Date: Mon, 12 Jan 2009 23:23:11 -0500
From: mark4four@gmail.com
Subject: We Need a Daddy Part 3

We Need a Daddy Part 3

By Frank Lee

I should have figured that I would be walking bowlegged for days after my
first fucking by Mr. Collins. He has a dick that I labeled the "weapon of
ass destruction" as soon as Chip and I got him out of his clothes that
first day we had him over to the house to recruit him as our daddy. Even
soft that thing hung like a battering ram between his legs. When he stroked
it or one of us worked it over with hands and mouth, it puffed up into a
fully aroused, lethal log.

Yes, I hurt down there for days, even more than when Chip and I would
reverse our usual roles and I'd get him to poke me in the ass. Chip is no
piker when it comes to cock size. That is one of the things about him that
made me go ga-ga back in school every time I got a glimpse of his awesome
teen body.

It's funny, thinking back. The two of us went practically through all our
school years together trying to convince the world and each other that we
were the two straightest jocks at Ridgemont, when in reality, all the while
we were pining for each other like a couple of hungry puppies. I'd jerk off
at home in the morning and two or three times after school, but still it
seemed like I always had blue balls, because nothing could satisfy my
hunger for Chip's affection. But could I tell him that? No way. Not in a
thousand years. What a dumbass I was all that time. Him too.

I remember the first time I learned what "blue balls" meant. It was Art
Rooney, a pal of my older brother Jim, who told me. I later came to suspect
that Art might be gay, partly because he sometimes seemed to be making a
play for Chip. But way before that, one day when he was at our house
studying with Jim, I overheard them talking and heard that phrase, "blue
balls." I was too embarrassed to ask Jim directly what it meant. He and I
got along fine, but he never seemed comfortable mentoring me in the ways of
the world, especially sex. Hell, he was only two years older, but whenever
I would start asking him facts-of-life questions that a young teenager is
plagued by 24/7, he'd clam up and try to change the subject. He was almost
as bad as my dad in terms of communication. So when Art went downstairs to
make a phone call, I followed him. After he hung up I asked what it meant.

"Ha ha, so you heard us talking about that, eh?" said Art.

"Yeah, it seems like something to do with sex if the balls are these down
here," I said pointing to my crotch. "But I can't imagine why my balls
would turn blue."

Art stared at my crotch long enough for me to suspect he was longing to
touch it. Then he snapped out of it with a shake of his head.

"OK, listen," he said. "I guess you are old enough, but don't tell Jim that
I've been teaching you dirty words. He'd clobber me. But it's really not a
dirty word at all, and nothing to be ashamed of or afraid of. It just means
that you need to get your rocks off – you know what that means, right?
–and you don't do it for days or weeks and the jizz keeps building up
inside your balls until they ache. It can get pretty painful. The best way
to cure it is to cum, whether you're by yourself or with somebody else. How
often do you jerk off?"

I was taken aback by the question, but I told him: At least twice a day,
sometimes more.

"Well," he said, "keep beating your meat that often and you should have no
problem with blue balls."

I nodded, and he made me repeat my promise not to tell Jim about our
conversation. It struck me as odd that he'd say "with somebody else"
instead of "with a girl." That was my first inkling that he might be
attracted to boys. I had no idea then that he would also turn out to be a
threat to my happiness.

That is what Chip and I had together: Real happiness.

Before we brought Mr. Collins into our lives we had many days when we'd
shut out the rest of the world and suck and fuck each others' brains out,
just us two horny bad boys. And we tried to keep the sex exciting and
fresh.

One Friday night Chip brought home the first of what would become a pretty
extensive collection of sex toys. It's a battery-operated vibrating dildo,
flesh colored and with a big, plum-like head and a good sized shaft. Our
dicks are both good and thick, but this fake dick is thicker than either
one. You turn a knob at the base to make it quiver and purr.

The first time we used it Chip had me lie on the bed, face down, and
proceeded to give me a full-body massage with that think turned up to the
max. As he ran it over my skin, up and down my sides, all over my back, I
started imagining it inside my ass. Just the thought of all that giant
shaft quaking inside me gave me a raging hard-on. My stiff dick rubbed
between my abs and the bed sheet, getting progressively harder. By the time
he laid the toy along my ass crack, I was already leaking. I could feel the
moisture on my stomach. Chip reached around under me and took hold of my
dick, wrapping his fist around it like a tight man hole.

"I figured you'd be turned on when I turned this thing on," he
chuckled. "Fuck my fist while I get you ready for a new sensation up your
ass."

