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Dave MacMillan





I let myself into the bedroom that Brett and I were sharing. I flicked the overhead on and made it to the bed, reckoning the centre of it to be as good a place as any to wait for Brett.

Toe-ing off my trainers, I remembered the glances as I passed along the landing on my way to the room. Our companions for the weekend were horny all right. And they appeared to expect to spend the night scratching their horniness. Back in London, I had expected an orgy; but, now, I was beginning to wonder if I really knew what that singular word meant.

I forced thoughts of unbridled sex from my mind. I had found the source of the growing heroin trade in the gay community. Almost too easily.

I shagged a size queen and learnt the English sell and the Russians distribute. I learnt that the sales and most of the consumption took place in backrooms that most people no longer knew about. And I knew which Russians are involved, even as I assume all of the English were. Definitely too easy.

I reminded myself that most cases fell together once the initial firm link had been established. All that was left was gathering the evidence to prove them.

Young Mick was enough of a sex addict that he surrendered information the moment he had his fix buried in his arse. It only took one confession to blow even the most elaborate cover away.

It was a confession I could never use, however.

I had to find collaboration not only to buttress what Mick had told me but to be the focal evidence I used. Police procedure demanded collaboration if there was any to be found. Court proceedings demanded that I not be seen as having acquired information under the duress of sexual tension -- or whatever a barrister would make of my having skewered Mick.

I reckoned that young Pyotr was a bright enough lad to have seen things that I could add together, now that I knew what column to put them in. I just had to be careful how I got my information from him. I certainly didn't want him telling Ilyich about my questions any time soon.

The door opened and Brett stepped inside. He saw me propped up on the bed and grinned. 'He's here and alone. Come on,' he told someone behind him and Pyotr looked in on me over the American's shoulder. 'You remember,' Brett continued, speaking to me, 'we invited Pyotr to spend the night with us?' I nodded and felt life threaten to return to my prick as it twitched in anticipation.

Brett came around the bed to stand on the far side as the Petrograder moved directly across the room to me. I smiled at them and my cock grew in tumescence. 'Ready to party?' Brett asked and wiggled his bum provocatively.

'I could have a go at both of you, I suppose,' I offered coyly.

'There's fourteen more guys out there, Philip,' the American told me, watching me intently. 'You can have any or all of them if you're tired of me already -- and Pyotr here.' I noticed that his hands were clinched into fists and that there was absolutely no expression on his face.

I sat up quickly and my hand shot out to grab his wrist before he could move away. 'I don't think I'll ever become tired of you, love.' I glanced to the young Russian. 'Or of our friend -- as long as you want to share us with him.'

In my peripheral vision, I saw that Pyotr nodded, accepting the terms upon which he could join us sexually.

Brett smiled. Tightly.

I felt him begin to uncoil. I met his gaze and pulled him onto the bed with me. My lips touched his as he leaned over me, and my arms went around his chest to pull him closer. His tongue pushed through my parted teeth and began to duel mine, fiercely.

He broke the kiss and his lips began to trail along my jaw towards my neck, his body grinding against mine as he lay on top of me. When he'd reached my ear, he whispered: 'I'm sorry, Philip. I almost lost it there -- thanks for pulling me back.' His voice had become husky and he cleared his throat. 'I don't want to lose you, honey.'

Brett pulled away then, slipping in beside me and my arm went around his shoulder. He looked up at Pyotr and smiled. 'Bet you thought we were getting all mushy and forgetting you, didn't you?'

The young Russian smiled broadly.

'Well, get your ass up here on the bed with us so we can start having a proper threeway, then.'

'We all have the clothes on still,' Pyotr grumbled as he climbed onto the bed.

'Hey!' Brett yelped, grinding his crutch against my hip and slipping his hand beneath my shirt. 'They come off quickly enough.'

I reached over with my free hand and unhasped the American's jeans and quickly pulled down his zip as he continued to grind against my leg. 'They do at that,' I told him as my fingers slipped under the elastic of his briefs and found his hard cock.

I pulled my hand back from my lover's groin then, laying the whole arm out across the bed, and turned to face the Russian. 'I have two sides, lad; and Brett's only taking up the one,' I told him and smiled. 'Think you'd like to cuddle for a bit too?'

Pyotr slipped easily in against me, took my arm, and pulled it down onto his chest. 'I envy you two always for what you have,' he told us. 'And I am happy you choose to share this with me tonight.'

He raised up on his elbow and leant across my chest, his free hand reaching to take Brett's. They kissed with their cheeks against my pecs.

My American lover reached over my belly and opened our Russian partner's belt before unbuttoning the button at the waist of his jeans. He continued to grind against my hip. His fingers quickly seized Pyotr's zip and began to work it down.

