Date: Fri, 13 May 2005 21:33:14 -0700
From: Gay Literature Class <gaylitclass@gmail.com>
Subject: "Leaving Seminary" - First Installment in Series

This story is entirely fictional; none of the events ever took place to the
best of my knowledge. Anything that seems familiar is entirely accidental.
The characters in the story are all of consenting age, though it does
portray a father and son exploring their sexuality together. If that's not
your cup of tea, then please don't read this. Otherwise, enjoy -- and
please send you comments, suggestions, etc. to GayLitClass@gmail.com

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART ONE

When I returned from chapel, my luggage had already been packed for me. The
monsignor was standing in my room when I walked in, absently looking out
the window.  I'd no more than stepped foot in the room when the gruff old
bastard turned on his patent leather heel and glared at me.

"You were warned." He declared.

I was stunned. Absolutely nowhere in my memory could I recall being
admonished for anything -- I'd never been disciplined, I'd never been out
of line, when I'd go to make confession, I actually had think hard to make
my confession seem plausible. Since I first heard my calling when I was 13,
I never once did anything out of line. I had never spoke back to my
parents, never "interfered with myself" (a polite euphemism the church uses
instead of "masturbate"), I'd never done anything to warrant any sort of
disciplinary actions. Now, at age 19, my second year in seminary, I was
receiving a glowering reprimand from a doddering old man who looked at me
with a disdain used on the most exceptional of transgressors.

"About what?" I shot back. I was angered and confused. I'd never taken such
a brusque voice with anyone, let alone the monsignor.

He stepped toward me, and slapped me hard across the face with the back of
his hand -- his ring catching the tip of my nose. I reeled back and
stumbled to the foot of my bed. My instant reflex was to fall to my knees
and beg forgiveness, but the truth was, that I didn't know what I had done
to require forgiveness.

"There is a car outside waiting to take you home." He said as he passed my
kneeling body on his way out the door.

I stood up and arranged myself. There was Father Carlos at my door. He
looked out the door, as if to make certain that the old man was gone, and
he quickly closed my door and rushed to my side.

"Listen. The old man thinks that you've done something, and he's the only
one who thinks so."

"What is it that I'm meant to have done?" I inquired, relieved that I
wasn't going out of my mind.

"He thinks you're..." and Carlos drifted off "...he thinks you're a
homosexual."

I was stunned. The truth is that once you've made a decision to enter the
priesthood, you've forsworn your sexuality forever -- neither heterosexual
nor homosexual. I had made peace with denying myself the pleasure of the
flesh for what I thought would be a higher reward, and now I was being sent
away because of the delusions of a doddering old man.

Carlos continued, "This is what you need to do -- and you need to trust
me. Go home, we've already talked to your father, and explained the
situation. Go home, and wait. Take a couple weeks off, and when the old man
is gone, we'll call you back."

"What is this `situation'?" I asked, near tears. "What did I do?"

Father Carlos sat on the bed next to me, and explained, "Last week, he saw
you talking to the groundskeeper, and he says that you were holding his
hand."

"WE WERE PRAYING! Mother of Christ..." I was stunned.

"I know." Carlos continued.

"The groundkeeper is almost 70!" I continued.

"I know," Carlos concurred, "He isn't clear in the head. I think it's about
time he headed for the old padres home." Carlos smiled, and nudged me.

I offered a halfhearted smile. Carlos had been a mentor for me, and I knew
he wouldn't ever lie to me.

"What did he mean about having been `warned'?" I asked, still unsure of
what the monsignor had meant.

"He probably thinks you're someone else. That's part of the problem -- he
doesn't remember where he leaves things, he confuses people with
others. Yesterday, he thought that Mrs. Armen, his secretary of 30 years,
was his long-dead mother."

"I don't want to just leave though." I was truly afraid. I had nothing to
do at home, except sit at home and talk to my Dad. In reality, I was
ill-prepared for life on the outside. My mother had protected me by sending
me away to a boarding school when I was six. When she died, I was
devastated. I did love my father, but he was never keen on my mother's
devotion to The Church. He was a history professor and had little use for
institutional religion, and although he has never said it directly, I
suspect he had reservations about my attending seminary.

