This story is a continuation of the story of Kevin Foley, Rick Mashburn, and their "sons," Tim Murphy, Kyle Goodson, Justin Davis, and Brian Mathews that started in "Tim," continued in "Justin" and "Kyle," and now continues in "Kyle, Part 2." It is about gay men and gay boys living and loving together as a family, and it contains descriptions of sex, but the sex is never intergenerational. If you are offended by descriptions of gay sex, or if the law in your area forbids you to read them, please exit the story. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it. I appreciate feedback, and you can send it to me at brew_drinker23@yahoo.com.
--Brew Maxwell
Kyle, Part 2
Chapter 8
It was late when we got home Sunday night, but we had booked a limo bus for 10:30 Monday morning to meet us in the parking lot of the Jax Brewery on Decatur Street in the Quarter. We probably could have stood it up, but everybody was eager for a tour of the city.
Mom, Dad, Craig, Cherie, and I had sat down to map out our tour. We knew that that was the first of many visits to come for those boys, so we took that into consideration. We wanted them to see the highlights of the city, but we wanted to have a lot of time to spend in the Quarter, too. We knew Brian wanted to see a cemetery, so that was on our list. I thought the kids should see the lake. My dad thought they should see St. Charles Avenue and the universities, and we all thought they should see the CBD, Central Business District, with all the tall buildings. We agreed we would play it by ear, though, depending on time.
We piled in our two vehicles and drove to the Quarter to meet the bus. My dad became the self-appointed tour guide. Even though we had an Irish last name, my dad's family was pure French before his parents' generation. One set of his grandparents, on his mother's side, started their last name with "de," a sure sign of French ancestry. His earliest ancestor had been buried there in 1741. Considering the city had only been founded in 1718, his forebears, and mine too, I guessed, had been among the founders of the city. He was very proud of that, and his middle name reflected those origins. He signed his name Edward de L. Foley, and everybody who cared, knew what that was all about.
We drove down Elysian Fields Avenue to the lake. We looked at the University of New Orleans from a distance on the left, and we took a left on the street that went along the lake.
"What is this," Kyle asked.
"This is Lake Pontchartrain, Kyle," Dad said. "It's twenty-four miles across and probably sixty miles wide. It's a huge inland sea, almost."
"Why are those steps there," Kyle asked.
"That's the seawall, son," Dad said. "You can walk down those steps to get into it, or to fish from there. When I was a kid, we used to shrimp off those steps. Do you know what a cast net is?"
Gene, Rick, and I looked at one another and grinned.
"Yes, sir," Kyle said.
"We used to bait the area using dog food, and then we would throw cast nets to catch shrimp along here," he said.
"Cool," Kyle said.
Then, after a pause, "Did you ever catch any seahorses, Ed," Kyle asked. "I catch seahorses in my cast net, sometimes. They're cute as they can be."
"So, you know how to throw a cast net," Dad asked. "No, I've never caught a seahorse."
"Yes, sir, I can throw one. I'll catch you some seahorses the next time y'all come to see us," he said.
"Dad, if it comes out of the sea, Kyle can catch it, open it, clean it, and cook it," I said.
"Very good," my dad said. I knew he didn't know what else to say.
When we got to West End, we passed a place called Ed's Crab Shack. It was a great seafood restaurant.
"Do you moonlight out here, Ed," Justin asked?
"It's not that kind of crabs, Jus," my brother said. Everybody laughed.
"Next stop, woodshed," my dad called out, and everybody laughed even more. "I already owe you a trip to the woodshed from yesterday, Justin. Now it's two. And you, big boy..."
"Sir," Craig asked with a grin.
"You're both getting it," he said.
"I haven't seen your father enjoy himself this much in years, Kevin," my mom said. "These boys, especially Jus, are really challenging him, and he loves that."
"That Justin is a good boy, isn't he," I asked.
