Skip - Part 3
We woke up late on Sunday morning because the sky was overcast and rain was falling on the roof. The sound makes you fall asleep at night and makes it even harder to get up on a weekend morning. I peeked over Skip's shoulder. 10:30 a.m. I hadn't slept in that late for months.
Mr. Hunk-and-a-half was sleeping very soundly. He did not strike me as the type of guy who slept until noon. I gently freed myself from his arms, slid under the covers, and went to work on the young man's cock. It went from soft to hard with very little effort. I had no idea what was going on outside the covers, nor did I care. Getting Skip off was the honor of the morning. I licked his ball sac, gently rolled his ball around in my mouth, licked below his special sac in that special place, and worked my way upward to his very hard cock. He did not move to indicate if he was asleep or awake, though I knew. I would hate to be doing this to a comatose young guy.
His cock smelled of the shower gel we used together. He leaked salty-sweet pre-cum. I licked it and swallowed any that I could work out of him. It was more than just a few minutes, but the pre-cum soon became full-on cum, a nice mouthful. I swallowed it down as I kept sucking him, making sure he was dry and sated fully.
I licked his flat belly, which was six-pack material just waiting to be developed, up to his navel, chest, perky nipples, Adam's apple, chiseled chin, and smiling lips. We kissed for a moment, then I moved on to his neck and ears, which, he claimed, could make him cum again when done just so. I worked my tongue in and around them, sucked each lobe, and then licked behind them. He opened his mouth and moaned. Yup, he's right. I had to go back down on him and clean up some half pre-cum, half cum. Wow, was I good or what? Ooh baby.
He lay still for a moment while we kissed. I got out of bed and started to get dressed.
"Hey. My turn."
"You already did. I, however, being past young stud phase like someone else I know, cannot live on sex alone, so I really need to make breakfast."
"You're not getting away that easy. This is not all about Skip getting off and Aaron doing all the work."
"I pleased you. That is *all* I will ever need."
"For now," he said, finally getting up to dress as well.
"Know how to make a Bellini?" I asked when we got to the kitchen.
"Blindfolded. I are Italian, duh."
"Alrighty then. I are going to make French Toast. Do you want bacon or sausage?"
"Both it is. My kind of man."
And so went Sunday. We ate, we joked around A LOT, and went for a long walk on every local street in our part of the city, in the rain. By the time we got home, we could not possibly be any wetter. We showered, skipped lunch, and sat on his sofa, smooching, until it was time to leave for dinner at Skip's folks.
His folks were great. I already knew his dad, of course. Skip's and Billy's mom was a treasure. She asked about my medical struggle, offered up a small prayer for strength, then asked if I wanted to slice up a couple tomatoes. I did so, as she set the table. Dad did his grilling best. Mom brought out a peach and raspberry crumble for dessert.
I returned to my apartment later in the evening, fat dumb and happy after yet another wonderful weekend.
Skip smiled at me on Monday morning when I got in the van at the parking lot. We had a good conversation with our small group of passengers on the ten-minute drive to our building. I saw him later in the day in the elevator. We were alone after the only other person got off on the fourth floor. He reached for me and kissed me. I kissed him back.
"That ought to keep a smile on your face today, bud," he said to me as we reached my floor. "Everyone will wonder what you're up to."
Why didn't the elevator break down? I'd have to discuss that with him. I wondered if he could arrange it that we'd be stuck together for a while. He probably knew all the private places in the building, but, then again, I'm sure others did as well. Sex in the office was more common than most people think.
As was our routine, either Skip or Billy joined me for late lunch each day. They offered help with writing assignments from a summer English class, being my proofreaders and critics. No way would I be getting less than a B+ for that class.
There were stolen kisses in the elevator all week, including with Billy.
"You do realize why I like kissing you, right?"
"Because I are a hunk," I said with a cheesy grin.
"Well, there's that, no doubt," he smiled back, not quite so cheesy, but in fun.
"On the serious side, you should continue to feel that you are a special somebody. I know you will miss bro and me when we leave for school. We're both going to miss you badly. However, we'll live in each moment until we go. I keep forgetting to ask; can I have your email addy?"
Billy was an adorable and likewise amazing young man. No slur intended to my young readers, but eighteen year olds are not exactly mature, with rare exception. This is based on me at eighteen, my high school friends when we were eighteen, and other guys and gals that I am acquainted with. Billy is an exception.