Carlos took my hands. "Everything will be fine. Please, have faith. Take a
couple weeks to rest, and you'll be back in no time."

I breathed deeply and smiled at Carlos. "Thank you. I appreciate your help
here."

With that, I grabbed my trunk, Carlos grabbed my duffel and headed for the
front door. We loaded my things into the taxi, and I looked back at the
Seminary.

"Think of it as shore leave," Carlos laughed, "You might as well have
something to confess."

I managed a weak smile, and got into the cab. As the driver wheeled down
the long driveway, I wept quietly to myself.

--------------------------------------------

LIFE ON THE OUTSIDE

My father greeted me at the airport with wide arms. "It's so good to see
you kid!" He hugged me tight, and I was comforted for the first time.

We grabbed my luggage and headed for the parking lot. As I settled into the
passenger seat, my eyes began to well up.

"I'm so sorry!" I blurted out.

My dad stopped me. "This is not your fault. Don't you think for a single
moment that you've done anything wrong. Father Carlos explained the
situation to me. I can't believe they expect you to have to take time out
of your studies because of the rant of some idiot old man." My dad was
famous for his diatribes about the moronic acts of authority figures. As he
pulled out of the lot onto the freeway, he said "That's what happens when
you get involved with that superstitious bullshit." He stopped short on
that sentence, and quickly began to backpedal.

"I'm sorry Mick, I didn't mean that." He apologized. "I know we don't agree
when it comes to that stuff. I just don't want you to ever have regrets, or
miss anything that this life has to offer."

"I know, dad. That's what is so frustrating.  I've never had doubts about
my choice until now. I always followed the rules, I never did anything
wrong, I always had perfect grades..." I trailed off. For the first time in
this, I actually began to permit myself anger. "What do I do about this,
dad? I don't know what I should be doing."

My father looked squarely into my eyes, and said "Everything. You should be
doing everything that you haven't done up to now."

"Like what?" I asked. I was exasperated. "Should I take up drinking and
smoking? Start running around town staying up all night, having sex with
anyone who slows down long enough?"

My dad laughed. "It's a good place to start."

We were still laughing when we pulled into the driveway.


"Your cousin Anthony is staying at the house. He's in grad school this term
at KU." Dad told me.

I was relieved. Anthony was a couple years older than me, and he and I grew
up together and were best friends for a long time, until I left for
seminary. He was more like my dad in terms of his relationship with the
Church.

I turned on the light to my room and looked around. It never really felt
like my room. Living my entire academic career in boarding schools, I
didn't grow up in this room. It was more like my summer home; a cabin that
I visited on vacations. Anthony's luggage was in the corner, and he'd
obviously slept in my bed. I was instantly aroused at the thought of him in
my bed.

I walked over to my closet. I opened the drawers of my dresser looking for
nothing in particular. I pulled out the bottom drawer of my dresser and a
manila envelope fell off the bottom of the drawer. I grinned. When I was 15
a friend had given me a Playboy magazine. I was petrified of it being found
in the garbage, so my solution was to hide it in an envelope and tape it to
the bottom of the drawer. Apparently in the last few years, the adhesive on
the tape had worn off.

I slid the magazine out of the envelope and laughed quietly to myself. When
I was a sophomore in high school, I'd confided in my friend Steven that I
hadn't ever masturbated, although the other boys joked about it
incessantly. At the end of that school year, he slipped it in my luggage
with a note attached that simply said "Welcome to the club." How much he
would be disappointed that I never did join the club!

Not that I didn't think about it. I thought about sex, and masturbation,
but I took special pride in the fact that I'd never "interfered with
myself" and that in all likelihood, I was the only one that didn't. But
now, I reconsidered that fact. I'd made it to 19 without it, and I wondered
if it would be absurd to start now.

I thumbed through the pages absently, examining the glossy images of smooth
young women, and I stopped at the centerfold reading her "turn-ons" when
Anthony walked in."

"Oh, sorry kid. Didn't mean to interrupt." He started to leave.