"Son, I don't know how much he's told you about the hell he's been through, but, yes, he is a very good boy, indeed," she said.
Dad pointed out the Southern Yacht Club. We had never belonged to it, but lots of our friends did when I was a kid. I had been there many, many times, as had Craig and my parents. There were a great many boats docked at that marina.
Our next point of interest was the Metairie Cemetery. Brian had said he wanted to see a place where they buried the dead people above the ground, and the Metairie was as good as any. In fact, it was probably better than most. We drove down several of the lanes, and all of the boys seemed pretty taken with the place. We stopped for Kyle to get out and shoot pictures at one point, and some of the assembled folk took that opportunity to get out and smoke, including me. Ironically, we were about two blocks from home on that stop.
Next we drove through City Park, which is an enormous green space in the middle of the city. We had been there for the lights on Friday night, but it looked a whole lot different on Monday at mid-day. We drove up Esplanade Avenue toward the river.
"It's noon," I said to Mom, Dad, Craig, Cherie, and Rick. "We need to lose this bus and get into the Quarter, don't you think?"
"Yeah," Rick said. "We'll be back many times. We can do the rest of the tour the next time we're here."
"I agree with Rick. Plus, I'm pretty hungry," Craig said.
"Let's tell the driver to let us off in front of the Central Grocery. We can go in, order muffalettos, and eat them on those benches on the other side of the market," Cherie said.
"Each with a Barqs," I said.
"Absolutely," she said. "What else?"
All the Orleanians grinned at one another because we knew you couldn't really eat a muffaletto without drinking a Barqs rootbeer.
The Central Grocery Store on Decatur Street is really quite a small place, but they have more merchandize in there than most grocery stores ten times their size. It is totally New Orleans Italian. A lot of people don't know this, but what is now called the French Quarter, with all its Spanish architecture, was once called the Italian Quarter because Italian immigrants made up the vast majority of the residents of that neighborhood. That was a long time ago, of course, but places like the Central Grocery still bore witness to the Italianness of the area. That, and St. Mary's Italian Church, the chapel of the old Ursuline Convent.
"My God, I can't believe this place," Rita said. She was pointing to an open crate of whole dried, salted fish that was at the end of one of the aisles.
"It's wonderful, isn't it," my mom said.
"Yes. The aroma is almost overwhelming," she said.
There were fourteen of us, so I ordered twelve muffalettos. Ordinarily, a half sandwich was enough, but we had five teenage boys with us. I knew that a half sandwich wouldn't be enough for them. The sandwiches were served on a round loaf of bread about the size of a small dinner plate, cut in quarters, and they were four or five inches thick. They had about six different meats, four different cheeses, and an inch-thick layer of olive salad. Those sandwiches were wonderful and the rumor was they had been invented at the Central Grocery.
It was going to take a while for the sandwiches to be ready. Rick and I hung around there to wait for the food, but the rest of them dispersed. Decatur was a commercial street, so they had a lot to explore. I knew where the boys would end up.
I left Rick in charge of getting the sandwiches, and I walked down to the corner of the next block. I went into the store, and all five boys were there. The place was empty except for them.
"Hey," Kyle said. "We found this place, Kev. It's a gay store. Can you believe that?"
The proprietor smiled at me. He was probably fifty years old, but he seemed to recognize that those boys were the next generation of his gay brothers. He seemed like a very gentle man.
"What is this," Brian asked. He was referring to an anal sex toy.
"That's for your butt," Jus said. "Do you want me to get a couple of those?"
"Do you want to," Brian asked. He was so cute. I thought I knew that Brian and Justin had been having sex for several weeks, but Brian seemed virginal to me.
"Yeah," Justin said. "We can try that."
The proprietor smiled at their innocence.
"What is this thing," Kyle asked the guy. He was holding up what I thought must be a cock cage.
"That's a chastity device," the man said. "You can't get a hard-on with that thing in place."
"Why would somebody want that," Kyle asked.
