Finding My Manhood, Part III


Author's Note: This story contains graphic depictions of sexual encounters between adult men, some of whom are related. Do not read this story if it is illegal in your jurisdiction to do so or if you have any moral objections to the content. This is a work of fiction, based solely on the fantasies of the author. Any similarity to any persons, places, or events is entirely coincidental and unintentional.


This story is a tale of personal discovery, relationships, pain, hardship, and the ultimate triumph that comes from finding the place in this world where you belong. Though sex will be an important part of the story, not every chapter will have graphic sexual scenes. If you are looking for a story that is only about sex, then this is not the story for you. However, if you are looking for a story that speaks to our fears, our sense of love and loss, and our desire to find a place to belong (while still including graphic sex from time to time), then please keep reading.


As well, this story does not address safe sex. Though all sexual encounters in real life should consider sexual safety as paramount, those elements have been left out of the story. Please practice safe sex with the consenting, adult, partners of your choice.






"So," Matt said, breaking the silence, "you think the brotherhood is for you?"

"Yeah," I responded with a smile.  "I think I could get used to this."

Matt quietly smiled.  It was a smile of both happiness and contentment.  He was at peace, and I could see it all over him.  Frankly, so was I.  My load had just been spent in the ass of the cutest, most angelic, boy I had ever seen.  Matt had coated that same boy's face and throat with his own load, while the boy spent his load on the ground.  Now spent and relaxed, the three of us just lay in the cool night air, enjoying being with each other.

After about 15 minutes, Matt finally spoke.

"Okay, boys, we should probably get showered off and head back inside," he said, as he reached down and stroked the hair of Acolyte Riley.

Leading us down off the deck, past an in-ground pool which was softly illuminated by an underwater light, and around to the side of the house, Matt led us to an outdoor shower.  Enclosed on two sides by glass brick, one side by smooth black laminate that covered the brick of the house, and open on the fourth to the backyard, the shower contained four heads set in to the black laminate wall and enough room for probably four more.  The floor was a soft rubberized material, deep red and easy to walk on in our bare feet.  Set in to the ground where the floor and walls met, recessed fluorescent lighting gave the shower a warm glow and illuminated the shower in a soft light.

Along the wall beneath each shower head was a metal basket, each containing your necessary essentials.  Various soaps, shampoos, conditioners, and facial scrubs filled the baskets, giving each bather a choice as to how they wanted to clean themselves off.

Taking the lead, Matt walked in and turned on the shower furthest back.  I followed him, taking the shower head next to him, with Riley bringing up the lead and taking the third shower.

I had never showered outdoors before.  In fact, I had never showered with another person before.  Not since my early teenage years at the YMCA with my father, when I would sneak a peek at the swinging cocks of the men in the group showers, had I showered anywhere but alone in a private bathroom.  It was a novel, and exciting, experience.

For reasons that now, even years later, I don't fully understand, this was the moment that stuck out most in my mind as I looked back on my introduction to the brotherhood.  Obviously, I remembered fondly the nude men scattered through Matt's house, my initiatory fucking of Riley's smooth and tight hole, and the overwhelming sense of belonging that "feeling, not thinking" brought me among the men I would grow to love more than life itself.  But, it was this moment here, my shower with Matt and Riley, the two men who, above all, became integral parts of my life and psyche, that always comforted me in the night.  On nights when I could not sleep, on days when life seemed too hard to handle, or when the sky was just too gray for me to see any hope of sunlight, I would look back on this moment and know that, no matter what else happened in my life, there was still love and tenderness to be found.

Matt turned on his shower head, and I followed suit, as did Riley.  I stood under the warm water, letting it cascade down my back.  It felt soothing and comforting.  The combination of the warm water and cool night breeze hitting my skin made me feel at peace.  It was the calmest moment I had experienced in quite a while.

I reached down to grab a bar of soap from my basket, but a hand stopped me.

"Let me," Matt said, as he gently drug his fingers up my bare arm to my shoulder and then my neck.

Reaching down to the basket, Matt grabbed a bar of soap.  Rubbing it in his hands beneath the water, he built up a nice lather.  The smell of the soap hit me.  The scented, and obviously not mass-produced, bar smelled of wood, cinnamon, and the fall.  It was masculine, strong, and natural.