"You didn't." I said, and tried in vain to hide the magazine.

"Good to see you kid!" He reached out and hugged me. I forgot how much I
missed him. "I knew you had to have some sort of secrets." He exclaimed,
pointing at the Playboy.

I laughed.

"Um, Anthony?" I asked, "Can I ask you about some stuff?"

"Sure. Anything in particular?" he asked.

I was prepared to jump off the cliff. "Well, sex stuff, I guess. I
mean... I haven't ever..." I started to stutter. I was ready to learn, and
I knew that Anthony wouldn't torment me incessantly if I inquired.

"Well, you HAVE been in seminary. Not a lot of opportunity there, it sounds
like." He joked, and made light of what was a progressively more
uncomfortable moment. "Good thing you still had hands!" He smiled at me,
and gave me a little nudge on the shoulder.

"Well, that's another question I have." I smiled uneasily at him. "I
haven't ever... masturbated... but now... I think I might want to give it a
try. But, I don't know exactly what's involved."

Anthony stared blankly at me. "Mick, are you telling me that you don't
masturbate?"

I nodded.

"You're saying that you've NEVER masturbated."

I nodded again.

"Really?"

"Anthony! This is weird enough." I protested.

"No, no... it's fine. I'm just surprised." He was truly stunned. "Don't you
ever get aroused?"

I nodded. "Sure, sometimes."

"What do you do about it?" he asked.

"Nothing. Usually say a rosary to take my mind off of it." I replied.

He stared blankly at me. "Do you have wet dreams?"

I was unclear what he meant.

He continued in more elementary terms, "In the last few years, have you
ever gotten up in the morning with wet sheets on the bed?"

"Yes!" I quickly responded. "Is that a wet dream? Wetting the bed?"

"Well, sorta," he laughed, "Don't they teach you anything at that school?"
We sat on my bed, and he went into the sordid details about wet dreams, and
how lack of masturbation can trigger wet dreams in the adolescent.

"So, I've had orgasm, then. I've just slept through them?" I asked
impatiently.

"Holy cow! You've never had an orgasm." he was near shouting now, as he
realized what I was telling him.

"I don't know!" I was so confused. "I guess I must have, but I was asleep."

Anthony decided to take control of the situation. "Okay, after dinner, you
and I are going to take care of this. I'm going to teach you how to
masturbate, and enjoy your body."

"You're going to teach me?" I was confused.

"Mick, I'm an expert. I've been doing it a LONG time." He smiled, "I'll
show you some of the basics, and you can try different things on your
own. Get washed up for dinner. Let's go find your dad and go out to eat."


We sat through dinner, and discussed politics, and occasionally ventured
back to how little I knew of worldly things. My dad was a very well
traveled man, with years of experience visiting exotic destinations around
the world. While I was holed up in boarding school at my mother's
insistence (for the sake of my soul), my father was in North Africa sharing
a hookah with nomadic tribesmen. And while I said novena after novena to
distract my attentions from the tumescence in my woolen trousers, he was
traipsing around the nude beaches of South America while studying the
indigenous peoples. Anthony was an excellent conversation partner for my
dad. He was a sociology grad student. In a way, I think Anthony was the kid
my dad wishes he had.

As I watched them talk, I began to realize how attractive Anthony really
was. He wasn't particularly tall, only around 5'8" or so, and not
particularly "buff", but he was really toned. Like a swimmer, only he
didn't shave his arms, and the tufts of hair from his collar told me that
his chest was equally covered. Admiring Anthony in this way did make me
start to realize in no uncertain terms, that when it comes to sexual
orientation, men were definitely my target.

When we got home, I nervously waited for him to raise of the topic of him
teaching me to masturbate, but I was uncertain how to be rid of my dad. We
watched the evening news, commenting on the pathetic nature of local news
broadcasting. As the credits rolled, he stood up and said "I'm heading for
the hot tub, anyone care to join me?"

My dad stood up and stretched, "You boys have fun. I think I'm headed for
bed."

