Skip – Part 5
June became July. We had agreed to spend the 4th of July holiday in Boston. I know Boston very well, but I hate driving the former country cow paths. There is no rhyme or reason to Boston's streets, which is understandable since it is a very old city. City planners did not exist in the 1600's, just lots of cows.
The boys knew Boston less than I did, though Skip was mildly okay in and around the city since his college was west of the city. It made perfect sense for us to drive to one of the outlying towns and take the MBTA commuter rail system into the heart of the city. We arrived at North Station, just as Billy had done a couple weeks ago on his Saturday trip. The weather was ideal for a day out. We all had windbreakers and baseball caps for sun protection. We nearly looked like triplets with our like dress and sunglasses. Skip, usually one to wear work boots, accepted my tip to wear sneakers. I warned the boys we would probably do a lot of walking, depending on weather.
I really loved Boston. I had worked here off and on since 1978. It was old and quaint, new and modern, blended reasonably well together. The old money was on Beacon Hill, an area that would be part of our travels today. We were going to avoid, generally, the tourist hot spots that we could see any time. I knew of little hole-in-the-wall places to eat cheap and good. Outdoor activity cost very little, or nothing at all.
Today (any today) is lived in the moment, of course, but more so today because I was having surgery on July 7, at Massachusetts General Hospital. There would be no other Boston trips, for tourist purposes, in my immediate future, and very little activity overall at home.
We ate breakfast at home that morning, enough to hold us pretty well until lunchtime. We are not junk food junkies, but it was going to be a bit of a challenge to avoid the street food. I had a lunch plan. Dinner would be whatever we felt like at any moment. Italian, of course, is high on the list, considering the proximity to the North End. However, 9:30 a.m. was not a time to decide about dinner.
I showed the guys how to get from North Station to MGH, if they came to visit me after surgery. From there we walked a bit more to the Charles MBTA stop on the Red Line. We crossed the Charles on the Longfellow Bridge. I pointed across the river. The Prudential Center and the gleaming blue glass John Hancock tower rose above the river in the distance. On another trip to the city, we would see Boston from 60 stories up.
Cambridge would occupy our afternoon nicely, from walking around Harvard University, to shopping at The Coop, walking through Crate and Barrel for home ideas, lunch at a popular seafood restaurant, and finally a trip down to MIT. I loved the architecture of this city, just about all of it, but especially amongst the university campuses. Boston had a distinct flavor and feel. I think I took it for granted when I worked here, and missed it a lot when I worked outside the area.
After walking around the large campus, we walked across the bridge at Mass Ave. On the Boston side of the Charles River, we walked among the gorgeous brownstones of Commonwealth Avenue. The Back Bay was probably my favorite section of Boston, with the North End being a close second. Newbury Street, for other than window shopping, held little appeal because it was not for average Joe's like us three.
I tried mightily not to show that I was hurting in my back, but Skip, forever in my head, put his arm across my shoulder.
"Let's sit for a bit, bud. We've been walking for over four hours. I know you're feeling it."
I consented, but not eagerly. The burning sensation got to me. Reality really sucked sometimes. We found a good-sized patch of grass at river's edge and did people watching for a good while. People walked, rode bikes, roller-skated, roller-bladed, rode skateboards, and even danced their way along the river. We watched sailboarders and sail boaters. Late in the afternoon, more and more boats made their way into the water.
We took this as a cue to head a bit northeast to stake out our claim at the Hatch Shell on The Esplanade, for the evening Boston Pops concert and fireworks display. From opening note to the final notes of the magnificent 1812 Overture, we whooped and hollered, did a Rockettes-style kick dance with people near us, joined shoulder to shoulder or waist to waist, laughed like children, sang patriotic songs with the crowd, and totally got wrapped up in every aspect of the day. The sky was smoky from the nearly 40-minute display of fireworks. Reds, greens, silvery curtains, blues and yellows had graced the sky while booms echoed overhead. It was sad to see it all end. We would be back next year.
We left Boston just short of 11:00 p.m. on the train and arrived at home after 1:30, totally exhausted and exhilarated. Life, again, was good. We got into bed, holding on to each other, doing nothing more than kissing before sleep took us down. I loved my two fantastic brothers. They loved each other. And, best of all, they both loved me, a lot.