He was talking like an expert. He told me later that he'd had more than one
vibrating dildo up his butt and, knowing what the sensation did to him, was
pretty sure I'd be just as excited. I told him it was already happening in
my imagination and I couldn't wait to feel it for real.

"Patience, my love, patience," he teased.

He kept rubbing my ass crack with the vibrator and, with his other hand,
squeezing my cock tightly so I could fuck his fist and feel like I was
plugging a tight butt.

"I like the feel of your love juice wetting my palm," he said.

With that he pulled his hand from under me and put his palm up to my
lips. I licked the pre-cum off and kept licking his palm so when he put it
back it would be plenty lubed for lots more simulated fucking.

Now he was ready to impale me with that marvelous, magical toy. He poured
some lube all over his fingers and stuffed them up my hole, twisting a
little so the sphincter walls were plenty wet. Then he lathered some more
lube on the vibrator and put the quivering head of it against my butt
hole. Once he was done with the lubing and prepping, he repositioned his
wet, lubricated fist around my cock.

Oh, man, was that ever hot! Between the fist I was fucking and the big dick
head poised at my back door, I can't remember my whole body ever before
having such a thoroughly pleasurable sensation. He held the vibrator there
at my rosebud a while, pressing it in between my ass lips then taking it
away, then putting it back. Every time the head was gently positioned
against my pucker I went nuts. I knew this thing would be even more
enjoyable once inside, but I wanted this sex session to last a long time,
so I was willing to let him take as much time as he wanted with the
foreplay. Finally, I told him I couldn't take the teasing any longer and
demanded he stuff the shaking shaft up my tight, hungry hole. Sure enough,
when he stuck it in the sensation was unbelievably intense. I thought I
would shoot my load then and there, but I held back. I had to reach down
and pull his hand off my cock so he wouldn't make me erupt prematurely. Now
Chip settled into a fucking rhythm, pushing the vibrator farther and
farther up my hole with each stroke. He bent it at exactly the right angle
to have it land up against my prostate then twisted it around in place. He
held it there, buzzing against my prostate. The vibrations inside me, up
against my ultimate sweet spot made my whole body tremble. He brought his
face down to one of my butt cheeks and kissed it over and over, saying he
owned my hole, loved my hole, would make my hole feel fantastic. He sure
was doing that. A little bit longer with that thing poking around inside
was all it took to empty my churning balls. I shot a huge puddle between
the sheet and my stomach, but I kept humping the bed after I came because
my thick man juice felt so good, so wet and warm. Pretty soon I was fully
hard again. A little more stroking inside the tight confines of that cum
sandwich under me and I was releasing another convulsing shower of sperm
into the same pond. It could not have been more than two minutes between
cum shots, and they were both without touching myself. I rolled on my side
and fished behind me for his big man tool, which was throbbing hard. I gave
him one of the best blow jobs ever, and he filled my throat with his hot
seed.

I know it's naïve to think that at the age of 18 we could be having the
best sex that any two people have ever had, but I felt that way.

Because things seemed so perfect, I was at first reluctant to suggest
adding a third man to our happy home. I thought Chip might resent it and
worry that I was unsatisfied. But I finally decided I could convince him
that bringing a daddy to the equation would not take away from what we had
together but rather would fill a void from both our upbringings and make us
even happier. Two plus one equal four. Something like that.

And so we formed a threeway with Mr. Collins, whom we had both lusted after
in school, and whom we soon started to call Rod instead of the awkward
"Mr. Collins."

As we settled into what most people would regard as an unusual
relationship, we found ourselves dealing with the mix of ups and downs
typical of any other "normal" household. Instead of just the interplay of
similar-aged couples, though, we had all the complications of an ongoing
love bond between Chip and me and the addition of, really, two daddy-son
relationships. Once in a while, jealousy would rear its ugly head.

Naively, I suppose, I was thinking that whatever sex we had would be all
inclusive, all three of us messing around. Chip had a different idea and so
did Rod. I found out how different when I returned early from a trip that
was supposed to be two days to visit my sister. Instead of returning on a
Tuesday morning, I had caught a bus back late Monday. Normally I would have
called to say I'd be coming back early, but I kept putting off doing so all
day Monday. In truth, I think I was subconsciously testing the two of them.

Anyway, I got back in town at 8 p.m. and cabbed it home, arriving around
8:30. As soon as I opened the door I sensed that something was going
on. Then I heard the faint squeak of a chain rocking back and forth, and I
knew for sure. It stopped suddenly as I got to the stairs, Chip called out,
"Eddie, is that you?"

