Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 21:24:47 -0800 (PST) From: Brew Maxwell Subject: My Adventures with Nick, Part Four Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. It contains graphic descriptions of sex between and among young adult men, and anyone who finds this subject matter objectionable, or who is not of legal age in his or her political jurisdiction to read such material, must leave immediately. This story is being posted to the Nifty Archive for the amusement and entertainment or readers. It may not be posted or reprinted in any other medium without the written consent of its author. Comments are always welcome. My Adventures with Nick, Part Four We got to the house, and Nick went into the pavillion to get the suntan lotion, tanning butter, actually. I went to the car and got his cigarettes and a Bic lighter I found in the glove compartment. After we had a smoke, we applied tanning butter to each other, making sure our dicks got a generous supply. We both got half hard again but didn't pursue anything. Nick asked me if I wanted a beer and then got one for each of us. We settled down into lounge chairs to take in the sun. I closed my eyes to think about everything that had happened to me in the last twenty-four hours and to try to sort out how I felt about all of it. Once or twice I looked at Nick's gorgeous torso sprawled in the lounge chair, and he appeared to be sound asleep. My thoughts turned to a fundamental question. Was I gay? In terms of my enjoyment of sex with Nick and of how eagerly I took to it, I had to be. I wasn't scared to be or ashamed to be, but I didn't particularly want to be, except for Nick. Nick's diatribe about "fuckin' categories" kept intruding itself into my thinking, though, and his simple equation of "sex is sex" made me wonder even further. He had said it wouldn't surprise him if his brother Matt showed up with girls in tow and that I ought to try sex with a girl at least once. I fantasized about what that would be like, what she would be like. I imagined a Cindy Crawford type. I mentally visualized her magnificent face, her perfect breasts, and her superbly rounded bottom. I imagined her long legs wrapping themselves around me as I buried my face in her hair and hugged her tight. In my mind's eye I saw myself giving her head, slowly, lovingly caressing her clit and lower lips with my tongue. I imagined the soft warmth of her vagina as it surrounded my throbbing cock, generously moisted with her juices, and I pictured myself pumping in and out, gently at first but gradually increasing the tempo and the force until she dug her fingers into my back and released wave after wave of orgasmic heat. I imagined my own climax, starting deep inside me and then building, building, building to an incredible burst of pleasure that left me weak with exquisite sensation. All of this was pure imagination, of course, since I had never been with a woman and had no idea of what "the soft warmth of her vagina" really felt like. The effect on me was the same as the effects of these sorts of fantasies usually were, and I achieved the kind of erection that probably produced permanent stretch marks on the skin of my cock. When I opened my eyes, Nick was standing above me looking down at my dick. "Son of a bitch," he said. "That must have been some fuckin' dream. I hope I was in it. You made me hard just watching you." I smiled at him but didn't say anything. I felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't been in it, and I'm sure my skin reddened even more from embarrassment than it already had from the sun. "That goddamn thing is too good to waste. Scoot over," Nick said. I moved over as far as I could on the lounge chair, and Nick got into it next to me. He put his right arm around my shoulder, and part of my left side rested on him. He swung his left leg on top of both of my legs, and his erection was wedged between him and my side. He started playing with my left nipple and tonguing my left ear. My nipple got hard at once, and his hot, wet tongue made me gasp. His right arm was buried under me, so he took leave of my nipple and grabbed my cock with his left hand. Our whole bodies were both moist with perspiration from the hot sun, and Nick's odor, sweat and tanning butter, wafted up and added another sensory stimulation. As he stroked my glistening cock, he rhythmically prodded his cock into my side. In a moment, I was moving in counterpoint to his hand and body, as we both moaned with the intense pleasure of our synchronized hump. "You're so fucking hot," he said. "I want to fuck you so bad I can almost feel your ass opening and grabbing my dick. I want to be inside you, not just my cock in your butt but my whole body inside your skin. I want us to become one giant orgasm, one groan of lust that never stops and that deafens the universe. I want to feel your hot cock explode in my mouth, my ass, my everyplace." The dialogue was a new wrinkle in our sex play, and it worked its magic. Nick could feel me tense as I was about to come, and he let go of my cock. "Not so fast, stud," he said. STUD! He called me stud. Just hearing that word made me hard when I was younger, and now the arch-stud was using it to describe me! My dick quivvered, and for a second I thought I was a goner. Evidently, though, he had caught me an instant before I reached the point of inevitability, and the urge to come passed. Instinctively, perhaps, or maybe from experience, he knew when he could start again, and he did. In a few moments I was again climbing to orgasm, this time more intensely than last. I remember wondering if I would ever be as good as he was. Twice more he brought me to the very edge and pulled me back. Then, when Nick was ready, he pulled down forcefully on my dick and we came at the same instant. He held on for a few minutes as the cum oozed from my shaft and I settled into a kind of beatific glow that could only be a foretaste of heaven. There wasn't much spunk to deal with, this being the seventh time each of us had come since 9:30 this morning, but Nick massaged the little that was there into the skin of our abdomans. "It'll dry in no time in this sun," he said. We cuddled and nestled for a time. Then Nick said, "Brad? Buddy?" "Yeah," I asked. "Do you remember when I got my right arm amputated?" We both laughed. I shifted away from his right shouder and sat upright. We both got up; Nick got the Marlboros and took a seat in a regular pool chair on my right. "I thought that was pretty intense," he said, and then inhaled his smoke. "It was fair," I said. He chuckled. After a couple of minutes of silence, I felt as though I had to be honest with him. "Nick," I said, "that hard-on I had wasn't from a dream. I was thinking about