A work of fiction by Pagganos Homophilator. Pagganos may be contacted at paggan@aol.com.

Rosencrantz and Goldilocks Are Dead

Going back to school was both worse and better than I thought it would be. I'd been out long enough to have forgotten just how tough the grind actually was, but also long enough to have figured out that the kind of degree you got did matter - at least to your bank account! So I found myself in the fourth row of Computer Science 212 in the spring of 199- , thanks to the terms of my Great-aunt Fanny's will and a clever program called "Retooling and Renewing", which let me go back to my old school to get a second degree with only the additional credits required by my new major.

CS 212 was a survey and review class, not too wide awake in itself but the gateway to what I hoped would be more interesting things. Getting through it required very little work but a lot of fortitude, mostly spent trying not to fall asleep right in the instructor's face. In this I was helped by the view, for although most of the third row was occupied by a clutch of giggling girls, right in front of me sat Rosencrantz and Goldilocks. And let me tell you right now, they saved me in that class.

Not because I cribbed from them or because they were brilliant or anything like that. And not just because they were so cute and gave me something nice and pretty to look at during those long, boring afternoons, although they were, and they did.

No, it was more that watching them and overhearing their jejune and - dare I say it - sophomoric conversations furnished me with a cast of veritable soap opera characters, starring the two of them and a select community of unseen others, and made me not only willing but occasionally even eager to show up in Room 135 of the General Maths Building every MWF at 2:00 PM. In return, I changed their lives for ever.

David Rosen was tall, strikingly handsome in a very particular way, rather awkward and very nerdy, with a perpetual pile of books, papers and computer peripherals spilling out of his oversize back-pack. He had a finely modeled face with a sharp, breath-taking profile; large, soulful brown eyes; wavy, dark chestnut hair; and an impeccable complexion. His beauty was carefully hidden behind the careless dress, bad haircut and unfashionable spectacle frames which marked him instantly as a certain particular type.

In direct contrast, Elliot Markham was much more conventionally handsome, if shorter and somewhat less well proportioned, with a broad, perfectly symmetrical face and brilliant blue eyes. He had a scrupulously maintained all-weather tan, a wide, lascivious mouth and an ego as big as all outdoors. His most striking feature was the bright, blond, glaringly false highlights in his spiky hair. That and the drab bead necklace which he wore marked him just as certainly as another instantly recognizable type.

Despite their differences, or because of them, the two were close and obviously well suited friends, and shared a circle of mutual acquaintance whose shenanigans, however mundane and distant, still managed to engross me as I listened to their desultory gossip and occasional breathless revelations before, during and after CS 212.

Why these two boys - who were so apparently straight, who were clever enough but not particularly worldly, whose reported experiences revealed nothing unique or unusual about their lives, and whose admitted beauty relied as much upon the mere fact of their nineteen years as it did on any particular trait or feature which marked them out from the rest of the skinny, sullen, flawlessly skinned youths on that thronging campus - why they fascinated me so much remains a mystery. Put it down to the sheer boredom and lack of stimulation of CS 212. Put it down to fate.

In any case, I was quickly immersed in their world, trying (unsuccessfully, as it would turn out) not to betray my interest and my eavesdropping.

Their closest friends, most of whom I never really got to know, were named Tina, Jim, Billy and Meagan. There were other figures who came and went, but none whose names popped up with the frequency of these four.

Tina and Jim were a couple, usually referred to in one of those run together Jim'nTina or Tina'nJim phrases. They seemed to be a sounding board for the rest of the group, the voice of reason and good sense, and acted as quasi-in-loco-parents. Billy, in contrast, was a ne'er do well, in perpetual danger of being asked to leave school due to poor grades, insufficient attendance, drunken driving, marijuana possession, or illegal use of fireworks, and his antics constituted the better part of Rosencrantz and Goldilocks' most excited conversations. He lived down the hall from Elliot and apparently supplied the group with pot and E and a superior and entertaining vantage point. Meagan was a more shadowy figure, perpetually in attendance but rarely an actor, whose personality was never an issue.

The first big drama I tuned in on was the brief break-up of Jim'nTina soon after the beginning of the semester - not to worry, they were back together long before Valentine's Day! But since Dave took Jim's side and Elliot Tina's, (and since Elliot contemplated and then dropped a plan to hit on Tina during the split), the event preoccupied Rosencrantz and Goldilocks until well into the spring. For a while Elliot speculated as to how he and Tina would have gotten along, occasionally in very vulgar terms specifying exactly how they could have spent their quality time together, with Dave invariably chiding him for even going there at all.

As with any soap opera, the details of the plot itself would be too boring to recall, and yet each opportunity to immerse myself into the on-going melodrama was seized. Our professor's preceding class was held way across campus, so he was always late, while Rosencrantz, Goldilocks and I were always early, each of our previous classes being in the General Maths Building. Thus the opportunity for idle chatter and compulsive eavesdropping every MWF afternoon.

Other than the imaginative fantasies about Tina, there wasn't too much of the sexual banter which I most hoped to hear. Elliot recounted a few brief hook-ups in laconic, frustratingly undetailed references over the course of the semester, while Dave, it appeared, was suffering from a case of severe rejection the previous fall.

The focus of his love interest was 'Jenny', and what exactly had transpired between them was never entirely clear - just that she had broken his heart and still occupied the center of his romantic attention. He spent a lot of time contemplating how and whether he could win her back, and Eliot spent just as much time telling Dave to forget her and "just go get laid!", a subject on which he gladly supplied endless pointers.

It was obvious that Dave was totally in love with Elliot as well. Not that he would ever have used that term, even to himself in his most introspective, unguarded moment, and so perhaps I should not use it either. But I couldn't help but see the way that Dave watched Elliot; I immediately noticed the look on his face as he listened to his friend.

What was undeniable was that little met with David's approval unless it had first secured Elliot's. Every report which Dave made to the prettier boy was anxiously submitted for his approbation, and if it failed to impress Elliot it was inevitably withdrawn, usually forthwith and at most after a huffy but always brief defense. Elliot was the arbiter of their taste and the keeper of their sense of humour, and no faux pas of the instructor's nor any antic of the giggling girls could get a laugh out of Dave unless Elliot chuckled first.

In terms of class work they were both about equal, Elliot deferring to Dave more often, and clearly respecting his opinion. To say that Dave was the smarter of the two would have been untrue, I think, but he acted smarter and it was clearly more important to him to be seen as smart and effortless in class. While Elliot advised Dave on his love-life, Dave helped Elliot with his algorithms, and they both came out pretty equal in the exchange, for if Dave's help was rarely essential for the success of Elliot's schoolwork, I doubted that Elliot's sexual advice was of any real use to Dave.

Along about the middle of the semester I began to suspect, from certain side-long glances and occasionally lowered voices, that the attention I was devoting to the two of them had been remarked upon. I tried to be more discreet, to no avail. Eventually Elliot began to make pointed, if sporadic, 'fag boy' references, causing Rosencrantz to blush and me to squirm in discomfort and anger.

I thought of making some riposte, or of taking a different regular seat, but decided against either course. Let them move if their gossip was so private, or if the presence of an admiring glance upon the back of their manly necks was so noisome!

The tension was relieved, however, when the next time Elliot used that word and flashed a look over his shoulder, a clearly embarrassed David turned right around and said:

"He doesn't really mean anything by it. He's just being..."

"...an asshole!" supplied Elliot, and we all giggled.

After that, for whatever reason, Rosencrantz, and especially Goldilocks, seemed to acknowledge me as a peripheral, ephemeral, but nonetheless acceptable part of their little crowd. It was implicit that I hadn't actually joined their group - I was just an acquaintance, a 'guy they knew from class' whose social position was vague but of a certain distance and limited potential. They certainly never offered to include me in any of the dinners, outings, parties and various escapades which they constantly alluded to in CS 212, nor did I expect them to.

But I did become more open in my interest in their conversation, to the point of making occasional sardonic comments, while Elliot increasingly indulged himself in my sexual identity, once even asking me for "a gay point of view" concerning some item he was emphasizing about men and women hooking up. I held forth briefly about the differences in male and female sexuality and the effect of the absence of female concerns in an all male sexual universe. They were politely interested, and Elliot returned to the point several times over the next few weeks.

In particular, Goldilocks enjoyed ribbing me about all the uninhibited, unpretentious, unhypocritical - read, anonymous, frequent and nasty! - sex which he supposed gay men participated in - perhaps having been lead to that conclusion by a certain 'guy he knew from a class'! Not that gay men didn't enjoy that kind of sex - I had already happily availed myself since my return to campus of the pleasures offered by a certain notorious men's room in Building C - but CS 212 seemed the wrong venue to be discussing this, under the fish-eyed regard of the inquisitive young ladies who comprised the rest of the third row. So after several initial, perhaps overly frank responses, I decided to play along with Elliot but to not pursue the topic any further than his interest led.

All of this came to a head, indeed the entire CS 212 experience underwent a fundamental metamorphosis, one April afternoon when Dr. Clayton failed to show up for class. The department secretary eventually came up to tell us not to wait any longer, and the class rose as one with relief and happiness and milled out into the hall. I found myself, why I don't know to this day, strolling along with Rosencrantz and Goldilocks down the stairs and out into the mild spring air, discussing our uncollected assignment and an upcoming quiz.

The subject turned to our newly found freedom and the prospects for the warm and sunny afternoon we had so unexpectedly been granted. Suddenly Elliot turned to me and said:

"So how're ya' gonna spend your afternoon? Off to suck some dick?"

Rosencrantz gasped out loud and exclaimed under his breath, but I just laughed at Goldilocks' audacity.

"As a matter of fact, yea, I've got a couple of hot numbers lined up who can't wait for me to suck their cocks. Ya wanna come watch?"

"Sounds like fun - whadda ya' think, Dave?"

"Yea, sure! Get real, you two!"

"I'm as real as can be," I replied, "it's you two clowns who are fakin' it."

Goldilocks snorted and shook his head.

"Hey, who're you calling a fake!?! I'm serious. Dave and I would love to watch some hot gay sex, right Dave? We might even want to get in on some!"

Dave snorted in turn and shook his head. "What in the fucking world are you going on about now, Markham? Let the poor guy be!"

I decided to press my point.

"Yea, some nice hot ballin' sounds like the perfect way to spend such a beautiful afternoon. Too bad the best you guys can look forward to is to wait out the hours until you finally get the chance to go to some smoky bar where you can hang around for even more hours, spending all your money on beer you don't really want and hoping some chick will get bored or drunk enough to take pity on ya'! And meanwhile, tonight I'll be sleeping the deep, deep sleep of the well fucked and the sexually fulfilled. Tsk, tsk, tsk!"


It was Goldilocks, and he sounded frustrated, alright. Horny, one might even say!

"Ya' know Dave, he's right. I've barely got twenty dollars to my name and I can't afford to go to the Green Door again this week! Wouldn't it be hot to just go get sucked off right now and then we could spend the whole evening hitting the books? Your favorite entertainment, anyway, right?"

Rosencrantz giggled. He was enjoying what he still assumed was a joke, but something in Goldilocks' tone, and even more, something I could see in his face as I glanced sideways at him, had begun to convince me that he wasn't entirely joking. And that's when the drum of lust began to beat in the pit of my stomach, down behind my balls, and in the suddenly wet and throbbing slit of my dick.

"Well, jeez, Elliot, you can always hit on girls at the library - no smoky, no money, and you can study in between!"

"Shit, Rosen! I can hit on girls anywhere, but seriously, have you ever scored at the library?!?"

And Rosencrantz could make no reply, for, seriously, he had never scored at the library. I, on the other hand, had, more than once.

"Oh, man, I picked up the cutest guy at the library a few weeks ago! Jeez, he was hot to trot, and boy did we trot! Maybe I'll go check out the stacks after I go do those two guys I was telling you about."

"Jeez, Fillippi, do you have to score so much? And you're just some old guy! Don't you fags ever do anything but have sex?"

"Oh yea, sure we do - we also have endless dance parties and in between we do a hell of a lot of decorating! Whadda ya' think, Markham?"

"I think I'd like to get my socks blown off, that's what I think!'

"Well, I'll try to squeeze you in, if the two of you are interested."

This provoked a relatively long pause. My hopes, never very high to begin with, were dimming rapidly, and I was about to dismiss the entire subject with another joke, when Goldilocks spoke up again.

"Well what about those other two guys, what, do we have to wait turns or something?"

"Sure, well, anyway, you already know those other guys, they're both in our class, so that's not a problem."

"They're in our class?!? You're gonna suck off somebody from our class right in front of us? Jeez, who is it!?!"

It was Dave, and for the first time in our flirty conversation he actually sounded engaged with the subject matter! Glancing his way, I saw a look of intense interest in his face as he turned towards me with his incredulous questions. So, old Rosencrantz really wanted to know just who from our class was going to get blown, did he? There were certainly a sprinkling of young demigods in CS 212 - and apparently mine were not the only eyes they had caught! Hhhhmmmm...

And that was when my brain first began to agree with the mindless enthusiasm of my gonads - these boys might could be had, might could be had, MIGHT COULD...

"Yea, I'm gonna suck 'em off, and suck 'em off good, hard, and all the way - those lucky boys' are gonna get their balls drained dry! And you do know them, ya' know 'em real well. Of course, I'm much too discrete to tell you who they are, not unless you want in on the action. In that case of course, there wouldn't be any reason not to..."

"Hey, we're in, right Dave? Hey, what's a little blow job among friends, right?"Despite the breezy confidence with which Goldilocks made this assertion, I noticed that he darted a quick look around to see who might be overhearing him! I was practically holding my breath, and the drumming that had been pounding behind my balls was making it's way to my ears, my chest, making its way everywhere, and I was about to declare a most unexpected triumph, hoping against hope that shy Rosencrantz would follow his friend's lead, when Dave replied in the negative.

"Whoa there! You're on your own, horny boy!"

There was a pause, our whole enterprise quivering in the balance, and I made a desperate ploy to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, a careless, foolhardy move, made almost without thought, and certainly with no planning or strategy!

"No he's not! We're having a little two for one special today, and we can't blow either one of you without the other. It's all or nothing, boys!"

THIS was my answer to the question which had been occupying me ever since the very first day of class - Rosencrantz, or Goldilocks? They were both very cute, they both had ample and intriguing boxes, they were both young and waistless and sexy. Markham had the bland good looks of a porn star, and the swaggering sexuality of a possible real stud, while Rosen's even more striking appearance came with an earnest sweetness and an unplumbed intensity which promised an equally enticing sexual potential. I wasn't about to choose between them - and it was now or never!

"Aw, com'on Dave! It won't take that long, right Mark? We can just get our socks blown off and get right back to whatever, right? And you'll still have the whole rest of the afternoon to whine about it, Rosen!"

So Mr. Goldilocks really wanted to get his dick sucked, it appeared - he was prepared to plead my case for me!

"Christ, what other rules does he have? I'm not kissing anybody!"

"Well, it's a good thing you asked, Dave, cause I gotta ton of rules!"

By now we had left the precincts of the General Maths Building, and I was leading our little party down through a purportedly ornamental area behind a row of dorms, heading for the edge of campus and the trusty College woods. It was warm and sunny, the trees were leafed out and the undergrowth was burgeoning and that seemed the most acceptable and private destination for our possible? probable? little tryst.

At that point I still didn't quite believe it would happen, but I wasn't about to let any mere mechanical hitch gum up the smooth progress of our serendipitous conjunction! At the same time, I was the veteran of too many couplings in the bushes to know that quick and hurried sex, even with two prize boys like the ones I had in tow, was not worth any price, or even certain overly confining conditions.

"Here's the deal: ya' gotta be naked, or at least mostly. The thing is, I'm an A Number 1 cocksucker, and I don't practice my art through layers and layers of cotton. I'm not gonna suck anybody off through their fly, and I don't wanna hafta deal with your legs all trussed up in wads of jeans, and besides which, I wanna get a good clear look at what I'm doing and what I'm sucking, and the two of you just might wanna see too!

"And ya' both gotta commit, either one of you checks out, I check out, too. And the last rule isn't too difficult, I expect: everybody has to cum, 'cause my goal is to get you guys a nut. I'm really only doing this for all the nice, hot, fresh-churned cum I get out of it, and I want my reward!

"But other than that, anything goes..."

If silence is assent, then they assented, because although Elliot sniggered salaciously as I went through my list, neither one of them said a word. We were approaching the edge of the forest, and I steered them past the wide and well-marked public path, further down, further still, into a nearly invisible gap in the underbrush which led to the narrow, overgrown defile which the gay boys used - a nice private part of the woods which the straight couples didn't seem to know about.

My lust drum was still beating and Rosencrantz and Goldilocks were still following me as I entered the trees, their bravado and jokes fallen to silence, and I suddenly began to believe that some actual cocksucking just might happen after all.

And then it did. We paused in a little wide place in the path where a fallen tree provided both a patch of sunshine and a marker of sorts, and Goldilocks stopped and threw his book-bag onto the log and pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it beside the bag and said, as he started undoing his belt and jeans:

"So, where are those other two guys? Can we just wait for 'em here? Can't we just start without them?" and Dave and I stood, transfixed, and watched him strip off his the rest of his clothes.

Elliot didn't hesitate for a second, and showed no more modesty than as if he were in the locker room at Olney Field House, except that the big, fat, bright pink hard-on which was bouncing around like a steel spring as he pulled his jeans and jockeys off of his feet was probably not in evidence when he dressed out to lift in the weight room there.

His body looked as much like a porn star's as his face did: muscular arms and big muscular tits; shapely legs; six-pack; smooth, flawless, almost hairless skin; and a trickle of reddish brown hair leading across his stomach to a thick patch of coppery coloured pubies, showing off his flat, hard belly and his big, beautiful cock and his big, hairless, hang-down balls.


Rosencrantz, I was both pleased and not too surprised to note, was as impressed by Elliot's body and his big pink hard-on as I was, his eyes darting from feature to feature of his friend's naked frame and back again. He made no attempt to hide his gaze or his interest, perhaps unaware of how clear his fascination was, or perhaps simply unable to control himself in the presence of all that fleshy, virile beauty. That, I could identify with - I'm quite sure my own eyes were bugging out of my head!

Goldilocks seemed unaware of, or indifferent to, our admiration - probably he was so used to it that it factored itself automatically out of the equation, a constant that was just a condition of the world as far as he was concerned.

What did concern him, though, was our present venture, for even as I was about to fall to my knees and spear his fat, pink woody into my throat with one ecstatic lunge, Elliot began to chide his buddy.

