A contenuing series
By John Yager
The following story is a work of gay erotic fiction dealing with sexual relationships between men and boys of high school age. If such stories are not to your liking or if you are not of legal age to read such stories in your jurisdiction, please exit now.
I also want to extend special thanks to Derker and David, Internet friends whose own experiences, served as an inspiration for certain scenes in this story. I guess to be more specific would not be wise. In any case, Gentlemen, many thanks.
This is a work of fiction and in no ways draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.
This work is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.
This is the seventh in a series of interrelated stories appearing under the collective title, Montgomery Hall. While it is expected that the individual stories will stand independently, they should be more enjoyable if read as a group. If you wish to receive e-mail notification of subsequent posting, please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address above.
Tim rolled onto his back and looked up into the shadow of the high ceiling if the room. He and Martin were back in the White Room and it was almost dusk. They had walked naked from Dalton's Tower to the dock by the lake, where they had condescended to don their damp and sweaty shorts for the trek back through the trees and across the broad lawns, by the rose gardens and up the gentle rise to the old house, Montgomery Hall.
The wicker ceiling fans rotated slowly in the cool room and Tim waited, glad to rest until Martin joined him. It had been a long day and he realized that, despite his tan and his acclimation to the hot Mississippi sun, his buttocks and other private parts, not usually so exposed, were somewhat red from the naked swim and longer naked walk.
"Ben is fixing sandwiches again. I hope that's alright," Martin said as he came into the room.
"Yeah, anything, as long as there's enough of it."
"Knowing Ben, there will be plenty. Besides, he knows he's feeding a growing boy." Martin flopped down by Tim and roughed his blond hair, his somewhat damp and greasy blond hair. "Come on. We smell like goats."
Tim groaned but allowed himself to be pulled from the huge bed. He followed Martin into the bath and the two of them, as was now their established custom, entered the big shower together.
"You know, I need to call my mom."
"Good idea. You should let her know her boy is no longer a virgin."
"Yeah, right!" Martin ran his soapy hands over Tim's chest and down, lathering his belly and then his groin. Immediately the boy was erect, his beautiful cock, pulsing in Martin's hands. "You gonna get me off?"
"It's time, young man, that you learn some self discipline. You can't live your life always surrendering to your desire for instant gratification."
"I guess that means you're not gonna get me off."
"That's what it means. I've got better ideas about how to use your admittedly unstinting sexual energy."
"Well, as long as it gets used."
"Well, then let me have the gel." Tim squeezed a rather large puddle
of the pale yellow gel into
the palm of his right hand, worked it into a rich lather and attacked Martin with an aggressive
vigor. "I love touching you," the boy said, his voice a low growl.
"Enjoy. I find touching you a bit of a turn-on, too."
"Just a bit?" Tim's hands ran lower, over Martin's ripped abs and then
down to grasp his hard
"A nice big bit."
"How about a nice big bite?" He had knelt now and was washing the older man's legs.
"Give me a foot." Martin lifted his right foot and placed in on the boy's thigh.
"Good, now the other one." Martin complied. When Tim was finished with his legs and feet, his attention returned to Martin's groin, where he again lathered his sizable cock. "Turn around and rinse your dick while I give your ass a good cleaning." Again Martin did as he was told, groaning as the boy lathered his ass crack and then, with new found boldness, began to lather and then probe his pulsing pucker.
"You keep that up and I'll come."
"No you won't. Not 'till I tell you to."
"Oh, he's getting bossy."
"Just claiming what's mine."
"Oh, he's getting possessive then."
"Yep, I may not be able to keep you long, but for the time being, you're all mine."
"I can live with that."
"Good. But it isn't your choice."
"Gees, what have I created?"
"A smart ass kid."
"I believe it."
While still kneeling, Tim turned Martin around. He positioned him so the shower struck his lower back and buttocks as he ran his hands over his ass, giving it a good rinsing. As he did so, he attacked Martin's now well washed and well rinsed cock with his hungry mouth.
Martin's head jerked back at the surprise and the thrill of it. For being so new to it, the boy was very good. He took the length of Martin's cock into his throat with no difficulty, holding it there as he accustomed himself to its presence, and then began to withdraw and plunge forward again.
"Ahhh," Martin groaned. His body tensed and he held onto Tim's muscular shoulders for dear life. He knew he would not last long and Tim knew it, too. As Martin approached the point of crisis, Tim abruptly pulled off.
"Not yet, Marty. Don't you dare come."
"A smart ass sadist kid," Martin gasped as Tim again turned him around.
"Assume the position, mister."