"Guys who are into domination might want to use it on their boys," the man said.
Kyle gave Tim an evil grin.
"No way," Tim said, and they both laughed.
"This is quite a crew you've got here," the man said to me about the boys.
"Yes, sir, they are," I said.
"Are all of them gay?"
"Every one of us," I said proudly.
He didn't comment further.
All of the boys bought anal probes. Kyle showed them cock rings and explained what they were for. They each bought a couple of those, as well. He and Tim bought little charms for their nipple rings--one set of penises and one set of rainbow triangles. They really didn't have any "gay stuff," but they would now. They each considered buying tee shirts that said, "I'm not gay but my boyfriend is," but they reconsidered and didn't get them. I thought that would have been a waste of money for them.
"Guys, when you get what you want, put all of it into Kyle's back pack. You don't need to be showing that stuff to your parents, okay," I said.
The guy in the store looked a little apprehensive.
"I'm not going to get into trouble with their parents for selling them this stuff, am I," he asked.
"Oh, no," I said. "Their parents and grandparents are down in the Central Grocery right now, and they're totally cool with their being gay. I just think they should keep this stuff private. That's all."
He nodded.
Kyle picked up a couple of Bel Ami videos, and Jeff got several magazines.
"For those lonely nights," he said with a grin.
The store man grinned back at him.
"Where are you fellows from," he asked.
"Florida," Kyle said. "We're here visiting our grandparents, his parents," indicating me.
The guy looked at me with confusion on his face.
"It's a real long story," I said.
We finished up in the store and joined the others outside. We crossed the street to the park area that was between the French Market and the levee. There were benches there where we could sit down to eat.
"These are really big sandwiches," Justin said when he opened one.
"Yeah, and they're good, too," Craig said.
We ate our sandwiches and drank our Barqs root beer. My dad told the story about visiting his cousins, who lived around the corner from the Barqs bottling company. It was in a basement under the house the family that owned it lived in. Craig and I had heard that story a hundred times while we were growing up, but the boys seemed mildly interested in it. Either that or they were too polite to act bored.
We ended up with two whole sandwiches left. My mom had a large purse, and she put one in there. We put the other one in Kyle's backpack. Those would make good afternoon snacks.
We set out on our adventure of discovering the Quarter. The first thing we did was walk around in the French Market. Because it was right before Christmas, there was probably more produce and fruit than there usually was during the winter. It was cool looking at the stuff, but we weren't interested in buying any of it. We were interested in checking out the huge flea market behind the produce market, though. We spent a good half hour or more checking out all the junk people had for sale. Most of it was new stuff and not the antiques you sometimes find at flea markets. There was a booth with leather goods, and Kyle bought himself a nice belt with a cowboy buckle.
I hadn't known it before that day, but George was an avid collector of baseball cards and comic books. He found several of those that he wanted and bought them. Rita bought two magnificent feather Mardi Gras masks that were large and colorful. "For the second guest room," she said.
Rick and I each bought a Christmas tree ornament with a New Orleans theme, and we made the boys buy one each, too. We wanted to collect ornaments from various trips, and that was the start of our collection.
We went into the Old Mint building at the end of the flea market. We passed an old streetcar that had the word "Desire" on its marquee.
"Hey, they named that thing after a play," Kyle said in reference to the streetcar.
"No, Kyle," Dad said. "The play is named after that streetcar. Or at least after that old streetcar line. That car used to go up and down Desire Street, and Tennessee Williams used it for the title of his play that is set in New Orleans. He used to live here."
"Tennessee Williams. That's a name for you," Justin said. "Y'all call me Alabama Davis from now on."
"Okay, Bama-Rama," Rick said.
"On second thought, never mind," Justin said.
One side of the Old Mint building housed a jazz museum. It had a lot of portraits of famous jazz musicians, and there were quite a few old instruments, including Louis Armstrong's first cornet.