"For chrissakes, Rosen, get your pants down! Don't you wanna get blown? 'Cause I sure do! Get with the program, boy!"

His impatient eagerness and his artless attention to my 'rule' hit me in just the right way and I started giggling, setting off Goldilocks, until even Rosencrantz was chuckling and we were all laughing together. Which relieved the tension, and provided poor Dave with some cover as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the log next to Goldilocks' pile of clothes. Turning away from us, he undid his belt and fly, and pushed his jeans and then the plaid boxers within them down around his ankles.

This, of course, despite his attempt at modesty, provided me with a spectacular view of his high, round but beautifully narrow butt, with its impeccable cheeks, impeccably dimpled; his long, long, hairy, hairy legs, their hairiness stopping abruptly right at the edge of his flawlessly smooth, milky white ass; and peeping out entrancingly from between his legs as he bent double, a pair of big, round balls, hanging down sweetly in a loose, hairy sac. Oh, god, it was a beautiful sight!

I glanced at Elliot to check out his reaction - and found that he wasn't even looking, his glance instead fixated on his own meaty rod, which he was pumping steadily with one hand while the other squeezed and pulled at his own big round balls. Dave, the progress of his disrobing halted by his sneakers, hopped around slowly and awkwardly to face us.

"I'm NOT taking off my shoes and anyway, what if someone comes, I gotta be able to pull my clothes back up and..."

"Don't worry, don't worry!" I said, my eyes riveted to his naked form.

His body lacked the developed ideal which Goldilocks had worked so hard to create and come so close to achieving, but it was still almost better, in my eyes - longer legs, narrower hips, wider shoulders over a smaller, less muscular chest. His tits and his stomach were unexpectedly hairy, his groin a mass of dark ringlets, his cock soft and unremarkable but pretty enough as it peeped out from it's bower of curly pubies.

Before Rosencrantz could make any further excuses I fell to my knees and buried my face in his crotch, drinking in the wonderful odor of that hairy patch, taking his soft, rubbery dick into my mouth and caressing it with my tongue. The lad gasped, and grabbed my shoulders, but otherwise stood stock still, his crank slowly responding to my warm, wet attentions, my tongue and palate gently exploring his cock, pulling and slicking, pressing and pulling, squeezing it until it filled my mouth and was hard enough to push back, and I could drive his swelling, trembling dick meat down into my throat. Dave let loose with a wrenching pant-moan and bucked his crotch against my nose. Elliot giggled loudly.

I kept up my slick, warm, wet attack until Rosencrantz was gasping again, his cock buried rock hard and throbbing within me, my face in his warm hairy belly, my chin up against his cool, silky balls. Which was right where I wanted it, and me, to be! I kept sucking, deep and steady, thorough and hard, until I had to breathe, had to pull off, had to surrender that velvet steel, that throbbing, hot, and I knew without hesitation, ecstatic cock.

Which gave me, and us, the chance to finally get a good clear look at Rosencrantz's fully extended, completely hard, dark red monster wang.

To say that it was better, or prettier, or more desirable that Elliot's rod would all have been false statements. To say that it was much bigger than Goldilocks' crank, however, was nothing more than the simple truth. I blinked, and wondered at how that much boy meat could have possibly fit in my mouth that handily. I was just glad that it did fit, glad at the simple beaming pride which filled Rosencrantz's eyes when they finally met mine, and amazed at the bland indifference to his buddy's equipment exhibited by Goldilocks, an indifference which persisted even in the face of this naked revelation of the true and marvelous nature of Rosencrantz's dick. Well, that was Goldilocks' problem - not mine!

I leaned forward and eased Dave's huge, throbbing cock back down into my throat and began to pull on it hard and slick and deep and...

"Hey, wait a minute!"

It was Goldilocks, protesting, as I supposed, the order of service. I pulled myself away from my heady task and swivelled on my haunches to face him. Glancing up at my erstwhile victim as I did so, I was rewarded with a look of ecstatic concentration, an unfocused half smile, a half opened mouth, and eyes as wide and open as they could be. Rosencrantz, at least, had nothing to complain about!

"What about you? Don't you hafta strip too?"

"What?!" I honestly had no idea what Goldilocks was talking about. My mind was still expecting a demand that he be sucked forthwith, and in the absence of this expected objection, I could compute nothing else.

"Your own rules, fag boy! You said we had to be naked! And I'm naked, and Dave is almost naked, and you've still got on every stitch of clothes you came here with!"

"Well, nobody's gonna suck me off, I rather doubt! What difference does it make if I'm naked or not?"

"Hey, a rule's a rule - I didn't make 'em up! And I say ya gotta strip! What about you, Rosen?"

Rosencrantz shrugged, a broad smile replacing the look of distracted, unfocused delight which I had just noted in his face. I snorted and made as if to re-engorge Rosencrantz's cock - I wanted more than anything to restore that look of delight to his face! - when Goldilocks leaned over and extracted his jockeys from the tangled pile of clothes on the fallen log.

"Either you strip or we're outta here, right Dave?"

Rosencrantz hesitated, glancing back down at me. I met his eyes, and I knew in that instant that if I got his crank back into my throat Goldilocks could do whatever he wished, Dave Rosen wouldn't be leaving until he had left a load in my wet, warm suckhole! But it wasn't that big a deal, it was even somewhat intriguing that the straight boy was so insistent on getting the fag boy out of his clothes, so I just shrugged and chuckled and rose up and stripped.

Unlike in the case of his friend, Elliot Markham's eyes never left me as I undressed. I slipped off my Tevas, pulled my shirt over my head, dropped my shorts and jockeys in one quick move, and reared back up, bare naked in less than thirty seconds. I stood and watched as Goldilocks' eyes raked me up and down, taking in the muscles I also had developed in the Olney Field House weight room, taking in my little thirty-two year old proto-pot-belly, taking in my half hard, just-bigger-than-average, uncut cock, my carefully shaven balls, my unremarkable chestnut pubic patch.

He grinned, either pleased or reassured by what he saw, and took a step towards me. I fell back to my knees, and sucked his still steely springed rod into my mouth. He said "Oh, yea!" quietly but emphatically, took my head in his hands, and proceeded to fuck my face.

His cock was warm and hard, fatter than Rosencrantz's and just as sweet. It felt very different in my throat, went down in a different way, smelt different, tasted different - but it was just as sweet. His hands grasped my head firmly, his thumbs caressing my temples as he pushed his crank a little jerkily into my throat. I had to pull back a tad, and even once or twice restrain him as he worked his meat in my head, when he went a little too deep a little too fast or lost his aim momentarily. Still, it was clear that he knew what he was doing, and I had no doubt that there was at least some practice behind his performance!

He took a deep breath, slowed down, and then as he began to slowly pump his crank in and out of my throat, fucking his hips against my face and moaning softly each time his cock plumbed the fullest depth of my throat, he said:

"So, who're those other two guys, anyway - where are they? Do we really know them?"

It was a bit impractical to answer, my mouth and throat being so full of his cock, my tongue and lips being so busy with his personal lubrication, and my breath and lungs being entirely dedicated at that very moment to his pleasure and to his pleasure only. I let the question drift as I sucked and licked and squeezed and juiced up his dick, until my breath ran out.

Rosencrantz had hobbled closer, no doubt intent on watching the spectacle, although I couldn't see his face. As he came within range of my peripheral vision I caught glimpses of his enormous, beautiful crank, throbbing and bobbing as he lightly caressed it with the fingers of one hand. The sight was finally too much for me: I pulled off of Goldilocks' cock and turned my head to swallow Rosencrantz's, renewing my breath on the way.

I couldn't quite swallow him in one fell swoop like I had Goldilocks. His crank I had to work on first, to juice up good and push on hard, in and down, but finally I had my nose buried in his love patch again, his smell back, his big loose balls tumbling in my hand...

I went back and forth like that any number of times, swinging from crank to crank, an exquisite set of balls in each hand helping me to keep my balance as I squatted between those two lovely pairs of firm, hairy young thighs. Each time, I sucked and licked and squeezed and juiced up all over again, and each time the dick was different, the taste and the smell were their own unique brand, but the pleasure was just as great.

Both boys made little moaning and gasping noises from time to time, but despite my unrestrained assault neither of them had yet betrayed any of that ball tightening, dick throbbing, or cum panting attitude which meant that the end was near. I was surprised and very, very pleased at their staying power!

Dave was more passive than Elliot, his hips too shy to fuck but his legs moving instinctively apart as I fondled his balls and the little special spot right behind them. His hands on my shoulders were gentle, never more than tentative, and yet by the end of my back-and-forth, handfuls-of-balls, double-cock suck he was chuckling and confident, moving easily with me and with Goldilocks as we pursued our initial, ice-breaking threeway. And I pursued it happily and lustily with them until I was again forced to undick myself and pause to really catch my breath.

Settling back on my haunches for a few moments of well deserved rest, I finally answered Goldilocks' question.

"Well, lemme see, those two guys I was talking about are named David Rosen and Elliot Markham and if I'm not mistaken they're already here. And boy, as far as I can tell, they really needed some head!"

"You asshole! I knew it! I had an idea we were the two guys you were talking about!"

It was a gleeful Goldilocks.

"Well, you were right. So what!"

With which remark, I resumed our play. This time I went in for the kill, and I choose Rosencrantz as my first target.

He hadn't said a word since I first took his soft, virginal dick into my mouth and his reaction throughout had been much more muted than Goldilocks' rampant enjoyment. But if Rosencrantz still seemed a touch removed - in shock, in disbelief, in denial - his body sure knew what to do! His cock had sprung to life within me without a hitch and his legs and balls and hips moved smoothly and easily as he shared my happy throat with his buddy Goldilocks.

I figured this was most likely his first blow job, perhaps even his first sexual experience, but regardless I knew I would enjoy making him cum. I turned to him and began a deep, driving suck. I had filled my lungs in preparation and I just took him down to full depth and kept him there, fully embracing his big, meaty cock, moving it with a steady, committed stroke, keeping it deep, deep, steady, steady...

He began to groan and stiffen his hips and I felt the amazingly quick movement of his testicles as they shifted and pulled themselves up, preparing to shed their seed. For some reason, despite being right at the threshold of my goal, I stopped everything, slicking back until just his knob was in my mouth and my finger was pressing hard between his legs to shut things down, the whole time slobbering out his slit, which was running with nectar. He gasped, and reflexively tried to fuck himself back into my throat. Oh, the boy was catching on!

I managed to keep his cockhead in my mouth, scraping it lightly with my teeth to remind him of who was in control here, and taking deep breaths in and out of the corners of my mouth, all around the edges of his massive dong. I was about to plunge it back down and finish him off, when I heard a forlorn gasp:

"Hey, it's my turn, what about me?"

Turning aside, I caught a blurry glance of pretty Goldilocks, one hand pinching his cock at the base and a truly desperate look on his face as if he, too, was suddenly in need of a rescue.

I swung over immediately to him. Keeping Rosencrantz's balls in one hand and a finger firmly in place behind them, I gorged Goldilocks' crank down all the way in one swift plunge, his balls still in my other hand. Elliot grabbed my head, pressed his crotch eagerly against my face again, and without a second's delay volleyed wad after wad of sweet adolescent jism into my belly, crying out in a loud, panting moan mixed with shrill little yelps as each separate peak of pleasure was scaled.

Rosencrantz finally broke his silence during Goldilocks' orgasm, muttering under his breath "Jesus God!" and "Jesus, Markham!" and panting in time with Elliot's little yelps. I had kept a firm hand on the boy's cock and balls, ensuring that he didn't get too enthusiastic as his friend came and cum along with him, so the whole time Elliot was jazzing I milked Dave's cock just enough to keep it in play but nowhere near cumming.

I let Elliot fuck, shoot, shudder, cry out, pant, and relax deep in my throat, his hands gripping my bare shoulders with a firm, confident grasp, until with a final satisfied sigh he pushed me gently away and surrendered the wet warmth of my mouth. I took a deep breath, leaned forward to lick his cock clean and swung myself back over to Dave.

Since I needed a little rest, I began to make out with Dave's knob, eating out his slit and sucking on his glans as I caught my breath. Rosencrantz was still near the crisis point, and as my tongue probed his oozing slit and my mouth got a good firm grip on his throbbing glans, he put his hands back on my shoulders and grabbed them hard, his hips once again fucking tentatively and uncertainly. Almost immediately the lad broke into a cum pant, his balls once more rushing into action, and this time I just speared him down to full depth and let 'em rip, exactly as had happened with Goldilocks!

As Rosencrantz was launching his last gobs into the back of my throat, his cock throbbing lustily, his hands clutching my shoulders for dear life, he cried out, loudly and quite unexpectedly:

"I die! Happily, happily, I die!" in a rather charged voice, giving a few dramatic shudders and thrusts of his hips against my face as he did so.

"What the fuck?!?", replied Goldilocks.

"Christ, [pant], Jeez, [pant][shudder][pant], doncha remember [pant][shudder] last week in Wyscinski's [one final shudder] class? Elizabethan love poetry? That's what those old guys called cumming! Instead of saying 'I'm cumming!' they would say 'I'm dying!'. Weird, hunh?"

"Just about as weird as you are, Rosen!" cried Goldilocks. We all giggled and paused, everyone happy and thinking about grabbing for their clothes.

That it was a great suck, I realized instantly. It had had that dream-like easiness, no hitches, no glitches, everybody was into it and everybody came and I got to eat up all the cum!

After they got their nuts the boys could hardly wait to get dressed. Dave Rosen was already pretty presentable before I had completely swallowed his cum or gotten all the way up off of my knees from in front of him - not that I was hurrying! - and Elliot had his t-shirt back on but was still trying to untangle his jeans, when he turned to me and said:

"Well? Hadn't you better finish up?"

"What? I think everything is pretty much taken care of!"

By that time I, too, was trying to turn my shorts back right-way-out, my never really more than three-quarters hard cock still half hard and leaking a river of oozing nectar from the sheer intensity of the excitement we had just experienced.

"How come I always gotta be the enforcer! You haven't cum - rules say 'Everybody has to cum', and you haven't cum. Not that it doesn't look like you want to!" He was staring openly at my dripping, twitching crank and grinning at his observation. Rosencrantz giggled too and chimed in:

"A rule's a rule! Start wanking!", and I said, in a moment of inspiration:

"Okay, I'll gladly go for a nut but first Markham's got to put his cock back into my mouth. I need something to inspire me while I get off!"

Goldilocks snorted but dropped his jeans back onto the log and turned right around, pulling himself up, hands on hips, thrusting out his groin in a classic come-suck-me pose. I chuckled and crept over to him and began mouthing his half-hard, still moist wang. It replied with no hesitation, swelling and throbbing its way into the back of my mouth. As soon as he felt my throat close in on it, Goldilocks grabbed my head in his now familiar manner and began fucking my face, slowly and gently but firmly and deeply, grunting under his breath with each deliberate, lascivious thrust of his happy hips against my eagerly clutching lips.

He said in mock exasperation, when after several thrusts of those sweet teen hips, he himself was rock hard and throbbing once more while my cock was still hanging out half soft and all on it's own:

"Well, jeez, Fillippi, ya' gonna make us whack it off for ya'?"

That sounded like a good idea to me, but not one I expected to be carried out, so I myself did as he suggested, my crank growing to steely hardness in my hands, Goldilocks' own steely rod in my throat probing deeper and faster, his hands on my face firm and confident, his crotch against my chin sure and steady, grunts coming under each of his breaths. I whacked and whacked, my hand wrapped around my throbbing whackrod, and sucked and sucked, my head wrapped around Goldilocks' probing suckrod, and almost instantly I crested the wave, so high, so fine, so intense, and came and came and came, bucking against the juicy young crank in my throat. And as I did so I realized that the juicy young crank in my throat was also cumming, cumming again, Goldilocks' cries peppered again with little yelps as he shot a teen-quick-recharge load deep into my elated gullet.

"Uh-oh, look who's dying now!" he cried out triumphantly, to which Rosencrantz responded:

"Whoa, Markham, you came again?!? You are so gay, man!", but he was grinning and laughing in unmistakable admiration.

As a panting me and a panting Elliot broke apart and I could once more look up at Dave's face, I thought it quite likely that if he hadn't already been stuffed back into his pants, Rosencrantz would have been more than willing to try to go again himself! I could see that everyone was doing very well in their lesson!

I staggered to my feet and once more began to get dressed.

"Jeez, Elliot, he came on your foot! Gross, man!", announced Rosencrantz, but again he delivered the charge with good humour and envy. Elliot was fortunately indifferent to this mishap, wiping his feet a little in the leaf litter before slipping his slip-ons back on.

"Shit, who cares? I can't even tell ya' how many times I've cum on 'em myself!"

I was sitting on the fallen log, strapping my Tevas back up, as my classmates hefted their burdens and took off down the little trail.

"See ya' Wednesday!"

"See ya!"

"Hey, thanks man! See ya!"

And they were gone. I sat there for a few minutes, not really wanting to catch up with them, enjoying the afterglow of hot, satisfying sex. Already though, the little post-coital doubts were popping up, the little voice of reason beginning its depressing analysis.

"Well, if you thought they were your friends before this, you'll find out differently on Wednesday. Even money they never talk to you again. Even money they sit all the way across the room from now on or even drop the class altogether!"

I sighed and began to walk away. It was usually a mistake to go so far, so fast. Even between gay guys, a moment's careless passion has ruined many a friendship - and the fact that they were both straight just complicated matters. Once they calmed down a little and got the guilts and the gross outs, it would all be over. The best thing would be to just act like it had never happened and hope that they adopted the same course.

All the same, I had no regrets. All those hot, hard, unobtainable young bodies in the Olney Field House locker room over the last year, now enjoyed, felt, tasted in the form of Rosencrantz and Goldilocks. Weeks of speculation as I watched the two of them, rewarded with the reality of their eager young flesh, throbbing dicks, velvety balls, and sweet, slimy loads. I had made them - made them cum - I had made them CUM!

The trepidation with which I entered Room 135 of the General Maths Building on the following Wednesday may be imagined.

I got there first. Rosencrantz and Goldilocks were late, and just as I was about to accept the scenario in which they never even came back to class ever again, in they came together. Goldilocks smiled and said hello, Rosencrantz nodded and said nothing. They took their accustomed seats and resumed some on-going conversation about Meagan's parents turning out to everyone's surprise to be right-wing religious nuts. Apparently, we were going to take the tack of nothing happened, nothing's changed, let's-never-talk-about-it-again. Fine with me.

