Date: Sat, 25 Jul 2020 08:32:40 -0700 From: Mark Stout Subject: Betty, Bill and Richard Chapter 24 Betty, Bill and Richard 24 (Pride) Teen bisex M-M-F July, 2020 My name is Richard. Betty and Bill are my friends. The summer of our fourteenth year, the three of us started with sexual experimentation. Before the start of the following summer, we'd lost our virginity to our respective parents on the same day. That didn't become part of the plan till the day before it happened. Two weeks into the following summer, we'd had oral, vaginal and anal sex. The three of us were openly bi, in that we'd accepted ourselves as such and our parents knew. None of us had sex with our parents again after that one Sunday, but we all started to like our parents more and paid more attention to what our parents liked as far as music and TV shows. On a Saturday in mid-June our town had a Pride festival, which the three of us had been unaware of until now. That morning I caught myself spending an unusual amount of time picking out what I was going to wear. I've got it in my head that if you're not in school, drug store flip-flops are casual and Birkenstocks are formal. I put on long white jeans, which I never wear, and a bold blue short-sleeved shirt. In hindsight I looked like something from a Sunday Target ad. We each had some cash and met at my house. Bill and Betty came in together and kissed me in the living room, in front of my parents, which was a new thing. "Ready?", Betty asked. "Ready.", I replied. My parents were watching us. "Where are you going?", Dad asked. "Gay Pride", Bill said, more loudly than he needed to. If he'd said that a year ago, it would've been a joke. "That's today?", Mom asked. "Today and tomorrow", Betty offered. "We might see you there later", Dad said. Again, a year before that would've been a joke but now I knew that my folks were swingers, why would they not go to Pride? "Okay", I answered. "Love you!" as I went out the door. When we got to the park entrance where a big rainbow made of baloons arched over the street, Bill grabbed me and kissed me, right in public. Then he kissed Betty, and of course I kissed Betty. We were now officially out. I looked around and didn't recognize anyone, and nobody seemed to notice us, so I guess we were out to a bunch of strangers who didn't care one bit. All I knew about what to expect was from TV, so shirtless guys in their late twenties and rainbow flags weren't suprising. The number of little kids and elderly surprised me. The music and booths were the same as at any art fair I'd ever been to. I did notice that the announcers were guys in drag and seemed to need to be the center of attention. The booths looked boring at first glance but as the morning progressed I realized that the fact that my bank, military recruiters, the big grocery chains and a bunch of churches had booths, which I didn't expect. Eventually it seemed that Betty had slowly led us to a part of the park where we were the only young adults. It was mostly kids and games for kids, though the bounce house looked interesting. Betty stopped us. She was smiling. "Boys, take off your shirts!" she commanded. Bill and I blinked a couple of times and took off our shirts. "Okay, why?" Bill asked. "You're swimmers. You're in great shape. It's a warm day in June, and a lot of guys here have their shirts off, even guys that are old and out of shape. I like having two cute shirtless guys with me!", Betty answered. "Thanks." Bill said. "Why the kids games?" "I told you a couple weeks ago," Betty answered. She took us under a red awning so low that we had to duck to go in. Betty sat us on two tiny stools and found a girl with two-tone, gold and rust hair and a couple of piercings. Betty sat across from Bill and told him to stay still; she gave him a mirror to look at. The girl with the piercings showed me a mirror to look at and told me to hold still. There were little kids in the tent who gave us funny looks and then ignored us as our girls started painting Rainbow Brite logos us guys' faces. We couldn't put our shirts on with wet paint on our faces, and if we'd been asked we couldn't tell somebody that we were straight with that paint on us, so we just accepted our fate and put our shirts in our belts. We found something at the food court, tried to recognize the main musical act's hit songs, and then Betty said that we needed to find the serious stuff. Betty seemed to have a map memorized, so we had to follow her. There were lesbian groups, a terrifying biker group where a scary, tattoo'd guy winked at me, a sign for a bondage tent, the tent itself being closed (thank God!). Betty stopped at the next booth. There was an androgynous couple that looked like twin brother and sister, kinda, but the boy was trying to look like a girl and the girl was trying to look like a boy. Under plexiglas their table had dildos, from 3" to 10" long, in many colors. Half were penis-shaped and the others were a shape I'd never seen. When I listened to this couple talk and started paying attention I found out that they were called "butt plugs". I wondered if we'd been doing something wrong but didn't say anything. When I realized how frank Betty's questions were I started turning red because this couple, strangers to us, now knew that all three of us used dildos and that Betty was looking to nail Bill and I like us boys were Betty's girlfriends and she was our man. This was a little much for me to take, so I looked around for a distraction. At the next booth in