when I was asked to play the Mozart K.488 with the Staatskapelle Dresden.  Successful reviews of that concert would pretty much make my career, and I was walking on air for a while.  Even Herr Schmidt seemed pleased with me.  

A day or two before we were to fly to Germany, I arrived back at our apartment to find Joey looking like it was the end of the world.

After I kissed him, I asked, "What's up, babe?"

"I've just been talking, well listening, really, to Blackie.  He said they were pissed because I'd never been any use to them, but that it was their own fault for guessing that I'd be better than I was.  But now they want you to do something for them.  He said he'd call back later this evening."

I was, of course, both angry and scared.  It had been so long, I'd told myself that they were through with us.  But now they'd crawled out from under their rock, and this time they were after me.  And just when things were going so well!  

Joey and I fixed a stir-fry together, but I couldn't eat much of it.  I sat there and pushed it around my plate while he ate.  I couldn't help seeing what had looked like a great career going down in flames.  I supposed I could always teach piano in some hick town, but what would happen to Joey?  He had hitched his wagon to my star, and if my career failed, he'd have to find something else to do.    

Even though Joe tried to keep me calm, I was pretty worked up by the time the phone rang again.

"Congratulations, piano man.  Your career seems to be really taking off."

Even after all those years, I recognize the voice.  It was, as Joey thought, Blackie.

"What do you want?"

"Your manners are terrible, boy.  You won't get very far if you're that rude to everybody."

"Perhaps I'm only this way with kidnappers and rapists."

"Whoa, genius!  You should thank us.  We know you and your twin brother are lovers now because of that weekend you spent with us.  I'd have expected more gratitude."

The irony was, he was right.  I'd always known I was gay, but I would never for a moment have let on to Joey that I loved him or even that I was gay because I just knew he was straight like all his jock friends.  And he'd explained to me later that his experiences with those three were a revelation to him because they showed him how much he loved man-to-man sex, particularly being a bottom.  So, yeah, Blackie was right.  But what they'd done was still humiliating.  They'd kidnapped us and raped us and filmed us doing degrading things.  And he wanted me to be grateful?  He wanted me to be polite?"  Bullshit!

"Cut to the chase, man.  What do you want?"

"You're going to Germany soon, aren't you?"  


"You're playing in Dresden?"


"When you unpack after you get back to New York, you'll find something in your luggage you didn't put there.  It will be ours.  We'll be in touch with you later about how you can see that we get it."

"It's drugs, isn't it?  You want me to help you smuggle drugs."

"Doesn't matter what it is, piano boy.  It will belong to us, and we'll see that it gets picked up.  Just keep your mouth shut.  Be cool.  You'll be okay.  And your career won't be in jeopardy from a flood of embarrassing publicity, if you know what I mean."

It was instant decision time for me. I knew I couldn't stall Blackie.  I knew I didn't even have time to have a long talk with Joey about it.

I put my hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Babe, I hope you'll understand what I'm about to do."

He looked me in the eye and said, "Do what you gotta, babe."

"Hello, Blackie?"

"Who the fuck is Blackie?"

For a moment I'd forgotten and used the only name by which Joey and I had ever called him.

"Never mind that.  Now listen, son of a bitch.  I'm not smuggling any drugs for you.  I'm not doing anything for you and those other two bastards."

I hung up the phone.  It rang again a few seconds later, but I didn't pick up.

Joey was sitting there looking stunned.

"Babe," I said, "they wanted me to smuggle something into the country, drugs, probably.  I know what they will do with those videos can ruin my career, but better that than go to jail."

"Yeah, Jamie, I suppose you're right.  And it's not as if I have a career to worry about.  You're the man, and if you're up for this, you know I'm behind you.  After all, I've got my MBA, and you are still the same brilliant musician you've always been.  Let `em do their worst.  We'll survive."  He and I hugged for a while.


We hugged as a way of comforting each other, of reassuring ourselves that we were together, that we had our love, that we'd always have that, whatever happened.  As so often happened with us, however, hugging led to desires and needs.

"Make love to me, Jamie," I said.