Taking his soapy hands from underneath the water, he began to massage it in to my body.  Beginning at my chest, he made smooth, tender movements as he caressed me.  My chest, my stomach, my back, my arms.  He gently touched me, stroked my skin, and made me feel special.

"Close your eyes," he said, leaning in and whispering in my ear.  "Just relax and enjoy this."

I did as he said, closing my eyes and feeling the gentle caress of his hands.  As I was lost in the feeling of his touch on my chest and stomach, I felt a new touch.  Riley had taken another bar of soap and began to wash me from my feet on up.

Four hands caressed and massaged my body, Matt focusing on my top half and Riley on my bottom.  As Riley's hands moved up the back of my thighs to soap my ass, Matt's hands worked downward to do the same to my penis and balls.  In tandem, they washed me and massaged me.  Every inch of my body was attended to in the most gentle, caring, manner.

After placing the soap back in the basket, I felt a new sensation.  Replacing their hands were their mouths.  Matt began by kissing my neck, slowly working his way downward toward my chest.  Riley was kissing my thigh, moving his way toward my crotch.  Their kisses were soft and romantic, communicating a sense of love and belonging.  It was passion on a low flame, just warm enough to make me feel their desire but not hot enough to turn the situation in to anything other than what it was; a beautiful, tender, moment shared by three men who had just made love to each other.

As Matt's mouth and tongue caressed my nipples, tickling them ever-so-slightly, Riley had moved on to my cock.  While it had gone limp in the aftermath of the fucking we had done, it was achieving a semi-erect posture under the warmth and loving attention of Riley's mouth.  After he planted a few pleasant kisses on the head of my dick, the acolyte stood up.  Though I stood several inches taller than him, he leaned in to me and, on his toes in order to reach, placed his lips gently on mine.  His tongue fluttered gently against my lips, bringing me a sense of true passion.

In turn, Matt followed suit.  His kiss was a bit more passionate, as he placed his hand behind my head and pulled me close to him, his tongue parting my lips and exploring my mouth.  His other arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me in to him.  Our cocks touched, rubbing against each other in the warm water.  My semi-erection went to full as I could feel his thick member, itself at half-mast, rising and hardening against me.

Matt let me go and I stood in the water dazed.  It felt so wonderful and so perfect there with the two of them.  I didn't want to be anywhere but right there, with my two lovers.  Matt's strength made me feel stronger and more self-assured.  Riley's innocence and youthful look made me feel protective and desired.  They balanced each other and, more importantly, balanced me.

After a few more minutes in the warm water, Matt turned off the showers and handed each of us a clean, soft, towel from a cabinet next to the shower space.  We dried ourselves off, and made our way back toward the house.

Stopping to gather my clothes along the way, Matt led us inside and back to the living room.  Men, the brotherhood, were still gathered in the space.  Some where still talking and laughing with one another.  Others were engaged in quiet debates over beers.  On the floor, David (the Hispanic beauty brought Riley in to the Temple of Eros) lay on his back while a man of about 40 rode his cock with abandon.  Everyone could see, and most were watching intently.  Even those engaged in conversation were absently stroking their own pieces in response to the live fucking going on in front of them.

I took a seat on the stairs at the edge of the living room, Riley sitting on the step beneath me and leaning back with this head in my crotch.  We watched David fuck, other men stroke, and we delighted in the uninhibited display of raw nudity and masculine sexuality.  For several hours, we stayed right there, lost in conversation with each other and with others.

Riley told me all about his family and his life.  He told me about his early days in the brotherhood, about how scared and shy he was.  He worried that looking like he had just started puberty would be something other men would look down on him for, not accepting him for the adult that he actually is.

"But," he said to me as he leaned back against my thigh and caressed the back of my leg, "this is the most amazing group I have ever been a part of.  No one has ever judged me, looked down on me, or made me feel like I'm not a man.  I've never felt like a kid here.  These guys are my family now, and I'd do anything for them."

In return, I told Riley about my life.  I described coming out to my family, and about how only my father seemed to be accepting of it.  I talked about school, my major in sociology, and about the first guy I fell in love with.  I told him about how that man broke my heart, made me feel like no one would ever find me attractive or love me again, and how destroyed I was when he walked out on my life.  I told him about how "fat," "ugly," "stupid," "useless," and "disappointing" were the mantra of my ex.  I related the months of emotional abuse I suffered from someone who, now that I was looking back on that time, I don't think ever loved me.  Because of him, I didn't think anyone ever could love me.