Except that five minutes later, as the department secretary left the room after dismissing us once more - Clayton had a ferocious flu - Goldilocks turned to me as the class filed out and said with exaggerated casualness:

"You up for another little walk in the woods?"

and Rosencrantz giggled knowingly and winked at me. They had this all planned! Serendipitous absence of the professor or not, I think we would well have been headed to the College woods after, if perhaps not instead of, going to class!

I could only grin and assent.

This time things were more business-like, with no ambiguity and less tension, traded off for a shade less intensity. Everyone knew what to expect, and how happy it would make them, and just how much they wanted it. We proceeded to the same suck spot, now become 'ours', and once more Elliot was the first and quickest to prepare himself, and I a close second, and once more Dave Rosen was the shy one, but this time, perhaps because he knew what was coming, he too wore slip-ons and with that as his excuse took off all of his clothes. So there we were, three naked boys in the woods.

With no hesitation, no conversation, I fell to my knees. I did a little of the back-and-forth, swinging from cock to cock because it was so much fun. Goldilocks interrupted me.

"See if you can suck us both off together! See if you can get both our dicks in your mouth at the same time!", he said, giggling and pulling Rosencrantz over next to him so they could position themselves.

Rosencrantz replied; "Jeez, Markham, you are so gay!", but let himself be pulled and positioned, let his hip be squeezed hard against Elliot Markham's groin, let, with a satisfied giggle, Elliot grab the huge, rock hard, throbbing Dave-crank and squeeze it together with his own meaty rod, and let me attempt, briefly but happily, to suck both cocks at the same time.

As with all such experiments, the fun was more in the trying than in any expectation of success. Goldilocks and Rosencrantz were giggling and swaying, and having way too much fun, in my estimation, for two straight boys with their cocks and balls mashed so tightly together, slicked up and slipping side-by-side in an eager cocksucker's mouth! Still, if they were happy, I was happy!

The situation also allowed an exquisite presentation of the contrast between their two pieces of equipment. Elliot's crank, fat and pink, a little longer than average, had a wonderfully fleshy quality and a big knob with heavy folds of skin below it which made it a treat to play with. These fleshy accessories hung there even when his rod was like granite, and they had the curious effect of making his cock look uncut when it was hard, although it looked clearly and obviously cut when it was soft. David's crank was much longer, certainly not any thinner but less meaty somehow, a smooth pale shaft with a perfectly executed, classic cockhead, the towering lance a perfect contrast to the hairy garden of delight and big loose balls with which it was adorned.

Since Rosencrantz was at least five inches taller than Goldilocks, they had to somewhat strain and stretch during this procedure, which required Goldilocks to stand on his toes and Rosencrantz to bend his knees and squat down slightly. Goldilocks' tight round 'nads were nicely exposed by the stretch, and Dave's gorgeous hangers were draped right next to them, so I squeezed their testicles together gently as I mouthed their throbbing cranks, making sure that I rubbed them both all over my face and my neck as we all struggled to stay in place and to avoid injury at the same time!

I easily got both eager, dripping cockheads into my mouth together, eating out their delicate slits, mouthing and sucking on the soft ridges and smooth, taut tissue of each glans. There was no way that either of them could penetrate into my throat, so their cranks jostled side-by-side in my happy mouth, rubbing against each other, my tongue, my cheeks, my lips, as I fought to keep my teeth out of the way and to make the most of two hard cocks, two pairs of balls, two sets of muscular young legs, two aromatic pubic patches teasing my nostrils.

It was fun but tiring and so unlikely of success that we mutually abandoned it after a few hilariously exciting moments. Focusing on why we were there, I proceeded to suck off Rosencrantz and then Goldilocks with moderate dispatch and with no further complications.

I was mindful of the order of suck the time before, and determined to get Dave off before Goldilocks. I went over and gave him a firm, steady throat wanking, working without pause on his rock hard rod. His belly smelled like soap and his hands and his hips were more insistent this time. This time Rosencrantz was actually fucking my face!

I used this against him, though, for as I played with his balls and squeezed his massive dong and slowly got it all the way down to where it was completely buried in my throat and my nose was in his honey patch, I realized that, despite its size, it would go down so smoothly that I could railroad him, taking his sweet young cock from full depth to lippy-licky-knobby in one quick motion, and then back again, all the way down and into a tight wet embrace. It just fit my throat so well, the poor guy never had a chance!

So I was soon squeezing his crank, his balls, his belly, his buzz spot, everything I could squeeze, I squeezed. And as I kept on squeezing, I kept on moving, and eventually Rosencrantz started moving too, finally fucking me back hard and sure, his hands grabbing me insistently, his hips thrusting against me, albeit for only a few brief fucks ending in ecstasy, as he unloosed a pulsating cum load deep down inside of me.

As soon as Rosencrantz started to cum, he plunged his cock as far in as he could and than froze, standing stock still, shivering and grunting as he spewed, his hands on my shoulders pulling me against his legs, my face pressing deep into his shaggy groin. He moaned longer and cried out louder as he jazzed this time, more open and sure in that as well.

I heard him mutter under his breath as he shot:

"I die, I've died, I hope to die again!"

and I had to grin to myself, although I was suitably impressed by his literary bent!

I did Goldilocks just as quickly, or rather he did himself in me just as quick! When I turned his way after I had licked David's cock clean, his crank was only about three-quarters hard, swollen to an attractively plump state but hardly sticking up at all, twitching tautly and leaking a thick ribbon of nectar.

"I don't dare touch it!" he panted at me under his breath, grinning, and then he eased it slowly, tentatively into my mouth and said:

"Don't move! Oh, please don't move!" as he stood there hunched over me a little, his hands gently cradling the back of my head, his crank lying on my tongue, cool and soft but fluttering to life. Soon enough, and with no active encouragement whatsoever from me, it was swelling and growing, until it was hard enough - and calmed down enough! - to fuck into my throat, which Elliot did with a svelte little jerk of his hips. He fucked himself with exquisite slowness all the way up and down my throat three or four times and then, having accomplished this without shooting off, he sighed, and relaxed, and grabbed my head.

Excellent control!

I just let him have his way. As soon as he had his wang down my throat and my head between his hands, he reverted to the lusty Goldilocks of the time before, swabbing out my gullet with firm, gentle but energetic fucks of his beautiful crank, his balls bouncing against my chin with each thrust, his hands massaging my head, my temples, my hair, his hips dancing, the whole of his groin grinding against the whole of my face. It was heaven!

I slumped back a little to get my throat at a better angle to Goldilocks' thrusting dick, and he stepped forward and straddled me. His firm thighs, bristling with brown and red hairs, encased my torso, and I grabbed his waist, and then his butt, for support. He moved right with me, taking my weight even as he started to really bang himself against my face harder, deeper, faster.

My hands were clutching at Goldilocks' ass cheeks, my fingers buried in his crack, and his butt and his hands and his thighs were actually holding me up. He suddenly stood stock still, his hips barely moving, as he used his hands grasping my head to fuck my mouth against his crotch - and then he was cumming with his little pant-yelps, buried deeply within me, his groin still bucking against my head, my head spinning as I held my breath so I could catch every drop of his hot, sweet load!

Once more my boys made me jerk off, but this time they just watched me. They waited solemnly, a little officiously, as I worked up a hard and began to whack it, their still swollen cocks starting to display drips and threads of nectar as they stood facing me. I played with my hood a lot, letting them get a good look at how it worked, pulling it sideways, and sliding it back and forth, then skinning it way back as I got really hard, exposing my throbbing red cockhead. I was glad to see that they were both quite fascinated and that neither of them took their eyes off my crank for so much as a second during this display!

Despite feeling a little like a peep show, it didn't take me long to get off. Rosencrantz and Goldilocks watched me work myself over good and hard, right up until I blasted a nice big load all across the little clearing, grunting and bucking my hips lasciviously, leaving a spatter of thick white gobs right in the middle of the path.

"Alright!", cried Goldilocks "mark some turf, man!" as Rosencrantz giggled admiringly, and then the three of us quickly got dressed.

They were disinclined to linger, but this time we trudged together in amiable silence up the path. Not too far along the way Elliot, who was last in line, called out "Wait up!" and turned aside, standing in the path but facing the woods. I thought he had seen some woodland plant or animal of interest, and turned back to follow his gaze into the underbrush, but instead he was tugging open his waistband.

"Gotta pee..." he said as he hauled his plump pink pecker and big smooth-shaven 'nads into full view, hooking his jockeys behind his balls exactly as if he expected and wanted to be admired, and so Rosencrantz and I stood and admired, staring openly as he sent an arcing stream of pale yellow piss into the woods.

The inevitable effect, of course, was that within a few seconds there were three arcing streams of variously hued pee tumbling onto the leaves. I don't know exactly where mine landed, 'cause I never took my eyes off of Elliot Markham's piss-blazing cock, except to steal a few glances at Rosencrantz's!

Somehow, though, pissing together like this broke the silence, and until we had gotten into campus proper, we chattered on about CS 212 and various campus doings, only shutting up when we parted ways at the edge of the little plaza in front of the General Maths Building.

I was so profoundly thrilled by Rosencrantz and Goldilocks' continued sexual interest that I found this second encounter almost more exciting than the first. I had seemingly created a little gay-straight sex club and, baby, I was ready to nurse it along for as long as I could!!!

Still, I was aware of how fragile the enterprise was, how easily distracted the straight members of the club would be by any likely female opportunity that might cross their path, and most of all, by how very little leverage I really had. Our sex club might actually exist, and as more than a mere figment of my CS 212 fantasies, but there was little I could do to encourage or bolster its activities - I was at the mercy of the ephemeral (if lusty) sexual focus of two daring (but untried) heterosexual college students - not my idea of the most dependable class of fuck buddies, but still among the most desirable!

Little did I know, however, because I was in for much greater surprises...

On Friday Dr. Claymore was back in class and no mention was made before, during or afterwards of our secret little club. Here were the limits I had anticipated - I didn't dare even bring the subject up, let alone suggest oh-so-casually as Goldilocks had on Wednesday that we all take a little walk in the woods. One peep out of me, and I would be forever branded as the sex-crazed nympho queer that I really was. I was at their mercy.

The following Monday the same silence prevailed, and I had all but resigned myself to it's repetition on Wednesday. As we bustled our books together and our way out the door, a lump of anxious hope tying knots in my stomach, Goldilocks turned to me and asked offhandedly if I'd like to take a little walk in the woods? and I replied strongly in the affirmative.

I believe that what I actually said was: "Shit, fuck, YEA!"

On the way to our accustomed destination, little was said, until the College woods were in sight, when Goldilocks suddenly spoke up.

"Dave and I were talking, and we came up with a new rule", he said casually.

"Oh, what's that?"

"Well, it's like this. It's kinda to... how'd you put it Dave?"

"Tighten the dynamic."

"Yea, tighten the dynamic. Get everyone all involved at the same time, kinda."

"Well, what is it?"

"Well, it's like this: when you're sucking..." - he stopped suddenly, looked around, and lowered his voice - "whenever you're sucking one of us off, or whatever, then the other one of us will call the shots. Like 'Simon Sez'. Like, if you're sucking me off, then Dave gets to tell you what to do to me, like 'suck hard' or 'suck slow' or 'lick his balls', and then you hafta do what the other guy says to do."

"Shit, you mean like 'Simon Sez' for sex?! It sounds hot to me. And both of you guys are into this?"

"Oh, yea. It was Dave's idea, but I hafta say, he came up with something hot, this time!"

"Oh, yea, I agree!"

Rosencrantz beamed with pride at the approval his new idea had garnered. I was crowing inside. These boys were into this, it was pretty clear - not only were they thinking about it, they were actually talking about it together on their own time - and even more than that, they were coming up on their very own with ways to enhance our little gay-straight sex club's activities! Alright, straight boys!

By the time we got to the suck off spot, I was trembling and throbbing with lust. The possibilities, both good and bad, were crowding into my mind, and I had to speak.

"One thing, though..."

"What thing?"

"About your new rule. I think it's great, but it doesn't replace any of the other rules we agreed on..."

They nodded solemnly, Goldilocks's hand, I noticed, playing impatiently with his belt buckle.

"...and if 'Simon' gets too turned on, 'cause I think 'Simon' is gonna get real turned on, then he's gotta tell me so I can catch his load, 'cause I don't wanna fall behind in my sperm count just 'cause of your new rule!"

They both sniggered happily at this and readily concurred. We stripped with no more ado; this time, Rosencrantz was as naked as the rest of us in the same amount of time, his modesty a thing of the past, his huge wang as rock hard and stand-up as Goldilocks' was and no longer looking like a wee pretty thing - right now it looked twice as big as Goldilocks', even though I knew it wasn't! I crouched, looking up at the two hot numbers, their hard-ons bobbing in front of them, surely one of the most beautiful sights in the world. There was a long pause.

"Well who's on first, gents?"

"Rosen was first last time - I'm first today!" said Goldilocks, and the immediate nod I got from Rosencrantz was indication enough that this had all been discussed and decided upon before hand - excellent!

I duck walked over to Goldilocks and took his rampant cock into my mouth.


I was stopped in my tracks by Rosencrantz, crying out in an unexpected voice of command.

"I didn't say you could touch his dick! Down, boy, down!"

He said this in a rather exaggerated tone, in a manner of play acting, but with a sharpness underneath that couldn't be denied. I released Elliot's twitching boner and looked up at our ringleader.

"Okay, there, Simon. What does Simon say, then?"

"Simon says, 'Kiss his dick! Right on the tip of it - a big smacker!'

This I gladly did.

"Do it again! And again! Now, lick it like a lollipop! More! Again! Yea! Now, put his cock right down your throat as far as it will go!"

I did. I took a careful breath, worked up a goodly gob of saliva, and covered Goldilocks' crank with my face. Without pausing I pushed it down further and further, Goldilocks gasping appreciatively and bucking his hips along the way.

"Okay, Markham, Simon didn't say to fuck anything! Hold still!"

Whoa, our Simon was quite a little tyrant! Goldilocks giggled and stopped bucking, pushing his crotch forward and placing his hands on his hips to emphasize his obedient motionlessness.

"Okay, Mark, deeper! Keep going! I wanna see your face buried in Elliot's pubies! That's it, that's better! Now, Elliot, fuck his face a little. Yea, yea, that's it. Faster! Grab his head in your hands and really let him have it. Yea! Yea! Wow!"

It was obvious from the tone of Rosencrantz's voice that being the ringmaster was really turning him on! And I have to admit, it was turning me on too. It was a nice change, not having to anticipate your partner's desires, not having to worry or wonder about the pace and timing of sex - just do as you're told! It was working for me. Goldilocks also seemed to be into it - let's just say he wasn't complaining and he was complying, and his dick was as hard and his moans were as pungent as ever before when we played together!

"Okay, now, Mark, go all the way down, Elliot, stop fucking, everybody hold still. Mark get it as far down as it will go. C'mon, c'mon! I know you can do better than that! Get it ALL the way down, all the way! That's it - push! Elliot, you grab his head and make sure it's as tight in there as he can get it!

"Okay, now, let's just see how long you can hold it, Fillippi! Come up for air whenever ya' want to, I'm timin' ya' - fifteen seconds... twenty seconds... thirty seconds... thirty-seven seconds!"

as I came up for air. I'd been holding my breath a lot longer than thirty-seven seconds, what with the pushing and the mashing, the warm, soft firmness of Goldilocks' belly, the cool, soft hairiness of his crotch, the steely hardness of his crank buried in my gullet.

"Simon says: put the head of Elliot's dick back in your mouth. Okay, now, lick out the slit. Yea, get your tongue right up in there where we can all see it. Oh, yea! Oh, yea! Eat that piss-hole, man!"

I was slobbering up Goldilocks's cock like there was no tomorrow and he was making little whiny, grunty noises each time my tongue penetrated well into the sweet, slimy opening in the center of his perfectly proportioned cockhead. Elliot's hips were twitching, and I knew that all he wanted was to plunge his crank into me and fuck my suckhole till he cracked a nut! Which, judging from the feel of his cock and the quality of his little whine-grunts, might not take too long once he got himself into fuck mode.

"Okay, now, Simon says: get it all wet and juicy there, suck on it like a hard candy... Is he, Elliot? Is he really sucking it good and hard?"

Goldilocks just grunted and bucked his hips.

"Hey, none of that! Simon didn't say 'fuck'!"

"Simon better fuckin' say something soon, or Elliot's gonna be out of the game!" said Goldilocks in a defiant but slightly desperate tone.

"Simon says: pull off of his dick!"

I complied. Goldilocks sighed and stood with his hands on his hips. His gorgeous seven inches stood at full attention, pointing to the sky, twitching and throbbing. Gradually his balls relaxed and began to droop, following his crank, which by then had passed the crisis point.

"Simon says: back to sucking cockhead, Mark. That's right, that's good, just the tip of it, I wanna see what you're up to... Yea!

"Now, back out, I wanna see ya' eat out that slit some more, yea, like that... yea, yea! Lookin' good! Now, go down and lick his balls... yea, lick harder. Lick more... yea, keep it up... I mean it [hysterical laughter] keep licking those balls, mister! Yea, now, suck one of 'em into your mouth! Yea, roll it around a little. Oh, and by the way, don't forget to jerk off Elliot's dick there, don't stop doin' that unless Simon tells ya to!"

I had a firm grip on Goldilocks' cock by then and my mouth was in heaven, burrowing deep into the spiky haired boy's balls, one testicle floating lazily on my tongue while the other plopped against my cheek, their fine, stiff hairs of spun gold caressing my face.

"Yea, good, now see if you can get the other one in there! Christ look at that, it went in like a dream! Shit, suck them nuts for a while! DAMN!"

This last was as I got my face completely between Elliot's legs, my chin most of the way back to his asshole, both of his balls in my mouth, my nose rubbing up against his steel-hard cock, which he was rubbing on my cheeks and in my hair. I was pressing my face against Goldilocks' crotch and he was pressing his crotch back, while my left hand gripped an asscheek and my right hand whacked his fat pink cock as hard as I could.

"Okay, let go of my boy's poor little balls before something gets hurt! Keep on whackin', though, just like that... yea... Now, switch hands! That's it, left now.. okay back to right... that looks good, okay switch back..."

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" asked Goldilocks in a level but emphatic voice.

"Hey, I'm Simon!"

"Shit, Rosen, I didn't come here to get jerked off! Hell! I can jerk myself off back at the dorm, or get you to jerk it off for me!"