I was thrilled at the invite, and that my father was going to bed. Not that
he would object to discussing sex, or my lack of knowledge -- but this
seemed like something for Anthony and me alone. "Sounds good." I responded,
trying to be casual. I gathered my shoes, and turned off the television.

I bounded up to my room, and searched through my bag for my swim trunks. I
hadn't really been in the pool in a couple years, so I'd grown out of
them. I wrestled my way into them, and looked at myself in the mirror. I
was terribly skinny, so my yellow swim trunks looked like a cigar band
around a very pale cigar.

I walked out into the hall, and Anthony stood there in his baggy
shorts. "Those look really uncomfortable." He said to me.

"They're pretty tight." I agreed. "Do you have a spare pair?"

"Probably. Check in my black trunk and see what's in there." He gestured
toward my room, and headed for the hot tub.

I walked back into my room, now our room, and bent down to open his
case. As I bent, the seat of my trunks ripped all the way through the
waist, leaving a string, and tattered yellow nylon hanging from my
waist. Out of reflex, I tried to cover myself, but quickly remembered that
I was going to try new things, so I let them hang. I retrieved a green pair
of trunks that would clearly be too large for my 28" waist, but I would be
in the hot tub sitting, so it didn't much matter.

I removed the tattered pieces of my old pair, and threw them in the
wastebasket. I slipped on Anthony's worn green pair, cinched the waist and
headed for the hot tub.


I got to the back door and walked out to the hot tub, and Anthony was
nowhere to be found. The tub was already warm, so I slipped in and began to
enjoy the bubbling jets.

Anthony returned with a pitcher of sangria and two glasses. "A little after
dinner drink?"

"Sure," I replied, "I might was well start enjoying all the vices."

We laughed, and sipped our sangria and as the conversation continued, we
began to talk about sex.

"So, have you discovered whether you're gay or straight?" he asked very
directly.

I was shocked, but I figured a direct question, deserved a direct
answer. "Well, I think I might be gay. But still, I have no frame of
reference."

"That's okay. You should experiment." He replied, in a very academic tone.

"Did YOU experiment?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Oh sure. I think I'd actually be considered bisexual." He
answered. Anthony was certainly full of surprises today.

"Oh." I responded. I sipped my sangria as I considered this new bit of
information.

"I know what they tell you about homosexuality and such in seminary, but
the truth is that sexuality is fluid. No one is truly entirely heterosexual
or..." and he continued on into an academic style lecture about the nature
of human sexuality. Just as he was launching into a bit about the
hypocritical nature of Islamic law that forbids homosexuality in males, but
ignored the possibility that lesbianism even exists, the phone rang.

"Be right back!" He said, as he jumped out of the tub.

I sat, sipped and relaxed. As I sat and digested the events of the last
twelve hours, I truly started to feel more comfortable with the idea that
my life would be changing, and definitely for the better.

"Well, speaking of bisexuality" he said, as he slipped back in to the hot
tub, "David, a colleague of mine is on his way over. I forgot that he and I
made plans to hang out tonight, but it will probably all work out for the
best."

"And how does that pertain to bisexuality?" I asked warily.

"He and I, umm... play together, sometimes." Anthony smirked at me.

"Really!" I was stunned, but happy to hear it. "So, is he your... boyfriend
or something?"

"Nothing like that," he corrected. "Just a friend who likes a little fun
now and then. I told him you were here, and he promised to be on his best
behavior."

I laughed, perhaps partly out of discomfort. Although, I was disappointed,
somewhat, that our lessons might be interrupted.

"So, what were we talking about?" Anthony asked.

"Well, sex. But if David is coming over, maybe we should wait to cover this
another night."

"Not at all. He's anthropology student. He might have some good insights."
He added.

After a few minutes of Anthony talking on about discovering his bisexuality
with his lab partner after a biology class, we heard a car pull into the
driveway.

Anthony turned his head, "Sounds like he's here. I told him to meet us out
here."

"Hey there!" a shout came from the side of the house.

"Good evening! Come meet my cousin!" my Anthony called back to him.

Out of the shadows emerged an amazingly handsome, olive-skinned man, with
the most perfectly fit chest I'd ever seen, or imagined in my life. David
was young, quite tall, at least 6' 3", with jet black hair. He walked into
the screened porch and set down his duffel bag.