We slept in on Sunday morning. I woke up at nearly 10:30. I lay still so I would not disturb the boys. My anxiety kicked in, more than a bit. Almost simultaneously, Skipped leaned in to my ear and whispered.
"No worries bud. It's two days from now. Let it go," he said quietly.
He kissed me as he held me close, transferring the worry from my mind and body into his, and then through. When he looked into my eyes, he was satisfied that he had taken the worry away. He just knew. I do not know if there was a psychic connection between us, or just coincidence, though I did not believe in such a thing. He just knew is all. I did not doubt him. He had been there, so of course I would accept his words and his strength.
Billy leaned in and kissed me, too. He had been facing me all night, reaching across me and holding on to Skip while Skip held me around my chest. The brothers kissed each other, too.
"I'm hungry, guys," I said playfully, eyebrow wiggle and all.
"For what, exactly?" asked Skip, knowing full well.
"And what's for breakfast?" Billy asked, knowing full well.
"Waffles. Sausages. Left-over fruit salad on the side, a bit of whipped cream on top, OJ, coffee."
Okay, show of hands out there among my readers—how many of you thought I would say meat and cream, or something similar? That's what I thought. Well, the guys knew better. They knew that I refused to be predictable, knowing I could say ingredients for the standard breakfast or that I could say `meat and cream'. They would accept either answer. It was just a matter of which came first.
We put our jeans on. Then we lay in bed again, on our backs, feeling each other up. My hands were inside each of their jeans, my fists wrapped around throbbing meat. Both of them played with my cock inside my jeans, two-fisting me while I pumped my hips. Before anything happened, Billy unzipped my jeans. Skip took my cock out of the opening. Both of them held tight while I continued to thrust my cock.
"I'm gonna come!"
Billy put his mouth over my cock. The warm wetness pushed me over the edge. I shot into his mouth. He immediately pulled off and Skip took his place, getting the next ribbon. Skip pulled off and Billy went back down, getting a slightly smaller amount of my cum, but not by much. He pulled off and Skip took the last couple of shots, sucking me deeper into his mouth. They leaned back on one elbow and made an obvious play at swallowing my creamy load. They went back on me with their tongues, getting licks at anything they might have missed.
"Holy! I'm stunned at how well coordinated that was between you. That was hot!"
"Remember, bud `you snooze, you lose' is the rule of the house. We're not willing to miss out. It's all about hand signals and eye contact that you didn't see."
"My balls are empty."
"Now that I've had the cream, I need the coffee," said Billy.
"I hear ya, bro. Come on Aaron, time to eat, for real."
"Wait, you guys are still hard."
"We're okay. The day is young."
Breakfast. Clean up of breakfast. Back to Skip's bedroom. (How time does fly!)
We shed our jeans. The boys lay beside each other, holding hands, legs raised to expose their little puckers. I leaned in and kissed the curves of their asses, lips to skin. I pressed my finger, flat, not tip, against each hole one at a time and massaged each one.
I went from Billy's ass to Skip's, then back again, eating them out. When they were lubed enough, I got on my knees between Billy's legs and put them over my shoulders. I entered him in one thrust. I pumped into him long and slow, on the edge for long minutes, about to boil over. My load went into this tight ass. I pulled out, pushed my cock into Skip's equally tight ass, and fucked him for about five minutes. I shot inside him as I had Billy, an equal amount. Hey, horny is horny, and it is not unusual for me to come twice in a short amount of time, in an equal amount. Two is the limit, but not for lack of trying.
"Okay, gents. Can you 19 and 21 year old guys fuck and come twice, before you go flaccid?"
"Dunno," said Billy. "Never tried. I'm game."
"I have done it once inside Billy, a couple months ago. I'm game, too. Two holes and two loads, before going soft? Oh yeah, that'll be hot."
Billy and I lay down and raised our legs. Skip ate us out, doing what I had done. He pushed the head of his cock, and then the entire length, into me in one thrust. No rushing allowed. He fucked me as he would fuck me any other time. The rules might change when he fucked Billy. Nature, even in youth, had different rules for stamina, except in porn where you had to fuck for twelve hours before the money shot. Billy and I kissed each other and then Skip kissed each of us, keeping his rhythm.