There was no doubt what the noise was. We had ordered a portable sling on
the Internet. It arrived just before I had left a couple days before. Now
it was rocking back and forth without me in it, and I was pissed. Instead
of replying, I just walked up the stairs – stormed, really – and
confronted them in the guest bedroom, Rod lying on his back in the sling,
legs high in the air, dick hard as a rock and still sticking up like a flag
pole, and Eddie with a sheepish look on his face and a hard-on of his own
that was fast withering, although still poised at the pink rosebud it had
just obviously popped out of.

His face flushed a bright red. He knew I'd resent this kind of sneaking
around.

"Hey, buddy," I said. "No secrets, right? Shit. I go away for barely two
days and you two fling yourselves at each other like a couple of drunken
horny sailors who've been at sea without sex for months."

I was already starting to regret coming on so strongly when I spied from
the corner of my eye a sailor outfit strewn on the floor, complete with
bell bottoms, blue-and-white striped pullover shirt and one of those
classic white sailor hats.

I couldn't help breaking up in laughter.

"Oh, my God," I laughed. "I had your number, didn't I? Which of you studs
is the sex-starved sailor with a boy in every port?"

Chip's frozen face broke into a relieved grin as he replied:

"Guilty as charged"

I realized I was being an asshole, giving them shit about having sex
without me. After all, we were a threesome, all with nearly constant sexual
needs, and no longer an exclusive couple. Our third participant in the
threesome was just as much a part of the relationship as Chip or me, and we
were all entitled to get our rocks off whenever and wherever. It's not as
though they were straying outside the relationship.

"OK. Sorry I freaked out," I said. "You didn't deserve that."

"We're sorry too," said Chip. "No more sneaking around. Promise."

"All right then, carry on," I said. "Where do I enlist? You need some help
getting it up again so you can keep plugging that hungry, funky man hole?"

"Now you're talking," said Chip. "Come here and suck this mast."

I grabbed the white sailor hat and stuck it on his head before dropping to
my knees to gobble on that gorgeous meat. As I swallowed his thick shaft
and felt the knob pounding at the back of my throat, my cock surged with
pleasure and hardened up so urgently that my pants nearly split a seam. I
kept sucking as I loosened my belt and pants and let them drop to the
floor. Chip leaned into Rod and dug his tongue into his juicy hole while I
rode his shaft up and down. He rose up again and I glanced into his eyes
and caught a subtle signal for me to take a taste of the hole he'd been
rimming and, earlier, fucking. That was all I needed. I stood up and
grabbed the chains next to Rod's thighs and licked the ass crack as I
gently swayed the sling toward me and away again, letting my tongue poke
into the hole each time it approached my face. I slid my extended tongue in
there as expertly as Chip had been doing then moved my groin in close and
let my rock solid cock head brush against his ass cheeks. The sensation
redoubled my excitement. My cock was now throbbing and bouncing up and down
along his crack, leaving a sticky residue of pre-cum all around the
hole. It was so slippery with my clear man juice that when I leaned forward
the slightest bit my dick head started poking through the tight sphincter
like a warm knife into a tub of soft butter. Shit, did that ever feel
good. They must have been going at it for a long time for the hole to be
this easy to penetrate. I wanted to make my homecoming last a long time, so
I yanked myself back sharply, letting my cock head pop out of his wet hole
like a champagne cork. It was really drooling now, and I could feel the
jizz churning up in my nuts, yearning to spew out. I was so close that I
instinctively grabbed the base of my cock so I could calm that sucker down
for a while.

I moved back from Rod's ass on the sling and stood there squeezing the base
of my boner, fidgeting like some kid who had to take a piss really
bad. Chip chuckled and waved me out of the line of fire so he could
reinsert his randy tool where it had been when my two horny lovers were so
rudely interrupted by my angry entrance. My energetic cock sucking had left
him so aroused that his cock was sticking straight out in front of him.

"OK, sailor," I said. "You're at full mast. Let's see you sail that
battleship into port and swab his deck with that pumper."