"You wish, you fucking perv! You would love it if I whacked you off! Because you are so gay!"

Nevertheless, amidst the giggling, Rosencrantz did change directions.

"Simon says: now suck it all the way down again... yea, real deep again. Good.. good... Now, squeeze it as hard as you can, and I know you can! C'mon, squeeze it again, hold it... let go."

Rosencrantz paused for two beats, smiling radiantly, his eyes glued to our face to groin connection. His cock was standing at full mast, twitching up and down and cascading a torrent of nectar from its slit - I think he was enjoying himself!

"Squeeze it again, hold... let go. Squeeze it again... hold... okay, let go."

I came up and took a deep breath without pulling all the way off, and went back down.

"Simon says: back to it - all the way down, okay, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze!"

He set out a marching pace and I managed to keep up.

"Simon says: Mark, you keep sucking him just like that! I want you to do all of the work, there! Hey, Elliot, how's he doin'? Is he really working it?"

"Oh, yea, Dave, oh yea! He's working it all right! Unnh!"

"Simon says: don't move, Markham! Hold absolutely still!"


"Simon says: don't fuck him, Elliot! You gotta let him do all the work. He's gonna suck you OFF you idiot, so you don't even move!"

Elliot just said "Shit!" again under his breath.

"Simon says: Mark, grab his butt. One cheek per hand, and grab 'em good, yea, that's it. Give 'em a good squeeze while you keep sucking his cock. Oh, yea, now go faster.. Okay, take a breath if you have to. Now, back down and go fast. Suck, suck, faster! Grab that cock and squeeze it while ya' suck. Suck, squeeze, suck, deeper, faster, faster, get him, make him cum, I can tell he's about ready, suck, suck, suck..."

and as he went on like that Elliot unleashed a thick, spicy load deep in my gullet.

"Simon says: pull back! Get your cock just barely in his mouth, so I can see! I wanna see ya' cummin' in his mouth, oh, yea, oh, yea!"

Goldilocks shot first in my throat and then in my mouth, gobbing his savory teen cum onto my tongue. He reared back, extracted himself completely from me, and let his last few gobs land on my face, covering my chin and shooting up one cheek. Still staggering back, he fell with a thud onto the log, a few last gobs dribbling down the bark between his legs.

"Jeez, that was hot! That fucking wiped me out, man!" he exclaimed.

Rosencrantz was still grinning. It was obvious that he had been turned on by the spectacle, for the whole time his cock, wanting desperately to fuck, had not ceased running with lube juice, and alternatively growing rock hard and twitching desperately before deflating to well-stuffed sausage mode! I grabbed his crank and gave it a few slow, gentle pulls.

"Oh, yea!"

He shuddered and drew away from me even as his hips thrust out against my palm.

"Hey, Simon didn't say anything, lovebirds! Just hold on a god damned minute, there!"

Elliot was sitting heavily on the log, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands, as we both turned to look at him.

"Hey, gimme a break!" he sighed heavily. He took a few deep breaths and looked up.

"Simon says: suck him off!"

I plunged back over a cock, but this one was the monster wang itself, and required a more studied approach than Elliot's perfectly mouth-sized dick. I had to negociate my way down to the root of it, and by the time I did I had pull back to get some air.

"Hey, Simon didn't say 'Let go'!"

"Well, Simon has to let me breathe, or else Simon will be an asshole!" I exclaimed.

Goldilocks grinned and shrugged.

"Simon says: jerk him off while you catch your breath! Give it a good hard work-out there with both hands!"

Rosencrantz's dick was so big that it did take both hands to jerk it off! That is, to really do it justice required ten fingers, if not more! I grabbed the shaft with both hands and went to town, pulling, tugging, jerking, squeezing, pressing, sliding, two lusty handfuls of manmeat, while Rosencrantz stood there flushed and heaving, moving his hips just slightly against my grasp. After a while I switched to one hand and kept on pulling and squeezing with it, while with the other I began pulling and squeezing his big, hairy, hang-down balls.

Goldilocks watched all of this with interest. In fact, he finally rose up off of the log and walked right over next to us and began a close-up inspection of what I was doing.

"Simon says: share!" he suddenly barked, elbowing me out of the way and grabbing Rosencrantz's big, gorgeous crank out of my hand, leaving me with a still firm grasp on Rosencrantz's testicles and a very surprised look on my face.

Rosencrantz stood and I squatted, both of us dumbfounded as Elliot casually masturbated his friend, using both hands like I had been and squeezing so hard he caused Rosencrantz to gasp and moan with pleasure at what his buddy's hands were so unexpectedly doing to his wang! I managed to keep a good, hard clench on Rosencrantz's balls, making sure they stayed in play and adding something, I hope, to the hip-twitching and sharp-gasping effect of our manipulations, the object of whom had begun to pant and jerk his groin against his good friend's fist.

In the passion of the moment, Goldilocks' move on his buddy seemed like the most natural, most obvious thing in the world, inevitable in the long run, and yet it didn't take too long to figure out that this was something truly unexpected.

Especially unexpected to judge by the strange look on Dave Rosen's face as he watched Elliot beat his own bishop right in front of his own eyes! Under a beet red blush of passion, it was as weird a mixture of alarm, lust, embarrassment and disbelief as could be imagined. Rosencrantz's eyes were huge, his crank rock solid wood, his balls quivering and roiling in my hand.

And then things got even weirder. Goldilocks fell to his knees and reached a hand over between my thighs. He grabbed my dick and gave it a good firm pull to match what he was serving up to Rosencrantz, a tight, lingering wank that instantly got me harder and stickier than I had been yet that afternoon. After jerking our two grateful cranks for a blissful handful of seconds, he said abruptly:

"Simon says: Markham, suck off Rosen!"

and proceeded to daub the head of Rosencrantz's massive wang with the tip of his tongue, still pulling and squeezing pretty conscientiously on both of our cranks. I said:

"Go for it, Markham! You better suck that cock good if you're gonna suck it at all!",

and he started giggling, and for a second I feared he would through that laughter pull away from the moment and abandon his experiment, but instead he shrugged and plunged Dave Rosen's cock between his lips. He covered the throbbing cockhead with his mouth, and slowly pushed it into the back of his mouth, breathing loudly around the edges.

After holding his head perfectly still for several long seconds, during which I met the stricken eyes of Rosencrantz eye to eye, Goldilocks slowly pressed his classmate's crank all the way back into his throat, shaking with the effort of suppressing his gag reflex, and finally giving in to it and pulling off with a spluttering, shuddering gasp.


We watched him cough and gasp for a second, and as soon as he had recovered a little, I sprang to my feet and interjected:

"Simon says: suck this!",

and grabbing the base of my cock in my hand I guided it into Goldilocks' mouth. He accepted it eagerly and started making little bobbing motions. Fearing he would impale himself and bring an end to this little fantasy scenario, I grabbed his spiky hair, hoping not to offend him, and slowed down his efforts. "Simon says: suck it nice and slow and show me a good time, mister!"

He slowed down and I eased myself back and forth in his mouth, waiting till he had relaxed before I began snaking my way into the back of his throat, two fucks deeper in and one back out, two fucks deeper in and one back out, till I was into a good tight place and I said:

"Simon says: take a good deep breath!"

and I waited till he had and I just eased myself in down, down, down and fucked his head gently, twice, thrice, once more and then I eased myself out and let him get a good breath before he started spluttering. By then I had his head in my hands and I was straddling him like he had me before and I pushed my crank back into his gullet, a little deeper this time, but still just two or three slow gentle fucks and then back out so he could breathe.

Goldilocks was beginning to get the hang of it, beginning to learn how it worked and what to control, and gradually he began to take that control, to pace himself, and to explore just how much and how hard he wanted it.

I fucked his head contentedly, letting him grab my hips as he took power over the suck, fighting the temptation to unloose a load that I knew he probably didn't want to take, in the full knowledge that with that pretty face wrapped around my prong and those fresh little rose-bud lips grazing on my dick flesh, I could get a nut at any time I wanted to! After a few minutes of this purely paedological fucking, I knew he was ready, so I slicked out and said:

"Simon says: suck Rosen!"

Goldilocks went eagerly - I tried not to feel bad at how eagerly! - back to Rosencrantz's wang-of-wangs and began to lick and mouth the head. He inserted his tongue gingerly into the slit of Rosencrantz's dick, and then gave the twitching purple head a few good licks before sucking the whole cockhead into his mouth and working on it.

Slowly he pushed himself down on that cock, slowly he engorged it, slowly and cautiously, pulling back to breathe and starting over again, until eventually Goldilocks was staring into Rosencrantz's thick, bushy pubies from up close, his friend's crank buried in his throat. He hovered there a few seconds, making tentative fucking motions, moving his head around the crank which filled it. Suddenly, with a speed much greater than it had had going down, Rosencrantz's cock came flying back up and Goldilocks pulled off of it.

"Man, that thing is too big!'

Rosencrantz, crestfallen, snorted.

"It is! I'd rather eat pussy anyway! Cocksucking is too much like work, man! That's hard! I don't know how you do it Mark, but by jeezus, do it! Simon says: Mark, you suck him, suck the man off!"

So I crouched back down and used my still satisfied handful of testicles to pull Rosencrantz over my way, engorging his cock as far down as I could in one swallow, and the rest of the way down in a second. He gasped and fucked against my face, hard, once, twice, then he held himself against me, buried inside of me, quivering and gasping, and then he fucked himself into me three more times and then I had to pull up to breathe.

I never let go, let neither tongue nor lips nor palate ever loose touch with that hot, throbbing crank. I was still grabbing his ballsac, still pressing my forefinger against that little spot back behind them when Goldilocks growled out:

"Simon says: stick that finger back there right up his ass!"

Well, this was yet another new and unexpected twist! I couldn't look up into Rosencrantz's face to seek his permission, couldn't examine his eyes for the truth of what he wanted, so I just obeyed Simon and stuck my finger up into Rosencrantz's asshole. He wriggled and pushed back and I got my finger up his butt in record time for a straight boy and I thought 'Oh, this one's butt has already been played with for sure!'

I wondered how many candles or carrots, dildos or dicks had been up there before today? All I knew was that he squatted back, opened up his asshole, grabbed my finger and practically sucked it into his butt! He was squirming and cooing, the pitch of his groans gone up noticeably, the movement of his groin against my face getting stronger and more insistent as my finger moved hard and deep inside his gut.

Rosencrantz was really fucking face now, his usually quiet hips beating a tattoo against my jaw, moaning sharper and sharper as my finger moved inside of him and then he was cumming, shooting his hot suck juice all down the back of my throat, more cumming out on my tongue as I caught my breath, and then back to full depth as he clutched my head once more against his soft, hairy belly, groaning and throbbing and fucking his still hard wang hard against the back of my throat, my happy digit still fucking him just as hard right back.

Oh, so nice!

For several long seconds after we both stopped moving we remained connected, Dave's crank twitching in my mouth and my finger snuggling in his asshole. Finally, with a deep sigh, Dave pulled himself out of my head and then, even more reluctantly, maneuvered himself off of my finger.

The amazing developments of the day didn't end there. As Dave was getting his breath back, and I was sitting back on my haunches still looking for mine, Goldilocks turned to me and said:

"Simon says: get up, stand up and jerk off!"

I sighed and lumbered to my feet, feeling almost sexed out after bringing off two lusty college boys in the same half hour!

"Simon says: get it hard! C'mon, man, work it up there!"

It wasn't difficult to do that, considering I was looking at two hot, handsome and naked young men, with the very taste of their cum still fresh on my tongue and the very feel of their cocks still fresh in my throat! My cock was soon at it's full seven-plus inches and woody as a tree, and as soon as my dick was good and hard, Goldilocks stepped over, grabbed my crank with a down n' dirty grunting sound, and began jerking me off.

At first he was facing me, one hand jerking my crank while the other gathered up my balls and gave them a good squeezing pull. He soon dropped my 'nads so he could move to one side and bend over, nestling his forearm in my bush and laying his elbow across my cute little paunch in just the right attitude to grip my throbbing cock for a good old wanking. He beat my meat with a look of self-satisfied contentment and a well practiced expertise, squeezing and pulling in just the right order, never getting me too close but always keeping me interested.

Then abruptly he dropped his hold on my crank, crouched down, leaned forward and took my throbbing dick into his mouth. Obviously the boy had not gotten all of the cocksucking he wanted (or needed!) out of his system! Goldilocks worked my cock down into his throat, and started giving me a deep, hard suck. It wasn't completely expert, but it showed promise. And man, what with his pretty blue-eyed baby face wrapped around my crank, and what with everything his lips and tongue and throat were doing to it, I soon had no choice but to blurt out:

"Simon says: either pull off or eat my scum, baby!"

and Elliot's eyes got big but he kept on sucking, all through my crescendoing groans and increasingly determined hip thrusts, until I was fucking his face almost as hard and as deep as he always fucked mine! When I indicated the moment of truth with a load, piercing pant-groan, he pushed my cock down to full depth, pushing his face against my belly and taking my load deep down in his gullet, heaven for me, and pretty okay for him, for all I could tell!

Goldilocks stayed down on my crank for a long time, until after I stopped shooting, until after I quit gasping and moaning, until after I ceased twitching and shuddering, until, in fact, I myself drew my shrinking cock carefully out of his throat. He sighed and eased back on his haunches, still squatting in front of me breathing hard, while the three of us contemplated what had just happened.

Rosencrantz's face was closed up, a look of careful neutrality belying his huge, shining eyes. He avoided looking directly at either of us, so Goldilocks' eyes and mine sought each other out. As his face met mine, I flashed him a grin. He grinned back, his shoulders relaxing finally.

"Man, that was kinda fun!" said Goldilocks a little uncertainly.

"You don't hafta tell me that! And jeez, was it ever fun for me too!"

His grin widened.

"I didn't really hardly taste anything - eating cum isn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be!"

"That's cause ya' had me so far down your throat. Best way to take a load, especially if you don't want to taste some sweet hot scum for hot sweet scum's own sake!"

"Gross!" called out both of my pupils together, showing how far they still had to go but finally breaking the tension. We all giggled as Elliot rose unsteadily to his feet.

"I might actually want to do that again some time, maybe. But don't get your hopes up Rosen, 'cause you're waaay too big and I'm not a circus acrobat like ol' Mark here!"

We all giggled some more as we scrambled back into our clothes.

After that I had no idea what to expect. Goldilocks was the last guy I would ever have expected to get into cocksucking! Obviously things had progressed beyond curious straight boys being a little adventurous - or had they?

Not for the first time, but with a new urgency, I found myself desperately curious about the on-going events and interactions, the idle conversations and little daily developments which coloured the lives of Rosencrantz and Goldilocks in between meetings of CS 212, in between our increasingly hot sex sessions - the world of Jim'nTina, Billy and Meagan, hook-ups and break-ups and other undergraduate dramas, which had first attracted me to these boys. Did that other life, of which I really knew so little, reflect these awesome changes?

Obviously Rosencrantz and Goldilocks thought about and talked about the sex club and its activities when I wasn't around - they were even involved enough to broaden it's scope and intensify the sexual interactions between the three of us, all on their own. I had no complaints about that! I just wondered how they were managing to fit this new found world of cock sucking, finger fucking, ball fondling, and hand jobbing into the life they had had before they met me. I was also wondering very hard if, given the probable number of opportunities, the straight section of the gay-straight sex club ever met on it's own?

In any case, the next full meeting of our irregular little sex club was on the following Monday, and with neither discussion nor direction it followed the new and exciting 'Simon Sez' formula.

As before, Rosencrantz went first, talking Goldilocks and me through a detailed pas de deux, specifying every little nuance, every little movement, minutely guiding my tongue and Elliot's cock and even telling us what to do with our hands.

He showed the same fascination with seeing my tongue play with Goldilocks' crank, making me pull out, pull off, pull back repeatedly so the two of them could watch my tongue and lips and hands lick and squeeze and touch Elliot's happy wang, happily shaven balls, and generally hot little crotch. Over and over again I found myself eating our Goldilocks' dripping slit, licking and kissing and masturbating Elliot's cock - anything and everything except swallow it away out of sight!

Rosencrantz had me lick Goldilocks' balls, like before, and stuff both of them together into my mouth, like before, rolling them around on my tongue, my chin pressing into Goldilocks's ass crack, his throbbing cock slapping my fortunate face. Then Rosencrantz made me lick Goldilocks' cock up and down like a lollipop, lick his pubies, lick his belly, eat out his belly button - the occasion of much laughter and happy quivering on Goldilocks' part - then lick his tits, nibble his nipples, Goldilocks giggling and bucking as I laid my teeth gently and happily against the tiny pink teats crowning his big hard pecs.

So far, so good - Rosencrantz was pretty much going where I would have gone myself, but probably wouldn't have dared! And Goldilocks showed no hesitation, no reluctance at having my tongue or even my teeth explore, probe, and taste all these new parts - he groaned where appropriate, bucked when required, twitched and sighed and presented his various body parts as specified with happy dispatch!

Finally Rosencrantz steered us back into some real cocksucking, ordering me down to full depth, but making me suck slow, deep, slow, steady, until Goldilocks was moaning and trembling with cum lust, scarcely able to adhere to the rules of the game, or so it appeared from his moaning, quivering, nectar oozing posture.

At that point Rosencrantz made sure to order my finger up into Goldilocks' ass, then bettered his friend by directing me to insert a second digit up alongside the first. Getting even one body part up Elliot Markham's ass proved to be much harder than it had been getting one up into Rosencrantz's asshole - it was clear enough that Goldilocks' tight, tiny, dark pink hole was totally virgin, unknown to either candle or dildo, not to mention fingers or hot throbbing cocks! Getting two fingers up there took some time, with Rosencrantz having me suck his cock with little nippy nip sucks, interspersed with ball licking, thigh licking, belly button eating and sporadic, very brief episodes of intense deep head, all the while easing my digits up in between those hard and flawless bubble butt cheeks.

Still, Goldilocks made no protest, perhaps expecting the move, and accepted the first and eventually the second of my fingers fucking him in the ass with nothing more than loud, sharp grunts and the occasional profound, violent shudder - his meaty pink crank, I noticed, getting harder and pinker with each advance. It was hot and slick and tight up in there, and my fingers were grooving, my cock bouncing and dripping in it's eagerness to take the place of those lucky digits.