Martin reached out with both hands and leaned forward as Tim grasped his legs and separated them as far as the space would allow. Then he placed his hands on each of Martin's hind cheeks and spread them, revealing the pulsing bud of his ass. Without hesitation, Tim leaned in and placed his open mouth over the opening, attacking it with his wet tongue.
"Oh, man! You are a quick learner." The only sound was the torrent of the shower striking them and an insistent slurp. The boy didn't stay at it long, which was a good thing, if he didn't intend to let Martin come. He leaned back, rose to his feet, and leaned forward against Martin, placing his arms around his muscular torso and drawing their bodies together. Tim's pulsing cock thrust insistently into the crack of Martin's buttocks, passing over his ass and pushing with force against the back of his tight balls. "Do you want to fuck me?"
"Yeah, but not here."
"Just say the word."
"After Ben comes with the food. We eat first."
"Good, that gives me something to look forward to."
"Yeah, me too. Can I just hold you like this for a little?
"Sure, as long as you like."
Tim leaned forward, resting the side of his head on Martin's broad shoulder, his arms around his torso and his hands moving slowly over the older man's muscular chest.
"You caught me off guard, there, fellow."
"Going down on my ass. I didn't think you were ready for that stuff yet."
"If I had you for a year or two, I'd probably have waited. But since all I can count on is a few days for your special crash course, I figure I'd better try it all while I can."
"Good thinking, but you will have other chances, I promise."
"I know, Martin," The boy whispered, "but I don't want to miss anything."
"Were you all right with it, eating ass, I mean?"
"Yeah, I was. I wasn't sure if I'd like it or not, but I remembered how great if felt when you did it to me and I wanted to, well, you know, make you feel that good, too."
Martin turned as best he could and gave Tim as gentle kiss. Positioned as they were, it wasn't a real mouth to mouth kiss, but it was gentle and loving and Tim returned it the same way.
"Actually," Tim went on when the kiss ended, "I liked it, once I started. I think I'd like to do it some more."
"Well, not now, unless you want to relent and let me come."
Tim gave a slight laugh which caused his chest to move seductively against Martin's back. "I'll wait then."
"Got other things in mind?"
"Yeah. I want to fuck you. Is that really okay?"
"I want you to."
Tim kissed Martin's neck and said, "I want to fuck you and I want you to come when I do , like I came with you in me."
"Yeah, that would be wonderful."
"But later, okay?"
"Whenever you want."
"I want to do it, but I feel a little scared."
"Why, Tim? You'll do fine and I know it will be wonderful."
"Well, after we eat, okay? I kind of need to get my nerve up."
"Anything you want."
"Well, one other thing."
"Well, two. First, I know you were kidding me when you called me a wise ass kid, right?
"Of course, Tim. You know I didn't really mean it."
"Yeah, I knew you were kidding, but I guess a lot of the older guys on the football team call me that, too."
"And you don't like me calling you that."
"No, actually, I don't mind. I guess it's just that I know I kind of get that way with the older guys and I try not to. I think it's a kind of defense. You know, being one of the younger guys and the only one in my class who made Varsity and was a regular starter."
"So you use the quick come backs as a way of holding your own."
"Yeah. I catch myself at it all the time and wish I'd not said something, but it's too late."
"Well, I get the older guys on the team sort of like it."
"Maybe. They do kind of treat me like the team mascot, and besides," he paused.
"Oh, gees, I should never say what I just started to say. Maybe I am getting better. At catching myself, I mean."
"I bet I can guess."
"I bet you were going to say a lot of your quick comebacks sort of go over their heads, anyway. Right?"
Tim grinned. "That really would have been mean, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah, but probably true." He gave Tim a swift smack and added, "Jimmy and I used to make our share of cracks about the intellectual acumen of some of our teammates, too."
"Well, anyway, I do want to ask you another question. Is that okay?"
"Well, I asked one thing while we were still in the tower, but there was something more."
"You said when people have sex, there's a kind of bonding that goes on."
"Yeah, I think so. At least if they really care about each other."
"So you think that, no matter who we are with in the future, you or me, we'll always be special to one another."
Martin kissed the boy again and said. "I'm certain of it."
"So, Martin, do you think it's possible for somebody to love more than one person at a time? Is that part of it, too?"
"So can you say it, Martin? Can you tell me you love me?"
"I do love you, Tim. I love you very, very deeply."
"But you love other people, too."
"Yes, I love two or three people in New York. One of them, by the way, is a woman."
"Yeah. And I love my mother and David and Carol Ann and their kids."
"Ben, for sure."
"What about Mr. du Prey?"
"Jimmy? Good question. I guess I still love him is some way, but not the way I did when we were kids."