"I didn't realize you guys were already in the tub." He said, as he began
to shed his clothes.

He lifted the thin white cotton undershirt he wore and exposed his
perfectly hairy chest. Not a hair beyond the edge of his impossibly
sculpted chest or abs, and a back as smooth as silk.

He dropped his linen trousers and I quickly turned my head away, in time to
see that Anthony caught me staring.

"I guess that answers one question." He smiled at me, and laughed a little.

As David stepped into the tub, he extended a hand. "You must be Michael."

"I am. But call me Mick." I shook his powerful hand. His arms were covered
in black hair, and he had bright green eyes that took my breath away. I
couldn't decipher his ethnicity, exactly. Syrian? Greek? Italian?

We all relaxed into the pool and Anthony poured sangria for David.

"So, Mick just told me this evening that he's never had an orgasm." Anthony
announced casually.

"Anthony!" I grimaced with embarrassment.

"What?" David was clearly confused, so Anthony went into all of the gloomy
details about my unfortunate situation.

"Not that I didn't want to, mind you." I attempted to defend some vestige
of my progressively tattered masculinity.

We talked about it more, and David kept looking at me. "You are way too
attractive to not have had sex." He told me.

I blushed. It was a very kind thing of him to say, although I'd never felt
particularly attractive. I stood near 6 feet tall, but was always terribly
thin. I weighed in at around 150 lbs, but never went for sports, so I was
fairly shapeless.

"Thanks. Just good genes, I suppose." I responded as I finished my first
sangria.

"So, David, what do you think about helping me teach Mick a thing or two
about the `pleasures of the flesh'?" Anthony asked him.

"Where to even begin..." David started, "What do you already know, and what
do you want to know?"

"Well," I stammered for a moment, "What's the big deal about masturbation?"

Anthony and David exchanged looks and laughed out loud. "It's only a boy's
best friend!" David exclaimed.

"What's the fist gesture all about?" I asked, slightly emboldened by the
sangria. "That doesn't look at all `pleasurable'."

David cut in, "That whole fist thing is an exaggeration. There are slow
strokes, and fast strokes and finger rubs, and all sorts of maneuvers that
you can employ to bring about an enjoyable experience." It was clear,
evidently, by the look on my face that I wasn't registering what he was
saying.

"Maybe we should go inside for a little introduction." Anthony suggested.

"You up for it?" David asked me.

My throat suddenly went dry, but I croaked out an un-convincing, "I'm up
for anything!" and I jumped out of the tub.

We dried off as best we could and headed inside.  "Let's hang our trunks
out here to dry." Anthony said, as he peeled his off, and threw them over
the back of the chair. David and I followed suit, and we headed inside. I
followed behind Anthony, watching his little butt jump up and down as he
bounded up the stairs toward the bedroom. I felt a light smack on my ass as
David playfully greeted me. I turned quickly as he winked at me. The
contact shot a bolt of electricity up my spine, and down into my
balls. Something began to stir, and I was ready to learn.

Anthony opened the TV armoire in the corner of my room, and turned on a
porn movie. I'd never seen a porn movie, only magazines, and I was already
turned on inside my own head.

Anthony and David jumped on the bed, and they gestured me to sit between
them.

The screen lit up on a scene with three guys sitting on a sofa jerking each
other off.

"That's what the gesture means." I declared, finally understanding the
universal "Jackoff" signal.

"Yes, but there's so much more." David explained.

With my back to the door, Anthony and David moved up with their backs to
the headboard, so the three of us formed a circle as we sat Indian style on
my queen-sized bed.

I looked at Anthony's body -- tight, amazing at 22 years. He had a heavy
looking penis -- uncircumcised, thick, about 5 inches long, sitting atop a
disproportionately large scrotum. Then at David's. body, hairy all
over. The hair on his body thinned slightly at the waist, and resumed its
dark coverage crowning a long, dark snakelike cock. It must have been at
least 8" long, brown foreskin starting to draw back over a bright pink
head.