By the time Dave finally let Elliot grab my head and fuck out a load into my throat we were all three tingling and twitching with pent-up desire, and Goldilocks with a great deal more than that! The nut he finally got, the first ass-enhanced orgasm in all his nineteen-and-a-half years, was loud, long, fierce and very, very good, to judge from the cries and jerks and gasps which accompanied it and the prolonged, drawn out time it took before all the twitching and spasming stopped!

It took ALL of my self control not to grab my dripping wang right then and there and give it a good toss as Goldilocks jizzed in my throat. I can't take all the credit for resisting - what with one hand clutching Goldilocks' balls and the other buried in his butthole, there was nothing to grab myself with!

After a further little break, Elliot carefully, slowly, pulled back his hips and withdrew his crank from my mouth, pushing himself back against the two fingers which were still buried in his ass. With a deep sigh, Goldilocks reversed directions, and cautiously pulling away from my hand, he gingerly raised himself off of his human butt plug - me!

Rosencrantz, I decided, was an excellent ringmaster!

During the pause which ensued, as Elliot panted, almost sobbing with satisfaction and exhaustion, no words were spoken. But my eyes met Dave Rosen's over Goldilocks' hunched back, and the joy in his face belied description. So did the oozing, twitching lust displayed by his throbbing crank! Saliva rushed into my mouth as I watched it twitter and throb, and I was finally compelled to say:

"Elliot, my boy, you've got to pull yourself together. If you don't start talking us through something hot, Dave here is gonna pop without you or me gettin' to have any fun with him at all!"

Which was not to deny that both Goldilocks and I had just had a passel of fun with Dave Rosen over the previous twenty minutes!

Goldilocks sighed and ran his fingers through his gold-tipped locks, renewing and adjusting the spikes which all that hot sex had steamed right out of his hair, as if that would make up for all the cum drooling out of his dick, down his thigh and dripping onto his calf, or the limp, matted condition of his pretty copper pubies, or the shiny, sticky slime which covered his stomach and chest - or for that matter the shit eating grin which lit up his face as he began to plan his assault on Rosencrantz!

He said:

"Simon says: Mark, suck Dave!'",

and I gladly complied, making out with Rosencrantz's cockhead, getting it all juiced up so I could work the boy's massive dong down my impatiently empty suck chute. It was tasty and greasy with it's own slime, and both were happy tasks. Soon I was giving Rosencrantz a little full depth action, snuggling and squirming and bobbing on his crank with my nose buried in his pubies for as long as my breath held out, yet still always careful not to push the boy over the edge.

By the time I finally had to ease off and inhale, Goldilocks had emerged from his post-coital haze far enough to take charge.

First he had me give Dave the same around-the-world trip Dave had made me give him earlier - licking, nuzzling, fondling Rosencrantz's cock, balls, belly, tits, nipples, and back down again. As I gladly licked and nuzzled and fondled my way all over these various places on Rosencrantz, Goldilocks stood nearby, pulling and squeezing on his friend's massive, sticky dong whenever I myself wasn't occupied with it and rubbing his own crank in my hair or against my face whenever one of them happened to pass by. Finally, during one of these fly-bys he barked out:

"Simon says: suck my cock a little!",

and thrust himself into my passing mouth, right down into my passing throat, his balls mashing up against my passing chin in a tangle of stiff, aromatic hairs.

"No way, Simon cannot say to do anything to Simon himself! Simon has to say for the OTHER GUY!"

It was Rosencrantz, indignation heaving from his huge throbbing crank and roiling balls, not to mention his beet red chest, erect nipples and bright flashing eyes. Obviously his buddy's hand job was not valued at the same rate as my wetter, slimier attentions, and that made me very glad, somehow!

"Okay, okay!" agreed Goldilocks, but he made no move to extract his cock from my throat, where it was fucking me very deeply and apparently quite gladly. I had to pull myself back as Rosencrantz cried out:

"It's MY turn!",

and, turning to the wronged boy, I swallowed him whole.

To this day I do not know how I managed to eat that entire donkey wang with one fell swoop, but at least it made Rosencrantz happy. With a sharp cry he shut up and began fucking my face in his turn, with more force and determination than he had ever shown before.

"Simon says: Rosen, hold still! Let Mark do ya' and just stand still!'

Rosencrantz, with a still indignant snort, complied. I sucked deep and good but not too hard for a little, until I had to take a breath. Elliot waited patiently until my most urgent gasps were over, before proclaiming:

"Simon says: go on back down and keep sucking!" and so I did.

"Simon says: pull off of it. Now, take a breather while Simon takes over...",

and as I rested up a minute Goldilocks grabbed Dave Rosen's tool in one hand, his hairy ballsac in the other, and began to give a little cautious, shallow but apparently effective head to his buddy. Rosencrantz moaned softly and happily and began to work his hips a little, gently fucking his crank in Goldilocks's mouth, careful to avoid anything scary, until Goldilocks did something especially good with his lips or his tongue or his tonsils and Rosencrantz cried out ecstatically and bucked involuntarily, his huge wang thrusting deep into the back of Elliot Markham's throat.

With a stifled cry, Goldilocks pulled back off of Rosencrantz's crank and grabbed it with the hand that wasn't fondling his buddy's big, loose balls.

"Oh, man, watch it Rosen! You know I can't handle that big crank of yours!"

They were both chuckling and happy, and my breath was back, so I said:

"Simon, get the fuck back in gear! I'm the one who's here to get dicked, not you!"

which just provoked more giggles, Goldilocks never letting go of Rosencrantz dick, nor of his balls, the whole time!

Finally Goldilocks sprang to his feet and barked out:

"Simon says: Dave dick Mark Fillippi!",

provoking yet more giggles but eventually leading to me slobbering back down on Rosencrantz's tasty tool.

"Okay, Simon says: Pull back! Go down slow! Pull back! Go down slow! Pull back! Go down slow! Pull off!"

"Okay, Simon says: Lick cock like a lollipop! Lick balls! Lick balls! Keep going! Lick behind those balls now! Push in good and hard on that spot there! Now keep going back - lick crack! Keep on going! Now - Simon says: eat ass!"

Once more, Elliot Markham had raised the bar. Once more, I was having to make a call with no clues from Rosencrantz's face, no truth-telling glances, no winks or nods. But I knew how much Dave Rosen liked getting finger fucked, and I figured this wouldn't feel any worse than that! I could easily tell from the fresh soapy taste of his ass crack that the boy was clean, so I just dove in.

My tongue went into the hairiest part of that hairy crack and found a little oval bald spot, harbouring a perfectly formed, perfectly symmetrical, perfectly pale beige little rosebud, and went right through it. Rosencrantz shuddered and moaned and pushed his gorgeous little round butt back against my face. I grabbed his hips and started drilling into him.

It was hot and moist and silky smooth inside of there, my lips nuzzling in a bristly cloud of asscrack hair, my forehead bumping up against his tail bone. The warmth and slickness pulled my tongue in ever deeper, made my lips nuzzle ever harder, and soon I was crazy with excited lust, delving and grubbing as I tried to push my entire face into Dave Rosen's butt hole.

"Damn, man, I didn't think you would do it! Jeezus Cheerist, that is hot! Simon says: keep eating ass, baby, just keep drilling that hole till Simon says when!" and I was happy to comply!

Rosencrantz was squirming and moaning with an intensity and a force which abandoned dignity and discretion completely, bending over double so he could spread his cheeks wide and get as much of me into his ass as was possible. His pleasure at this unexpected turn of events was clear enough! Goldilocks couldn't stop giggling as he urged us on.

"Eat it Fillippi! Eat it good, baby! That's it, keep at it, I think he likes it!", this last delivered amid a burst of giggles. Finally regaining control of himself, Goldilocks barked out:

"Simon says: Dave, straddle the log and sit down on it!"

"What!" Anything that interrupted the motion of my tongue in his ass would have dismayed Rosencrantz at this point, but Elliot persisted.

"SIMON SAYS: straddle the log!"

I drew my face reluctantly from between Rosencrantz's flawless butt cheeks and gave the whole length of his hairy crack a last final, lingering lap of my tongue.

As I drew away from him, Rosencrantz lay back on the log as directed and Goldilocks grabbed his ankles and pushed Rosencrantz's legs towards his chest, swivelling his pretty little asshole, now brighter and wetter and no longer so tight a rosebud, but more something on the way to being full blown, forward into view. I straddled the log and threw my face back against the lad's newly exposed butthole, burrowing my way back deep, deep into Dave Rosen's gut.

Suddenly Goldilocks cried out "Simon says: time to go back to his cock! The ass party's over!" and I began to work my way, hair by hair, testicle by testicle, up towards Rosencrantz's crank.

"Simon says: C'mon boys, let's get that dick wet again!",

but still I took my time getting there. Once that directive was accomplished, he ordered me through a good steady suck, one that got Rosencrantz grunting and bucking and finally face-fucking, but that was all par for the course. What wasn't par for the course was the fact that, as soon as I got Rosencrantz's monster crank well and truly down, and subsequently couldn't have anything much to say about it, Goldilocks began to sneak a finger into my asshole!

Despite my surprise, in the absence of contrary orders I just kept sucking, and Elliot kept fingering my butt, his finger pushing in, at first a bit tentatively, but as I relaxed and responded, pushing back and squirming around Goldilock's fat finger, it went in deeper and deeper.

I heard the boy gasp as my ass muscles got a good hold on that congenial digit - and I wondered if he was feeling it down in the very slit of his dick the way I did when I fingered a good tight asshole, the way I had felt with two fingers up the golden-spiked boy's own tight teen butt the last time we had all played together. Goldilocks began a cautious wriggling that became faster and more uninhibited as I ground my hips harder and harder back against his hand, in between sucking Rosencrantz's cock as deep and as hard as I could.

Before too long, a second finger joined the first. I kept sucking, and Goldilocks kept fingering. I'm not sure Rosencrantz even saw or entirely knew what was going on, so he must have been much more surprised then I was when Elliot barked out:

"Simon says: Stop sucking! Cock out!" - and suiting action to words, Goldilocks had me pull off of Rosencrantz's dick so that as the lad laid out along the log, his massive, glistening, throbbing crank was standing straight up pointing to the sky -

"Now, Fillippi get up, take a step till you're... okay, now -

"Simon says: sit on that dick, man!"

and before Dave Rosen really knew what was coming his cock was buried in my ass.

Elliot's fingers had my butt good and relaxed and open, and I myself had slicked up Rosencrantz's crank as well as was humanly possible, and there were no barriers except for the sheer size of that gorgeous, red-hot dong. Well, I didn't let that stop me!

With a many a groan and moan of intense delight, I slid down that pole, pretty quick, considering how out of practice I was, until my butt was resting against Rosencrantz's hairy groin and I was leaning forward looking into his big, brown eyes. His face was taken over by a shit eating grin - there's no other way to describe it - and lust and happiness and eagerness shone forth all over his face. It was sooo hot watching him like it sooo much!

So was the cock in my butt! Like so many really big dicks, Rosencrantz's monster wang filled up so much of you at once that there was none of that pulling and jabbing that can make a more modest crank hurt like hell. Being dicked by Rosen was like swinging in a rhythmic, all-embracing hammock, only one with a big ol' finger that stayed right on your buzz button the whole time! He fucked ass as gently and tentatively as he fucked head, but even that restrained porking was enough to have me gasping with delight and dizzy with lust as he worked his crank up and down and even a little around way up in my butthole.

For the first time since our little sex club had formed I felt that I was as bowled over by the intensity of what was happening as my boys were! Not that I hadn't been there every step of the way, enjoying everything we had done, every twist and turn, and not that those boys, especially Elliot Markham, hadn't surprised me and thrown me for a loop every now and again! But I always felt like I was a step or more in front of them, I always knew that everything we did was much more familiar to me than it was to them, all of which gave me an element of control, an edge which kept me a little ahead.

Of course, I'd been fucked before (possibly more than once!) and I knew what it was about and all that. But when a piece of meat like Dave Rosen's was filling up your entire insides, when his gorgeous face was looking up at you filled with lust and happiness, when every little twitch of his crank, every little movement of his hips, sets off a wave of sensation and delight that washes uncontrollably from the core of your being right out to the tips of your fingers and toes - perspective and control and edge go right out the window!

All I could do was grunt and pant and sway as Rosencrantz lay there filling me up, fucking his steely rod up into my gut, his hands grabbing my hips, his own hips grinding against my butt cheeks. Even Goldilocks was impressed, I guess, 'cause he stood silent, a little to one side, seemingly unable or unwilling to continue his direction. Finally he said, in a somewhat strangled voice:

"Simon says: Dave, fuck Mark until you cum. I wanna see ya' fuck like a stud and shoot a big load and fill his butt with jizz, Rosen!"

I leaned forward, raising my hips and slicking back up Rosencrantz's fuckpole, until it was about halfway out, then I slid back down. I did that a few times, squeezing and cranking on Rosencrantz's rod as I got my self-control back a little - but just a little!

"Simon says: Dave, fuck him! Push that dick up there, man!"

and with that, Rosencrantz started really fucking me, laying back on his log, his feet firmly planted on the ground, confidently and forcefully levering his deliciously narrow hips up against my butt. His cock was so big that I had no choice but to pant and cry out with every stroke of that monster wang in my gut - it was all I could do to keep breathing! My prostate was humming, that happy buzz spot definitely in play, and nectar began to run out of my cock and onto Rosencrantz's belly in a clear, steady stream.

I had to stay raised up to give Rosencrantz room to fuck, and soon my legs were tired. I leaned forward and placed my hands on the log above Rosencrantz's head in order to support myself. I'm about as tall as Dave, so that didn't interfere with our fuck, but it did bring my face right over his. Rosencrantz opened his eyes and locked them with mine. The depth and speed and intensity of his movements inside of me went up a notch or two and our cries and pants grew in volume, his hands clutching at my hips and my flanks harder and harder.

Then his lips parted, perhaps to breath, perhaps to cry out, I don't know why, but I mimicked his action and before either of us knew what we were doing, I'm sure, we were kissing deeply, tongues interlocked and lips seeking each other's out, trading spit and fucking even harder as we made out.

I felt once more out of control. The action of Rosencrantz's massive dong on my buzz box was growing more and more intense, more and more insistent. I felt so filled up, so totally satisfied and yet knowing I wanted more, sure that I could handle it, pushing back, letting that huge crank just come right into me, use me, fuck me...

A deep throbbing began between my legs and suddenly I couldn't get enough of that dick. I opened my eyes and found myself staring right into Rosencrantz's deeply beautiful dark eyes, filled with joyful passion, his tongue and his cock cranking me at opposite ends, especially that wang banging and banging in my box. Suddenly I knew I was gonna cum, even though I was pretty sure that my dick wasn't even fully hard!

Rosencrantz began making a new sound, a little high pitched moan deep in his throat; his fucking got harder and deeper and it was all I could do to keep my tongue in his mouth as my breath came faster and faster and the buzzing in my box grew louder and longer. Rosencrantz fucked quicker and quicker, his hands on my shoulders drawing my face into his, and then he withdrew his tongue from my mouth to cry out in a loud, shuddering wail:

"I'm cumming! Hot fuck shit, I'm cumming, aaaahhh! I DIE!", and I was cumming too,

and Elliot, beside us giggling, cried out at the same instant:

"Simon says: I didn't tell you to kiss or die, just fuck!",

and then my load blasted out, flying in all directions as our hips moved and jerked, spraying all over Rosencrantz's lanky, hairy chest, gobs on his small firm breasts, gobs on his big dark nipples, drops and trails on his ropey shoulders and his big, hard biceps and his long, lean flanks.

Dave's hands were still on my hips, now forcefully pressing my ass against his groin, bringing a halt to all movement of his or mine, his massive, still cumming wang buried throbbing and twitching at full depth inside of me. I leaned forward, carried away by the moment, and tried to put my tongue back into his mouth but he turned away, rolling his head to one side on his wooden couch, and considering that I had just jazzed all over his chest, which was dripping with my scum, and that the most interesting part of his anatomy was still plunged entirely up into my gut, where it had just cracked it's own huge and wonderful nut and deposited about a gallon of jizz - he blushed!

Gradually Rosencrantz's breath returned to something more normal, his blush fading. I sat up, my kiss rejected, not hurt, but as so often before struck by the irony of someone engaged in the most intimate of possible embraces who still insisted on drawing a limit to intimacy! And the boy was a great kisser, too! Sighing, I began to rise into a squat, but Rosencrantz's hands on my hips restrained me.

"Oh, no, no, not yet, not, not yet! Please!"

I eased back down. He was still hard and firm, not quite the same arching, aching size as before but still spearable, so I speared myself. I even rode it a little, tender as I was in my post cumming state, but as soon as I did he gasped - well, shouted would be more like it! - and so I eased back all the way down on it and kept still, my butt resting lightly in the adolescent hollow of his pelvic bone. Still, I couldn't resist squeezing it a little, just to hear him gasp so loud and grab me so tight with both hands!

"Okay, lovebirds, you're gonna hafta break it up sooner or later and it might as well be now! I am making an executive ruling that because you executed a major move that was not initiated by Simon, a penalty is due." - all of this in a 'funny' voice - "So, my John Thomas" - and here he executed a major move of his own on his own hefty crank - "is gonna get some of what your John Thomas just got!"

Well, I figured that my hole was good for another round, and anyway I knew I damn sure wanted him to fuck me! So he did. Rosencrantz was still out of it, lolling unresponsive on his log, and no one seemed to want to be 'Simon', so we dropped it. Elliot said:

"Would you mind doin' it doggy style?",

and I started to chuckle and so did he. I said:

"Just hold your horses while I see if I can get myself off of this here monster dick! Get over here in the meantime and hmbgmahmb", this last as he straddled the log and fucked his fat pink crank into my mouth, where it was soon hard and throbbing and happily fucking my throat. After some manipulation and a long slow pull, Rosencrantz's dong eventually slipped out of my ass with a loud farting noise and slapped over onto his belly, still at least half hard, leaking a river of cock nectar onto Rosen's concave belly and provoking a sharp cry from its owner, that being the last sound we heard out of him for a while!

Goldilocks eased his cock out of my suckchute and I staggered to my feet. As I did so I saw Goldilocks put a hand down on Rosencrantz's chest, I swear I saw it right, and fondle it good and hard, using that perch to steady himself as he unstraddled our log. As soon as I could I sucked his fat pink crank back down into my throat.

Despite Rosencrantz's continued indifference and lack of response Goldilocks leaned over and gave his friend's jizz-drooling, still swollen rod a long appreciative pull, doubtless thinking back as he squeezed it to the fierce fuck he had just witnessed. Upon giving it a few more tugs, the poor lad belatedly realized that his hand was now covered with a slick, questionably perfumed deposit of santorum, which he quickly wiped off on Dave Rosen's hairy belly.