"Guys, do you know anything about the history of jazz," my dad asked.
"No, sir," Kyle said, answering for all of them.
"There are a number of different kinds of jazz, of course, but one type, Dixieland Jazz, started here in a section of the city called Storyville. That was the official 'red light district' of the city," Dad said.
"Did it have lots of traffic lights," Brian asked.
My dad looked at me with that "help, I need to be rescued" look in his face.
"Just tell 'em, Dad. How else will they learn," I asked.
"No, son. A 'red light district' is a part of town where there were bordellos."
"What's that mean," Kyle asked.
"Whore houses," Rick said. My dad seemed to blush a little.
"Is it still there," Justin asked.
"Why? You looking for a job," Rick shot back.
All of the adults, except for Rick and me, got stricken looks on their faces when Rick said that. Justin and Kyle thought it was funny as hell.
"I guess you just got my ass last," Justin said. He and Rick tapped knuckles.
"Kevin...." Mom started to say as she pulled me aside.
"He's fine with it, Mom. You saw his reaction. In fact, he's fine with anything Rick or Kyle say to him. Or me, too, for that matter. If he wasn't, we wouldn't tease him about it, now would we?"
"Well, I should hope you wouldn't, but..."
"Trust us. He does."
"You're right. He does trust you. He worships you, in fact. Forget I mentioned anything," she said.
The other half of the Mint was a Mardi Gras museum. The boys found that a whole lot more interesting than the jazz portion. There were old floats from parades, costumes that were old but still very grand, throws, a flambeau, which was a kerosene-burning torch that was carried in night parades to provide light, and a million other items related to Mardi Gras.
We walked back toward Jackson Square on Chartres Street. There were interesting shops along the way, and we ducked into a few of those to check them out. We also toured the Beauregard-Keyes House on on that street. It had been the home of a famous Civil War general who was a native son of Louisiana, and later it was the home of a writer by the name of Frances Parkinson Keyes. She had renovated the house and refurbished the garden, and it was really a show place. The ladies were especially taken with it.
Back at Jackson Square, we went for a tour of the 1850 House that was actually one of the town houses in one of the Pontalba Buildings that flanked two sides of the square. Those were supposedly the oldest apartment buildings in the Mississippi River Valley. Again, the place was interesting, but it was definitely more of a lady thing than a guy thing. The boys did seem quite taken with a wall hanging that looked like a picture from a distance but was made totally out of human hair of many colors and textures. I kept waiting for one of them to say something about pubic hair, but to their credit they didn't.
We went into the Presbytere, which is to the right of the Cathedral as you face it. It was built as the residence for the Archbishop and the priests who served in the Cathedral, but it actually served more time as a court house. It's now part of the Louisiana State Museum, and it contained artifacts of life in New Orleans. There was an exhibit of ship models that was pretty interesting, though. It wasn't a permanent part of that place's collection, so we kind of lucked out in catching it there. Evidently, they built a scale model of wooden sailing ships to use to drum up investors before the ships were built. Somebody preserved a bunch of them and collected them for that exhibit.
By the time we finished with that, everybody was tired and ready for a break. We got soft drinks from a street vendor and found a place to sit in Jackson Square. We finished off the two remaining muffalettos from lunch.
"Are we going to go to the Cabildo," Dad asked.
"Let's save that for our next visit," I said. "I don't know if the guys could take another serious museum right now."
"I can understand that," he said. "On the next visit we can take in the Gallier House Museum, the wax museum, the Hermann-Grimma House, the Germaine Wells Mardi Gras Museum, the Historic New Orleans Collection, the New Orleans Pharmacy Museum, the Old Ursuline Convent, and, of course, the Cabildo."
"Jesus Christ, Ed. There are that many museums here," Rick asked.
"Those are just the ones in the Quarter we haven't been to yet," Dad replied.
"Dad, there's actually another one that you didn't mention, and that's where I suggest we go," I said.