"So you think I may love other people, too."
"Sure. You love your parents, right?"
"Of course. But that's not sexual stuff."
"Does it have to be 'sexual stuff' to count as love?"
"Well, you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know, but a lot of that is just the way our culture thinks about love. We think about 'romantic' love, or 'sexual' love. But underneath it really is very much the same."
"Joe said the Greeks had three or four words for love."
"Yes, but in the long run, I think only one of them works."
"You mean physical love or brotherly love and romantic love? How can they all be the same?"
"At rock bottom, Tim, they all have to do with wanting the very best for the other person. I don't think 'lust' is love. That's just physical attraction and we can feel that for someone we don't even know."
"So love, real love, has to mean, well, you know, like caring."
"Deeply caring. Being willing to put the other person's interests before your own."
"Do you feel that way about me."
Martin turned then and drew the boy to him. He placed his mouth against Tim's mouth and held him there. It was a deep and loving kiss, a kiss which conveyed so much more than their words could ever convey, and when it ended and they pulled away a little and looked deeply into each other's eyes, Tim said the only thing which made any sense at all.
They were just about dry when Ben knocked on the door.
"Come on in, Ben," Martin called.
"We're staying naked, right?" Tim whispered as Ben opened the door.
"You okay with it."
"Yeah, better than last night."
"Good." Then in a louder voice, Martin said, "You need help, Ben?"
"There's a tray in the hall."
"I'll get it, Ben," Tim called as he tossed his towel onto the hamper and walked across the room and out through the open door.
"My goodness, Ben," Martin said, "this looks like quite a spread."
"Well, it's goin' on eight o'clock and you boys ain't had nothing since noon."
As Ben placed the plates of hot roast beef sandwiches on the table, Tim returned with Ben's usual pitcher of fresh lemonade and glasses of ice.
"You said for me to eat with you again and I ain't eating holding a plate on my lap again. We eating around this table like civilized folk and you boys jest go get some clothes on, at least. Naked's fine for bedtime if you gonna play, but this here's supper."
"Well, Tim, we have our orders," Martin said as he went to the dresser
and took out two pairs
of shorts. He had noticed that in their absence, Ben had unpacked Tim's duffel bag and taken
the liberty of putting the boy's things in the drawers with his own.
As they pulled on the shorts, Ben looked up from his work and added, "shirts, too. I'll let you get away with barefoot. I don't half to look at you feet under the table."
"Yes, sir," Martin responded and returned to the dresser for T-shirt for them both. "I see you're wearing your formal attire, this evening, Ben," he added, commenting on Ben's long pants and one of his white short sleeved open collar shirt. His muscular torso filled the shirt, causing the buttons to gap a little. The arms, designed no doubt, to hang a little loose, were filled by the massive muscles of his upper arms.
"You just mind you manners, boy."
They sat at the little table and with out being asked, Ben said his simple prayer.
"Amen," they all agreed, and dug into the hardy meal.
"Oh, man, I was starving," Tim said when he finally came up for air.
"You a growing boy. You need you proper food." He turned to Martin and grinned. "What this boy's mama say if we send him home on Friday looking like a scarecrow or something?"
"You're right, Ben. We need to take proper care of Tim here."
Tim grinned first at Martin and then at Ben. "I feel very well taken care of, Ben."
"You behave, boy, or old Ben here will take you in hand."
Tim looked across the table at Martin. He put down his fork and straightened up a little in his chair. "I was going to ask you about that, Ben."
"What you mean, boy?"
"Last night Martin said you were a part of this." He paused and looked at Martin again but Martin only smiled and gave Tim no help at all.
"You're on your own, Tim," Martin grinned.
"Well, Martin said you were a part of this because you'd encouraged him to, well, you know, teach me."
"What you saying here?"
"Well, I was wondering, Ben." Tim lowered his eyes and looked at his plate. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing a little coaching?"
"We ain't talkin' football here, are we?"
"No, Ben," Tim said as Martin chuckled. "We're talking fucking."
"Lord have mercy," Ben said, his voice coming out as an expulsion of breath from deep in his massive chest. "Who's doing the fucking here and who's getting the fucking did?"
Tim seemed to have gained greater confidence and Martin was clearly more and more amused, both by Tim's newfound boldness and by Ben's obvious embarrassment. Tim looked at Martin and sculled. "You did say we're all in this, right, Martin?"
"Yep, that's what I said and that's what I meant."
"Go right ahead, Mr. Arnold, explain yourself. I'm all ears and I'm sure you have Ben's undivided attention."
"Well, Ben," Tim began, "you know Martin has been, well, you know, sort of showing me the ropes."