('The Perils of Love', illustrated, 2/6 - not available in St. Paul's yard.)

As I crouched into a good suck-squat, steadying myself with one hand on our trusty log, Goldilocks leaned over the length of me and got the same two happy fingers into my butthole. I didn't really need any further opening, but I think Goldilocks just wanted to feel my tight, hot hole with a finger again so he could have the deep satisfaction of switching over from finger bones to cock meat! His digits didn't go in as deeply from that angle, but as he finger fucked my still eager hole and I once more slicked up his still eager crank, damned if we both weren't just as hot as ever!

"I think we're ready! Simon says: get down, little doggy!"

With no further ado I got down on all fours in the dry, sunny leaf litter, spiked with small grasses and flowering plants, and Goldilocks got behind me and fucked me. As he slid his fat pink crank into my hole, he sighed, pushing harder, grunting with deep contentment as he fucked, and then suddenly crying out:

"Jeez! It's slimy in here - jeez, it's Rosen's load! Christ Almighty, Dave, your load is all over my dick! I swear to god, it's all over me!"

Goldilocks' giggles turned to groans as he kept on fucking, Rosencrantz's hot jism lubricating his advance into my gut. His cock felt just as good as Dave Rosen's had, despite it's lesser length. It was fat and hard and it went into all the right places, slick and hard and deep and GOOD! I felt almost traitorous admitting it, considering the quality and intensity of the fuck I had just had thrown into me by the neophyte Dave, but it was immediately obvious that Elliot Markham knew a thing or two about hipwork.

Goldilocks started off slow, saying "Oh! Man!" under his breath from time to time as he probed. He slid his cock in, up, oooh!, deeper and deeper, moaning a little as he moved back and forth inside of me. He used his whole body as needed, his hands firm and commanding on my back, his legs doing the real work, his hips boning like pros. I immediately could tell that this position was how he preferred to fuck women. Lucky for Goldilocks - and her! - the co-ed who was into doggy love.

Elliot was strong enough to master me, to bend my limbs to where he wanted them and to put his limbs right up against mine, encasing me in a hot, smooth cave of muscle and manhood, his thighs wrapped around mine, his knees containing mine, his arms around my trunk holding me tight against him as he worked his cock faster and faster inside of my ass.

Having driven himself skillfully into me, as soon as his cock was well enough acquainted with my insides he began to ride my ass like a real buckaroo. He gave me his full weight, and once he knew he could do that he went off even better and hotter, moving and rubbing all over me, around me, in me, dominating me in a way that Rosencrantz couldn't have hoped to lying underneath me, but wouldn't have hoped to pull off, even above me.

And, it was so HOT!

Goldilocks came far too soon, pounding deep within my box, his cries louder and more uncontrolled than I had ever heard from him before, mashing his face into my hair, clutching me tighter than ever against his hard pecs and bulging limbs, trying to stifle that happy outburst. There in my hair and against my neck his cries turned into giggles as he began to relax, recover and release me.

As we broke apart, having utterly ignored our companion for some unknown but long while, Rosencrantz rose unsteadily to his feet from his log bed, his magnificent cock standing straight out in front of him.

"Okay, that's the weirdest and the hottest thing I ever saw! I gotta do that, I gotta! C'mon, Mark, lemme fuck ya' again! Please?!?"

Who could have said 'No' to such truehearted, happy lust, to such a beautiful boy, to such a gorgeous, nectar-dripping, rock-hard crank? Who would have wanted to!?!?! So I stayed on my hands and knees in the warm leaf litter with my ass stuck up into the air and got gladly fucked for a third time that hour. Such was the speed with which, in just one afternoon, my little class skipped straight from Gay Sex 101 ('Fundamentals of Cocksucking') to Gay Sex 350 ('Intermediate Ass Work')!

By the time Rosencrantz took his seconds it was no longer just seconds, it was sloppy seconds, for sure! Despite the eager height of my butt in the warm spring air, our tall friend had to squat way down to get lined up with my asshole, and it took him a minute to find it, as he was somewhat reluctant to use a finger to locate his target.

Nevertheless, any squeamishness he may have felt at that must have been surpassed by the embarrassment resulting from the loud, squelching, unmistakably cummy noise which gurgled out from deep inside my ass as he finally penetrated me well and good with his throbbing, by now quite impatient, wang. He almost pulled out at that point - and I would have paid to see the look on his face!

Instead I was watching some tiny, tiny purple, yellow and white flowers have sex among themselves while Rosencrantz finally began fucking me, just happy and contented to be in that position again.

Dave's wang wasn't quite as hard as it had been, which meant that it wasn't quite as big as it usually was, and my ass, sore as it was getting, was well used and relaxed enough to take it's third crank of the hour in like silk, and this one the monster wang itself! Rosencrantz pushed in, and in, and in, and then he was all the way in, and it felt very, very nice!

Rosencrantz fucked me very gently for a few strokes, sighed and moved in tighter, imitating less skillfully Goldilocks' all-enclosing sex clutch, and began to fuck, fuck, harder and harder, his hips grinding against my butt and his dong ding-donging away deep up in my gut. His breath was in my ear, hot and moist, and then his tongue.

Dave probed me fiercely, his wet tongue pushing deep into my ear canal, making me giggle and pant and jerk back against him, intensifying and increasing the contact between his skin and mine. Then his mouth muscle began making forays onto my earlobe and even my cheek. I turned my head and his tongue darted into my mouth like a warm, happy little lizard. This one loved to kiss!

Our lips and tongues matched our grinding crotches, lashing and rubbing and squirming, for as Rosencrantz ate face he fucked ass, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, his hips pounding my butt, his crank wanging away inside my hole. Soon his cum pant began and he was lost, dying once more inside of me, to my great delight even though there was no more cum in me to be had! We collapsed onto the warm bouncy pine tags, giggling and groaning as he lay, resting the full weight of his tall, manly frame on top of me, panting like a steam engine, his cock still buried inside of me - to my even greater delight. No getting around it - this afternoon David Rosen Rosencrantz was delightful! Twice!

Thus was crossed the great boundary between sucking and fucking. Very few straight boys ever cross that line or even want to think about crossing that line, and here were two who did it together, with no prompting, without even a hint from me! I was amazed, impressed, and curious. Above all else, curious!

All that ass fucking had taken awhile, and after our unexpectedly prolonged tryst we each scrambled to get dressed, once Rosencrantz had recovered enough to roll off of me! The three of us hustled up the path with unaccustomed speed, and we parted hurriedly, without a word, at the top of the hill above College woods.

And then, having crested this great height, for the next couple of weeks our little gay-straight sex club went unconvened. My boys must have been more than a little freaked out at how far they had gone, for although both Rosencrantz and Goldilocks were friendly enough, they were markedly less talkative and more subdued in class, with the result that even though we all acted as relaxed and civil as ever, a distance reappeared which for a few brief weeks had been entirely gone.

The most infuriating thing about this sudden sex club embargo was that during the whole time, neither one of my onetime sex buddies ever indicated by gesture, allusion or innuendo that either one of them had ever fucked me, or been blown by me, or had his tongue in my mouth or his finger up my butt or, for that matter, had my finger or my tongue up his manly little butt every bit as far as it would go! That had been closeness!

I made a few lame references to hiking in the woods, getting blown away, and whatever similar clever allegories I could come up with, but neither of them would play along with me, and each of my attempted references to our erstwhile pleasures fell to the floor with a resounding thud.

I was at a loss as to how to actually bring up the subject, because now, more than ever, I wanted to talk to them about. Not just do it - although I was quite willing to go there again! - but think about it, talk about it, figure it out! And I was consumed with curiosity as to how the whole thing affected them when I wasn't around - when they were alone together, what did they say, how did they act?

I finally realized that I was jealous, dreadfully jealous, of their standing intimacy, their daily contact, their similar age and status. They had so much more in common with each other than with me, when you got right down to it, and I soon became convinced that they must be playing around with each other, but without including me; that they were inevitably fucking and blowing each other at every opportunity. I imagined them in every conceivable position, using every possible combination of groins and faces and butts and cranks to get each other off, with balls and tongues and nipples thrown in to heighten the mix.

I knew this fantasy wasn't true, couldn't be true - these were two bona fide straight boys, I was pretty sure! And in any case, why was I so exercised about it, since after all they were just a couple of guys I knew from class, really nothing more than tricks, college kids fooling around? After a few weeks with no references to sex, gaiety, or any forest from either one of them, I figured the thing had played out, and I should just be glad they were still talking to me - not that I should really even care about that either! I tried to content myself with the doings of Jim'n'Tina and Meagan's parents, find some amusement in Billy's antics, and leave well enough alone.


Until, however, after several weeks, unusually celibate on my part, I might add, a very interesting and unexpected development took place; looking back, it was a crucial step along the path we were all, without knowing it, taking.

I was strolling along the faggot path deep in the College woods, way beyond the gay-straight sex club's suckatorium, down in an area where the serious cruising took place. I was, of course, without my clubmates - actually I was finally, seriously looking for some substitute to take their place! Not that I'd completely given up on my boys, but I was HORNY!

Coming up a little slope, I heard in the offing the unmistakable sounds of two men coupling, the slurpy, smacking sounds of good solid cocksucking. I immediately left the path and crept through the underbrush in my best Deerslayer imitation, hoping to catch a good hot scene and anxious to gauge the potential for joining it.

Moving carefully to the crest of the rise, I peered through a gap between two branches and was rewarded with the unexpected sight of Dave Rosen, leaning against a tree with his jeans and boxers pushed down around his knees, one hand holding up the hem of his t-shirt, the better to expose his hairy groin and massive dong to the happy attentions of his lucky companion. Kneeling in front of him, doing ample justice to his throbbing, steely, monster wang, was Randy the Redheaded Cocksucker, a well know denizen of the Building C tearoom and every other cruisey place on campus.

Randy was a true carrot top, a lanky, pale, freckled lad with a leprechaun's cheerfully cute face and a milk white cock almost as big as Rosencrantz's. He had sucked me off - and how! - at least four or five times before I ever realized how hung he was, and after that we always had to go through a little dance whenever we met, 'cause Randy LOVES to suck cock, and is pretty indifferent to getting blown, even though his pale, meaty crank in it's fluffy orange bower is eminently suckable - really, my favourite cock on campus, excepting (of course!)the members of my private gay-straight sex club! So I always had to try for it, and he always had to resist, although in fact we usually ended up each doing the other quite happily, by the time all was said and done!

Randy's beautiful crank was not in play today, though, being tucked safely in his unopened shorts. At the moment both boys were devoting their undivided and quite eager attention to Rosencrantz's beauteous boeuf.

I watched them for a long minute, considering but eventually rejecting the idea of stepping out to join them. I didn't want to scare Dave Rosen off, or complicate his apparent, tentative entrance into the College's surprisingly lively gay brotherhood. In fact, I was amazed at Rosencrantz's forwardness, entranced at the evident improvement he had made. All on his own he was filling in some of the missing course work between Gay Sex 101 and Gay Sex 350 which he and Elliot had so blithely skipped over at our last meeting! There hadn't been the slightest hint of this progress in our recently oh-so-trivial interactions during CS 212, and I was secretly thrilled at Elliot Markham's absence from the scene - at least they weren't cruising together!

So I just stood hornily by as Randy did his expert stuff, his skill well familiar to me from the numerous blow jobs he had given me during the past two semesters. I knew what Randy could do, and I was happy for Rosencrantz, knowing that he and, more importantly, his glorious tool, were having a wonderful time!

Just how wonderful was soon evidenced as Rosencrantz began to moan louder and louder, his hips bucking and thrusting against the pretty redhead's face, Randy sucking harder and harder, his breath control impeccable as he took Dave's monster wang deeper and deeper and sucked it faster and faster with nary a pause or a break in his accelerating rhythm, until Rosencrantz was crying out, twitching and spewing at full depth, clutching Randy's head against his crotch as he got a long, loud, satisfied nut.

Then, with amazing dispatch, he released Randy's carrot curls, whipped his cock out of his partner's face and his pants back up around his waist, mumbled some inaudible, half-formed nicety, and zoomed off down the trail, his whole face having turned during the process as red as I had ever seen it. Randy was still scrabbling to his feet, wiping the drool and cum off of his chin, as Rosencrantz trotted out of sight through the trees.

I stepped through the underbrush noisily, so as not to unduly startle Randy, who was crouched down, leaning back against the suck tree getting his breath back.

"Hey, Randy, hot suck!"

"Oh, hey Mark! Did you get a good look at that? I hope you did, 'cause that kid's got some kinda cock on him!"

"Oh, yea, I watched the whole thing. Great cocksucking, man!"

"Thanks" said Randy sheepishly, his eyes shining at my compliment.

I was rubbing my crank through my khaki shorts expectantly as I spoke, and Randy grinned and leaned forward, wrenching my waist band open and pulling my shorts and my jockeys smartly down around my ankles. Out popped my rock hard crank, it's sweet little hood peeling back, the pink cockhead peeking out, slimy with the nectar it had been abundantly shedding ever since I first happened upon the just completed little sex show.

"Have you ever seen that kid around before?" asked Randy as he grabbed my dick and gave it a good firm squeeze. Before answering him I moaned gently to let him know how much I was appreciating his manual dexterity.

"Yea, I've seen him around. Actually, he's in one of my classes."

"Really? What's his name?"

My heart suddenly sank, an unanticipated wave of jealousy and envy washing over me. Randy was Rosencrantz's age, his cock was bigger than mine and, truth be told, he was every bit as good a wang cranker as I was. Suddenly I was so angry at his interest in Dave Rosen that I actually started to loose my hard-on. This would never do!

"I'm not really sure - it's one of those huge survey classes." Well, the 'survey' part was true, even if every other word in the sentence was a lie! I hurriedly took it as my turn to ask questions.

"Have ya ever done him before? That cock looked like quite a juicy prize!"

"Yea, I did him last week. First time I ever saw him, actually, he was down here cruising. He was just wandering around - actually he hardly seemed to know what he was up to! He must be pretty shy I guess, 'cause once I finally got him to let me suck him off it was just like today, just wham, bam, thank you man, and he's outta here without a word! I mean, with a dick like that you don't really care if they have a lot to say or not, but he's so cute - who wouldn't want to get to know him better? You ever do him?"

"No, I wish! He's just some guy I know from class."

Randy made no reply, my crank being by that time well into the back of his mouth, and I proceeded to fuck the lad's head with gusto, pushing harder and deeper, moving more roughly and less forgivingly than I usually would have, working out my irritation and unease in the redhead's tight, clutching, talented throat. Soon enough I was throwing a load into his belly, and with a minimum of small talk afterwards I imitated Rosencrantz and made my way hurriedly off stage.

This event made my speculations about my boys even wilder and less probable, and my impatience at the on-going sex silence in CS 212 even more frustrating. My head was swimming! Was Elliott cruising too, somewhere else around campus? Of course he was - he was at the Green Door chatting up chicks! But what if he was, just like Rosencrantz, craving and missing what the three of us had been doing together - or was it just Rosencrantz and me? Why didn't one of them just convene our sex club if they were so horny? And how could two nineteen year old boys NOT be horny!?! What was going on?

Another nobody-here-but-us-straight-guys week went by, with more news about Meagan's crazy family and even more new threats to Billy's continued matriculation.

Then one day towards the end of the term we got back our last test before the final, and all three of us had aced it. This was of no apparent note to Dave Rosen, but it seemed to make Elliot Markham's day. He was loud and happy from the instant he found out the result, laughing and ribbing Rosencrantz about the two point difference in their marks - in his favour, he might add, and did. As the class broke up he gave Rosencrantz a look (which I immediately noticed) and then turned suddenly to me and asked, looking back and forth from me to Rosencrantz:

"Who wants to take a little woodland stroll, gentlemen?"

I grinned, looking over at Rosencrantz, who grinned right back. We both eagerly agreed.

We quickly went to the club's familiar suckatorium, with only a little idle chatter along the way about our pending final exam. I longed to ask them if they'd been missing our little sucks 'n fucks, or if they'd made up for the lack on their own, the image of Randy swallowing Rosencrantz's crank and taking his noisy load filling my mind, but I stifled the urge. As soon as we got there they both stripped, business-like and silent, and I followed their example, just pausing ro relish the sight of their flawless skin and lean, lithe bodies.

With no request for assent or consensus, Goldilocks issued the first command.

"Simon says: Suck Dave's cock all the way down!"

I fell to my knees and did just that.

"Simon says: pull back off on it and let me see ya' really work the head over... Yea, that looks good. Keep it up...work that slit man! Work it! I wanna see that tongue get up there... Yea! Just like that! Keep it up now... Okay, Rosen, grab his head and fuck it. That's it, get it all the way down... all the way down... Okay, fuck it! Fuck! Faster! Faster! Fuck that head, man! FUCK IT!"

Goldilocks was screaming so loud that I was about to undick Rosencrantz and try to make him shut up, alarmed lest we be revealed and have to stop our festivities, but Rosencrantz did it for me.

"SSHHHH! Keep it down, Markham! What the fuck is up with you, man!" he said in a stern whisper, not neglecting to keep his crank moving up and down in my throat as he chided his friend.

Goldilocks giggled but toned it down.

"Simon says: just keep boning his mouth, man! Work it, work it, work it! Fuck him, Rosen!"

Goldilocks seemed high almost, giddy and unfocused. I suddenly knew, from Rosencrantz's firm, demanding clutch on my head and shoulders, and the deep, focused intensity of his hip work as he fed me cock, that what he really wanted was to fuck me. He wanted to hold me tight and kiss me hard and fuck me long and slow. The realization that this was what he had in mind washed over me somehow, arising from the hungry look in his eyes, from the deep rocking probe of his hot teen rod in my gullet, and I knew that for the first time ever we were really out of sync with our ringmaster.

Nevertheless, I kept sucking, and Rosen kept feeding me cock. Goldilocks leaned over and started casually fingering my asshole. I squirmed happily and he pushed into me harder, eagerly fucking my butt.

"Simon says: keep sucking cock, Mark! Dave, I'm gonna fuck him while you keep gettin' head!"

"Okay, Simon!"

Maybe I wasn't all that right about what Dave Rosen wanted, for he seemed happy enough with Goldilocks' plan! And Goldilocks proceeded to carry out his plan, porking me with his fat cock while Rosencrantz kept pushing his wang into my sausage grinder. They began giggling and egging each other on as I whiffled along, trying to breathe and get cranked at both ends all at the same time!