Chip winced at the strained metaphors then pointed his surging member at
Rod's crack and got ready to slam it home. He shoved that gorgeous tool
into the beckoning hole with such a driving force that the sling shook
wildly, lifting two of the upright poles off the floor and banging them
down again. The crash stunned them both for a moment, and they stopped the
action long enough to make sure that nothing, body part or otherwise, was
about to go flying off somewhere. Chip's groin was tight against the target
ass when he stopped. He decided he needed more leverage to really pound
that hot hole. He wrapped his hands around the supporting poles at about
waist height and started a rocking motion that quickly accelerated to warp
speed. He would shove his hips against the eager crotch to let his big fat
prick carve a path to glory. Then, once it had plunged as deep inside the
swaying tunnel as it could go, he would arch his back and poke his ass way
out to yank his fuck pole clear out of its sheath. As Rod and the sling
swung away from his dick, he'd aim it again so on the return swing it would
plunge right back inside in one clean motion. His cock was so stiff he had
to bend his upper body over to get it at the right angle for each fucking
stab. Rod was rolling his eyes back in his head, mouth wide open, grunts of
delight escaping each time he got poked. At one point he let out a piercing
yelp of pleasure-pain as the pounding dick found its way deep into his
cavity, pushing hard against his inner sphincter. The barrier gave way
reluctantly, and from then on Chip could ram him as hard as he wanted and
cause no excruciating discomfort. He revved up the pace and dug away like
an air hammer. After that one sharp cry, Rod let a huge grin spread wide
across his face, and from then on he was ecstatic.

Chip turned to me and nodded toward his own ass. I'd been standing there
stroking while I watched and was so fucking horny by the time he gave me
that subtle signal that I was fully prepared to complete the fuck train. I
put my hands around his waist, and my cock head fit into place against his
hole as though it had been precision tooled to slide inside. It was so
natural, and it felt so damn good, just like old times. Only now I was
poking him while he poked our daddy. We had a lot of fun the rest of that
day, especially with the sailor fantasy.

It turned out that Chip had borrowed the sailor outfit from our downstairs
neighbor and close buddy Zac. He's a 24-year-old college senior who a
couple months earlier had started a serious relationship with a much older
active-duty Navy enlisted man, Roger. It was Roger's uniform that Zac had
pulled together at Chip's request. We never saw much of Roger, still don't,
but at least on that dramatic evening we did see and fantasize with his
uniform. Zac loves to talk about the great sex life between him and
Roger. Chip and I in turn gossip out of Zac's earshot about how long their
relationship will last. They're both extraordinarily hot guys, the kind
whose pictures show up in sexy underwear ads, but neither one earns much
money, and Zac still has another semester to go before he gets his degree,
so that is another financial drain. We speculated that somebody, maybe a
wealthy sugar daddy, would snatch Zac away from Roger. Meanwhile, we all
three agreed that if an occasion arose, we'd love to see more of Zac and
Roger, maybe naked in our bedroom.

After the dustup about the sling incident we had another domestic clash,
which was much more serious, when Chip told me about his little "fling" in
the alley with Art. I never liked that conceited prick to begin with, and
now I learn that he seduced my one true love. And Chip actually expected me
to let it roll off my back. Hey, WTF is with that? I knew they were
friendly in school but had no idea they were full-fledged fuck buddies for
most of our last two years. Then to find out that the two of them messed
around so blatantly the very day we first had Rod over, Art blowing Chip in
a goddam alley behind the beer and wine store. I was furious, so pissed
that I really lost my head. OK, so he apologizes, which he finally did
three fucking weeks after the fact, when he finally told me the whole
story, including how they messed around together in school. He tried to
make it sound like an unavoidable encounter in which he was the totally
innocent party. And did I mention that he waited three weeks to tell me? He
treated it like it was no big deal. Went to the grocery store for the steak
and all, stopped at the beer and wine store to get the wine and oh, by the
way, got a quickie blow job in the alley from that scumbag Art. Frankly, it
would have been better if it had been a total stranger instead of Art. It
made me crazy to know that he had dipped his wick in that no-good piece of
shit and then "neglected" to let me in on their dirty little tryst for
three whole weeks. What? I'm supposed to forgive him? Forget it ever
happened? Not me! No, sir!

Well, as I said, I really lost my head. Looking back now, I realize I
totally overreacted and did a really dumb thing. The day after he confessed
I made up some excuse to get out of the house and headed to the Red Wagon,
which was the one place I knew for sure to be a gay bar. I'd get my pound
of flesh by getting to pound some flesh other than Chip's or Rod's.