He didn't say anything, but he took my hand and led me to our bedroom, where we slowly undressed each other.  This was no passionate rush to jump into bed.  This was almost a ceremony of our love, a ritual by which we reaffirmed what we had, even though everything in our world might be about to change.

A monogamous couple for years, we'd long since given up using condoms.  When I lay down on my back, Jamie made a circular motion with his finger, meaning he wanted me to flip over onto my stomach.  I knew that indicated either that he was going to do me doggie style or else that

"Get comfortable, Joey, `cause I'm gonna feast on that beautiful jock ass of yours."

I had continued to work out regularly throughout grad school and afterward.  I'd also dragged Jamie to the gym with me at least twice a week, though sometimes he grumbled.  The results were worth it.  We were both in great shape.  I was still a little heavier, a little more muscular than he was, and that included my butt.

He gave me a spectacular rim job, licking and probing until I was wiggling and moaning and pushing my ass back against his face.  Over the years, Jamie had gotten really good at eating out my ass, as I had his.  It was a facet of our love-making that we both enjoyed a lot.  Much as I loved what he was doing, I finally pleaded with him to give me his dick.

"Okay, love, if you're ready.  But turn over, please."

When we made love the bottom was usually on his back, so we could look into each other's face's, though we did do doggie style occasionally and we'd also found out that lying on our sides was a nice alternative.  I rolled over onto my back to see Jamie putting lube on his cock.  

"You probably won't need that, babe."

He smiled at me.  "Don't want to take any chances, Joey."

As he was gently shoving his dick into me, I wondered briefly what would  happen if the trio of blackmailers did indeed make all those pictures of us public, but I quickly forgot about all of that as the sensations of having Jamie inside me took over my body and  mind.

My twin likes to say that our lovemaking is sometimes allegro con brio.  More often, though, it is as it was that evening, dolce con emotivo.  We were coming together emotionally as we were merging physically, asserting our union in the face of what could be a disaster in our lives.  As he moved slowly in and out of me, we looked steadily at each other, the love obvious on both our faces.  

I didn't want the moment to end.  Perhaps that was because later, after the loving was over, we'd have to face whatever the baddies were going to inflict on us.  More likely, however, it was just one of those very special points in a relationship when the sex reaffirms the connection, making it stronger.  

When it was in fact over, we lay for a long time on our sides, arms around each other, cheeks together, complete together.


Two days later all the grocery store tabloids had our pictures on the front page.  Apparently even those sleazy rags couldn't actually print many of the pictures Brownie and the other two had taken of us, but they wrote about the appearance of a new porn site devoted to the two of us, and they gave the URL of the site in their articles.  Some of the worst tabloids did print a picture of me, seen naked from behind, playing the piano.  Although it showed my bare back and butt, it didn't show my hard cock. There was another showing me from the waist up, in make-up, head back, eyes closed, fingering my nipple.  They hadn't shown any of the blackmail pictures of Joey, probably because he wasn't as well known as I was.

The resultant flap was enormous.  The more respectable newspapers picked up the story, without quoting the URL.  Both Time and Newsweek had big articles, though U.S. News apparently thought it was too tawdry to report on.  Or else they were just caught asleep at the switch.  We were flooded with hate mail and, surprisingly, with even more fan mail.  Our mother had a nervous breakdown but our dad told us not to come and see her.  In fact, he told us he thought it better if we didn't come home until she was better and he could work his way through what had happened.

I didn't read the hate mail.  Joey read some of it and told me he'd take care of it.  Some of the fan mail was interesting, though.  One guy wrote me that he had my cd and that he loved to jack off looking at all those pictures of Joey and me on the web and listening to me play while he jacked off.  Joey told me about one he'd gotten from Kevin Telakoff, a guy he had played football with at the university.  Kevin said he'd always had the hots for Joey and wished he'd known back then that Joey was gay.  Joey laughed and said, "Shit, back then I didn't know I was gay!"

Joey got a call from the managers of symphonies in South Carolina and Florida canceling my appearances there.  Since the fault wasn't mine, at least legally, both groups had to pay a nice cancellation penalty as spelled out in my standard contract.  