The week went by in a blur. Work was good and fulfilling, so the days moved right along. Billy stopped by to have dinner with me a couple times this week, so neither of us ate alone. We traded music and books. He was not quite the avid reader I was, but he was busier than I was in general. He loved my collection, though. I was a fan of John Le Cerre, Herman Wouk, Michael Creighton, and Robin Cook.
For those of you with inquiring minds, yes Billy and I were somewhat intimate during the week. We held tight, kissed, hung out all over the townhouse, and watched TV. We did not do more because Billy did not want to take anything away from Skip. I could love either and both, but not everyone can.
Skip had an after-work routine that kept him busy Monday through Wednesday. On Thursday, we took our grocery list, tore it in half, and went around the grocery store, buying the makings for Friday dinner.
This time I asked the brothers out to my place on Friday. They liked the idea. Skip and I agreed that we wanted subs for dinner . . . and cock. The cock would come later, because dinner was for three and we three had not discussed adding Billy to our sex yet. Billy would ask to be part of our sexual partnership when he was ready. We all liked each other very much, and, as agreed early on, friendship and companionship overrode sex every time. It would be only a short wait, but we all knew threesomes are very different from a two-man relationship. Well, we thought that, anyway.
On to dinner. Skip was grilling steak. Billy was slicing onions and tomatoes. I was toasting the sub rolls and shredding cheese. I was in the mood for soup, so I had homemade tomato soup simmering on the burner. I made enough for three, even though the guys had begged off. Soup in July? Nah. Homemade delicious soup in July? Mmmm mmmm, good.
It was inevitable we would have an Italian dessert since the brothers are Italian. My request? Cannoli. Billy came through yet again, and not from mom and not from a grocery store; from an authentic Italian bakery across town. Mascarpone cheese, not ricotta. Two with mini chocolate chips, two plain, two dipped in chocolate on just one end. We ate all six, two each. Tomorrow we would run a couple miles. Or not.
We walked the back streets to the park under the waning moon. A few high, thin clouds gave it a bit of a Halloween look. We sat away from other people and traded kisses on the sly. Billy got brave while sitting between Skip and me. He slid his hands into our jeans, got us hard, worked our cocks, and got us off. Not to waste anything, he ate our loads. Wow.
"Geez, I figured you for a guy who shared," I joked.
"Sometimes I'm just shamelessly greedy. What can I say?"
As good as the evening was, it needed to end. Billy had to drive to Boston on Saturday morning. He headed home at 10:30. Skip and I stayed in the park, sitting close, kissing.
"I love Billy, a lot," I confessed.
"I'm not surprised you do. He knows you do, but tell him anyway. He really is one of the good ones, my bro or not."
"I love you as much. Well, ummm . . ."
"I know. Say it anyway."
"I will. Let's head for home, first. This is for your ears only."
I held Skip around his waist while we walked back to my place. His arm was across my back. More sofa time, more holding tight, more kissing.
"I'm in love with you."
"I like to hear that, especially from you. Saying `I love you' isn't right anymore. I am in love with you, too, Aaron, heart and soul. If you die . . ."
"When I die, bud. Then I'll be in a better place. I'm not going anywhere, now or in the near future. I know that as you knew that when you were sick. Tomorrow isn't a slam-dunk for any of us. Finish this thought: `The future isn't where my life is . . .'"
"'It's in the moments I'm in'. Brilliant thought. How can I have fears when I am in love someone who can think of something so beautiful? I will tell you I love you every day so that you know."
"I`ll know, even without the words, but I'll honor the words. I know that however long forever is, I want to have you with me," I told him.
He pulled me close. We could be funny together, sexy together, or very serious together. I like all our moods. He lay in front of me on the sofa, butt pressed into my crotch, spoon-style like we slept in bed. I loved to hold him this way. He would hold my arms while we intertwined our fingers. I know; I'm hopeless. Skip knew it, I knew it, and now you readers know it. However, I don't do anything half way, especially when I am in love with someone.
"When did you start fooling around together?"
"While I was fighting the cancer, within the last 18 months. He was scared of losing me. He took me to my treatments, brought me home, made sure I ate, put me in a warm bath every night, then put me to bed. He slept with me every single night, holding tight. If I had to puke, he held my head and cleaned me up. I'd wake in the middle of the night because he would cry for me. I initiated the sex. Every day that I felt decent, we'd have sex. I wanted him to remember me forever. I wanted to feel normal, but more importantly, I wanted to have him as close as possible before I died."