Ten minutes into it, he threw his head back, moaned, and filled my ass with his beautiful load. When he pulled out and entered Billy in a matter of seconds, he kept the same rhythm going. I slyly glanced at the clock, curious. He fucked Billy as if he had not even come yet. His strokes were long and smooth, passion filled, loving every tingling sensation that engulfed his rigid cock.
He was kissing me when he threw his head back one final time, obviously unloading into Billy's hole. He buried his cock deeply inside his brother and left it there. Seven minutes. I was not surprised. Nature be damned.
Billy's cock was almost purple from the hardness. His anticipation of fucking us both and coming inside us both was evident. Skip assumed the position beside me. Billy entered Skip in the usual one thrust, and then established his rhythm. His kissing was intense and passionate. His cock pulled almost all the way out and then back in. Billy was the king of long-and-slow strokes, without popping the head of his cock out of the hole. He gave his cock to Skip, no thought in his mind except making it feel so good for them both. He lasted, a tad surprisingly, for twenty minutes. `Good for you, stud,' I thought to myself. I watched his cock become slick with his load. I then made sure I was in position so he could enter me. He, too, didn't skip a beat. I took him in the single thrust, just a bit looser than usual because of Skip's earlier stretching of my hole.
He kissed me lovingly. I wrapped my legs around his hips and rose to meet each thrust. He wanted it slow, so I gave him slow. I felt the knob of his cock at the entrance of my hole with each stroke. He was in no danger of losing his hardness. His eyes told me he loves me as certainly as any words ever have. I smiled at him, letting him lose himself in me.
When he finally moaned, he shoved deep inside me one last time, pumping his load, shot after shot, as far inside as he could. He lay down on me, covering my faces in happy kisses.
"Way to go, bro. About 14 minutes. Yeah, Aaron, I looked at the clock too. Ain't curiosity grand? Heh heh, but there's no doubt Billy and `stud' mean the same thing."
We lay still, finally. I was on my back. Each brother was laying half on top of me. It was quiet. We did not speak; we just lay their listening to each other's heartbeat. We kissed and ran our hands over each other's bodies. We would not be hard again, or feel the need to be, for the rest of the day.
Billy sensed me going sad again. He looked into my eyes. I looked into his. He confirmed the sensation of sadness in me.
"No matter where we go, me being inside you has given you a piece of me. Not just the cum or the thrusts, which are great, but I have left me inside of you, Aaron."
Skip smiled at Billy, touched by his sentiment. "And Skip has done the same, of course. You can't go anywhere without us being with you."
I had no words. How do you top that? I brought them both closer into my arms and kissed each one softly on his lips.
We spent the rest of Sunday hanging out downstairs, listening to Yanni and Enya, making meals, talking, sitting outside, going for a walk, and holding on to each other on the sofa. At bedtime, we went to Skip's room again, kissed goodnight softly, and fell into trouble-free sleep. I knew they were holding me all night, loving me, knowing I loved them just as much.
I had to go to Mass General on Monday. The brothers, unknown to me, had taken the day off from work. They had coffee and shared a bagel. I ate nothing, which was okay. My appetite had gone south.
"Aww, guys, I don't want you losing work because of me. And a day's pay. I know you're hourly for the summer. And, I know how busy you are because I'm that busy, too. We got a whole floor to get ready for move-in in less than two weeks."
"Duly noted, love. Now put that gibberish aside and get out to the car," said Billy, kissing me on my lips before heading out the door. Skip brought me into a hug and kissed me as well.
"Duly noted, love. You're not going through surgery alone, no matter how much you want to protest. Now put that gibberish aside and get out to the car."
"Oy," I said, just a bit louder than intended.
"Italian, I think," I smirked. "It means `geez Louise' in English."
"Oh, I thought so. March, dude. We'll be late."
"Nooo. Now you behave."
"I'm scared, my bud. Truly." I put my arms around him and put my head on his shoulder, at the crook of his neck.
"I know, love. I do know," he said, rubbing my back gently, kissing me on my cheek. "I have felt what you feel and it sucks. I love you. Billy loves you as much. We're staying overnight with a friend of mine from school, just outside the city. Then we'll be at the hospital before your surgery."
"No, bud, that's too much. You should be busy and not thinking about me. It'll go so much better."
"I can't be busy. No way I'm not going to be thinking about you. Sixty miles away from you is too hard to take."
