Cory, Bo, and Doc
by Ashley Hardric ©2005

    This is a work of fiction.  That means it is not true.  Didn’t happen.  It’s a figment. I made it up.  Although sex in reality requires caution and protection, my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in.  Be safe and legal in the real world, and enjoy the story only if you are of age and location to do so legally.

    **This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced elsewhere (i.e. other than Nifty Archive)  without his permission.**

     If you enjoy this story, a great way to demonstrate that
would be to send a donation to the Nifty Archive
to help keep the free service available. 

    And, feedback on the story is always appreciated!

    The references to Native American tribes, customs, history, and so on are totally invented,
and are not intended to represent any specific tribe or actual customs.


Chapter Thirteen

    I dispatched Cory with my credit card to the FoodMart to augment our supplies, and took Bo to the cellar for his first lesson in wine.  We  selected some of my better acquisitions, and turned our attention to getting the house ready.  Bo did a quick clean-up of the living room while I started on the table and decorations.  I pulled out various pieces of ethnic textiles that I’d collected during my overseas time, and we settled on some peasant cloth from the Middle East as a table cover.  I was describing my travels as we got the stuff out.

    “This crystal is from when I was posted in Austria,” I told Bo, “and all these intricate blue patterned ceramics are from Turkey.  Every piece of this is hand painted by Turkish women working for pennies per piece.  And this silverware is Spanish.”

    “What about these china plates?” he asked.  “Where did you get them?”

    “La Republique de K-Mart,” I answered.  “Some times you have to go back to the basics.”

    So we had put together a festive table  by the time Cory returned.  He walked in, arms filled with bags, and told Bo there were more in the truck.  We started to unpack his purchases.  He had spared no expense in his shopping.  From the bags, he pulled filet mignon and jumbo shrimp and fresh asparagus tips and imported cheese and Ben and Jerry’s and champagne and Chivas and flowers.  He outlined the menu as he unpacked.

    “We’ll start with drinks and snacks and cheese and stuff,” he said, “and then we’ll have a champagne toast, and then we’ll sit down with shrimp cocktail.”

    “Whose cock are you calling a shrimp?” Bo called, entering from the garage with more credit card debt. 

    “Shrimp cocktail, you little shit,” Cory answered.  “And your cock isn’t shrimpy anymore, even though your tail is!”

    “Shut up, you big jerk,” Bo answered automatically.  “What’s in this bag, anyway?  It weighs a ton.”

    “Oh, that’s a turkey.  They were on sale.  Anyway, after the shrimp, we’ll grill the steaks and have the asparagus and baked potatoes.  And ice cream for desert.  And cake.”  He opened a baker’s box, and showed us the white cake, with “Cory Bo Doc” piped around a rainbow triangle on top.  “What do you think?”

    “I think this will be a perfect celebration of what we’ve done today,” I said, “and I think we will remember it for the rest of our lives.”  A quick hug, and then it was back to work.  We had a lot of work yet to get this grand feast ready.

    Miguel, Johnny, and Davíd arrived around four-thirty.  They had cleaned themselves up as best as they could in the RV, but still showed the effects of the outdoors, and the outdoor sex.  “Why don’t you guys take a few minutes for a quick shower?” I suggested.  “We’ll lend you clothes, and put yours in the washer.  The shower’s big enough for three, and Miguel knows where the towels are.  Just don’t lose track of time in there, OK?”

    “Don’t worry,” Johnny said, flashing a white grin from his ebony face.  “After all we did this afternoon, we want to take showers, and that’s all.”  They headed to the bathroom, and we put the finishing touches on the preparations.

    They emerged from the shower after only a few minutes, and walked naked out to us on the deck.  “You mentioned some clothes?” Davíd asked.  Johnny was Cory’s size, so he got him taken care of, Bo found some of his baggier outfits to fit the shorter Mexican, and I managed to find some things for the larger Miguel to squeeze into without too much discomfort.  So adequately clothed, we regrouped on the deck.  Cory had appointed himself bartender, and soon had everyone equipped with a drink.  I advised Bo to stick with soda.

    We sipped and snacked, while the guests told us of the day’s adventures, sexual and otherwise, after we left them.  They’d had a lot of fun, and had good reason to be both tired and dirty.

    “Well, we had quite an afternoon too,” Cory announced when they’d slowed down.  “We got married.”

    “That’s right,” Bo chimed in, answering their surprised looks.  “Cory made us realize that we really wanted to be with each other forever, and only each other.”

    “I discovered that I didn’t feel good about sharing Bo or Doc with anyone, even though I was really turned on.  You guys are so-o-o hot!  But it was really weird, because my cock was saying one thing and my heart was saying another.  Finally I realized that I had to listen to my heart.”

    “So Bo found this tiny chapel at an abandoned railroad stop, and we exchanged our vows.  And they’re valid, believe me!  God was there and Bo’s Indian spirits, and maybe Gaia as well.  It was incredible, wouldn’t you say, Cory?”