"Would you like to touch our bodies first?" Anthony offered. "You can touch
anything you like, if that's okay with David."

"Absolutely." He smiled at me, "Don't be afraid to touch, feel and ask
questions.

"Yes, please." I eagerly replied.

I started with Anthony. Somehow with him, it seemed more comfortable. Less
scary somehow. I reached over and touched his hairy belly, as he leaned
back on the headboard. The coarse hair felt strange under my hands, as my
stomach had only a faint trail of hair from my navel to my groin, and it
was quite soft.

I slowly drifted my hand down into his pubes. They too were slightly rough
to the touch, but not at all unpleasant. Tentatively, I started to reach
for his cock to pick it up, but I began to hesitate.

"It's okay." Anthony reassured me as he mussed my hair.

I smiled at Anthony, and went back to studying his now enlarging cock. I
picked it up, and felt a pulse race into its thickening shaft. The heat
that emanated was surprising. I'm not sure what I expected, exactly, but I
don't think I expected heat.

I reached under and lifted his heavy ballsac. His nuts churned within and I
caressed the silky softness of the flesh. Gently, I set his balls down and
slid the foreskin of his now turgid cock back and watched the shiny head
emerge. A low sigh came from Anthony's lips and I stopped short. "Is that
okay?" I asked.

"Absolutely. Don't forget about David though." He smiled.

I then turned to David who was watching all of this eagerly, and I reached
for his stomach. I caressed his hairy belly with more gusto. His stomach
felt like a stone slab under a layer of skin. His body was producing a
great deal of heat too.

"Your flesh is very hot to the touch." I said, as my first learning.

"Blood is flowing. Increasing body temperature." David told me, in a low
moan.

I moved out of the way as David and Anthony slid together against the
headboard. I was able to pay attention to both of them as I straddled their
legs.

I moved Anthony's foreskin up and down slowly watching the head disappear
and re-emerge from a silky cover, and at the same time, slid my hand down
along the top vein of David's thickening dick. I slid my hand underneath
his weighty cock and lifted it up. It was as thick as my wrist and began to
twitch slightly as it became increasingly engorged.

I circled the point of my finger around the opening in his foreskin,
spreading the shiny droplet that emerged around the head of his cock. His
foreskin began to retract on its own exposing the bright pink head, slowly
turning a brighter crimson color.

Using only my thumb and forefinger on each hand, I began to slip the
foreskin back and forth over each of their now rigid cocks.

"Excellent. That feels perfect." David praised.

My cock was flat against my belly, throbbing hard as I leaned over these
two men, giving my first handjob(s) in stereo.

"Okay," Anthony interrupted, "That is very nice, and you could easily make
an entire evening of that, but why don't you explore a little yourself."

I slid in between them and began to really feel my crotch for the first
time. The throbbing erection, the silky smoothness of my balls, the soft
hair above, the way my foreskin, like my Anthony's, was thinner, and
silkier than the thicker, more rugged feeling skin on David's cock.

"Do you mind if I touch you?" David asked me.

I was nervous, and looked at Anthony. "You don't need my permission." He
told me.

"Sure." I replied quietly, and leaned back and relaxed.

David leaned over me, and brought his mouth down to mine. Instinctively, I
opened my lips slightly and received his hot tongue. Gently, smoothly, he
sucked my tongue and lips. Then Anthony leaned in and met David's hot mouth
with his own, then leaned down onto my mouth. David laid his hand in the
middle of my chest and began to rub slightly, almost ticklish, the hairs
between my pecs.

Anthony slid his hand from my ankle, slowly up my shins to my knee, and
with a massage-like glide, up my tensed thigh, and stopped gently at the
hipbone. As he played with the errand hairs at the corner of my groin, he
said, "Tonight is about you. Tell us exactly what you're thinking, and
feeling. Tell us what you want, when you want us to slow down, go faster,
stronger, gentler... anything you want."

I smiled, and agreed.

David slipped his hand gently below my waist, and met Anthony's hand in my
bush. They both gently rubbed my hairy mound and the three of us kissed
deeply, wrestling three tongues and three sets of lips, one upon another
upon another.