"But . . . shit."
I smiled not so sincerely, and then I kissed him. He was right, of course. I took his hand while we walked out the door. He and I sat in the backseat while Billy drove us to the same train station outside Boston as last time. I got a chance to relive 4th of July in my mind, my head on his shoulder, his head on my head, as we sat quietly. He held my hand against his heart. He felt my tears on his neck. He just held me, letting me let it all out. When I was done, I let of the usual post-emotional sigh.
He kissed me and looked steadily into my eyes. He kissed me again. Kisses were not quick little pecks on the cheeks or lips. They were lasting kisses. We did not need words to say that I was sad, and that he knew I was sad, but that there would be much happiness to come for us three. I knew that I was sad, and that he knew I was sad. I was not there yet on the happiness yet to come.
On the train, I gave three tickets to the conductor. Skip and Billy both looked at me, curious. I had pre-bought the tickets, just in case the boys pulled what they pulled. I also handed them subway passes. They smiled at me and said thanks.
"Human nature wins again. I figured you wouldn't listen to me protesting you coming, even part way with me. I'm glad you came, of course. I just hate that you have to sit through three plus hours of surgery, waiting."
"That's tomorrow. It's not something we care about today," said Billy.
Of course, he was right. I put tomorrow out of my mind as best as I could. We went to Boston Common and the Public Garden to pass the day. When we got hungry, I took the guys to a soup and salad place that served a good lunch. My food intake today should be less than usual. My intake after midnight was to be nil. We ate a decent meal since the boys had eaten so little and I had eaten nothing. After lunch, we walked to the waterfront, sat on an unused dock, and talked about anything interesting to talk about, excluding tomorrow. The smell of the salty air and even the less fragrant inner harbor was appealing overall. Right out of college, I had lived on Boston's North Shore. I loved being near the ocean. Go figure that I now lived land-locked.
Once it was time to check in at the hospital, we walked to Mass General. I was scheduled for 7:00 a.m. surgery, so I was set up to stay overnight. My surgeon had my EKG results, blood work, and all other relevant stats. The boys stayed with me until they were kicked out around 8:30 p.m. Before going, I got full-on kisses from them both. I watched TV without paying much attention. I thought only of the brothers and our remaining days of summer. I was not sad about them going to college. How I would spend my time while they were away was not hard. I would spend it as I did before we three met. My threshold for boredom could be low, so I could be creative with my time and energy.
Amazingly, I drifted off to sleep. Skip's image came to mind. `I love you, Aaron, with all my heart." Billy floated in behind his brother, then around him. `I love you, bro. You bring me life'.
"You feel him, too, don't you Skip?" Billy asked his brother.
"Yeah. More than just emotionally. Does your side hurt?"
"Yeah. Why? How? It's like someone cut me deep. That's nuts."
"Because we're connected to Aaron, like you and I are."
"I don't feel it with anyone else, not even mom or dad."
"He's special, and we let him in. We're in deep, bro, way deep. You love him. I love him. We're blessed with our friend and lover"
"I've never loved someone sooo much as I love Aaron. Even . . ."
". . . even me."
"Yeah. I'm sorry, bro," Billy said, hanging his head.
"Hey. Don't apologize for loving anyone, Billy. Ever."
"But you're my brother. You should get the most special part."
"Says me. I love you, bro. Whole-heartedly."
"And I love you, Billy. The same way. We can give it to Aaron, though, at least as whole-heartedly?"
He had to think about it. To take anything away from Skip was wrong. To take anything away from me was just as wrong. Skip felt the struggle, too. A `special somebody' meant so much more than just two spoken words.
"We can," he finally said, satisfied that Skip was okay about yet another confession.
On Sunday morning, the two arrived in my room as I finished packing my duffle. I got two very warm hugs and two exceptional kisses. No one was around. Fuck `em for what they thought if they were around. My two heart mates had spent over six hours waiting for surgery to be over. It should have taken 2 1/2 to 3 hours.
I had four pages of instructions, a list of meds, and best wishes from my nurses. They would see me again.
We arrived at home before 2:00 in the afternoon. It was so nice to be home. I set my duffle down on the living room floor. Billy picked it up and took it to my bedroom. Skip brought me to the kitchen. The fridge, to my surprise, was fully stocked. Billy joined us in the kitchen.