But it was a happy kind of oxygen deprivation! Goldilocks was hitting my buzzbox with every stroke, his hands clutching my hips tightly, while Rosencrantz fucked my face with slow, gentle, very, very deep fucks, playing it deep within me, then pulling almost out and fucking just my mouth for awhile so I could breathe, but never pulling it completely out, never abandoning my sucking lips or craving tongue. Then it was back to the deep and steady, while Goldilocks kept up his skillful crank attack back behind.

Soon enough they were picking up their pace, still urging each other on, fucking deeper and harder, their cocks throbbing and glowing, their pants coming closer together, their balls tightening up, and suddenly they were trying unsuccessfully to slow things down, Goldilocks even crying out:

"Simon says: don't shoot! Don't cum yeeeeee...!",

even as both of them got their nuts, panting, calling out, gasping, jerking, thrusting, shooting hot cum every which way inside of me. Heaven, for that brief instant.

They did bother to suggest I jerk off, but they didn't bother to watch, officiously or otherwise, but instead got dressed, half turned away from me as I huffed and puffed through a quick wank all by myself and got my nut in the pine tags. No eager hands, no willing throat, no help of any kind! Oh, well. I was just glad to know that the sex club was still open for business.

The semester had wound its way down, and there were only a handful of classes left, but at the very next one our sex club had another meeting. Surprisingly, it was Rosencrantz who called it, the first time anyone but Goldilocks had ever made the motion, complicit as Rosencrantz had often been in Goldilocks' actions. I could see in Elliot's face that he wasn't that enthused, and I'm sure his hesitation in replying was so he could think of a reason to refuse, and his eventual assent simply because he couldn't think of anything convincing enough.

Not anything convincing enough to deter Dave Rosen, who seemed as excited and intent on hot, uninhibited, unpretentious and unhypocritical gay sex as Elliot himself had been the Monday before! So we both consented, me happily and immediately, Goldilocks tardily and reluctantly, and the three of us went to the woods.

We reached our sex log, stopped and stripped, but for the first time Goldilocks took the longest to get ready, and when he turned toward the impatient Rosencrantz and me, he still had on his t-shirt and he was slipping back into his slip-ons, as if he might have to run away during sex, a possibility which apparently had not occupied him the other four or five times we had used the suckatorium for play. Rosencrantz flinched, causing Goldilocks to say defensively:

"Hey, this is fine. My equipment is all in play!",

- ignoring the nipple play which his old pal had included at a previous meeting.

Rosencrantz shrugged and took charge, just as Goldilocks had the time before, ignoring Elliot's half clothed state.

"Simon says: Mark, get Elliot's cock hard. Suck it good now! Get it all the way down. That's it! Okay, just keep sucking, get him all hot there! Okay, now pull back. Eat out his slit! You know the drill! Lick, eat, suck, lick, eat! Now work that cockhead like a piece of candy. That's it! Keep on! Now do his balls! Lick em good. I wanna see all those hairs wet and sticky...!"

Rosencrantz talked me and his buddy around the world, sucking cock, licking balls, eating ass. As I worked him over Goldilocks relaxed and began to get into the spirit of things. By the time I got his cock good and slicked up and swallowed, he was giggling and happy; by the time I had both of his big hairless balls in my mouth, he had torn his t-shirt off and thrown it onto the log; and as soon as I got my tongue up his butthole as far as it would go he was pushing back hard, grinding his hips against my face with deep grunts of satisfaction and mumbling "Oh, yea! Oh, yea!" under his breath.

"Okay, love birds, break it up!" cried Rosencrantz, his hand on my shoulder pulling me out of the flawless trough where I was dining, while Goldilocks cried out in dismay.

"Simon says: Elliot lay back on that log! Just like I was before! Mark, get down there and suck him off good! Okay, lick balls, okay suck cock, okay suck harder! Deeper! All the way down - suck it! Suck it good! Okay, off of it..."

and he was rather roughly, once more, pulling me back by the shoulder as he straddled the log himself, placing himself between Goldilocks and me. He grabbed a hold of Goldilocks' by now familiar fat pink cock and started cranking it in his fist, giving it a good firm wanking, pulling and squeezing on his buddy's big round balls with his other hand.

"Simon says: Mark, eat me out back there!" Rosencrantz said, pushing his svelte, debonair little crack into my face. I dove in happily, tongue first, and as soon as was possible I was drilling my way to China, kissing and sucking on that tight little rosebud, my tongue enveloped in slick, silky boy butt.

"Jeez, Rosen, watch out, man! You're about to make me cum! I know you always wanted to beat me off, but if you don't watch out you actually will!" giggled Goldilocks.

I could feel Rosencrantz straighten up, and I had to move smartly to keep my tongue in his gut, but the change in angle must have done some sort of good, because Rosencrantz began to moan loudly and happily and pushed back even harder against my face.

"C'mon, Rosen, why doncha suck me off? You know you want to, you fag! I sucked you off, man, and I'm not even gay! C'mon, man, do it! DO ME, Rosen, you fag!"

They were both giggling and I heard Rosencrantz snort in loud derision, but seconds later I was following his boyish butt as it moved again, tracking his asshole down the log as he leaned forward towards Goldilocks' groin. I was so happy to be chewing him out, so gladly ensconced in his fresh, perfect little teenage ass, that it took every ounce of strength I had, and the certain knowledge that the coming sight would be well worth it, to wrench myself out of there. But I had to watch him finally take Elliot's fat pink crank into his mouth, and I did!

Rosencrantz was tentative at first, and looked almost as if he was gagging the second Goldilocks' glans was between his lips. He paused, took a deep breath, and finally pushed the pretty boy's luscious, meaty crank actually into his head. He paused with Elliot's cock just barely in his mouth and then raised his head back off of it, grabbing it again with the hand that wasn't still clutching Goldilocks' testicles.

"C'mon, Rosen, suck it, buddy! I sucked you!" cried Goldilocks.

"Okay, okay, I can do it!" said Rosencrantz.

He plunged back onto the glistening, steely rod, and got it well into the back of his throat this time. He paused, breathed in and out several times, and then, visibly relaxing, he pushed it into his throat. It slid down and down, Rosencrantz's powerful profile coming closer and closer to Goldilocks' impeccable six-pack, with its trail of coppery coloured pubies, all the way down to the root of Elliot Markham's juicy crank.

Rosencrantz got the hang of it pretty quickly. He began to slide back and forth, up and down, causing Goldilocks to groan loudly and buck his hips up off of the log and into Rosencrantz's face.

"Oh yea, Davy boy, that is GOOD!"

Rosencrantz kept bobbing happily up and down his friend's wang, his tongue darting here and there, his gag reflex apparently successfully tamed and his throat muscles apparently doing something right, for Elliot continued to groan and fuck his buddy's face with very enthusiastic but considerate, gently shallow thrusts, muttering his mantra of "Oh, yea, Davy boy! Oh, yea, Davy boy!".

Dave wiggled his butt in my direction and I drilled into it again, once more caressing those firm, soft cheeks with both hands, once more entering that crack of hairy delight, that asshole of satiny smoothness with as much of my face and lips and tongue as I could fit into them! We were all three going at it tongs and hammers, pants increasing, parts vibrating, when suddenly Rosencrantz brought an end to it.

"Simon says: Mark, offa my butt. Simon says: Elliot, lay back on your log!"

And before you could blink, Dave Rosen had stood up and come back down, substituting Elliot Markham's happy cock for my disappointed tongue, squatting right onto his old pal's six-pack this time, spearing Goldilocks' crank deep into his butt. I had Rosencrantz's asshole quite well opened up, I can assure you, and the golden-spiked boy's tool slid in like a dream. Rosencrantz crouched down, bent into the most lascivious position imaginable, his ass pressing down, his butt cheeks mashing against Goldilocks' hips. It was a fearless act and a stunning sight, and I was once more happy to just sit and watch.

Rosencrantz's head was arched back and his mouth was half opened, a look of vacant ecstasy on his face, eyes unfocused, breaths deep and quick. He wriggled his torso and worked his butt a little in the cup of Goldilocks' narrow hips, his back arching tighter as little panting moans began to issue from his throat.

Goldilocks had an almost equally rapturous look on his face, eyes shining, lips just barely parted, forehead just slightly creased with concentration as he began to fuck slowly up into Rosencrantz's butthole. Gradually he increased the depth and force of his fucks, until suddenly they both cried out and opened their eyes wide and locked glances, their crotches moving together, their faces moving together, their eyes each still trapped in the other's eyes.

I watched incredulously as their arms snaked around each other, their faces drew even closer, and then their lips, their mouths and tongues were all wrapped up together, and their embrace was total, arm-in-arm, face-in-face, cock-in-butt, shoulder to shoulder and lip to lip, tongue to tongue and hip to hip. They were braced together, panting, kissing, fucking, scuffling unsteadily on the fallen log. Half rotten bark flew in all directions as I watched my two boys make love.

Elliot was bucking uncontrollably, his hands griping Rosencrantz's waist so he could fuck all out, and David was pushing back just as hard, grinding against Goldilocks' thrusting hips with one hand on Elliot's shoulder and the other vigourously wanking his own massive wang. My boys were getting noisy, adding to the juicy slapping of their pounding flesh a peculiar sniffling whine as they tried to get at their breath and each other's tonsils both at the same time. It couldn't last and it didn't, but while it did they showed an utter lack of consciousness of me and the rest of the world, an utter lack of scruples or embarrassment, and the most magnificently shameless exhibition of the dirty-dirty since day one!

They got their nuts precisely together, Rosencrantz shooting gob after juicy gob of thick milky spunk onto Goldilocks' massive pecs and trim little six-pack as Goldilocks' crank shot what we all knew were equally impressive gobs deep into Rosencrantz's gut. They both attempted to maintain their mouth-to-mouth grip, but the intensity of their mutual orgasm was too great. Within seconds they simultaneously separated, threw back their heads, and cried out in a cum chant of joy and release, tailing off into giggles, pants and little moans of pleasure and pain as the wave crested and passed.

There was a heavy breathed pause as Rosencrantz shifted his weight and relieved his well exercised legs. He moved again, carefully and deliberately, and Goldilocks' still rampant cock popped out of his buddy's butthole with a loud pop. Rosencrantz giggled but Goldilocks didn't. And that filthy, happy noise was exactly what his crudely salacious sense of humour should have found amusing. We both turned to look at him.

Elliot swung his feet to the ground and sat up straight at one end of the log. His eyes were on the ground and his face had shifted into a closed, vacant expression. Rosencrantz's laughter died away as we looked to see what was up with Goldilocks.

"Jeez, Rosen! What the fuck did ya' do that for?!?" he barked out. He was frowning now, wiping cum off of his chest with one hand and flinging it into the pine tags as he reached for his clothes and his book-bag with the other.

"He's supposed to be the fag, not us! Why couldn't we just stick to a nice simple blow job from the fag? !?!?"

Goldilocks gathered his things up with a swoop and rose to his feet, his shrunken cock smaller than I had ever seen it and even fatter than usual, and drooling a long silver thread of jizz.

"Jeez, Dave, did it ever occur to you that we're turning into a couple of faggots? Well, I always knew you were a fag but I'm not, buddy, and that's just the way it is..."

Even as Goldilocks spoke he was moving up the trail, the last part of this speech delivered over his shoulder. He trotted a couple of dozen yards down the path before pausing to throw his clothes and shoes back on, as if he had to put some distance between him and us without any delay. As he paused to pull on his shorts and slip-ons, I called out:

"C'mon, Goldilocks!"

but he ignored me, disregarding or not recognizing the private nickname I had mistakenly blurted out, jogging away from us at an insultingly fast run.

I turned to Rosencrantz. He was the perfect picture of abashment - deflowered, deflated, defeated. Without thinking, without hesitation, I went up and put my arms around him, clutching his warm, smooth skin, pulling the lean hairiness of his chest against me. He bent over me for a minute, actually letting me carry his weight for a few brief seconds of clutching, comforting warmth, and then he straightened up, stepped away from me and spat out bitterly:

"Well, I'm not a fag either, so I guess you're on your own, Fillippi!"

He dressed without another word, his breath loud and angry, and stalked after Elliot down the trail.

Now where was I?

The next Friday the 2:00 PM class of CS 212 had another fundamental class reorientation. I was only the second or third person to arrive and I sat, with much trepidation, in my usual seat. Elliot Markham, entering the room directly after I did, went straight to the far end of the third row, as far across the room from me as he could get, and began flirting egregiously with the second ugliest girl in that interminable line of young women.

As the two of them giggled and cooed under my incredulous eye, Dave Rosen came in, glanced at me, scanned the room for Goldilocks, and sat immediately in the seat nearest the door, at the end of the second row farthest from Elliot. Dr. Clayton, entering the room a few seconds later, looked around and was slightly puzzled until he realized why the class looked so unfamiliar. He glanced at me with raised eyebrows as he shuffled his notes and began his lecture.

Things stayed like that for the rest of the course. As far as I could tell relations were as cold between Rosencrantz and Goldilocks themselves as between Rosencrantz or Goldilocks and me. Goldilocks spent the tag end of the term browsing through the third row, sitting between two different luckily giggling girls each remaining class period, to the great puzzlement of Dr. Clayton, while Dave Rosen and I stayed put in our new, respectively distant, seats, ignoring each other and trying unsuccessfully to ignore Goldilocks, which was all but impossible, given the giggling and flirting and occasional near hysterics which his antics all too reliably provoked.

And that was that, or so I thought. We all three came to the exam, took it, aced it and left, without saying good-bye to each other or anyone else. For a few weeks I assumed that our story was over, but I wasn't quite right about that.

That summer I had an internship during which I discovered that I had indeed learned something during my courses, after all, even good ol' CS 212, although I learned a hell of a lot more over the summer! I was commuting to a near-by city for the internship but still living in my condo near campus. The firm I was working in offered very little in the way of after hours comradeship, which was fine with me. I saw my family on the fourth and had dinner occasionally with my parents, but I was really very busy. Although I was free to stay in the city after work and go clubbing with the gay boys, or to meet friends and go to a concert or whatever if I really wanted to, mostly I just went home alone and crashed.

I didn't have a boy friend, nor was I looking; I could get blown at any one of several places around campus or in the city whenever I wanted to or needed it, and sometimes after work I went and sucked off a summer student or two - or vice versa! -- in the good ol' College woods.

And that was where, not long after the fourth of July, cruising the queer part of the woods on one of those horny evenings after work, I stumbled upon Randy the Redheaded Cocksucker fucking Dave Rosen, not far past our little suckatorium that was.

Randy and I had sucked each other off a few times during the summer, but I hadn't seen Rosencrantz since our final exam in CS 212. Now there he was, naked and on all fours at the edge of the path, his shorts balled up around one ankle, and what I took to be his tank top hanging from a near-by branch. Randy was also mostly naked, wearing only a choker of glittery blue and green beads and a pair of slip-ons, and cranking his big red and white piece of meat lustily in and out of Rosencrantz's delicious, ultra-cute little ass.

Rosen was panting and squealing with pleasure, his head down, his butt moving in perfect sync with Randy's thrusting hips. Randy was working his cock in David's butt with a steady, focused rhythm, and somehow from the look of things I could tell that our carrot-topped buddy was neither close to nor the least bit interested, really, in getting his nut.

Randy was fucking with the deliberate, probing strokes of a man who has already cum once or twice. Clearly, he was not going for the desperate, mindlessly gonad driven, tunnel visioned, gotta-have-it, head-for-the-homestretch-outta-my-way-man! NUT that is the inevitable goal of every truly horny boy upon first getting his throbbing crank good and tight into a hot, slick hole like David Rosen's after any significant absence - oh no!

No, right now Randy was enjoying the luxury - if not rare, then certainly always welcome - of being able to fuck at his leisure, driven not by the siren call of a hot load boiling up in his nuts, but by the lusty pounding and lascivious bucking of his hips, the ineluctable sexiness of his balls jiggling against someone else's, the fleshy warmth of his partner's skin, the exquisite sensation in the slit of his dick as it slides past tongue or gut, the reassuring cling of sphincter or lip on his crank as it moves in and out, back and forth, thrusting and sliding at will, now slow, now fast, now hard, now soft, pausing, lingering, stretching it out, in the happy knowledge that with just a little concentration just a little more jism can be conjured up at any time, but with the secure confidence that no urgent, undeniable need to merely jazz will interrupt his willful prolongation and deliberate enjoyment of such good, nasty, deeply satisfying fucking.

So I surmised that the duo had been at it for some time, that they had already sucked or fucked their way to a conclusion once - if not more times! - already, and that what I had stumbled upon was dessert, so to speak. Randy kept his crank buried in Rosencrantz's ass, working it in deep, deep little circles way down inside, then drawing it back slowly so he could do a little real pounding, then back to the deep, deep probing. Rosencrantz moaned with lascivious satisfaction each time Randy changed his approach, applauding the probing, then welcoming the thrusting, and then applauding the probing again when it reappeared!

They were having waaaay too much fun to be left to their own devices! Despite a little unease as to how Rosencrantz might react, I decided almost instantly to join them. I was well within my rights according to campus protocol - the path was a perfectly public place, after all - so I slipped out of my clothes, worked up a hard, and stepped out of the bushes to reveal myself.

Randy greeted my arrival with a welcoming grin, but Rosencrantz for several long seconds had no idea I was there, his face buried in his arms as moans and pants and his cherry red butthole claimed all of his attention. But soon enough he looked up and saw me - and giggled, blushed, smiled shyly and put his head back down into the crook of his arms! Reassured, I stepped forward, and with neither prolonged pause nor further discussion, a lucky David Rosen got cranked at both ends, Randy's wang still usefully buried in his butt and my eager cock soon sliding up and down his throat.

Rosencrantz took my throbbing crank all the way down without a hitch, his lips and tongue fully knowledgeable, his throat open and willing, his mouth a fuckhole for my cocky pleasure - it was clear the boy had been practicing! I gave him a test run to check out his progress, fucking him just a little brutally, asking of him just a trifle demandingly, pushing into him just a bit too hard, too deep, too fast - and he passed it all with flying colours.

"Davy, you are some kinda cocksucker! You go to town, baby - suck me, Davy, suck me!"

And he did. Randy and I porked that boy but good, grinning at each other down the length of his lanky back as our cranks worked together inside of him, gradually pushing and squirming until we could get our faces together and lash tongue even as we lashed cock in our respective Rosencrantz holes! Oh, sooo hot!