    “ ‘Incredible’ hardly describes it,” he agreed.  “After the vows, it just seemed natural -- no, it seemed necessary  to have sex right then and there.  So we did.”

    “You mean you made love in a church?” Johnny asked, incredulous.  “Is that not a sin?”

    “The eleventh commandmant, ‘Thou shalt not fuck in church’?  Is that what you’re thinking of?” I asked, laughing.  “But think, what better place to make love than in a church?  I mean, God IS love, right?”

    “Well, I just have never thought about doing it in church before.  But I’ve never been alone in church with my friends.  Maybe we should think of this.”  He took Davíd’s and Miguel’s hands in his and they exchanged looks.

    “You have to understand, sometimes when we have sex, Bo joins us to the spirits of his ancestors, and we can feel their pleasure as they can feel ours, and it is awesome,” Cory said.  “This time, after our orgasms, there was this feeling in the air that we all felt that simply made us absolutely sure that we had done the right thing.”

    “So my friends, we must offer a wedding toast!”  This from Davíd, who had listened in wide-eyed silence.  You have, I think, some champagne, Cory?”

    The bubbly was fetched, and popped, and poured, and Davíd spoke:

    “Que nuestros amigos aquí siempre tuviereis felicidad con unos a otros!  Bueno suerte siempre!  May our friends here be always happy with each other!  Good luck always!”

    “Hear, hear!” the others echoed, raising their glasses to us, and “Salúd!”

    We sipped, and then set glasses down for a group embrace.  The three of them encircled the three of us, and so held in love and friendship, surrounded with peace, we celebrated our commitment.  I do not know who broke the spell, but the moment ended, and we sat at the table to begin the feast.  After the shrimp cocktails were finished, Johnny volunteered to grill the filets, and the others assisted with the rest of the food.  The meal was perfect, the company excellent, the occasion without equal.


    Sated with food nearly as good as sex, we returned to the deck to watch the sunset.  Like a pile of puppies, we sat next to and on and under each other. delighting in the touch of both friends and lovers.  Only the immediate coolness that accompanies the end of the sunset in the Southwest impelled us to return to the house.  We retired to the living room, three of us on the couch, and three of us on the floor cushions.  Someone turned the stereo on, and with soft music and soft light, we reveled in each other’s company. 

    “Tell us more about the ancestor spirits, Bo,” Johnny asked.  “I am very interested to learn about this.”

    So Bo explained about the petroglyph, and the spirits of the rock painters.  “My uncle taught me to sing to the spirits, and when I found the painting, I sang, and they answered.  I was really scared the first time, but they made me calm.  They helped me jerk off.  I know -- I know, you think that’s too much to believe.  What I mean is, they seemed to be with me, and made me feel really turned on, so that jerking off was better than usual.”

    “I can understand that,” Johnny said.  “We have spirits in Haiti, too.  Some people think they are bad -- voodoo, you know.  And some say they are contrary to The Church and that we must not believe they exist.  But I think they do.”

    “Why do you say that, Johnny?” asked Cory.

    “Because I have seen the evidence.  I have seen them work their magic, and I have seen them destroy men.”  He crossed himself before he went on.  “My grandmother could call upon the spirits for healing.  She was a very spiritual woman, a good Christian, but she could contact the spirits as well.  Once I saw her call their help for a child who was near death.  The doctors had given up, and the priest had administered the last rites when my grandmother was asked to help.  The priest did not want her to try, but she just told him ‘Father, I have to try.  It’s such a young child.’   I do not remember how she did it, but I think that she sang some and prayed some, and I remember a big wind, and I remember a bright light, and then the child woke up, and within days, he was well again.  The priest would not talk to her about it, but he did not try to stop her from helping again.”

    “What about the other evidence.  The destroying?”  Bo asked.

    Johnny shuddered.  “I will not tell you of that,” he said.  “I will not speak that time out loud.”  He crossed himself again and appeared distressed.

    “The signs that the spirits are appearing sound remarkably similar,” I remarked.  “Makes sense, though.”

    “I will take you to the secret room,” Bo said, “and introduce you to the rock painters’ spirits.  I think you will recognize them.”

    “I would like that very much,” Johnny said.  “Can Miguel and Davíd accompany us?”

    “Sure, that’s what I meant,” said Bo.  “We’ll all go together.”

    “Sounds like a plan,” I said, yawning.  “But I think we should call it a night for now.   What do you guys think?”

    Cory answered with his own yawn, and moments later the others “caught” the yawns too.  “You guys can use Bo’s bed,” I said, “and if it’s too cramped, you can bunk down out here.  This couch folds out.  I’ve got plenty of blankets, and the house does not get too cool overnight.”

    “We will be more than comfortable, I am sure,” said Davíd.  “Muchas gracias, señor.  Hasta mañana.”

    “You are very welcome, Davíd.  Good night to you.”

    We retired to our separate rooms, and six happy men slept in my house, and filled it with the beauty of their love.