front of us, my Mom was waving at us and yelling, "Hi, Richard!", just as Betty handed the weird girl some cash and received a green nylon dildo harness back in a clear plastic bag. I wanted to cry from embarrassment. "Talk about having no secrets!" said Bill. I acknowledged my Mom, said hi to Dad, and let Betty lead us to whatever came next. We said hi to people we'd recently met at the Advocacy Center's booth, and then Betty brought us to a booth of books. There were books about religion and sexuality, some about large numbers of gay positions which were mostly photos and looked cheap. Bill and I had our hands in our pockets. Betty seemed to be picking up every book and looking at the back. A couple she opened. One made her eyes get big. It was used but in good shape, hardcover, and she happily paid five bucks for it. "Seems easy for a fifteen year-old to buy sex toys and dirty books these days." I joked. "Cash helps, and I acted like I knew what I was looking for. Nobody corrupted a minor today; I came here with a shopping list!" Betty found us a spot far enough from the main stage so that we could hear one guy with an acoustic guitar playing music my parents and maybe my grandparents knew. There were blankets on the ground and it was under a big shady tree. There were about five couples already there of all mixes; two girls that looked like they were twelve, two old guys and two old lesbians with grey hair. A boy-girl couple that might've gone to our school, and two college-age guys with their shirts and sandals off. I took inspiration and kicked off my sandals, as did Bill and Betty. Betty sat cross-legged, sat the harness next to her on the blanket and I sat the same way next to her. Bill layed down with his head on my lap, which was a new thing. "Is this cool?" Bill asked. "Yeah. Just relax." I replied. Betty opened her new, used book. It was half text and half black and white photos, maybe from the late 1970's. Betty was going through it too fast for me to read. The pictures showed people doing stuff that Betty, Bill and I had already done, or stuff that looked silly and pointless. One had two guys with jeans on, face to face on the floor. I reached over and pointed to the photo. "What's the point?", I asked Betty. I waited a couple of seconds while she read the text. "It's called frottage. They rub their crotches together, and the friction of the denim gets them off", she explained. I thought about that. A little sexy but you'd have to do laundry right away. Betty finished browsing the book and put it in the bag with the harness. "There are just a few things in there we can try, or at least talk about." I got Bill to move his head and all three of use layed down on the blanket. I must've dozed off because I became aware that the sun had shifted and our guitarist was gone. An older man was talking to the two college dudes. The man talked about sucking his first dick with his cousin, and his cousin only returned the favor once before he went off to college and his cousin went to Vietnam. The old man was married in the early seventies, but him and his wife never "got" each other, and that was that. He talked about sleeping with a lots of guys in the mid '70's, settling down to a handful of guys he had sex with and maybe a dozen guys that he considered close friends. He talked about gay orgies in the late 1970's. "Did you know Harvey Milk?", I asked. I thought Bill had been asleep, but that popped his eyes opened and Bill sat up to listen to the old man. "I listened to him talk once. We didn't know what he was doing; he had been a Republican until he ran for council, and he wasn't saying anything we didn't know. It wasn't till after he was dead that I figured out that what he was saying wasn't new. What was new was that it wasn't us talking amongst ourselves anymore; Harvey was making the rest of the world listen. He was gone before I appreciated it." The old man's stories held our attention. He dropped a few words we were taught not to say as little kids, and talked a bit about gay sex, but he mostly talked about guys he'd known, some tough bikers and some tatto'ed from head to toe, some that liked to be tied up and whipped and some that lived as women in drag, but his tone told us that he loved all of them and that in the 1980's he'd felt like he was watching everybody he ever knew die from AID's. He paused. We didn't know if he'd stopped or not. The two college guys had tears on their faces; they took a second to kiss each other. The old man looked at us three. "You kids. How old are you?" I stupidly muttered "fifteen", but Bill wisely barked "Sixteen!", like it was a command. The old guy missed nothing and just grinned and giggled at our response. "You don't look closeted", he said, as a statement. "All of our parents know we're bi. I saw my parents here today," I told him. "Beautiful!", the man said. "You'll never have to hide anything. When you have kids, they can be honest with you and won't have to hide anything." "What you need to remember in a couple of years when you get to college, is to use condoms when you go exploring. If somebody tells you that condoms aren't cool, then fine; don't fuck them, but being "not cool" is a hell of a lot cooler than being dead. You've got the whole candy shop in front of you, the Caesar's Palace Buffet. You can do anything in the world, but for heaven's sake, use condoms!" The old man was crying now. "I'm sorry, but you are beautiful children, and I'm tired of going to young people's funerals".