"The Voodoo Museum?"
"You got it," I said.
"I didn't mention it because I figured that's what you had in mind," Dad said.
Rita, Cherie, and my mother wanted to visit some of the antique stores and art galleries on Royal Street. We decided that we would meet back in that spot in one hour. The men would do something else while the ladies browsed the shops.
"Are you guys interested in the Voodoo Museum," I asked.
"What is it," Kyle asked.
"Voodoo is a religion that was practiced in Haiti and other places in the Caribbean. It was brought here by slaves and free people of color a long time ago. There are Voodoo gods, and Voodoo priests who cast spells. The most famous practitioner of Voodoo was a woman named Marie Laveau. Some people think they can still feel her presence and even see her ghost from time to time," I said.
"Hell, yeah," Kyle said. "That sounds cool."
We walked to the Voodoo Museum, and the guys were fascinated by the altars of sacrifice and the implements they used to cast spells. The stuffed cats and live snakes were big hits, too, and the Voodoo dolls were fascinating to everyone.
We spent time in the gift shop, something they hadn't really wanted to do in the other places (but which we had done anyway for the ladies' benefit). Kyle, Justin, and Jeff bought books of spells and a few of the ingredients to use to make some of them work. They seemed especially interested in charms and spells related to male potency and virility.
Kyle bought a Voodoo doll and some straight pins. When the woman (in costume, of course) asked him the name of the person the doll would represent, he said "Justin Davis." Kyle and Justin immediately went into acting mode. Kyle jabbed a pin into the groin of the doll, and Justin shrieked and grabbed his balls as he doubled over. Then Kyle stuck a pin up the doll's rear end, and Justin groaned loudly and grabbed his butt. A couple of people in the store started laughing at them, and I was afraid that would only encourage more of their antics. They were funny and cute, though.
"That didn't really hurt you, did it," Brian asked in a serious voice.
Justin grinned and knocked his cap back.
"No, Buddy. Kyle and I were just playing," Jus said.
They learned that a spell is called a gris-gris. We told them about when we were kids we would put gris-gris on people.
"Like what kind," Brian asked.
"Well, let's say you're shooting pool with a buddy, and he's about to make the winning shot. You draw an X on the table with your finger between the ball and the pocket and say 'gris-gris.' That's supposed to make him miss the shot," Craig said.
"Did it work," Justin asked.
"Rarely," my father said.
"If you were playing basketball or baseball, you'd put the gris-gris on the guy shooting a foul shot or batting, only then you'd hold your fingers up in an X," I said. "That didn't work any better than the pool shot did, though," I said.
"So this is really all bullshit," Jus said, once again cutting to the heart of the matter.
"Pretty much," I said. "But it's kind of fun because sometimes the guy did miss the pool shot or the basket or did strike out. You just never knew."
George bought a book that was actually a scholarly study of Voodoo, and I made a mental note to take a look at it when I had a chance.
We met up with the ladies at the time we had said, and we went home.
"So what did you guys think of New Orleans, the part of it you saw, anyway," I asked in the car on the way home.
"It's wonderful," they all said in some variation of that phrase.
"There's still a lot more to do. I think next time we come, except for Mardi Gras, we're going to take a regular bus tour. I don't think we did it justice," I said.
"What else is there to do," Jeff asked.
"There's a relatively new museum about D-Day that's really terrific," I said. "And we want to tour the Super Dome, ride out to the site of the Battle of New Orleans in Chalmette and go through the stuff there; go to the military museum at the Jackson Barracks; maybe go to the New Orleans Museum of Art; take in a Zephyrs game, a Brass game, a Saints game, and a Hornets game when they get here. There are a couple of botanical gardens, the one in City Park and the one at Long Vue Gardens. There are a lot more smaller museums, like the Confederate Museum, the Edgar Degas house, the pharmacy museum, and some others. We ought to at least drive through Louis Armstrong Park. There's the Garden District for a walking tour, and there are some great shops and galleries on Magazine Street. There's Jazzland. That's an amusement park. We probably ought to buy a guide book to see what I'm leaving out," I said.