I was tired from work and unlike Randy I hadn't cum (not even by my own lonely hand!) for several days, and so my powers of resistance were few. Before long I was choking out my cum pant, and Randy began to quicken the pace of his butt fucking as I let my cock drift just on the edge of ecstasy deep in Rosencrantz's warm, wet, eagerly clinging gullet, my balls jiggling happily against his perfectly modeled chin.

Seconds later Dave was gulping down my freshly churned cum, pulling my pulsating crank out into his mouth so he could breath a little as I blasted my last hot gobs of jism against the back of his throat, swirling my cockhead around on his tongue and thirstily coaxing the last drizzles of jizz from my slit.

"Oh yea, eat that scum, baby, taste that hot sweet jizz for hot sweet jizz's own sweet sake!" I cried, and Rosencrantz giggled as he panted, my rod still steely and twitching on his happy tongue - so he did remember our cum eating lesson from so long ago!

Randy, meanwhile, was still heaving and panting his way to glory, his hands holding Rosencrantz's hips in a relentless grip as he fucked his crank deeper and deeper, faster and faster, harder and harder into Rosencrantz's asshole. His pants turned to a moaning cum cry, with spikes of sound coming upon every pulse of his cumming cock as it throbbed and shot, embedded as deep into Rosen's gut as two joyful boys could both get it.

We collapsed into a giggling pile, hugging the still warm pine tags in the slight evening chill.

"Hey, Rosen, didja cum again? Ya' want me to suck ya' off?" asked Randy solicitously as we all got our breath back, and I knew my boy was starting to grow up when he sighed and replied,

"Shit, after gettin' fucked like that!?! Who needs anything more after that! Anyway, twice is enough for me at one time! Meet me tomorrow morning in Building C and I'll collect a bj then!"

"Okay, you're on! See ya' there at ten, per usual, okay?"

We were all stumbling into our clothes in the rapidly fading summer light, surprised to be caught in the dark and amazed that it was well after nine! Rosencrantz and Randy took off down the trail, chatting about some required course they were both going to have to take in the fall and I made no attempt to keep up with them, too tired and too bemused by the unexpected encounter with my old sex club buddy.

So Rosencrantz was fulfilling Goldilocks' prophecy of gayness, or at least well on his way! It actually surprised me more than it didn't - he had always seemed the shyer and less daring of the two, but I guess if you're gay there's nothing particularly daring about liking cock! And like cock Rosencrantz undoubtedly did!

By the time summer was over I was impatient for my next and final round of courses. My internship had let me see much more clearly both the gaps in my knowledge and where I might want to take my career. I hotfooted it back to campus on the first day of classes, making the round of bookstore, bursar's and Building C in a cheerful frame of mind, catching up with acquaintances, greeting old classmates, and reaming out a slightly overwhelmed but very fortunate freshman's throat in front of an appreciative crowd in the middle of the tearoom floor!

On the second day of term, I discovered that Rosencrantz was in one of my classes. We sat apart, not noticing each other at first. I finally caught his eye and waved, and he came right up to me after class with a grin on his handsome mug.

"Hey, Mark, how's it going? How was your summer?"

We chatted briefly, all awkwardness apparently over. As soon as the niceties were disposed of, and before any ambiguous 'What's next?' pause could develop, Dave burst out with:

"Mark, can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Well, I was supposed to share an apartment this year with Randy and a couple of other guys, but it turns out Randy didn't quite have the right to offer me the room, or something like that. I went over there the other night and Randy and this other guy had an argument, which turned into a huge screaming fight, and I sorta ran right outta there! I don't think I could live with those guys even if they could figure it all out! So I just wanted to know, could you ask around and see if anyone you know has a free room or is looking for a roommate? 'Cause day after tomorrow is the last day to apply for overflow dorm rooms, and if I gotta, I gotta, but I'll end up in a triple or even a..."

He let the dread word 'quadruple' remain unspoken. The handful of four-way rooms on campus were notorious hell-holes, the butt of jokes and libels, and the recourse of only the most desperate.

"So if you hear about anything, please... I'll take a broom closet! Here, this is my number..." and he tore a corner off of a sheet from his notebook, laboriously composing his number upon it as I stood by speculating.

This was undoubtedly the longest speech he had ever addressed to me since the very first day of CS 212, when he had Elliot Markham to do most of his talking for him! Furthermore, it was a speech which might finally open a door to that unseen world occupied, last term at least, by Jim'nTina, Billy Daingerfield, mad Meagan's flaming family, and ... Elliot Markham, of course.

"Here. This is my cell number, so..."

"Wait, wait, hold up! I know about a room already."

"You do!?! Really? Whose apartment? As long as it's not 'The Severed Arms'!" he said, giggling and naming a wretched slum at the south entrance to the College. I still hesitated.

"No, really, 'The Severed Arms' is great, man! I was just kidding..."

"How about a nice big room with private bath, in a townhouse with a fireplace and an inside parking garage?"

"What? What's up with that? WHERE?"

I gave him the name of my condominium estate.

"Whoa, Mark, I can't afford that! How many guys are living there already, anyway?" He was looking at me a little suspiciously. I just grinned.

"Hey, is this like the time you were gonna do those two guys right in front of us?"

I nodded.

"So, is this your place we're talking about? Is this a room in your house?"

"It's a condominium, not a house!"

"Yea, well I could have guessed! How much a month? I mean, what... how..."

"We can settle all that later, if you want to take the room. I'm thinking a crack at that pretty little ass of your's once a week and maybe a blow job every now and then ought to take care of rent and utilities ... we'll have to see about groceries when the time comes!"

Rosencrantz giggled a little uncertainly, but both relief and lust were plainly evident in his face and grin and the way he moved closer to me as we drifted together down the bustling corridor.

"As long as you don't expect me to spend all my time on my knees!"

"Hey, nobody said anything about who was gonna blow whom, 'every now and then', now did they...!"

One afternoon just a few weeks later, with Rosencrantz happily ensconced in my guest room, I was grabbing a quick lunch in the College caf. I was on cloud nine because Rosencrantz had been paying his rent so well and so often! We had agreed to a minimum payment of one blow job a week and one good hot fuck every month, to be drawn out as long as I wanted to draw it out, and already, Rosencrantz was several months ahead on his rent! Not only that, but he was already at home enough to pee with the door open, to wander around the apartment in his underwear at all hours, and to grace the breakfast table stark naked with an enormous morning woodie. An excellent roomie!

As I worked my way down the serving counter I noticed a strikingly pretty young woman, with a pale oval face and thick, glossy dark hair, glaring towards me from down the line. I looked over my shoulder to see who she was so mad at, but saw no one. I looked back a few seconds later and she was still glaring, apparently at me! I had no idea who she was or why she was singling me out if her food was bad or insufficient, so I ignored her.

I watched her in the dining room nonetheless, after carefully sitting far away from her table, and I noted who she was with, and was able to approach one of them, a guy I knew from a class, a few days later after lecture. Describing the girl to him, I asked if he knew her, not even bothering to explain why. He looked confused for a second, and then said:

"Oh, Meagan! Yea, Meagan Jones. She's quite a looker, isn't she?"

Not that I cared, but I couldn't help wondering what she thought she knew about me that was so irritating, who had informed her of it, and why it had bent her so out of shape? Was it even about me - or was it about David Rosen? - or maybe Elliot Markham?

The year followed on. Rosencrantz and I got along very well. He was a good roommate, quiet and relaxed, kept house at the same desultory speed that I did, didn't bring too many tricks home, and happily shared most of them with me, circumstances permitting. His rent was always paid promptly and entirely in trade, since I refused to take any cash from him, his beautiful monster wang being much better endowed than his wallet ever was! Rosen had a local scholarship from a small civic group back in his hometown, and he and his parents had been struggling to keep him in school. And in truth, I don't think I asked Rosencrantz too much more for rent and utilities and groceries than he himself felt like paying!

We hung out a lot, having some friends more-or-less in common and some apart. Rosencrantz still saw Billy Daingerfield, who came by our apartment occasionally, always bringing a party with him, and playing the same role in our life as he had in last year's group - pot, E and superior vantage point all included! And one day in the street Rosencrantz introduced me to Jim'nTina, the four of us standing around awkwardly on a busy College sidewalk. But the old group had lost its cohesion, at least as far as Rosencrantz was concerned, and I never did enter the soap opera world I used to glimpse from the next row back during CS 212. Dave neither mentioned nor apparently ever saw Elliot Markham, and the few times I referred to that name, my roommate clammed right up and made his disinterest distinctly clear.

We seemed to have a lot of three ways - I guess you could say that we stayed true to our initial pattern! Randy came over a lot to fuck and suck, especially during the first semester that Rosencrantz lived in my condo. The redhead was very sweet and solicitous and available and dropped frequent hints about how roomy the guest room was and how cramped and crowded his three bedroom, five man apartment was! Rosencrantz and I studiously ignored the hints, but we did appreciate his organs and his orifices, and we really loved it when he sometimes brought over a roommate or two and we could have an orgy in the basement rec room.

Rosencrantz very reliably brought home guys from Building C or the woods - one good look at his giant, throbbing crank and most of the patrons there would follow him anywhere! We did try to keep trash out of the house but it was hard - I mean difficult! I insisted throughout that it was just common sense to help prevent each other from needing the services supplied in Building C - or at least, from needing them as often or as urgently we otherwise doubtless would! Rosencrantz happily agreed with me...

One drunken, very high week-end Rosencrantz and I even did Billy Daingerfield, who thereafter started insisting on a blow job whenever he dropped by and was always bugging us to let him bring some girl friend or other over with him for a four-way! We refused his requests for a pussy visit, but on the other hand, we never spurned his cock - he had only to hint at a blow job to receive a good, hot, juicy, cock rattling, ball licking, ass eating roll on the living room floor, Dave passing him off to me, me passing him off to Dave, both of us hoping to be the one to eat our crazy friend's drug-laden load even as we each did our best to delay it for as long as possible!

As long as I still took courses, Rosencrantz and I studied together, panicked together during exams, and got to really know each other through work. We spent a lot of our library time in collaboration and took a class together every semester I was in school. We studied other topics together as well - I showed him how to pick up guys in the stacks, which broom closets and boiler rooms around campus had broken locks or no locks and were thereby always available for purposes of 'instant' sex, and where all the prime, rush-hour, late-nite, occasional and even desperation cruising spots were around campus, town, and the near-by city where I had had my internship.

In particular, I got Rosencrantz over a rough spot at the end of his junior year, when he looked to be tanking in Professor Ballingham's World History 201 class, one of four courses required to be passed before a BA could be received from good ol' State College, and a class which Rosencrantz had already failed under a different professor.

I entered into some delicate negotiations with the instructor, having overheard more than one story about Ballingham's exploits being told by more than one student in the Olney Field House locker room. After the notorious teacher and I had worked our way through an unnecessarily prolonged feint-and-thrust - the professor liked to play word games too! - and after no less than three peremptory demands for blow jobs - one of which was 'around the world' and all of which were 'to the finish' as quaintly specified by the bargainer! - my negotiations were finally successfully concluded and towards the end of the term Rosencrantz and I had the tall, spare, silver-haired Professor over to the condo for drinks and dinner and, as it turned out, more drinks.

His wife, his two delectable teen-aged sons and his sweet little girl, the apple of his eye, were not invited.

Ballingham really was something of a silver fox, with the thin, soft skin of a certain age but rangy and sinewy and trim, possessed of an aristocratic profile and an impeccable little goatee, elegant, well groomed, and blessed with a long, plump, beige dong that was quite lovely and ALWAYS hard. Each of the three times he made me blow him - always in his office - he was as hard as a rock when I arrived, sitting back in his desk chair masturbating openly with his pants around his ankles, twice right in front of his desk, and once across the room, a little back but not too far back from a large, unshaded, unblinded, uncurtained, and unshutterred window. All I could see out of it was sky, but then I was on my knees on the floor most of the time I was there! And every time I left his office, he was trying to get the same equally hard, equally big and equally swollen crank back under a pair of silk boxers and into his dapper black dress pants.

On the appointed evening, as the after-dinner drinks were poured in front of the blazing fireplace, the professor leaned forward.

"Now, Mr. Rosen, here is our final agreement. In return for your complete and total cooperation with every sexual request I may make of you and Mr. Fillippi, from now to no later than 2:00 am tomorrow morning, I will guarantee you, Mr. David Rosen, a passing grade in World History 201. I shall furthermore guarantee that if his course work deserves better than passing, he shall get what he earns. Now please, gentlemen, take off ALL of your clothes..."

Before too long the good Doctor was living up to his name, fucking Rosencrantz's hot little bubble-butt for hours on our living room floor, during most of which time (upon his orders) I ate out his academical ass with abandon! Ballingham liked to fuck every which way, and used every position to great advantage and with an indefatigable intensity. He liked to fuck doggy style, he liked to fuck lying down sideways, he liked to fuck face to face; he fucked Rosen front to back while laying on top of the lad and he fucked Rosen with the lad's ankles thrown over his shoulders. He fucked in a squat and he fucked standing up and he even fucked Rosencrantz back to back for a while!

Ballingham occasionally switched back and forth between our two buttholes over the course of this debauch, making his preference for Rosencrantz's deliciously tight, temptingly young, impeccably shapely little butt perfectly clear, but using us both with exhaustive thoroughness. He made us keep a warm soapy washcloth in a silver ice bucket to wipe the santorum off of his crank whenever he wanted to interrupt the ass action so he could get sucked for awhile.

Ballingham seemed to enjoy fucking Rosencrantz's mouth almost as much as he enjoyed fucking Rosen's asshole, but despite the energy with which he hipped our boy's jaw and lips, balled his chin, pubied his forehead, and despite the whiney groans which fucking Dave Rosen's beautiful head inspired in him, he spent most of his suck time making me suck him, claiming my exquisite talent for head was the first he had ever found to equal pretty Randy O'Donnell's! I was so pleased!!

As you might expect, he didn't so much get sucked as fuck head! He was energetic and relentless and always in charge. He loved to stand over his cocksucker, straddling his head and thoroughly cranking the cocksucker's lips and mouth and throat with his steady, rock hard, insatiable fuckrod.

When all was said and done, however, he finally chose to get his nut in his anxious student's fresh, tight hole, one hand reaching up to grab the lad's neck imperiously and guide his long, muscular back and narrow, boyish butt into the desired position for his final attack, the other reaching down to squeeze and caress David Rosen's long, round, silky yet firm testicles as he fucked. He had finally quit ringing changes on us and just fucked Rosencrantz hard and deep, deeper and harder, keeping the same hip pounding attack up for a good twenty minutes, leaving his victim gasping for air and beating out a tattoo of lust and buzzing ecstasy and hyperventilation as the silver haired sex maniac finally lost his load!

I looked at the clock. Ballingham had been porking us one way or another for just short of four hours! Okay, subtract a half hour or so for pee and panting breaks, and a few stray minutes taken now and then out of the fuck-fest to spend fiddling with wicks, fetching whipped cream and chocolate sauce and reassuring the old lady next door that no one was being murdered - say, still, more than three hours! And in all that time it was his first and only nut!

Rosencrantz got a B+ in World History 201. Some might call the evening wasted, but Rosencrantz and I actually invited Dr. Ballingham back for drinks several times after that!

With some aplomb I was able to nurse my poor boy through a few tragic but inexplicably fleeting affairs of the heart, never quite letting Rosencrantz realize how much I had done to chase those unworthy boys away! And even during the worst of the sturm und drang, I saw to it that he kept my dick well exercised, what with rent and utilities and groceries.

Before you knew it I had finished my abbreviated course work and received the new extension of my old degree. I had a 'real' job briefly with the firm where I had done my internship, then got a better one in a smaller group working right in town, no more commuting. Rosencrantz kept up his arrangement with me all through his senior year, until a few weeks before graduation, when he finally moved out of the guest room where he had lived for almost two years.

With the end of school and a new phase of his life he needed a new scene, a more responsible life, a move up. Sooo - he shifted into the master bedroom instead - and I still took the rent out of his svelte, lustful hide!

The only dangling thread left was tied up the day after graduation, when we each received a highly engraved, very last minute invitation to the nuptials of Elliot Wenger Markham and Meagan Hancock Jones. After some hesitation we went, attired in our best, and watched the two of them walk down the aisle.

Elliot looked pretty good. It was more than two years since I had seen him except from quite a distance - there had been no dramatic or startling face-to-face encounters, and if Rosencrantz had ever run into his old friend he hadn't mentioned it.

The highlights were gone, and the bleaching, and his hair was back to what I guess was his natural medium coppery brown colour. Stunning, even though it now gave the lie to his old nickname. He was still very pretty, still short legged, still stacked. However, the bloom he had had at nineteen was already fading at twenty-one, and there was already the tiniest bit of coarseness to his skin, the prediction of a sag along his jowl, and worst of all, the most subtle, gossamer hint of a bald spot on the back of his head!

Jim'nTina were best man and maid of honour respectively, and the second ugliest girl from row three of CS 212 was the other bridesmaid. But the best part of all for Rosencrantz and me was the guy who was paired with her, a guy who was both chief usher and Elliot's new best friend, a guy whom everyone at the wedding was talking about. He strode right by us (in a very tightly fitted rented tux!) as the bridal party retreated down the aisle, giving us a big happy grin in the process - Randy the Redheaded Cocksucker!

Rosencrantz and I giggled and wept and held hands together all through the ceremony and generally irritated the hell out of most of the nuptial pair's friends and relations. Comparing notes quietly as the pastor droned on, we realized that neither of us had so much as glimpsed Randy in any of his usual haunts for weeks, if not months, nor enjoyed the pleasant company of either his accomplished throat or his meaty beaty wang for even longer - so that's where he'd been!

We spent the reception speculating, perhaps just a little too loudly, as to how long it would be before Meagan caught Elliot and Randy getting it on together, and who would be doing what to whom when she inevitably did!

The last cogent thing we heard at the reception was that the pair were honeymooning in a cute little cottage on some ritzy lake at Randy's great-uncle's fishing camp, and that Randy would be staying in another cottage there on the property. Upon hearing this news neither of us could avoid dissolving into hysterical, uncontrollable and eventually unignorable laughter, but fortunately the glares and comments we were provoking were cut short, and we ourselves were able to slip away, during the pandemonium which ensued after Billy upset the punch bowl!

In the end, though, we really didn't care that much. Rosencrantz and Goldilocks were dead, and Dave Rosen and I had better things to do.