Pyotr hesitated a moment before he brought his fingers up to my waist and unbuttoned my jeans. He quickly pulled the zip down.

Until the night earlier in the week when Jesse Patel brought Doug Yorston over to my flat, I had never been involved with more than one man at a time. I didn't see now how that experience gave me a feel for the foreplay my two companions were already beginning to bring to our evening.

My fingers worked beneath both boys's pants to cup a smooth, naked arsecheek in each hand.

Pyotr began to grind against my other hip, working my hand across his plump buttom. Brett did the same with my other hand.

'Do you think we should get naked?' I asked.

Brett broke his kiss with the Russian and looked up at me. 'Jesus, Philip!' he growled, 'is all that you think about -- which ass you're going to put your dick in next?'

He managed to maintain the irritation in his voice and I was rapidly becoming properly chastised when he broke into a wide grin. 'You'd better be thinking of putting that thing into me. Come Monday, you'd better be planning on it all the time. You'd better be hard as hell when you are thinking about it too, honey. I want to be all the sex you think about -- all the time. I want you hard for me all the time.'

The bloody arse was playing with my head again, but I had no doubt that his words weren't serious. Brett Chandler had one of the most talked about libidos in London. My sex with him confirmed what rumour said about him. He was being serious -- even whilst he played.

Ignoring the American's outburst, Pyotr pulled away from me slightly and sat up. He methodically pulled off his shirt, folded it neatly, and placed it at the foot of the bed. He toed off his trainers and they dropped to the floor. He sat up on his haunches, facing Brett and myself.

Brett had fallen silent when the Russian began to strip and was watching him closely. Pyotr shoved his jeans and pants over his bum and, once they were on his thighs, he sat back down and lifted his legs. He pulled his clothes off and laid the jeans and underpants with his shirt. He turned back to us, now naked except for his socks.

His prick rode his belly, the foreskin peeled back onto its shaft. His knob-end glistened with pre-come. 'It feels good to be naked with you,' he offered tentatively and smiled, glancing from my face to Brett's and back again.

The American grinned and sat up. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor. 'Want to help me with these jeans?' he asked the naked Russian.

Pyotr peeled the denim down over Brett's smooth bottom and worked the jeans onto his thighs. He sat back then, his eyes studying the American on the other side of me from him.

'I'll get the rest,' Brett said finally and shoved his briefs down into the bunched denim. His erect cock slapped against his tight belly. He collapsed onto the bed and pushed jeans and pants over his legs. He wadded the clothing up and threw it over the side of the bed.

I was the only one in the room who still had his clothes on.

Both lads became aware of that fact at the same time. Brett looked over at Pyotr and grinned maliciously. 'Shall we?'

The Russian smiled back and nodded.

'On the count of three ... One...' Brett began to count slowly. 'Two ... Three!' They both grabbed the front of my shirt at the same time, like young boys ganged up and taking on a slightly older brother.

'Stop it!' I growled and began to push away from them.

Brett pasted his lips on mine and Pyotr began to pull the shirt out of my jeans and up over my belly. The American's hand moved to my navel and his fingers spread out to slip under the waist of my boxers.

Pyotr had my shirt bunched at my shoulders when he began to lick one and then the other of my nipples. As Brett's fingers found my hard cock and moved to encircle it, the Russian began to nibble at my nipples. His fingers went to grab the waist of both my jeans and boxers.

I jerked as he bit the one he was nibbling on, my body rising off the bed as Brett's tongue dived to find my tonsils. Pyotr slipped my clothing off my bottom and peeled it down my legs until they bunched at my ankles. Breaking our kiss, Brett began to pull my shirt onto my face, pulling my arms into the air above me.

Pyotr slipped my jeans and pants off my feet as Brett got my shirt past the top of my head and pulled it off. I was as naked as they were, with only my socks to cover me.

'Yours is so pretty, Brett,' the Russian mumbled as he reached to take my lover's cock in his hand. The fingers of his other hand wrapped around my prick and stroked it slowly.

'I'm -- small,' said the American hesitantly.

'No. I did not mean small. Besides, it's normal, yes? What I meant is that your helmet is exposed fully. You have no skin to cover it as does Philip -- and I.'

'I'm circumcised,' answered Brett quickly and I pushed myself up on my elbows to see what they were doing. 'It's nothing,' Brett continued and I sensed he'd become embarrassed and was trying to brush off the Russian's attention. 'Most boys in America get cut as babies before they even get home from the hospital.'

'So, you are not Jewish then?'