"So you think we'll be coming here some more, huh," Jus asked.
"Of course we will be, Jus. My parents obviously think you guys are their real grandchildren. They'll want to see you."
"And I want to see them some more, too," Kyle said.
They all seconded Kyle.
"Maybe we can get my dad to line up a tour of Charity Hospital. That's the second largest hospital in the country, and it's huge. Would you guys like to watch an operation? Craig and I have done that a few times," I said.
"Oh, Kevin! That would be fantastic," Tim said. "I've seen a couple of operations my dad has done. That's sort of what makes me want to be a doctor. Are there medical schools here?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, there are. Two really great ones, and they're on either side of Charity Hospital. Literally. The LSU Medical School is in the same block as the hospital, and the Tulane Medical School in across the street. Or maybe it's the other way around, but they're real close together."
We had decided to take the scenic route home down St. Charles Avenue. The guys were impressed with the mansions on that street. We passed Loyola University and Tulane University. They sit side by side with only a small alley separating them. Across the street from them was Audubon Park where the zoo was.
"So where's this big hospital you were talking about," Jus asked.
"It's not here. These are the main campuses. The medical schools and hospital are down town. Besides, this is Loyola University, not LSU. Loyola is a Catholic university."
"Cool," Jus said.
"Guys, Grandma wants us to have a big meal together tonight, and then we'll open Christmas presents," I said.
"We're still going out though, right," Kyle said.
"Oh, yeah, but we don't want to go out too early. If we get down to the Quarter by 9:30 or ten, we'll be just in time," I said.
"Kevin, about the Christmas presents," Kyle asked.
"What about 'em, Bubba," I asked.
"Tim and I went in together and got presents for all the New Orleans people," he said.
"Did you other guys get them something," I asked.
Justin and Brian had gone in on gifts for them, and Jeff said he had something for them, too.
"How much did you guys spend, Kyle," I asked suspiciously.
"We got everybody the same thing, and we only spent a total of $300. We gave the rest to the Stocking Fund in their names," Kyle said.
"You stayed well under the limit, Bubba. What's the problem?"
"We got everybody the same thing, including you and Rick, my mom and dad, and Doc," he said.
"That's no problem," I said.
"Well, if the New Orleans family open theirs tonight, the Florida family will see what they got, and they won't be surprised. We brought all the presents for everyone, though. Do you think we could give everybody their present from us tonight?"
Rick and I looked at each other and started laughing.
"What's so funny," Kyle asked. He seemed genuinely confused.
"We did the same thing, Bubba. I wish we had brought ours for everyone, too," I said.
"We did," Rick said.
"We did?"
"Yep, as we were packing the car, I got the same idea Kyle had. Imagine that! I packed the box that was supposed to stay home," Rick said.
"Did you guys all do the same thing," I asked Jus, Brian, and Jeff.
"No," they said. "The presents from us are all different." Justin actually said that, but Jeff agreed with him.
"Well, Kyle and Tim can give their presents to everyone tonight, and Rick and I will give ours to everyone, too. You guys weren't supposed to buy presents for anyone but your boyfriend. Did you?"
"We didn't," Tim said.
"We didn't either," Brian concurred.
"Okay, so that's cool," I said. "We want everybody to open ours at the same time. Is that what you guys want, too," I asked Kyle and Tim.
They said they did.
"Okay, no problem."
We were home by then. It was around 4:30. Dinner was at 7:30, and gifts under the Christmas tree would be at 8:30. We had time for a "rest" and a shower before drinks at 6:30. I was sure the boys were eager to try out their sex aids they had bought earlier that day, and everyone went to their rooms. Everyone but Jeff, that is. He asked to use my dad's computer to check his e-mail. I figured he wanted to give Tim and Kyle some privacy, and I admired that in him.