"Bad choice of words, Tim," Martin again chuckled.
"Well, teaching me. Is that better."
"Fine, just keep going."
"Well, Ben, I guess you must have figured out that we've pretty much done all of it all ready."
"Yes," Ben said, "I sort of figured you was on to seconds."
"With some things. But, well.... I guess I just as well say it."
"An excellent idea, my boy," Martin said, again with a slight chuckle in his voice.
"Okay. Well, Ben. We have done oral sex."
"I gave him a blow job and he gave me a blow job, Ben. Just say it, Tim, you aren't going to shock Ben or me and I'm sure he has it all figured out anyway."
"Yeah. Well, and Martin fucked me."
"Did you like it?" The question had come from Ben.
Tim grinned. He looked down. He blushed. When he looked up again he said, "Yeah, Ben, I did. I really did."
"So you know it feels good. Don't need to hurt, boy, you know that."
"Sure. But Marty knew what he was doing. He got me real open first. It didn't hurt at all."
Ben looked over at Martin, made eye contact and smiled. "Told you, Martin. You just what this boy need."
"Just doing my best, Ben, trying to help."
"So you want to be as good for him, is that it, son?"
"For sure. And for sure I don't want to hurt him."
It was a while before any one of the three of them spoke again. When the silence was broken, it was Ben who asked, "so when you thinking you gonna do this, boys?"
"I'd say we're ready, Ben," Martin said. "You ready, Tim?" Martin rose from the table and pulled off his T-shirt and shorts, stood in all his naked beauty for a moment looking from Tim to Ben and then back again. Then he went over and laid down in the center of the big bed.
"I guess. I want to try it. I am a little scared."
"I ain't speaking out of school, saying Martin's bound to have had his share of fucking, boy. I don't think you can do him no harm."
"Well, will you stay here, anyway, Ben? Just talk me through it, okay?" At that point Tim also rose, and following Martin's example, removed his own T-shirt. Unlike Martin, however, who had undressed in quick order, Tim pulled the shirt slowly over his head, reveling his beautifully developed chest and shoulders. It wasn't an overt striptease, but close to it. Once the shirt was off, he tossed it on to the chair were Martin's clothes already lay. Then still facing the chair, he unbuttoned the fly of his shorts, bent over, he slowly slid them down his muscular legs. Like Martin, he had been wearing nothing under the shorts, and for a moment his cute ass was exposed to Ben's direct gaze. Then he straightened up and went over to lie by Martin on the bed.
"You sure you ain't just enjoying the idea of an audience, boy?"
Tim grinned at Ben and then rolled around and grinned at Martin. "The idea does kind of turn me on."
"Gee, Ben," Martin said, "you want to get my video camera out of the closet? I had no idea when I packed it that it might be used for home porn movies." There was a big smile on Martin's face, but neither Ben or Tim knew if he was really serious or just kidding.
"You ain't serious, Martin?"
"Well, no, not really, but it would give Tim here a nice souvenir to show his folks. Gee, Tim, you could even show it to the guys on your football team. You know, call it a training film."
"You guys really give me a hard time," Tim smiled. "The idea of Ben being here is a real turn-on for me, but that's all I want. No bigger audience, no video tape for posterity." As he said this he had worked up his nerve and reached out for Martin's relaxed cock. The idea of touching it in front of Ben had been very arousing to him, but actually doing it had been difficult. Once he had begun, he found his own cock had begun to harden as well as Martin's. It was as if in some way he was declaring his ownership, even if only temporary ownership, of this beautiful man.
"Come here, Ben," Martin said, his voice already hoarse with growing arousal.
"What you want, Martin?" Ben asked as he rose from the chair from which he watched these evelopments. Ben felt safe in the chair. He had been leaning forward, his elbows on the little table, which created a barrier between him and the other two men. It made him feel apart, separate, and allowed him to continue to think of himself as, at most, an observer. Now, by asking him to join them, Martin was destroying that illusion of separateness.
"Come here," Martin patted the bed beside him, on the far side, the side away from were Tim now reclined, supporting himself with one hand as he gently stroked Martin's now fully erect cock with the other.
Ben rose, circled the bed and stood beside it looking down at the two men.
Without saying a word, Martin sat up in one fluid motion, making his abdominal muscles tighten into perfectly symmetrical rows of mounds and valleys. He swan one let around, turning his back on Tim and then reached out to grasp Ben by his waist and draw his closer.
Tim raised up on one elbow to watch the interaction between the two older men.