'Not hardly,' the American mumbled. 'Let's get into some fun!' he said then, changing the subject, and dived for the Petrograder's cock.

'Nyet ... Da!' Pyotr yelped, his eyes wide, as Brett's lips and teeth scraped his foreskin off his helmet and onto the shaft of his dick. 'Do it!' he gasped then, his hands going to the back of the American's head as Brett buried his nose down to the man's pubes. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. 'Yes. Please!' he groaned and shoved his hips forward.

Quickly, the Russian was lying beside me, his face at my hip and moving towards my groin even whilst he was being devoured by Brett. His fingers pulled the foreskin off the knob-end of my prick and pushed it on to the shaft. His lips caressed me, nuzzling the width of the helmet, before opening to let me slide into his mouth.

My cockhead reached his throat and Pyotr swallowed. I felt my glans slip past his tonsils into his throat; then he had buried his nose in my pubes and was swallowing quickly several times to milk my prick.

I felt the Russian jerk and then his whole body shudder. I pushed myself up on my elbows to see what was happening to him. Brett had firmly placed himself between the Petrograder's legs, and the lad had raised one leg and was pointing it towards the ceiling as the American sucked him. I saw the movement of Brett's arm then and supposed that he was using his fingers to stretch Pyotr's arse muscles for us. The Petrograder groaned around the width of my cock in his throat.

'Philip, honey, you'd better get us some raincoats,' said Brett pulling off the Russian cock for a moment. 'I think we're going to need them soon.'

I felt Pyotr nodding between my legs as he manfully continued to try to swallow my prick.

I reached for the cabinet. Pyotr pulled off of me and lay out to watch my progress. Glancing back at them, I saw that Brett's fingers still stretched the Russian's bum but that he, too, had ceased sucking. I smiled. 'Are you sure you want this?' I asked Pyotr, watching him carefully for any misgivings.

He grinned back. 'I want you and I want Brett, my friend. I had you this afternoon and it was good, but now I want to enjoy it. I want it to be more than just fucking. I want your friendship in it too. Yours and Brett's. The friendship of both of you.'

'And you'll have it this weekend,' Brett told him. 'The friendship and the sex.'

Pyotr looked back at Brett curiously. 'And after this weekend?'

Brett shrugged. 'If I'm the one calling the shots, it'll be just our friendship afterwards...' His smile was apologetic. 'I'm sorry.'

'We've just become lovers,' I explained. 'This week, in fact. But we'd already accepted Ilyich's invitation -- or Brett had -- to do his Marlene impression.' I picked up a couple of foiled packets from the cabinet's drawer and scooted back to the centre of the bed to sit facing them.

'Is there some lube in that drawer, Philip?' Brett asked. I looked and nodded back to him when I saw the tube of K-Y. 'Pass it over, honey. We're going to need it.'

'We also knew you and your guests treated these weekends as excuses for having orgies,' I continued, shrugged, and laid both the condom packets and lube on the duvet beside me. 'So, we agreed we would not belong to each other exclusively until Monday.'

Pyotr nodded his understand. 'I am honoured to be asked to share you with Brett.' He smiled. 'Pass me a condom, please, Philip. I think you need it on your cock so I can ride it...' He glanced at Brett. 'Unless you want it first?'

'No, babe. Go ahead.' He grinned and forced his fingers deeper into the Russian's arse. 'Of course, you could ride both of us at the same time...?'

Pyotr showed momentary confusion as he worked his way through the American's suggestion. 'This we can do? Both of you?' He looked from my cock to Brett's and wiggled his arse hesitantly on my lover's fingers. 'You are sure?'

'We can,' Brett answered and laughed. 'If it hurts or if you just plain don't like it after we're doing it, tell us.' He reached over and picked up the second condom packet beside me. 'I'll stop and we can go back to the old way of you getting both of us -- one at a time.'

Pyotr thought about for a moment, then smiled and began to tear open the packet he held. 'I will do it. I want to find out everything there is to know about sex with you two men. You are the sexiest men I have ever seen.' He looked back at me. 'Lie back, Philip. I will place the condom on you now.'

I glanced to Brett to find out how to position myself for this version of a three-way he was planning for us.

'That's the best, honey,' he told us. 'He needs to ride us so he controls the fuck. He also needs to take your bigger dick first and get used to it being there before he takes mine.'

I lay back and watched the Russian lean over me to lick my knob-end before placing the rolled latex across the top of the helmet and unfurling it down onto the shaft of my cock.

He moved to straddle my belly and reached behind him to find my prick and hold it steady. He rose on his knees and smiled down at me as he inched backwards.