(Kyle's Perspective)
As soon as we got home, Tim and I went up to our room. We had done some amazingly cool things that day, especially the Voodoo Museum, and I was sort of tired. But I really wanted to try out those things we had bought at the gay shop, and I knew Tim wanted to also.
We got down to just our underwear in a second, and we were in bed kissing in another second. It took just a third second for us to both get hard, and we were kissing and rubbing our dicks against each other in no time.
"God, this feels good," Tim said.
"I know, Babe. I love you so much, you little gris-gris." We kissed some more, swapping plenty of spit and tongue.
There was a knock at the door.
"Fuck," I said in a low tone of voice. I really didn't want to be disturbed, and we weren't exactly in a condition to be entertaining anybody.
Whoever it was knocked a second time.
"Open up," Jus said.
"I can't believe him, man," I said to Tim, not too loud, though. "He ought to know what we're doing, and he ought to be doing it with Brian, too. Just a minute."
I got out of bed and opened the door.
"What do you want?"
It was both of them.
"Let us in," Jus said. "Come on, Kyle."
"Jesus Christ, Justin," I said in frustration as I opened the door to let him in.
They both came in. They were both in their underwear also, and they both had bigger bulges than normal. He immediately noticed my erection, and he put his hand on it.
"Ohhhhh. Nice one," he said with an evil grin. Justin had gotten cuter or something, and he was pretty cute when he did that.
"Yeah," I said, grinning, "and it ain't for you. What do you want?"
"Lighten up, Kyle. It ain't like I've never seen you hard before, man. We came to get our stuff out of your backpack."
"I'm sorry. I'm just a little bit frustrated right now, you know?"
"I can tell. So where is it?"
I pointed to the backpack that was on the floor on the right hand side of the bed. He got their stuff out of it.
"Have you ever used one of these things," he asked me.
"No, not yet," I said. "I haven't had a chance."
"Do you know how?"
"I think I can figure it out," I said. "Are you going to be all right with that?"
"Beth checked me out right after we got here, and she said I'm completely healed," he said.
I started to ask if he had gotten hard when she did it, but I wasn't exactly in the mood to joke around then.
"Brian, are you okay with using it on him," I asked. "Do you know how to stretch him out and loosen him up?"
Brian shrugged.
"No, you don't. Shit, Jus, don't hurt yourself, man. Okay? Do you even have any lube?"
"Spit," Jus said, sort of like he was apologizing.
"No. No fucking way, Justin," I said.
"You sound like you're mad at me, Kyle. Why are you mad?"
I took a deep sigh of frustration.
"I'm not mad at you, Bubba, but I don't want you to hurt yourself, either," I said. I'm sure he could hear exasperation in my voice.
"We've got plenty of lube. Why don't you show them how to do it," Tim asked. "In fact, show me at the same time. I don't want to hurt you, either."
I had pretty much lost my erection by then, but hearing Tim say that made it come back to full force.
"Look at him. He's liking that idea," Jus said. God, he was cute.
"All right," I said, sort of pretending to give in reluctantly. "Get your briefs off and get in bed."
I really didn't think we were dealing with rocket science here or anything. I mean, the thing was a lot thinner than my dick, and I managed to get that up Tim's ass at least once a week without hurting him. The real advantage of those dildoes was you could do it yourself if you wanted to.
"Okay, Jus, raise your legs up so I can get to your asshole," I said. He did like I told him.
"Brian, this is what I do to Tim, and Tim does to me, before we have butt sex, okay?"
"Okay," Brian said.
I started gently rubbing the place between Justin's balls and his hole. There's a special name for that spot, but I don't remember what it is. Anyway, it feels real good.
"Kyle, nobody's ever touched me there before, man. That feels fantastic," he said.
I smiled at my brother. If anybody deserved to have good ass sex, it was definitely Jus.