I parked a block away and walked down there apprehensively. This was all
brand new to me. I opened the door and stepped inside. The entrance area
was pitch black, but I could see light coming from around the corner and
went toward it to scope the place out. It's a fairly compact place. Once
all the way inside, it looked pretty much like any other watering hole
except there were no women, and there was hardly enough light to see your
hand in front of your face. A really good looking guy in tank top and jeans
was tending bar. Sitting on the stools closest to where I was were three
very hot looking guys. Two who seemed to be together were 20-something
twinky types. Even though they were around my age and very cute, I wasn't
interested. Instead, I was drawn like a magnet to the third guy, a
middle-aged, bearded hunk in shorts with very hairy legs and arms who
looked like he just came from a world class body building competition. His
biceps were literally as thick as my thighs. His chest strained the tight
muscle shirt he was wearing. Very perky nipples stood out like a couple
sewing thimbles. They were that huge. I caught myself staring at the
nipples just as he noticed that I was transfixed by them. He smiled and
shifted his legs so he was more or less facing me, legs spread apart like a
welcoming gesture. I took it as an invitation to sit next to him and maybe
more.

As soon as I sat, he leaned toward me and asked, "Can I buy you a drink?"

I never turn down a free drink, especially from a hunk like him. When the
sexy bartender slid my rum and Coke toward me, my new friend leaned in
close and, nodding down toward his pecs and beyond them to a nicely bulging
package between his legs asked, "You like what you see?"

I gulped and said yes. He told me he thought I was hot and was turned on
when he noticed me eyeing his tits. I pinched them lightly.

"Harder," he commanded.

Oh, my God. This was going to be intense from the get-go. I stopped
thinking about anything else, including Chip and Mr. Collins, and focused
on this major hottie who had the hots for me. I felt my malehood strain at
the confining briefs and jeans. It wasn't long before he took note of my
aroused state and boldly slipped his open hand into my pants, palm against
my skin, and all the way inside my briefs, grabbing the head of my dick and
squeezing it. If I had a slight chub before that, his move suddenly made me
ultra hard. My cock head rubbed the friendly palm, throbbing, pressing it
as though urgently demanding satisfaction, which, of course, is exactly
what it was doing. It was beyond my control now, acting like an
independent, extremely horny creature over which I had no responsibility
and no accountability. I felt my knees go weak, the blood drain from my
legs. I was figuratively, as well as literally, in his hands. He jiggled my
nut sac, and as he did that leaned the other forearm on the edge of the bar
and brought his hot lips right up to mine and pressed them together,
darting his thick tongue deep inside my mouth.

OK, OK. I love Chip. Rod too. This was insane. But at that moment I was
being swept off my feet by super-daddy personified, and there was no
turning back.

He reached up to the top of my zipper and, without parting our lips,
unzipped my pants with a jerk. My boner sprang out. Right there in front of
everyone it stood at attention as he fondled it and kissed me. Being new to
gay bars I had no idea if this was acceptable, two guys making out so
blatantly in front of everyone, but I did not care one bit. As I said, my
dick was in charge of my brain at this point. The sensation of his warm,
he-man hand on my cock sent chills up my stomach and into my throat. I
could feel my mouth drying out even as his wet tongue moistened my
lips. Without even seeing his cock yet, I knew I wanted to devour it. I
knew I wanted it inside my butt too. I pulled him by the waist till he
stood up from the bar stool. I could feel his hard dick snaking down the
left leg of his jeans.

"My place is two blocks away," he said. "My name is Beau."

I silently followed him out the door and down the street. It was a second
floor walk-up, modest but neat, consisting of a good sized main room with
stationary bicycle, a lot of free weights, and, all over the walls,
pictures of scantily clad muscle men, line drawings, photos, a couple of
large watercolors. One of the paintings, he told me later, was of himself
35 years ago, at the age of 17. He looked spectacular back then, but,
truthfully, I thought he looked even better right there that day as we
stood hugging and kissing.

I nearly shot my load in my pants anticipating the muscle worship that lay
just ahead. Beau took off his jeans to reveal tight-fitting white boxer
briefs that outlined his huge salami. This was only getting better. I could
see his meat was most of the way toward rock hardness. His nuts, big as
golf balls, were also outlined under the cotton, and they were tightening
up visibly.

He sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him, inviting me to join
him, but I could wait no longer for a taste of that hot meat.

I knelt between his massive thighs and started roaming with my hands, all
over his tight abs, rubbing my palms over his nipples as I grabbed two
handfuls of steely pecs, running my fingers over his huge arms, rubbing the
thick hair on his forearms and squeezing his biceps. I could get my open
hand about one-third of the way around each one. I can still today marvel
in utter awe at their size and strength.