The sun was just coming up as I lay in Andrews's bed.  I was naked, trying to curl up next to the man I had fallen so deeply in love with.  As a freshman in college, and only recently out of the closet, this was the first relationship I had ever had.  I had lusted after boys in high school, and even had a couple quick jerk-off sessions with some of my friends in the school bathrooms and locker rooms.  But, those weren't expressions of love or desire from them.  For them, it was simply a way to get someone else to stroke their teenage cocks.

From Andrews's bed, I could see the orange and pink hues fill the sky.  It was almost winter, and the technicolor sky painted a stark contrast to the leafless brown trees and dusting of white over the hills.  I moved closer to him, wrapping my arm over his sleeping body, letting my hand rest right at the base of his stomach.

"What are you doing?" Andrew's sleepy voice asked me as he shifted in the bed.

"Just wanted to cuddle," I softly replied, as my hand lightly grazed his morning wood.

"Get the fuck off me," he commanded as he forcefully pushed my arm to the side and rolled away from me.

This was, sadly, almost every morning with him.  He rarely let me spend the night in his apartment, saying that he "prefers to be alone."  But, when he did let me, I relished the chance to lay all night in his arms.  In his arms, however, was never where I ended up.

I rolled over and faced away from and stared at the white walls of his bedroom.  I knew better than to press my luck.  If I tried again, he'd only kick me out and it would be a few days before I'd see him again.

The hours passed, and I drifted in and out of sleep again.  The night before, he had made love to me.  Of course, he didn't call it that.  "Get over here and bend over" was his way of romancing me.  Now, in my dream-like state, I recalled the pounding he had given my ass.

He ordered me to bend over.  I complied.

He grabbed some lotion from his nightstand and used it to lube up his uncut cock.  I braced myself, hoping it wouldn't hurt like last time.

He ordered me to spread my cheeks.  I did as he asked.

He pushed himself in to me with one swift thrust.  I bit my lip in order to keep from crying out.

He pulled in and out, choosing the rhythm he wanted.  I tried to brace myself against the bed.

He thrust harder and harder.  I choked back tears of pain.

"Take my cock, boy," he said.

"Anything to make him happy," I thought.

He felt pleasure as I gave him my hole to use as he wanted.  I felt searing pain rocket through my body as I bunched the sheets up in my hands.

He pulled my hair.  I let him without complaint.

He called me by the wrong name.  I pretended not to notice.

He pulled his cock out and shot his load on my back.  I sighed, thankful it wasn't in me like last time.

He left the bedroom to shower.  I silently cried, hoping he would love me now.

The dreams of last night were broken when I heard his voice crying for me from the other room.  As I looked through his bedroom window at the hills and bare trees, I saw the sky was a brilliant blue.  The sun has fully awoken, and so has Andrew.

"Rob, come here," he shouted in a tone that I recognized as him wanting me to service him in some way.

I climbed out of bed and walked toward his voice.  Finding him in the living room, I plodded over to him, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes.  He was sitting on the couch naked, his legs spread and his hard cock thrusting upward to his stomach.  He had obviously been stroking it for a while, as evidenced by the stacks of pornographic magazines spread out next to him.

His favorite magazines were filled with the boys I would never be.  Cute, young-looking, horny, and eager boys smiled up at him seductively from the shiny pages.  Twinks, skater boys, scene kids, and boys in and out of Catholic school uniforms begged him for attention.  Each of them was perfect, with a smooth and defined body and large piece of meat between their legs.

I wasn't them.  I'd never be them.  But, at 19 years old, I was the closest that he had.  His dream boys were toned and perfect.  I lacked muscle definition and sported a small belly.  They had perfect bubble butts, where I thought mine was just average at best.  Their cocks were huge and leaked precum like a faucet.  Mine was average in length, though thick, and only occasionally got enough precum going to even notice.  If they were the pageant winners, I could only hope to be "Mr. Congeniality" in the competition.

Andrew was 39, and while still attractive, he was past the age limit for the majority of boys that he fancied.  A daddy/son relationship is what he wanted. He longed for some cute piece of arm candy to show off to his friends.  But, sadly, most guys in the age range he preferred wanted boys their own age and not men old enough to be their fathers.