"This next part is optional, but I like to do it, and it feels great having it done," I said.
I got up real close to Justin, and my dick was rubbing against him. I bent forward and started tonguing his hole.
"Oh, my God," he said.
"Not so loud, man," I said.
"Sorry, but it's so good, Kyle."
"I know. Just keep it down a little, though, please."
"You can do it for as long as you want to," I told Brian. "Then I do this."
I lubed up my longest finger and rubbed it around on his hole. Then I got the tube of lube and put the little nozzle into his hole and squeezed so that plenty of lube got in there. Then I stuck my finger in. I knew right where his spot was, and I started gently playing with it. Justin started moving his head back and forth from side to side, saying something like uuh, uuh, uuh. I knew it felt good to him, and I was glad of that.
"Jus, I'm going to put in another finger. Let me know if it hurts, okay?"
"Okay," he said. He was breathing mighty hard, and I wondered if he'd last long enough for me to use the dildo on him.
"You feel pretty relaxed, but if the second finger doesn't go in easy, bear down like you're taking a shit, okay? That'll help relax the muscles."
I pulled out my first finger and got the two in him right away.
"How you doing, Bubba," I asked.
"Kyle, that feels so good. I think I'm about to come," he said.
"Come whenever you need to. That's all right," I said.
I got Tim to squirt lube on the dildo and to rub it around to make sure it was all covered. I pulled my fingers out of him and stuck the plastic thing in. I rubbed it around inside very gently. It didn't take long. In less than a minute Jus let out a deep moan, and he started shooting cum. I was watching his ass close, and I could actually see it contract around the dildo with every shot he pumped out. When he was finished firing, I slowly pulled it out. Jus was totally limp on the bed.
Tim and Brian were on either side of me, watching everything like hawks. All three of us were so hard, and we were leaking so much pre-cum that we looked like porn boys or something. I grabbed each of their dicks and started stroking them. Tim got mine, and the three of us jerked one another off.
After a little while, Justin sat up in bed.
"Kyle, thank you, man. That was unbelievable," he said.
"Now you know what you've been missing," I said.
"Is it that good for you and Tim when you fuck," he asked.
"It's even better because we give each other pleasure," I said. "I enjoyed doing that, but my dick didn't get any action out of it."
"I'm sorry it wasn't better for you," he said.
"It was great for me, Jus. I got off. You saw that. My little sex monkey took care of me," I said.
Tim loved for me to call him my little sex monkey, and he was grinning when I said it.
"I've got a little sex monkey of my own, you know," Jus said.
Brian giggled and blushed.
"Don't blush. You know you love it," Jus said. Brian slapped him lightly, and I could really tell those boys loved one another.
"I thought you weren't ever going to do butt sex, Jus," Tim said. "Why'd you let Kyle do it to you?"
"I wasn't. Then I got my operation, and my ass didn't hurt for the first time in a year. I knew you guys were doing it, and I knew Rick and Kevin do it. Y'all ain't fools. You all said it didn't hurt. I wanted to do it, too, but I was afraid of the pain. Once the pain was gone, there wasn't any reason not to try it."
"But why Kyle? Why not Brian," Tim asked.
"You're not jealous of Kyle doing that, are you, little brother," Jus asked.
"Of course not. I was right here, helping."
"I wanted Kyle to do it because I trust Kyle. I trust you, too, Brian, and I love you, but I knew you didn't have any experience. I knew Kyle would do everything he could to make it good for me, and he did. I knew you would want to make it good for me, Bri, but you just didn't have the experience," Jus said.
"I saw what he did. I can do that, now. I was scared to death when we bought those things today that I would hurt you if I tried to do it. Now I know I can do it without hurting you," Brian said.
"Kyle and Tim and Brian, I feel so much closer to you guys right now than I did even this afternoon," Jus said. "I think we reached a new level of brotherhood just now."
I said, "I do, too, Jus, and it feels good."