I could not say anything. I was choked up, so I just pulled him to me and kissed him deeply, for a very selfish reason—because I did not want him to lose me. No matter how positive and upbeat he is, he would hurt a little without me. Fact, not my own sense of worth, or even my ego. I would do anything to stay beside my friend Skip. And our Billy.
"Do you want to go to bed?" he asked.
"Wise guy. To sleep?"
`Mmmm' was the first thought that came to mind when I woke up. My cock was hard and wet and Skip was obviously paying me back for my solo act on him last weekend. Skip will not ever just take without giving back. Who was I to argue? He, like me last weekend, was under the covers, going to town, probably about as happy as a man would be on an early Saturday morning. I checked the clock since I had nothing better to do. 6:20 a.m. Oh boy. He made sure he beat me to it today.
`Yeah, nice. A little deeper,' I thought to myself.
He did a little deeper while making a nice tight fit with his mouth. I had no doubt he was very talented in sucking cock and in wanting to give me his best.
`Don't forget my balls.'
He did not forget my balls. I felt them rolling around smoothly in his mouth.
`How about . . .'
He stuck a wet finger into my hole. When he found that sweet little gland, he massaged it over and over again.
I lay still so he had to wonder if I was the comatose guy this time. My first movement was in lifting my ass off the mattress when I shot a damn big load into his mouth.
He came out from under the covers, a small drop of my cum on the side of his mouth. I guess I overflowed a little. Okay, a lot. I could not come in such quantity when I jacked off. I pulled him to me, kissed him, and received a bit more than a drop of cum into my mouth. Wow, I guess I did come a lot. My own tasted just fine. I have been eating my own for many years.
"Good?" he asked.
"Not bad," I said, straight-faced.
"You lie. I'll show you `not bad'.
In a heartbeat, he put my legs over his shoulders and entered me in one long smooth push. Since I was not expecting it, I was nicely relaxed. He got up on the balls of his feet, pumped me for all he was worth. After a few minutes, he wrapped one of my legs around his waist as he continued to fuck me. He looked at me with nothing but great love and even respect. His intention was not to rape and pillage, but to satisfy me fully. Indeed he did.
I felt his cock become slicker, so I knew he came inside me. The other clue was very long and very slow strokes in and out of my ass. I shot immediately. He pulled out, lay between my legs, and lapped up my cum-covered chest.
"Good?" he repeated.
"Outstanding. Five star review. Completely worth every inch and stroke. Just incred . . ."
"Please, don't over-praise. I have to do as good or better every time."
"Well, in that case, good," I smirked. "Passable, even."
"I love you," he said quietly as he gave me one more kiss.
"I know. Thank you for that. I could not love you more."
We showered, dressed, and went down to the kitchen. Breakfast was bagels and cream cheese, a dark roast coffee, and cranapple juice. Lunch would be sandwiches from deli meats and cheeses, and coleslaw. We were going to be away from home overnight. Dinner was a work in progress.
Billy was in Boston overnight, taking a placement exam for his upcoming freshman year at school. He was going to Syracuse, but Boston is one of the regional testing locations. He could drive an hour instead of nearly five and a half. He would stay with a friend of the family so they could go out to a bar or two.
I knew Boston like the back of my hand, so Billy asked me how to get around. I told him how to get from the placement-testing site to my favorite seafood restaurant near the harbor. From there I said to head for South Station and pick up the Red Line on the T. It will bring him and his friend to Cambridge. I told him to blend in with other young people at Davis Square. Mostly I told him to watch his back. He had a street-smart sense about him.
Earlier in the week, I asked the brothers if they would go with me to Boston to the 4th of July celebration. I described what it was like. They readily agreed we could have a ball. We had about a month to go, but made plans so no one else would expect us to be part of their partying.
For today, Skip and I packed his bike into his truck, stopped at my place for mine, and headed out to the lakes region, further north, for an overnight. Skip's dad had a small fishing cabin in the mountains that went unused in mid-summer. We had to remember to pack a warm change of clothes for later. Even in the heat of June, the nights at the lake could be quite chilly.
It was an hour and a half drive. We arrived at 9:30, ahead of traffic. The deli had our order all ready. We added baked chips and four green teas in bottles to go. The cabin was off the beaten path. It sat on a half acre of lakefront property on the east shore. We put the perishable part of lunch in the fridge and took to canoe out for a late morning journey.