"Geez, guys, this is more food than I spend money on in two weeks. And you gave up two days pay to take me into Boston."
"Well, you won't be going out every day or so, but with a fully-stocked fridge, we can help you cook up meals ahead of time. We gave mom money and she shopped, then came here to stock your fridge, and pantry too, in case you missed it."
"At the risk of pissing you off, we took the whole week off and stayed with my friend from school. Home was not where either of us wanted to be, and work would have been half-assed. We went to MGH to visit, but you were in ICU from your complications, which made us stay in town anyway."
"Thanks for that, of course. But geez, you both gave up a whole week's pay? That sucks. You can't afford it."
"Yeah we can. Billy and I split the groceries. You'll notice that there is nothing fancy in there; just basic ingredients, what you would normally cook with. No worries. We do not, if you remember, pay rent to our dad, so the only thing that happened is we saved a little less this week than usual. You're worth every cent we ever lose or spend on you."
"What he said," said Billy. "It's not something for you to worry about. Besides that, who would do the same if either of us were in your place?"
"I would, no-brainer."
"So . . .?"
"Okay. I know. Just don't ever let me take you for granted. Sharing is just fine, but you got college to pay for, too."
"We're filthy rich. Why worry?" Billy joked.
"Doubtful. Filthy sexy is about right, though. I wish you could make love to me tonight. But . . ."
"We don't need to fuck to make love, bud. I want only one thing tonight—to hold you all night," said Skip.
"Me too," said Billy. "Dr's Skip and Billy are on duty for the whole weekend. I got experience in post-surgical care, even if Skip's was outpatient. TLC is the best thing mom gave us. Passing it on is what's right to do, ya know?"
"I do know. It's what people did where I grew up. `Act, don't think about acting' was the rule. Take care of anyone needful."
"So now it's you who is needful. You'll help the next needful person; it's just what you do." Skip took away the guilt nicely.
"I'm going to find a CD to put on. Requests?"
"Nope. You're the DJ."
I chose a double-CD and four others, and slid them into my Pioneer six-pack disc cartridge. I plugged it into my CD player and turned up the volume a bit. I had speakers wired through the whole townhouse, courtesy of an audiophile friend and permission from Skip's dad.
"Good one. Dan Fogelberg. Which CD?"
"The Innocent Age, from 1981. It's a two-CD set."
"I like having a friend who has as many CDs as my favorite radio station."
I was still eating light, so I had a bowl of chicken noodle soup that the brother's mom had made for me. I would remember to give her a hug and thanks. It was easy to see why the boys would so good to people.
Billy made scrambled eggs and a bagel for him and Skip. Neither thought that eating a better meal in front of me was a good idea. We teased sexually, but not any other way.
After lunch, Skip wanted to go out for a while. I was not up to it. Billy did not need anything.
"Except a nap," he said.
"Then come hold me, little bro. I need you."
Skip kissed me and left for a while. Billy, arm around my waist, led me upstairs. I was so sore. Billy and I shared three pillows stacked behind us. He lay with his arms around me, facing me. When he had his fill of looking into my eyes (and likely my soul), he kissed me for long minutes.
"I'm glad you're home. I know you're not usually in my arms, or Skip's, every night during the week. But the potential is there. Having that potential taken away from us sucked. We couldn't even really hold on to each other at bro's friend's place. We didn't feel right in being that close in someone else's apartment."
"The positive side of that, for me? When I woke up, you both were right there with me, so close to me. I wasn't sad, at all."
"I'm glad for that, then. I bet that this moment in time is the one you worked toward, right? Not necessarily in my arms, but in your own bed."
"Yeah, and in your arms, necessarily. And Skip's later, for tonight and beyond. We will be `us' until we are gone. Maybe even beyond life, if I believe what I've been taught. I couldn't worry anymore before or right after surgery because I knew you would do what you are doing now."
I love you, Aaron. You're tired. Sleep awhile."
He kissed me again, pulled me close, and tucked my head into his neck. He smelled of my favorite soap and shampoo. Home at last.
When I woke briefly, Billy was still sleeping. I kissed him on his forehead lightly, not to wake him up, just to let him know I love him. I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
Billy and I were awake and talking to each other. Skip came in. He heard part of the conversation only.
" . . . complications during the surgery?" Billy was saying.