Joey called Dresden, and they said that my appearance with their orchestra was sold out.  It seems there had been a rush for tickets just after the European tabloids picked up the story.  In the next few months, Joey was besieged with requests for me to play recitals or appear with orchestras all over Europe and the UK.  It seems that the idea of a promising young pianist who was gay and living with his lover/brother gave me considerable cachet over there.  Herr Schmidt merely chuckled.  "It doesn't hurt, young man, that you and your brother are also very handsome.  So go, enjoy your celebrity.  You'll still be a star performer many years from now when your looks begin to fade.  Just be grateful those dreadful men didn't break your fingers."

That might have been the end of the story.  As a "public figure," I had to put up with the paparazzi.  I didn't mind most of the time, supposing that was the price of fame.  Joey had hired security men (hunks, of course) to see that the pesky press didn't get too close.  About two years after the trio released the pictures of us, we were in our posh suite in a London hotel, staying over a few days to enjoy the city after I'd done a Mozart concerto with the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, when the desk clerk said that a reporter with, of all things, The Guardian had been very persistent in trying to get in touch with us.  Joey told him to tell the man to write us a letter explaining why he wanted to talk with us.  The next day the desk clerk gave me an envelope.  On Guardian letterhead, one Simon Greer wrote that he thought we'd be interested in the enclosed clipping.  He said it came from a Chicago newspaper.  All he asked was that if we decided to talk to the press, we'd give him an exclusive or at least speak with him before we talked to other reporters.

Joey and I huddled over the clipping.  It showed a picture of our three kidnappers!  The article said they had been arrested on a variety of charges involving kidnapping promising university athletes and then coercing them into committing sex acts in front of a camera.  The young men were then blackmailed into various shady things, including most often, point shaving.  The article said that according to the FBI and the federal district prosecutor the case against them was "almost airtight," but that any others who'd been abducted and abused by these men were urged to contact either the Agency or the Prosecutor's Office.

Joey pulled me up and gave me a long kiss.  (He also managed to play a bit with my ass, but that's neither here nor there.)  "What do you think, Jamie babe, should we call Chicago?"

I held on to him, doing a little ass cupping of my own.  I was beginning to get hard, and I thought we should talk about his question before we got further distracted.

"The article did say they had a strong case against the three, right?"

"Yup.  That's what it said."

"If they didn't have a strong case, I'd go right to Chicago and do everything I could to put them away.  But do you really want to have to testify against them in court?  Maybe have those pictures all shown again?  We've got a good life, bro.  We're out to the world, and that hasn't caused us all that many problems. Let's just let the authorities back in the States do their thing."

"Well, I don't know, Jamie.  I just feel it's our duty, you know?  How about this?  I'll call Murray Gould in Chicago.  He played on the football team at State, and he graduated with us.  He's the lawyer I call when I have questions about contracts and things in Illinois.  Suppose I ask him to see if the case against those three is, like the article says, pretty strong.  If so, we'll just let things run their course.  If he thinks the authorities were blowin' smoke, we can always go back and do our duty as citizens."

I squeezed his hard cheeks and said, "Sounds good to me, stud."

We did grant Simon Greer an off-the-record interview in our suite.  We thought that was the least we could do to thank him for letting us know about the news from Chicago.  We recognized as soon as we met him that he was "family."  We told him the truth, that these were indeed the guys who'd disseminated all those pictures of us.  We explained how we had been kidnapped and forced to do those things.  And we explained how that weekend had brought Joey to recognize that he was bisexual and had allowed me to come out to him and demonstrate that I loved him in a way that goes beyond the usual love between twins.

When we were finished, we asked him not to write about any of it, saying that justice was being served anyway, and that we just wanted to go on with our lives.  Privacy is a scarce commodity when you're an international celebrity.

He said, "Gentlemen, yours is a remarkable story.  But not all journalists are like the paparazzi.  You can rest assured that no one will hear your story from me until you give your permission.  Now, would you like to join me downstairs in the hotel bar for a drink?"

We did.  Scotch.  Single malt.  Neat.

The End