I was different.  I didn't see his age as a positive or negative, just another trait that made him who he was.  He was Andrew, the man who had smiled at me on a late-night trip to the 24-hour adult bookstore on the edge of the city.  He had been perusing the magazines while I had been "looking" at toys near the entrance to the private video booths.

He had smiled at me, squeezed his crotch, and made a beeline for the video booths.  I followed, while the late-night clerk pretended he hadn't noticed us violating the "one person to a booth" rule.  I sucked him off in that booth that night while he fingered my, at the time, virgin hole.  He came, he left, and I sheepishly snuck out a side door to avoid the knowing smirk of the clerk's face.

For weeks, I had seen him there every Saturday night after the bars had closed.  The routine had always been the same.  He'd smile, squeeze his obvious erection through his pants, and lure me in to a booth.  I'd eagerly suck his cock and swallow his load.  He'd finger me while I worked, then leave as soon as the deed was done.  To him, I was just a warm mouth.

A couple of times, he would bring a friend with him.  His friend, a muscled man in his 50's who I had heard Andrew refer to as Troy, was much more gentle and polite than Andrew was.  He would stroke my hair while I sucked him off, Andrew watching and slowly jacking as I did.  Andrew liked to watch and always wanted me to suck the friend first.

After nearly three months of sucking him off on a weekly basis, the night clerk always aware but never saying anything, the routine changed.  He came in my mouth, like always.  I swallowed every drop, like always. But, this time, he didn't leave.  Instead, he invited me back to his place.

Now, as I stood in his living room and saw what he wanted, I got in to position.  Still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I got on my knees and dutifully grabbed his cock and began to suck.  I knew how he liked it.  I gently slid my tongue between the head of his cock and his foreskin, and he moaned.  I gingerly tugged his balls with my hand, and he grabbed my hair in a positive response.  I deepthroated his cock, and he whispered affirmations as he face-fucked me.

Then.... Yeah, then.  Then, I made my mistake.  With my free hand, I gently fingered his hole.  This was too far, according to Andrew's rules.  My hole was for his use, how and when he wanted it.  His hole was off limits, now and forever.

Pushing me to the floor, he exploded in anger.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Andrew demanded, standing up quickly as he did.

"I'm sorry," I pleaded.  The panic in my voice was apparently.

"God, you are fucking useless," he bellowed.  "You just can't do what I tell you, can you?  Guess that's what I get for finding a fat and ugly piece of shit who doesn't know his place.  Get out."

With that, he stormed off to shower.  I knew better than to be here when he got done.  I had made that mistake once, and only once.  Hoping to talk him out of his anger at me for my failure to please him, I had waited in the living room for him.

One look at me after his shower was all it took for me to learn my lesson.  He pushed me out the front door of his apartment, still naked as the day I was born.  Throwing my clothes off the balcony of his third-story apartment, he had called me "stupid" and "worthless."  I had to run to the grassy common area of the apartment complex to redress, knowing that I was on display for anyone who would look out the window.

This time, I didn't push my luck.  I dressed and left immediately.  I hoped that Andrew would calm down, call me, and tell me how much he loved and needed me.  He didn't.  I never heard from him again.


I knew, months after the fact, that my escape from Andrew was for the best.  He had never physically abused me, never punched me or threatened to do so.  But, he very well could have gotten to that point.  I was thankful, especially as I looked over the room of kind, gentle, and accepting men, that the chapter of my life that contained Andrew was better off closed and forgotten.  He wasn't good for me, I knew that.  I had just wanted be loved, though, and I thought he was my only chance for that.  I had never heard "I love you" from anyone but my family, and I hoped Andrew would be the first to say it.  He wasn't.

The pain came back to me as I sat there recounting my life to Riley and I began to cry softly.  A few tears streamed down my cheeks, burning in to my skin like fire.  I didn't want to cry.  Not now.  Not here.

To his credit, as I sat on the stairs and let the pain of my life overtake me, Riley didn't seem to judge.  Seeing what was happening, he curled up closer to me and lay his cheek down on my thigh.  He was gentle and caring.  He made me feel like I wasn't a failure and I wasn't alone.

As the men in the room seemed to be winding down, some even slowly getting their clothes gathered together, Matt approached me and Riley on the steps.