I placed my hands on top of his thighs and nuzzled my face into his crotch,
putting my mouth sideways on the shaft of his thick manhood and gnawing on
it rapidly like I was eating an ear of corn. He liked what I was doing,
showing his pleasure by unzipping his pants and guiding his very rigid
prick into my mouth. I started sucking on it slowly, going down as far as I
could toward his pubes then, as my excitement grew, accelerating my speed
as I grew more accustomed to the pounding of his huge, hard helmet at the
back of my throat.

All of a sudden Beau lifted my head off his dick, kissed me hard on the
lips and said, "Fuck me. I need you to fuck the shit out of me."  You could
have knocked me to the floor.

I was startled as hell but determined not to let any hesitation on my part
jeopardize this moment. It was too perfect. I'd always wanted to drill an
ultra-macho muscle man but thought it an impossible pipe dream. Now it was
about to happen, and I was not going to screw up this opportunity. Chip and
Mr. Collins, needless to say, were the farthest things from my mind.

Beau went into the bedroom and lay face down with his sexy boxer briefs
about a quarter of the way down his incredibly gorgeous butt. I yanked off
my pants and underwear and climbed on the bed. I got on top of him, my
stiff dick resting between his shrouded cheeks, the pre-cum making a big
wet spot on the cloth exactly where his hole lay under it. I was sorely
tempted to grab the pants with both hands and dramatically rip them off,
but, well, that's not me, unfortunately.

I took my thumb and pushed it down hard on the wet spot, feeling his eager
hole, and pressing even harder so I could penetrate it with my thumb
through the pre-cum lubed cloth. As I pushed further into his love tunnel I
felt it give way and almost desperately pull me inside, deeper and
deeper. When I got in up to my knuckle he begged me to substitute my cock
for my thumb. That was not gonna happen, though, until I got a full helping
of man-hole juice all over my tongue. I pulled the pants lower, exposing
his pink starburst that he was pleading with me to violate. Before
proceeding any further, though, I had to pause to appreciate the beauty of
this man's butt cheeks. They were tight, defined, perfect. Not a lot of men
have true "bubble butts." Take my word for it. I am a connoisseur. Beau's
ass defined the term. I spread his cheeks wide and put my mouth over the
hole. My tongue slithered inside and dug around, wetting the walls and
preparing for my onslaught.

There was a condom on the nightstand. I wrapped my hot rod and positioned
the business end right up against his beautiful sphincter. I let the weight
of my body ease my rigid prick slowly through the opening. Once the head
popped inside I probed deep into his ass. I rammed that tight hole over and
over as though my cock were a post hole digger on a mission. He let out
whimpers and moans, grunts and sighs until he grew hoarse and just lay
there in silence, taking the impaling like a dutiful maiden eager to please
her Lancelot. With my balls full to the brim and struggling to empty
themselves into the fine specimen of manhood underneath me, I lunged into
his butt one final time and stayed still until the cum surged out of my
cock with the force of a fire hose. It was such a powerful blast I feared I
might have broken the condom. We lay there a while, him letting out a
satisfied and grateful series of animal sounds and me just reveling in the
glory of fucking such a perfect stud. Hell, my load was inside him,
sloshing around between those muscular cheeks of ass flesh, separated from
this beautiful man's innards by a thin layer of latex. I finally pulled my
cock out and slipped the condom off. I was in for another shock as he
whispered, "Feed me that load. I want to taste your cum."

I held the condom above his waiting mouth by the nipple end and let the
warm fluid drip between his lips, squeezing my fingers down the length of
the condom so that every drop went into his mouth. Then I kissed him and
stuck my tongue inside his mouth, rolling it around so I could taste my cum
too.

I did pay a price, of course, not in any loss of affection from Chip or Rod
so much as the guilt I felt for days afterward. Yes, I had gotten him back
for his indiscretion. Got him back good. More than got him back. But I
realized very quickly that my vengeful behavior was way out of proportion
to Chip's error, which was, after all, basically unavoidable as I think
about it. He and Art were not renewing anything, far from it, and my fears
of abandonment were groundless. The asshole cajoled Chip into letting him
suck him off. It was that simple. End of story. Chip wanted nothing to do
with him – ever – and was only acquiescing in order to get the wine
for our big dinner. So, of course, I felt like the world champion ass hole
for weeks afterward.

To pull me out of that funk it took a renewed and enriched feeling of deep
affection that I could sense from both my dear, wonderful bro and our sexy
daddy.

They're the best.

(To be continued)