We pulled ashore on a small island about a mile off the lakefront. There was not much there except for large outcroppings of rocks, which we climbed. At the top, we took off our shirts and embraced. We tuned the radio to a music station, lay on sleeping bags for comfort, and made out a while.
Well, a confession, because `a while' means `all afternoon', until our bodies had not a milliliter of cum to be found. We did not bike, nor eat our deli sandwiches for lunch because there was no lunch except for the other white meat. We sat on the highest rock, Skip in front of me, my arms wrapped around his chest, his arms around mine, as the sun set, pouring gold all over the vast lake. We were freezing cold by the time we trekked across the lake in the canoe, back to the cabin.
There was no TV, on purpose, so we had lunch for dinner while listening to the radio. We warmed up more by laying on the sofa, this time with me in the front and Skip wrapped around me. We kissed a lot. Neither of us could get hard, but not from lack of trying. When we were warm enough, and cooled down, we took one sleeping bag out to the front porch, facing the lake. Skip got in first and I slid inside, facing him. He held me and we fell asleep sooner than either of us could utter `good night'.
The very early morning sunrise woke us.
"Can you get it up?" he asked, eyes closed.
"No. How about you?"
"Good. Let's go for breakfast."
"Okay," I said, not meaning it just yet.
A half hour later, when the sun had finally drilled fully into our eyeballs, I emerged from the cocoon so that Skip could also emerge. The morning was warmer than we expected. We showered, dressed, went to a diner for a really good country breakfast, and then biked all around the area. We would stop and take a break every couple of hours, just holding and kissing each other. Mr. Happy was too sated to rise to the occasion. That was fine because holding and kissing my bud was as good as full on sex. Honestly, who could have sex for hours a day and be happy anyway. Sting, the musician, probably, or so says an article I read once. But not me, and not Skip. Romance, intimacy—good enough and then some.
"I have had the best two days," I said as we pulled into my driveway.
We went into my kitchen and shared a bowl of Heavenly Hash ice cream. (For those of you without Sealtest Ice Cream brand, it is similar to Rocky Road, but better).
"And so have I. Honestly, I do have my mind on the end of summer and going back to school, but I also have my mind on spending as much time with you as I can. How do you feel about that?"
"End of summer is too far away to even think about. I know it's there, too, as you do, but why stress on it. You do like school, right?"
"I do. It'll be only nine months, with several long weekends at home. We get two weeks for Christmas and one for spring break. It's all good. After gradation I plan to work toward my MBA, like you do, but I can do a lot of that online. UNH could easily be my first choice. I remember you saying UNH is in your top three choices. Anyway, we'll address that when it's time."
"You make me feel better about the times when we are apart. Don't ever let me crowd you. I'm in this for the long term if you are."
"I are," he joked.
We held on and kissed at the front door.
"See you tomorrow at work. I'll bring lunch for us, so don't make lunch."
Monday. Monday's came faster than any day of the week. Friday was next in line for how quickly time passed, but only because of Skip and Billy.
"I have to see Dr. Westin at 4:00. It was time to plan my surgery," I told the brothers at lunchtime."
"Do you know how invasive?" asked Skip, based on experience of his own surgery.
"Yeah. He's taking the whole kidney. We can't mess around."
"That sucks," Billy said, sadly.
"I know. People live with one kidney quite well. It doesn't scare me."
"Do you know when?"
"Not for sure, bud. I've asked for July 5th or later, based on stuff I want to do, including 4th of July in Boston with you guys."
"So at least two weeks. Sooner the better, though," said Billy.
"Yeah. I can submit any writing assignments by E-mail to my professor, and will miss up to two classes. Not a big deal. I'll be able to sit for my final in mid-July."
"Thanks for lunch, bud," Skip said. "Good job."
"Agreed," said Billy. "I'll do tomorrow's for us."
Another routine. I would make lunch on Monday, Billy would make Tuesday's, and Skip would contribute for Wednesday. We'd do our own thing on Thursday, and then a light lunch on Friday because we'd have a good dinner. It will become evident later why we focus so much on making food part of our time together. For now, partly because the boys are Italian—so food is social. I'm French-Canadian, and food is a family thing. If any of you have survived cancer, you'll understand even more.
Monday nights at home were sometimes `home alone' so I could do homework or sit and read all evening. I had my English class on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Billy would come for supper on some Mondays and every Wednesday. Routine, yes. Boring routine, no. Billy was great at holding and kissing while we watched TV. He would play with my dick only when he could play with Skip's at the same time, like in the park on the sly.