'I'll hold him for you,' Brett offered and took my dick from the Russian's hand, holding it so that it pointed straight up and pressed hard against Pyotr's back entrance. He quickly squeezed out a glob of lubricant and spread it across the latex covering me. The Petrograder began to lower himself onto my prick.

He lowered his bottom enough to find the tip and realised he still needed to adjust his position another inch or two. With Brett holding my cockhead to the Russian's crack, he moved back enough that I was placed firmly against the pucker of his back entrance.

I reached between Pyotr's spread legs and took his erection in hand. I smiled up at him as I pushed his skin behind the flange and began to rub his helmet with my thumb. He moaned and, when I looked up at him, nodded to me. I began to wank him slowly.

Behind him, Brett's hands caressed him from his shoulders down to cup his buttocks before reaching along his thighs to his knees. 'You're a sweet one,' the American whispered at his ear.

The Russian's bollocks rested in my pubes and his bottom was pressed flat against my thighs. He took a moment to grind it on its invader before looking down at me and smiling.

'It feels even better than it did this afternoon,' he said quietly. 'This is the real you inside me now, Philip. I am with just you and Brett and our friendship -- yes.'

Brett's hands slowly carressed Pyotr's back from his buttocks up to his shoulders and the Russian arched his back and groaned his pleasure as the American worked at a kinked knot of muscles just below his neck. Straddling my knees, Brett bent over and leant against Pyotr to lick at his ear. 'Kiss Philip,' he told him.

As the Russian lowered his chest to mine and his lips touched mine, Brett opened the second condom packet and quickly rolled the latex down along the shaft of his dick. I pulled Pyotr to me and kissed him deeply as the American spread my thighs and wiggled his bottom into the opening he'd made. He smiled at me as he squeezed lubricant into his hand and covered his cock liberally.

He watched us for a moment, seeming to gauge how deeply Pyotr was involved in our kissing. He winked at me and, a moment later, I felt his hard prick press against the inch or two of mine that was not imbedded in the Petrograder's arse.

His fingers directed his helmet along my shaft until it was pressed against Pyotr's already well-filled hole. His other hand moved up to grasp the Russian's hip and he pushed his own hips forward to press his cock harder against my pole and Pyotr's entrance. 'Pull out a couple of inches,' he told me. 'I'm going to need to ride in with you, okay?'

I pressed my buttocks into the mattress, pulling some of my cock from the Russian. Brett's fingers formed a fist around both of our cocks, pressing them together. Pyotr wiggled his bum slightly and shoved his tongue up against my tonsils.

I felt Brett's fist tugging me forward and I began to move with him; at the same time, his hand on the Russian's hip pulled him down on us.

Pyotr gasped, breaking the kiss between us and turning to look down his back. Instinctively, he made to sit up on his knees but Brett's grip on his hip kept him from doing so. He yelped as the helmet of the American cock broke through his entrance, rudely stretching his sphincter wide.

Each of us were stationary for long moments then as we waited for Pyotr to adjust to both of us being inside him.

'They're so much bigger than anything that has been there before,' said the Petrograder finally. He chuckled and sat up on his haunches then. 'Now we see if I have as big and hungry a hole as Ilyich always says I do.'

He sat down quickly, taking both of us down to our short hairs. 'Ah,' he said and tentatively began to grind his arse on both of the cocks now impaling him.

'How is it?' I asked.

'Very full, Philip.' He looked down at me. 'Very, very full.'

'Does it hurt?' Brett demanded from behind him.

'No more.' He shook his head. 'It begins to feel good.' He ground his hips against us again and sighed. 'Da, korosho -- very good.'

'You control it,' Brett told him, his hands moving to caress the Russian's thighs and climbing up his back. 'You decide how fast, how much, even how hard -- okay?' Pyotr nodded and lifted himself several inches along our shafts, only to ease himself back down. He quickly established a rhythm, climbing up four inches and slamming his bottom back down against our crutches.

'This is so sweet,' Brett moaned once Pyotr was moving easily on our pricks. I reached for the Russian's drooling dick and began to wank him in time with his movement on our cocks.

The sensations I felt as the Petrograder fucked himself on us were similar to what I would have felt if it had been just the two of us -- but the sensations most decidedly were different too. There was the continuous tightness that just was not to be found in a typical coupling. The Russian's sphincter apparently was stretched as far as it could go with both of us inside him. It was like I imagined shagging the most experienced rentboy would be and having every muscle in his bowel gripping me continuously.

There was also the movement of another prick on mine. Pressed -- even squeezed -- against mine. In one way, it was like gripping myself tightly and wanking as his cock slipped and slid against mine whilst Pyotr moved on us both. I could feel Brett's heartbeat throbbing through the twin layers of thin latex.