Martin reached up and began to loosen the straining buttons of Ben's shirt. As he slowly opened it, the brilliant white fabric created an even more dramatic contrast with the dark skin beneath and framed the powerful terrain of bulging pectorals. Ben stood silently, allowing Martin to undress him. When the shirt was completely unbuttoned, Ben struggled out of it as Martin turned his attention to the fly of his khaki slacks. Only when they were loosened and unzipped did Ben speak. "You sure you know what you doing, boy?"
"Yes, Ben. I said you were a part of this."
"Well, let me take over then."
"I was rather hoping you would."
Ben, of course, had meant the process of removing his shoes and socks and then pulling off his slacks as he sat on the side of the big bed. Martin had another meaning in mind.
Once his slacks were removed, Ben stood and turned to face them, wearing only immaculate white boxer shorts over his bulging phallus. Martin noticed how clean he smelled and realized that Ben must have showered just before joining them, using the same citrus gel which still scented both Tim's body and his own.
"Those go, too, Ben," Martin said, reaching out to slip the thumb of
each hand between the
waistband of the shorts and Ben's glowing skin.
Ben didn't speak as Martin pushed the shorts slowly down. The elastic waistband passed over his dark pubic grove and then revealed the heavy base of his member. It was not erect, but hung full and firm, nearly as long in this state as it was when fully erect. As it came into view, Martin heard Tim utter a soft gasp as the boy lay behind him on the bed.
"Now," Martin said, "lie down here beside us."
"I don't think that's working, Martin. Let me pull a chair over instead."
"Well, stay close."
Ben rose and walked over to the wall by the bathroom door where a chair stood. He picked it up with one hand and returned to the bed, placing it just a couple of feet from its side. Tim noticed how Ben's body moved, his muscles flexing and relaxing with each step. He marveled at the mass of the man's cock, hanging from his groin like a massive separate entity, a being with its own existence, its own self will. The light was fading and Ben's dark skin looked burnished like a classical statue made of fine old bronze. Such a beautiful man, Tim thought as he rolled up onto his knees and leaned forward to kiss Martin slowly, gently, on his lips.
Just as Tim had watched Ben's movements and admired his body, Ben now marveled at the beauty of the two men before him. Martin's hard body he already knew well. He had seen him grow and develop from infancy to mature manhood and knew his body, in some ways, better than Martin knew it himself. Martin had a mature physique. It was hard and defined. There was no excess fat on his body and every muscle had that honed appearance which only comes with years of disciplined physical training. Ben was proud of Martin as a parent would be proud. He remembered that as a younger man, it had been he who'd first put Martin on the path to physical perfection, taking him down into the basement of the old house where Martin's father and his Uncle David had put together a workout room so many years before. The equipment had been used by only Ben for years, but when Martin was eleven or twelve, he had shown the boy the rudiments of weight training. He had spotted for him on the bench as Martin pressed thirty pounds, then forty, and in no time, it seemed, moved up to greater and greater weight, always pushing himself, always ready for Ben to show him the next step, the next new routine.
Now in the soft light, Ben watched as Tim hovered over Martin, their lips pressed together in an increasingly passionate kiss. His attention turned to the younger man, in Ben's thoughts, the boy. He noticed how his triceps bulged as he supported his weight on his arms, how his biceps flexed with each nuance of his movements and how his beautifully defined shoulders swelling with the strain he put on them.
The boy hummed a low, steady hum, and Ben could see that Martin's lips were now slightly parted, allowing Tim's tongue entry.
Without realizing what he was doing, Ben's hands moved down to his own groin, his right sliding into its accustomed hold on his massive cock, while the left moved lower to tug on his contracted balls, compelling them to move down into his grasp.
As Martin and Tim continued their passionate kissing, Martin placed his strong hands in the center of Tim's back and drew the boy down to him. Their mouths were still locked in what Ben assumed was a deeper and deeper kiss and their bodies were locked chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Martin loved having the while weight of Tim's body pressing down on his own. He lifted his legs and wrapped them around the boy's buttocks, drawing their bodies into a still closer union and exposing his ass to Tim's approach.
At that point, Martin's greater vulnerability was academic, as both their cocks were trapped between their bellies and Tim could not have positioned his own tool against the eventual point of access, even if he had wanted to .
Both Martin and Tim were moaning and the sound of their moans caused Ben's own sexual arousal to rise even further. He did not want to come, but he did continue to stroke his massive cock just enough to keep it fully erect.
At some point the kissing stopped, as if by prearranged signal. Tim drew his own mouth back from Martin's and looked deeply into his mentor's eyes. They didn't know it, of course, but both Martin and Tim were at that moment thinking the same thought. It had to do with their earlier conversation about the deep bonding that can occur between people who really cared for one another, when that caring was expressed in physical and sexual ways.