"It was bad."
"How bad?" asked Skip, lying down in bed behind me, interlocking his fingers with mine, kissing my forehead.
"More cancer than we'd found on tests. A simple nephrectomy turned into a radical nephrectomy. That just means that the surgeon also had to take the adrenal gland and surrounding lymph nodes. Chemo and radiation treatments start when I'm healed enough, but before the end of the month."
"Which is why you were in ICU, then. Infection hazard, right?"
"And the reason that a three hour surgery was almost double?"
I nodded. I had been in the operating room from 6:30 a.m. until nearly 2:00 p.m. My local oncologist had told me beforehand of the possibility of complications. I had not shared it, even with the brothers, in order to stay optimistic. I could get through chemo okay, and I was little bothered by radiation treatments since I already knew about them.
"Where's the scar?" Billy said, lifting my t-shirt to peek at my belly.
I raised my shirt higher and rolled onto my right side. I removed the dressing, which needed to be changed anyway.
"Nice battle scar, bud. Wear that one proudly, huh?"
"You okay?" asked Billy.
I nodded. The scar ran eleven inches, like a Freddie Kruger slash along my side. Skip took the dressing from me, went to the bathroom, and brought back a new dressing and tape, plus a soapy warm washcloth. He carefully cleaned my side, dried it with a small towel, and bent down to kiss the scar. Billy, too, kissed it reverently. Like Skip's one testicle, it was not something to be grossed out by. It was a moving on point. Billy held the dressing in place while Skip taped it.
I went to put my shirt back on. The brothers had a better idea. They took theirs off. They gently lay me back down and lay on either side of me, trading kisses with me while touching me all over. They each kissed away tears from my eyes. These were tears of gratitude, not sadness, or pain. Their eyes glistened a bit in the afternoon sunlight that lay across the bedroom. We had nothing better to do except make up for lost time from Tuesday. For now, there was no removing of more clothes, not that there was much left. We did not care about sucking or fucking today. We kissed tenderly. I realized that Skip had put on a Chicago CD before he had come upstairs. "Chicago Twenty 1" was the CD. The song "One From the Heart" was playing.
One from the heart that's all it takes
One to hold you, one who knows you
One to one together
Or `two'. I, truly, had the best.
"You guys must be hungry. Let's make some dinner, huh?"
"Yes, and yes. I'll work on a salad," said Billy.
"I'll get some trout on the grill," said Skip.
"And I'll do . . ." I started.
". . . as little as possible," finished Skip.
"How about some fresh chocolate pudding and whipped cream?"
"Okay. Light duty, though, huh, seriously. I know you hate it, but listen anyway. I was down for two solid days at my parent's place after my surgery and healing. It was a lot easier than yours will be. You can be dependent for a while, right?"
"Only on you. No coddling though. That would be awful."
"Lots and lots of kissing. Tons of kissing. Can't-get-enough-of-kissing kissing."
"Gee, I dunno . . ." I said, a half smile on my face, as seriously as I could manage.
Skip took Billy into his arms and put really sexy kisses on his lips. He did not stop until I cried `Uncle'.
"You snooze, you lose."
"Yeah," said Billy, "but don't ever make me make such a sacrifice again, Aaron. I mean, Skip is hot and sexy and studly manly crazy sexy and all, but I'm just not into that. I'd rather protect your honor. But then again . . ."
And he pulled Skip into his arms and put really sexy kisses on his lips. They did not stop until I cried `Uncle' a second time, laughing until it hurt, really!
"Yeah," said Skip, carrying it on from bro, "but don't ever make me make such a sacrifice again, Aaron. I mean, Billy is hot and sexy and studly manly crazy sexy and all, but I'm just not into that. I'd rather protect your honor. But then again . . ."
"Okay, stop. Stop. You're killing me inside. Not to mention that you're both just shattering my heart into a bazillion tiny shards."
"Oh, baby, I love you more than life itself. Come here."
I pushed Billy away. "Schmaltz gets you nowhere . . . or everything you want. I forget. Hmmm. Maybe I lost my emotional control cells along the way last week. Whatever. We'll decide when we go to bed."
He came back to me and kissed me sincerely. I let him. Then I looked at Skip. He looked at me and came to me. We hugged. It was fun to fool around with them.