"So, Rob," he said as he leaned up against the railing of the steps, "are you sure that you want to join the brotherhood?  If you are, I'll announce you as a future acolyte before the rest of the brothers leave."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, giving Riley's chest a rub and smiling up at Matt.

"Good," he said with a twinkle in his eye.  Turning to face the rest of the men, he spoke again.  "Brothers, if I could have your attention for just a moment.  I know that the night is winding to a close, and many of you are tired and ready to head on home and to bed...yours or someone else's."

That last line drew a laugh from most of the guys in the room, and a couple even slid their hands on to the crotches of another man who they planned on taking home to their own bed.

"However, before you go, I have some exciting news.  Rob, our newest friend and my personal guest, has decided that the Temple and the brotherhood is for him.  At Communion weekend, if he is able to join us for the festivities, Rob will become an acolyte.  He will be joining Acolyte Riley in learning the roles and power of the brotherhood, and will be inducted alongside Thomas' son Eli.  This will truly be a wonderful weekend for all of us."

A loud cheer went through the room.  These men seemed genuinely happy for the news.  I felt welcomed, wanted, and like I had found a place I finally belonged.  For the first time, perhaps since my childhood, I could look around the room and see nothing but genuine happiness and support.  Looking to Matt, I smiled.  His smile warmed my heart, as I knew it came from genuine love and affection.

Over the next thirty minutes, the men dressed and left one or two at a time.  Glancing at the clock on the wall, and realizing it was nearly 3:00 AM, I put my clothes back.  It was late, and it was time to get home.  I didn't want to leave this space, the place where I had felt so welcomed and wanted.  But, it was time.  I would be back, and would do whatever I could to make it to Communion weekend.

As I slid my shirt on, I felt a hand gently caress my bare ass.  It was smooth and tender in its touch.

"I'm really glad I got to meet you," Riley said as he leaned in and up, kissing me on the cheek.

I turned around and faced him, my own cock growing again as I looked upon the naked body of the angel I'd grown so close to tonight.  I ran my fingers down his smooth chest, lightly brushed this baby-soft stomach, and very gently took his beautiful manhood in my hand.

"I'm glad I got to meet you, too," I said, as I leaned down and planted my lips on his.

For the next minute, we stood in that position.  Our lips were locked, our tongues intertwined, and my hand slowly stroked his dick.  I could have stayed like that forever, with the angel in my arms.  It was only Matt's soothing, masculine, voice which broke me from my reverie.

"Save some of that for Communion weekend, boys," Matt said, a lilt in his voice as he slid his hand between us and cupped my balls.  "There is a lot more of that to come.  Trust me."

Breaking apart from Riley, I smiled and kissed Matt on his chest, flicking my tongue over his nipple as I did.  Matt sighed with pleasure, and the three of us paused for just a moment to admire one another and revel in the moment.

I knew that it was time, even though I wanted nothing more than to stay here forever.

Putting my clothes back on, I listened as Riley and Matt made final plans for their trip to the Communion event.  Talk of carpooling, tents, shower facilities, and things called "Temple dress" and the "Acolyte Room" passed back and forth between them.  I didn't understand what those things entailed, but I was dying to find out.

"Rob," Matt said as I grabbed my car keys out of my pocket.  "Riley and David are coming over on Wednesday night to get our final preparations figured out for Communion.  Would you like to come over, maybe we can help answer some questions and get you prepared?"

I smiled and blushed.  Part of me had been afraid that, once I walked out the door, this would all be over.  I was afraid that, like so many men who had feigned interest in me long enough to get me to suck them off or to offer my ass to them, Matt and Riley would quickly forget about me.

"Yeah," I said, genuinely touched, "I'd like that."

"I would too," Matt replied, himself smiling and blushing a little.  The blush of skin and hint of red it gave made the otherwise masculine man seem, for just a moment, childlike and vulnerable.  It made me fall, ever-so-slightly, in love with him.

Matt told me the time to be there, and the two wished me a good night and safe drive with a final kiss on each cheek.  I left Matt's home, my head swimming and my heart pounding.  If what I had just experienced was something that would continue, I knew it would be something I could never forget.

I didn't understand, at the time, just what was truly in store for me.  Had I known, had I even had an inkling of how deeply I would be changed by these men...this doe-eyed and immature feelings of lust and love would have given way to primal passion, and maybe even a bit of fear.