That Monday evening, after having had lunch with the boys, I was listening to music when Billy came in. I had previously told him and Skip that the door is open to them, so no knocking was necessary. I had a CD playing in my stereo. It caught his attention immediately.
"Oh my, who is that?"
"Heard of him, but never heard his music. Wow, is that ever wonderful. Has Skip heard this? It's his favorite type of music."
"I dunno. Not here, at least. I don't remember seeing any in his music collection. I'll have to remember to share it with him."
Billy settled in beside me on the sofa. He put his full concentration on the music, as I do when Yanni is concerned. We talked very little for the hour that the CD played. I had restarted it back to the beginning, so Billy could hear it all.
"Unbelievably good," he said, when the music ended.
"His music is mathematical, of sorts. He doesn't write in standard notes like other musicians, nor, I think, can he read music that way. It's unique, and by far the best music in my over 300 CD collection. I want to see Yanni in concert some day. It's about the only real wish I have."
"Yeah. I'm going to buy every CD he ever makes, regardless of any critics. He brings me to a level of peace that nobody ever has been able to."
"I hear that, and I agree. I'll check Skip's collection again. If he doesn't have any Yanni, you and I can introduce him. I finally know what to buy him for his birthday."
"When is your and Skip's birthdays?"
"Skip's is March 10th. Mine is July 14th."
"March 10th. Figures that we get along so well. Mine's March 9th."
"Duly noted. I'll tell Mom, too, so you get the family birthday treat. And, check this out, Pop gives all his residents 50% rent in their birthday month."
"Yup, I discovered that the first March after I moved in. So yours is coming up. Got any plans?"
"Mom will do a little something, but otherwise, no."
"Then bro and I will make it a big deal."
"Birthdays are as important to me as Christmas. I don't buy much for birthdays or Christmas, but something appropriate and meaningful."
We hugged for a few moments at the door. We kissed and said good night.
How I became so blessed to be a friend and intimate partner to these two young men will make me grateful forever. I started the Yanni CD again, went to my room, and read while the music played, then fell into an easy sleep, thinking about Billy and Skip. I wondered briefly if they thought about me."
"Of course we do, bud," echoed through my mind. I really needed to talk to Skip about that.
I woke, but my room was still dark. I turned on the light. Dr. Westin was sitting behind his desk, in his office. He motioned for me to sit. He had an x-ray on his light box. He rose to turn it on, studied it silently though thoroughly. He ran his finger along the edges of a dark mass. I could not read x-rays, so I did not know exactly what he was pointing out. It appeared to be behind my kidney. He looked at me, concerned, though he did not speak. He returned to his desk and made a notation on his desk calendar. He nodded.
I woke, but my room was still dark. I turned on the light. My clock read 3:45 a.m. I went downstairs, made a note to call Dr. Westin later this morning, went back upstairs and closed my eyes when I got back into bed. It was very real, but it was a dream; perhaps a foretelling.
At lunch, Skip sat to my right. Billy had not arrived yet.
"Something's up, huh?"
"Yeah," I answered, not surprised. My face probably spoke volumes. "I think I have another tumor."
"You've called your doc?"
"Yeah. He's out of the office today. I left a message. I had a dream very early this morning. He showed me a second mass behind my kidney."
"I've had dreams like that. I paid attention to them because they weren't just dreams. Your subconscious is on hyper-alert."
Billy had arrived near the beginning of the conversation, so he did not miss much. I changed the subject, telling Skip that Billy and I enjoyed a mini Yanni concert last night. I wondered if he had any CDs. He said he had the first three, and is collecting. I made a mental note to buy the next three for Skip before the end of summer, to take to school. I would also buy the first three for Billy for his birthday. My home PC would help me keep track of what the boys had so I could buy gifts on each major occasion.
The guys both read my next writing assignment, made minor corrections, and then we went back to work. I went to class that evening, read in bed as usual, and moved on to Wednesday and Thursday. On Thursday late afternoon, before class, Skip and I went shopping for Friday dinner.
"Billy talked to me this afternoon after he talked to you. He's ready to join us. Are you okay with that?" I asked Skip. We were putting groceries away in his pantry and fridge.
"More than okay with that. We haven't had sex with each other for a few weeks. Our intimate time together is like yours and his; lots of holding and kissing. He really has been holding off so we can be good together."
"I guess Saturday is a done deal?"
"He's so excited. I told him he'd better jack off at least once so that he doesn't go off too quickly. He's not worried because he says you'll take good care of him."