Billy had the salad already. He put it in the fridge for now and brought out heavy cream. I pointed him to the hand mixer under the cupboard. I went to a family recipe book and found my mom's homemade chocolate pudding recipe. It took all of ten minutes to make but needed constant stirring to stay creamy smooth. When done, I put a piece of plastic wrap on it, carefully patting it down fully on top of the pudding.
"Hmmm, what does that do for it, Aaron?" Billy asked.
"Prevents that skin from forming on the top. It stays smooth. When it cools down, I'll put it in the fridge."
"Cool. I just need a half cup of sugar. Here?" he asked as he reached for a canister on the shelf.
"Next one, to your right."
He did his thing for the whipped cream. The dessert was ready for the fridge. I took plates, glasses, and forks outdoors. He brought out salad and a couple dressings. Skip flipped the trout on the grill. In about three minutes, dinner was served. We traded our `I'm thankful and grateful for you' kisses and dug in. Food was so important to us, as it is to cultures everywhere. We shared the bounty, even though I did not pay one cent for it this week. There would be time enough for me to treat the guys. They were right; it wasn't about money. If they could not afford to do what they did, like filling my fridge, they would not have done so, or they would have put one or two special things in there and helped me with the grocery shopping. One thing I learned from friends in high school was to trust them and honor them. I did both to my guys.
My liquid intake could be only half my usual during the first week post-surgical. I drank only water also, keeping the remaining kidney from having to work overtime. My trick to avoid dehydration was shot glasses of water throughout the day. Shot glasses of alcohol would come later, maybe at summer's end with the guys.
We did not walk over to the park after dinner, but the ritual of going was important to us. Driving was the alternative. We sat, as usual, in the shadows, my arms across the brother's waists. The kisses were a little different this time, more like a reward and a blessing for having survived the sadness and the anxiety of the surgery, and the surgery itself.
We did walk, of course, because I was not an invalid. My only concern was bleeding and my legs being weak. I'd be mortified for the guys to have to carry me home.
At home, we watched TV until bedtime. Bedtime made me a little nervous. We usually had great sex and then slept. The boys wanted what I wanted, and I did not want to go to bed to sleep. At the same time, I knew that I could not get hard, thrash around, and cum, since I would probably shoot blood. Damn.
"Hey. Stop. Why are you stressing?"
Skip hugged me from behind. I guessed that it was not just that that somewhat psychic thing, but that my anxiety was making me fidget or press against him harder.
"How do we fuck?"
"We don't. Problem solved."
"But you and Billy . . ."
". . . will have nice sex with you when you can," Billy said.
"I see that your Italian is improving," Skip joked.
I was not happy about this. I would have to think about this for a bit. Not giving something to them was unacceptable to me. Not taking in return was acceptable to me, but not to them. I mean, come on, my mouth worked just fine. I could give incredible blow jobs, no modesty intended. I could not get one back, but that was only for now. My lack of ability should not hinder their enjoyment.
Someone wise, and `foreign', would eventually say, in a movie, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few." Okay, so that is pushing it, but my point is that I wanted to somehow be with the boys when we went to bed, the way we have become accustomed to being together. What happens when I start chemo and radiation; they are both brain suckers. Not being sexual is not right.
It was a dilemma. It would not be solved tonight. I accepted that the boys just wanted to care for me tonight, and the next few nights, until I had a checkup, and that I would not bleed out for being too frisky.
Fucking cancer. It was just a reason to survive it, to destroy it soon, so us three would be together.
"Come on, mate, stop struggling. Let's take a shower and climb into your bed. You're not taking anything away from Billy and me. We didn't have sex for two weeks after my surgery, so we're not going to think any less of you. You do know, already, that holding on to you at night is so very appealing."
"I do know. But man am I every going to need a good fuck when we can fuck."
I smiled, and then I laughed at myself. I was just silly and worried for nothing. I was not up to sex, end of internal discussion. Sorry libido, deal with it.
After a nice hot shower, we got under the sheets. Billy got behind me this time, and spooned me. Skip took the front, letting me spoon him. I wrapped my arms around his chest and pulled him close.
"I love you so much, guys."
Billy kissed me. "I love you, Aaron. You're aces."
Skip kissed me. "I love you, too, bud. You complete me. Sleep, okay?"
And so we did.
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