"I never felt as close to anyone as I do to you right now," Tim whispered so softly that only Martin heard.
"I know," Martin whispered back. They lingered like that, the full weight of Tim's hard body on Martin's, pressing one into the other, as if they really might become one. The light was going now and no one had thought to turn on lamps. The soft light of a rising moon cast soft shadows played along the walls and in the high beams of the ceiling.
"So," Martin thought, looking past Tim's golden head into the growing dark, "you're here again."
Then aloud, he whispered, "Tim, you know we are part of something so much bigger than we understand."
"I love you, Martin," the boy replied, not knowing if his words followed from Martin's but not caring either.
The boy turned his head and looked over at Ben. His eyes widened as he saw Ben setting there, not ever four feet away. His naked body glistening with a film of sweat and his hands gently cajoling his now fully erect cock. He saw that it was huge. He had never ever seen one as large.
Martin also turned to follow Tim's gaze and then he smiled across at Ben. He moved his left hand from Tim's warm back and reached across to the older, darker man. His arm wasn't long enough to reach him, but out of the gathering shadows, Ben reached out to him. Their hands touched and interlocked, one deeply tanned from the sun, the other darker still. Their eyes locked across the little space and then their hands were covered by Tim's as he moved it slowly down the length of Martin's muscular arm, feeling its heat, its power, moving slowly, deliberately. Tim traced the patterns of the veins that ran the length of Martin's arm, so powerful, so strong, so like his own, until his hand rested on theirs' and rested there, covering Martin's hand and Ben's as if to bless.
"I think," Martin said, his voice low and soft, "there are a lot of older souls here to share our union."
"We is never alone, Martin, you know that."
Each of the three looked into a different part of the dark room, into the gently moving shadows. Tim looked past Ben's dark from as he sat like a tribal totem, an archetype, a priest. Behind him, against the wall, he sensed the presence of other men, old men, young men, boys his own age. They stood like guardians or witnesses.
Ben looked across the forms of the two younger men, their bodies still illuminated by a soft glow which seemed to come as much from within them as from some external source. Beyond the confines of the big old bed he saw and understood. There were others there, solemn, powerful forms. There were dark men like Ben and lighter men like Martin and Tim, men of every race and time. They stood together, shoulder to shoulder, pressed like some great multitude going back through eons of time, men who had loved other men, men who held the wisdom of such love.
Still lying on his back, Martin looked again up past Tim's head, into the high shadows of the room, and what he saw surpassed all human forms. He sensed some greater dignity, some force, the overlords of power.
And on every face, the faces of the three of them and the faces of all those others who looked on from the deepest reaches of the past, from the very first moments of the human line, there rested gentle, loving smiles. Yes, Martin thought, this is much bigger than we understand.
They seemed frozen in time, not moving, not wanting to move. It was as if those few moments contained all time, all human love, all the love men have felt for other men. And still above all that great company they each sensed a still greater presence, an approving presence, which looked down with gentleness and love, as if with blessing and with hope.
"I think," Martin said at last, his voice soft and deep and slow, "I want you in me now."
"Yes," Tim whispered back.
And Ben also said, "yes."
The moment passed but what they had each seen was not forgotten.
Martin broke the grasp of their three hands and struggled to reach back toward the drawer of the bedside table. In his position, with Tim's weight on him, he couldn't turn his arm that far, but it was enough for Ben to understand his intent. The older man leaned over and opened the drawer and took out the tube of lubricant and the strip of foil packs.
"We shouldn't need those, should we?" Tim asked.
"I guess not," Martin said.
"This first time at least, I don't want anything between us."
"I understand," Martin said.
"We don't need that either," Tim said, nodding toward the tube.
Ben made no attempt to move the lubricant and condoms from the bed; there was plenty of room, he thought, in case they need them later.
Tim rose into a kneeling position between Martin's wide spread legs, bowing as he did so to kiss Martin's throat and chest. He moved with infinite slowness, kissing his hard nipples and then the hillocks and valleys of Martin's defined belly. He ran his lips over the crown of Martin's cock. Tim rose up on his own knees, his body tense and ready, fit to meet the challenge. The meager light played over the hard muscles of his chest and as Martin looked up at his towering form, he saw new strength in him. This was no longer a boy, a novice. This was a figure of authority, of power. His was beauty radiant in the meager light. He moved with the grace of a warrior or a knight. "And why not?" Martin thought, "men his age have defended thrones, conquered empires, composed great symphonies."