"That we both will. It should be memorable for him."
"You don't say `I love you' lightly, do you?"
"No. You and Billy have my total attention, and affection. I plan for it to be that way when you both leave at the end of summer. But . . . "
"Ohhh no, I know where this is going," he joked.
". . . I'm going to jump your bones the first moment I have when you come home for a holiday."
He laughed aloud, heartily.
"You beat me to that. I won't have a boyfriend either, so you'd better be nice and horny."
"Yes. Like now. Come on upstairs before I lose control right here."
"On Thursday? I dunno know if I can get it up . . ."
"I'll help you, duh. Billy's gotta jack off, not you or me."
"Poor boy. Should we call him?"
"NO!" he yelled as he picked me up and carried me upstairs.
"Okay, I'll cut you a break. I don't want you sexually frustrated."
All kidding aside, we lay on Skip's bed, still clothed. Kissing overruled undressing. I undid his belt and zipper along the way, but not immediately. We spent over an hour together, kissing and sucking, slowly and pleasingly. It was a rare treat to be in bed with Skip before the weekend, so we took it as a treat, not as just fucking mindlessly. I could not do that anyway, not with this young man. He pleased me more than himself, and I pleased him more than myself, which makes for really good sex. The kissing carried on for a while longer. I had no desire to go home, and he had no desire to see me leave. We undressed, snuggled together, and went to sleep.
His alarm went off at 6:00, like mine, so we had time to shower and have cereal for breakfast. He dressed for work in his usual jeans and work boots. I went home to dress in my usual shirt and tie. Skip had packed lunch for us
Friday night, just after work. Billy and I arrived at Skip's at the same time. He had a box of whoopee pies from the bakery. I had fresh makings for salad. Skip has pasta boiling on the stove. His mom's recipe for spaghetti carbonara with ham and peas was sitting on the counter. He had the sauce simmering. In a half hour, dinner was ready. We had wine with dinner and then coffee with whoopee pies. As usual, we cleaned up the kitchen. From there we walked to the park.
"Okay, friend Billy, the question of the day is are you ready for tomorrow AND have you taken care of business so you won't go off too soon?"
"Yes and only once, but I should do it again once more. It didn't take much to get off this morning."
"Then may I help?"
"Uh, yeah. Want my dick?"
"Yup," I said as I put my hand on his crotch.
Skip sat on Billy's other side, shielding him from the street. He turned Billy's head to him to kiss him while I undid his jeans. I did not have sucking in mind, just a really nice jack off by my hand instead of his. I found him hard as soon as I unzipped his jeans. No briefs.
"Ooh, commando, huh?"
"Yeah, well I sort of expected this tonight."
"Wishful thinking or are bro and I predictable."
"Definitely predictable wishful thinking."
It was my turn to kiss him. I slowly stroked his cock, felling it thicken a bit in my hand. I hugged him with my left arm, holding Skip's arm with my hand at the same time, while my right hand worked Billy's cock nice and slow. We kept a lookout for neighborhood activity, but since it was after dark, nobody was nearby. Billy's breathing picked up, so I know he was ready. I do not waste cum, so I dropped to my knees in front of him, put his cock in my mouth, sucked him a couple of times, and swallowed his load. It was thick and creamy, salty and sweet, and Billy's own. I cleaned him up, put his cock back inside his jeans, and carefully zipped him up again.
"Alrighty then, if that's a prelude to tomorrow, I'm in trouble. I won't have enough cum to see me through the day."
"Trust me," I said, "You'll not be lacking anything. If we have to rest and make this a two-day thing, we can do that."
"How many times can you cum in one day?" he asked.
"My record is five. My usual is two."
"Four is my record, two is my usual also. And, yours?"
"The same; four and two."
"Then you have nothing to worry about. Maybe we can push that record a bit," I said, smiling.
We walked back to Skip's place. He put a Yanni CD on the stereo, CD two, one that Billy had not heard yet. I had remembered to go out to my favorite web site, ordered Billy the first three CDs, and ordered Skip the next three. I did not tell them yet.
Skip made cups of tea for us and we split the fourth whoopee pie three ways. As the music ended for the night, we turned off the downstairs lights. Billy went upstairs with us. We shared a three-way shower minus sex. We got under the covers in Skip's bed. The guys put me in the middle. I lay on my side. Skip spooned me and I spooned Billy. It took only a few minutes to fall asleep. We needed to be rested for our first threesome tomorrow.
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