I knew immediately when the Russian had impaled himself on us that I wouldn't last long. Having Brett there with me inside him was so much sexier than a normal coupling. The staying power upon which I normally prided myself simply was unavailable to me in this situation. I surrendered to the sensations that washed over me and joyfully rode them as long as they would possess me.

Pyotr was riding sensations similar to mine. Pre-come oozed continuously from his knob-end as I wanked him. He shuddered under the slow caress of Brett's hands on his back, his bottom, and his thighs. He began to moan as he speeded up our rhythm, his eyes squeezed shut -- his body stretching even as he continued to ride us.

'Sweet Jesus!' Brett groaned loudly. 'Yeah!' The American's body stiffened against my legs and he suddenly convulsed. I felt his dick thicken and then throb against mine.

My bollocks rode my shaft, my eyes were squeezed tight. I pumped the Russian's cock with no thought of rhythm or synchronisation. I was one or two strokes from my own orgasm and could barely contain myself until I had reached it. It was almost painful it was so close.

A rope of jizz hit my chin. I opened my eyes to gaze down at the Petrograder. Another one flew past my face. Pyotr's face was screwed up in the rictus of ecstacy as he continued to come. His muscles gripped my prick hard.

Near pain spread through my arse, cock, and bollocks. My bollocks released and the relief I felt was overwhelming. I grabbed the Russian's knees and held on for dear life. I was coming harder than I could ever remember doing so before.

Eventually, Pyotr lifted himself off of us. Standing on his knees, he looked from me to Brett, his round face still flushed. His eyes twinkled when they met mine. 'I shall always love both of you, my friends. That was wonderful; but, now, I want to lie down and hold both of you to me. You will permit this, yes?'

We both nodded in agreement and he lay down, cuddling against my side and holding out his arm to Brett.

I floated somewhere between being awake and sleeping. I was more awake -- at least, I was aware -- but there was still that warm, comfortable sense that the approach of sleep gives a man.

'We will do this again?' asked the Russian and I mumbled an assurance. 'Soon, Philip,' he continued. 'Before I tighten up down there again, yes?'

I groaned and stared at my two companions. Brett sat up and wagged his finger in front of Pyotr's face. 'I'm next, boy.' He chuckled. 'Don't go pushing your luck.'

'Do you need something, either of you?'

'Something?' Brett asked, picking up on the offer faster than I did.

'Ilyich has drugs -- ecstacy, marijuana, poppers -- for guests here. Drugs that keep you hard all night long.'

'How about heroin?' I asked slowly.

Pyotr turned back to face me, his face blank. 'Heroin? Why would I want this, Philip? It is addictive. And it does nothing for your sex drive...'

'How do you know that?' Brett demanded.

'A month ago, shortly after I began my employment at the Trade Commission. One of the visiting English boys took some the day we arrived, a Friday -- I was told this by another English boy.'

'What happened?' I asked.

'He sat and stared at the wall for the weekend. He did not eat, he had no sex drive. He did not even go to toilet, but did release water on himself.'

Brett's nose wrinkled in disgust. I kept my feelings better hidden. What Pyotr was describing was a classic heroin overdose. 'Did he survive then?'

The Petrograder closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. 'He died that Sunday night. That is is what Yorstovitch told me -- Ilyich and I had already left for London.'

'He survived from Friday to Sunday -- just here in the house?' I knew the boy would have been nearly recovered after nearly three days. 'You didn't have a doctor see to him?'

Pyotr's voice dropped to a low whisper. 'Ilyich is Organisachaya. It is...' He searched for an English word. 'You call it the mob, the criminals from Sicily. But, unlike here, in Russia it is buried deep within the government. It is old KGB people -- the secret police and the spies both -- protecting themselves after the fall of communism.'

'Are you part of this mob?' asked Brett, his voice as low as our companion's.

'No!' he hissed. 'Never!' His face fell. 'But I know they are here and I look away. I have to. I do not want a bullet in my head. Or an overdose of heroin in my body like that English a month ago.'

I felt his body shudder against mine. 'I can guess that Yorstovitch injected him with enough of it to kill him -- after Ilyich was away. I did not want to know where he and Myaransky took the body.'

He sat up and looked quickly from me to Brett and back. 'If I do not help them -- even though I shut my eyes -- this does not make me a bad person, yes?'

I suspected that I knew where Yorstovitch and Myaransky had deposited the lad's body. He was probably the first overdose victim we fished out of the Thames. There had been no heroin-related deaths in the Selsey area. I reached out and put my arm around the young Russian's chest. And wished that I truly could protect him.