I watched David tentatively use a single digit to lift my semi-hard dick,
and slowly slide my foreskin back. The cool air of the room hit the
glistening glans and I let out a quiet sigh.

"Is that okay?" David asked. "Yes." I replied, "Perfect."

Anthony and David smiled sweetly to one another and proceeded to kiss
passionately as Davis slowly manipulated my foreskin, and Anthony deftly
thumbed my ballsac.

As my libido churned, I was emboldened by the energy of the group, and slid
my hand between Anthony's legs, and began to imitate David's moves on my
own cock. He looked down at me with an approving smile, and went back to
attend to David's waiting mouth. With my left hand, I reached for David's
dark, hairy cock. It throbbed with heat, and dripped copious amounts of
clear liquid. I took advantage of the additional lubrication as I massaged
his pulsing cockhead.

David continued his slow, gentle manipulation of my cock, and Anthony
brought his mouth down to mine and kissed me gently.

"Now, are you ready for more?" he asked, smiling.

"Anything." I answered, completely prepared for anything they would do. I
was in ecstasy, and there was nothing that would ruin this moment for me.

He kissed me again, and worked a series of kisses along my jawline, around
my neck to behind my ears. He licked gently just below my earlobe, and sent
a bolt of electricity through my body that caused my cock to jump and my
grip on David's rock hard cock to tighten a bit too much.

"Easy there, there's a fine line between pleasure and pain." he laughed. He
lay down beside me, and his cock slipped from my fingertips. He and Anthony
worked in tandem to kiss and lick my neck and chest, occasionally meeting
over my hardened nipples, to wrestle their tongues around the pink
protrusion -- sending me into orbit.

I let out an audible gasp as David softly pinched my nipple with his lips,
and Anthony softly said, "Looks like we've found a hot button."  The both
continued to torment my nipples, as David began to pick up the pace on my
handjob.

"How are you feeling?" David asked, through labored breath. Anthony had
worked his head down to David's crotch and began slurping on his monstrous
cock. Noticeably wet sounding moans, slurps and suction triggered a new
level in my head, and I began to raise my hips to meet David's ever
increasing stroke speed.

"Anthony, I think he's about ready." David said, as Anthony raised his head
from his enjoyable task.

"Something is happening... I feel like I need to stop... but..." I couldn't
catch my breath, or form coherent sentences. David's pace and grip were
amazing. We locked eyes. His green eyes seemed to peer down into the every
core of my being. Energy was moving through my body so quickly, I could
scarcely comprehend it. I was hot, then I was cold, I was the pure
embodiment of pleasure, any pain I'd felt ever in my life began to rush
away. Anthony and David exchanged glances, kissed deeply and focused their
attention back to me. Anthony was kissing my nipples, and then I began to
buck my hips wildly, driving my prick into David's hand like a piston.

"Oh my God." I was in ecstasy. My body felt like it was filled with fire,
and if it didn't release right then I would surely explode. I resisted as
long as I could.

Anthony whispered gently into my ear, "You are so fucking hot." His hot,
wet breath, and velvet tongue around my ear was all I needed. Like a bolt
of lightning, I came. Volley after volley of hot cum jetted from my
engorged dick.

"OH MY GOD!" I shouted, louder than I probably should have. I had no
control. The force of all nature -- the sun, the skies, the ocean and the
Earth itself, had made themselves manifest in my body. At that moment, I
realized that I was nearer to the Extasis sought by theologians than any of
my seminary brothers would ever hope to be. My body seized and shuddered
with the force of a thousand hurricanes, then it felt like I was floating
above the bed.

As the pulsing orgasmic waves began to subside, David and Anthony gathered,
snuggled near to me. Their body heat was comforting to me -- like a womb of
love, and trust. Our three bodies entwined in a mixture of our sweat, my
semen, and our saliva as our bodies twisted and our tongues met each
other's.

"How are you feeling now?" Anthony asked me through a knowing smile.

I replied, "Like I want more. Lots more."

The next installment is coming soon. Your comments are greatly appreciated!
Thanks!

GayLitClass@gmail.com