With complete control, Tim slid his hands under Martin's knees and lifted his legs. He pressed them forward until they touched Martin's shoulders and then he bowed his body to kiss his ready ass. It was a gentle kiss, the kiss of honor and respect. Then he moved his mouth over the bud and kissed again, this time a kiss of ownership, control. He took with gentleness but sure authority, claiming Martin as his own. His tongue came out to circle and entice, to spread saliva like some ancient balm.
"Oh, yeah," Martin moaned.
"You doing good, boy," Ben said, his voice deep and solemn, an incantation, "yes, you doing good."
Tim's tongue took on more boldness, more control. It pushed against the bud demanding entry, claiming what was his. It probed a little, then a little more. He looked up along the length of Martin's body, surveying it like a kingdom ripe for conquest. His tongue pushed in more. Tim moaned with the pleasure of it. He curled his tongue into a tube and let liberal amounts of his saliva run into Martin's now well soaked ass.
"Enough, Tim," Martin moaned, "I want your cock."
Tim rose up again, his beautiful body glowing in the soft moonlight like a work of classical sculpture. "Should I add some lube?" he asked. The question seemed to be directed to Ben.
"Let me take care of you," Ben said as he rose from his chair, put one knee on the edge of the huge bed and leaned over to the boy. He placed his strong hands on the boys hips and turned him a little, then bending over the bed, half kneeling on it, he lowered his lips to Tim's fully erect cock. It was pulsing in anticipation and producing generous amounts of clear fluid, as only an aroused teenager can do. Ben noticed that the boy's cock jutted straight out from his body, just as Martin's did. He removed one hand from the boy's hip and used it to steady the pulsing cock as he brought his open lips to it and, in one steady move, engulfed it. Tim gasped at the sensation as his rock hard penis disappeared between the dark lips of the older man. Within seconds the entire generous length of it was embedded deep in Ben's throat as his tongue ran around it, bathing it, drenching it. Ben tasted the rich offering of the boy's cock, wishing he could linger there. "Not now, another time," he promised himself. He withdrew his mouth from the boy as quickly as he had swallowed him, leaving his cock dripping with his saliva, which mingled with the boy's own fluids. "There now, you's ready," Ben said as he returned to his place in the chair.
Tim bent forward, as in one fluid motion, he also raised Martin's heavy legs again. "May I come in?" he asked, as if requesting permission to enter a room or a house, a door.
"Yes," Martin whispered, and Tim brought the head of his dripping cock into contact with the older man's flared, pulsing ass. Slowly, with infinite gentleness and care, Tim drove his cock into Martin's waiting body, into the core of his being. There was no hesitation, but no haste. Slowly, gently, he brought his weight forward until the entire length of his manhood was buried in Martin. When he was entirely in, he leaned forward and rested his chest against Martian's, again letting his full weight press into the torso of his lover. Then, in that position, he lay completely still. Seconds passed, a minute. The boy lay with his head on Martin's chest, his face turned toward Ben, his eyes hooded, as if he was in a trance.
"It's fine, Tim, you can move now." Martin's voice was soft, still, almost a whisper.
"Can I just hold still a moment longer?" Tim's voice was equally soft. They were communicating in the cooing tones of lovers, but Ben heard. He was a part of it.
"I'm ready whenever you want to start."
"I just need to understand it first, being in you, I mean." He remained very still, his head turned to the side, his eyes open just a little. "It feels so good, so right."
"Yes," Martin agreed.
"I can't believe it, Ben," he said, reaching out to the older, darker man, just as Martin had done. "In him, being in Martin."
"Yes, it is a wonder." Ben held Tim's hand as lightly as he'd hold a butterfly, caressing it with his rough fingers.
"I see now why in ancient times they called this 'knowing' someone else."
"You is knowing, boy, and you is known."
Again he was silent, lying very still. "I can hear your heartbeat, Martin, and I can feel it with my cock."
"Yes," Martin whispered. Then in even softer tones which only the boy heard, he said, "I was supposed to teach you, Tim, but I think I'm learning from you, too."
Tim lifted his head and turned his face to look down at Martin. For a while they just looked deeply into each other's eyes, but then slowly, very slowly, he lowered his lips until they pressed against Martin's and held them there. It was a tender kiss, a kiss of gentleness and promise. But as it continued their passions built.
Tim's pelvis rose a little and then he thrust. His eyes came open in a flash as his body responded to the added thrill.
Martin's arms and legs came up around the boy, holding him to himself. "Oh, Tim," Martin gasped and his own body bounded up in response.
"Oh, yeah," Tim moaned and then that rhythm imprinted in every human cell grew in him like a storm, feeding on itself, circling back to build again. "Oh, Marty, I love you so." The boy's pelvis came up and then pounded into Martin again, then again and the throbbing tempo was confirmed.
"Show me, Tim, drive it into me, drive it all in, all you feel, all you want to know."
"Yeah," Tim tried to say, but speech was becoming harder now. "I've got to give you all."
"Don't hold back, boy. Give it all. Give it up to me, I want it all."
"Yeah, oh, yeah."
Not only had the pace quickened, but the force behind it had increased to such a pitch that only strong men can sustain it. The younger man's body, trained and driven to the peek of physical strength and beauty and stamina, pummeled his well matched lover with a force which for others would have been painful, but for them held the sheer pleasure of their manhood.
"Yeah," they said together, "yeah."
Ben stood and realized as he did so that his own huge tool was now jutting and bobbing with audacious lust. He reached out and placed his broad hand on the small of Tim's sweat drenched back. He pressed into the boy with each down stroke, releasing only a little pressure on the up strokes, forcing the boy to work against the force of his hand.
Then, without warning, he removed his hand and brought it down in a powerful openhanded slap to Tim's thrusting ass.
"Oh, yeah, Ben, yeah," Tim almost shouted in the dark room.
Again, Ben's hand come down, harder than before, reddening the tan skin of the boy's buttocks, sending shock waves through his flesh which reached Martin as a powerful, driving thrust.
Again Ben moved his hand, but this time not to slap, but to explore. He ran his hand over the smooth skin of the boy's rear, then down his crack until he found his goal, the pulsing pucker of his ass. The boy was wet with sweat and Ben used no other lubricant. Suddenly, almost cruelly, he shoved his huge index finger into Tim's waiting ass, twisting it, pushing in further, twisting again, until the entire length of the huge finger was imbedded to the hilt.
"Oh, yeah, Ben, finger fuck me hard," Tim growled, his body now beyond control.
Ben twisted his finger in the boy's hole, pulling out a little only to push in with greater force. He picked up the tube of lubricant for the bed and readied it for his next assault. He pulled his single finger from Tim's ass, spread lube over both it and its neighbor, and pushed in again.
The boy almost screamed but Ben did not relent. He shoved the two fingers in and twisted them.
"Oh, yeah," Tim moaned and Martin's voice joined his, echoing him.
Ben withdrew again and greased three fingers for his next charge. Again, mercilessly, he drove them into the boy's now pulsing, hole, opening it, spreading it.
Ben's right hand occupied with Tim's beautiful ass. Not usually adept at handling himself with his left hand, but having no other choice, he began to stroke his massive, weeping member. Despite the unfamiliarity of this left handed approach, or perhaps because of its novelty, he quickly sensed himself building to a climax.
It was at that point that he leaned over the bed a little further, bringing his right knee up onto the bed to support himself a little. As he did so, he leaned a little further, putting more weight onto his right hand and pressing three huge fingers a little further in to Tim. The effects were explosive. That little extra pressure came full force against the boy's prostate, sending a mixed message of pleasure and pain through every nerve of Tim's body.
"Oh, god," Tim moaned and his body erupted. Deep in Martin's bowel, the torrent shot forth, scorching his innards, filling him with the seething product of Tim's raging balls.
Martin's body convulsed, sending shock waves through him and then up through Tim until Ben also felt them in his fingers and his hand. His own body responded and his own cock erupted, sending a massive rope of semen across Tim's buttocks and back.
Their bodies slumped, Tim rolling off Martin just a little toward the far side of the bed. Hearing Ben's moan, Martin looked up to see in the older man's face the last spasms of his own release. Martin reached up toward Ben's wet and sticky hand, and without hesitation, grasped it and pulled Ben down onto the bed.
Tim lay along Martin's left side, his pelvis still pressed into Martin's. The boy's cock was softening and slipping out, riding across Martin's left thigh, leaving a trail of semen which ran down onto the sheet.
Ben lay against Martin's left side and the three men gasped together, filling their lungs with heavy air, air fife with the odors of sweat and sex. As their breathing slowed each of them felt for the first time the heavy weight of night. Shadows moved and forms dispersed, but Tim and Martin and Ben did not see. Each of the three was sleeping, each with his own dreams.
It was many hours later when Ben stirred. He lifted his heavy body slowly from the bed, not wanting to disturb the these two men whom he loved so much. Swinging around and putting his feet on the floor, he looked up into the remote heights of the dark room and nodded. "Yes, "thank you," he said silently.
Then Ben rose and went into the bath, ran cool water over a cloth and returned to wipe the trails of dried semen from Tim's back and Martin's leg. His work done, Ben left to go back to his own room, his own bed. Martin and Tim slept on, their bodies exhausted by their passions, their minds swirling with their dreams of love.