fucking a girl. And I wasn't really thinking about you. It wasn't a dream. I was awake." I hope he detected the honest contrition in my tone of voice. "Faggot." We both lost control and laughed until we ached. When we settled down, he was a little more serious. "See, that's the point I was trying to make last night. Gay, straight, bi--those categories don't really mean anything. Brad. That means something. Nick. That means something. Buddies. I hope that means something, too." "I'm beginning to see your point, I think," I said, revving up for another of Nick's philosophical discussions. "Good. Nothing heavy right now, though. You haven't seen the whole place. You want to walk down to the lake?" Of course I did. We got up to walk down to the lake, wherever that was. "Bring the smokes and the lighter," Nick said. I put the lighter in the box of cigarettes, and off we went. The lake wasn't far, and we got there in less than ten minutes. I felt a little self-conscious walking around naked, but Nick acted perfectly at ease. The lake was large, and Nick explained that it covered more than 250 acres. It was all on their property, but the fields at the end of a stretch that doglegged off to the right were rented to tenants. We couldn't see them from where we stood. We sat down on a small sandy beach. The road we had walked on to get here continued a few hundred feet past the beach and ended at what appeared to be a boathouse. We decided to take a dip in the lake to cool off. Nick said that they did all of their swimming right here until the pool was built. The water was still pretty cold, so we didn't stay in more than a few minutes. We didn't have towels, so we decided to walk along the shore until we dried off naturally in the sun. We got to a thicket of trees that came almost all the way to the shore line. "This is a special place for me," Nick said. "This is where I first jerked off." "You said something about that yesterday," I said, not really expecting a reply. "Yeah. I did it with my friend Sean," he said. "I've known Sean just about all my life. His parents used to live on one of our tenant farms, and his mother used to do housework for my mother when we were little. She used to bring Sean with her when we were here in the summers, and we'd spend the whole day just running around this place. In the spring when I was ten, they moved away, and I didn't see Sean for two years. I was twelve when they moved back here, and we've been tight ever since. "Sean is two years older than I am, and he's just about my size. We used to swim naked down here all the time before he moved away, so we were used to seeing each other without clothes. Neither of us had reached puberty before he left, but both of us had by the time he moved back. The first day we were together after they came back here we were a little awkward with each other. It was like we had just met each other. Then Sean suggested we go for a swim. I wanted to race him down here the way we'd always done, but he wasn't interested. He said it was too hot to run. Anyway, we walked down here, and Sean pulled off his clothes really quickly and stood in front of me showing off his bigger cock and pubic hair. I wasn't particularly impressed. He was fourteen, after all, and I had just figured he'd have some. "When I took my clothes off, Sean stared at my package. My cock was a good bit bigger than his. . . ." "Your cock's a good bit bigger than everybody's," I said. "That's not true. But anyway, he saw the size of my cock and all the hair I had, and I think he was surprised, and maybe a little disappointed that he wasn't the only one that had pubed out." "You must have gone through puberty early," I said. "I didn't really get hair that you could see until I was in the eighth grade." "I guess I did; I don't really know. I was twelve-and-a-half that summer, going into the seventh grade. Anyway, we went for a swim. The water wasn't a whole lot warmer than it is today, so we splashed around a little, ducked each other a few times, and then we got out. We came back up here and sat on the bank. Sean pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his shorts. He asked me if I smoked, and I said yes. I really didn't, but I didn't want him to think I was a sissy or something. Both my brothers smoked, Scott openly and Matt behind my parents' backs, and I guess I really wanted to but hadn't ever gotten around to it. I took a cigarette and coughed when I inhaled. I had watched people smoke, so I knew how it was supposed to look. I hate it when guys hold a cigarette like a pansy or something. Anyway, we sat here smoking. I got pretty lightheaded, and I think Sean must have, too. "We both kept stealing looks at one another's equipment. I told you I always do that, and I do. In a few minutes, Sean started getting a hard-on. He hadn't touched himself or anything. It was probably just one of those bonus boners you get. When I saw that, I started on my own hard-on. Pretty soon, we were both sitting here buck naked with raging hard cocks. This wasn't the first time we had seen each other hard, of course, but somehow this time we both felt different. Sean asked me if I thought we should jerk off. That's just the way he put it. 'Nick, you think we should jerk off?' I said something like 'I guess,' but I wasn't really sure what 'jerk off' meant. I had heard my brothers call each other that, but I thought it meant the same as plain 'jerk,' like 'asshole' or something. "Well, ol' Sean started in. I just sat there watching, and my mouth was probably hanging open. I had played with myself before and knew it felt good, but I had never done what he was doing, and I had never come when I was playing with myself. I could come, although I didn't know that's what it was, because I had had plenty of wet dreams and had woken with cum all over the bed. Anyway, Sean said, 'You've never done this, have you?' 'Not exactly,' I said. 'Come on. It's easy,' he said. I started stroking myself, and it felt really good. In about a minute we both came. I thought, Wow! this shit's really great. "We didn't stop there. I was still pretty hard, and Sean was, too. He pulled me closer to him and grabbed my cock. Then he started stroking me. I was too interested in what he was doing and in what I was feeling to do anything back to him. Then I came again. It was even stronger and better that time. Then Sean said for me to do him, and I did. I think we probably jerked each other off about five times that afternoon. Anyway, I wasn't really counting." Nick stopped here to light a cigarette. I lit up, too. "So what happened after that," I asked. I was more than half hard at this point, and I wanted the story to go on much longer. "Well, we eventually went back up to the house, and Sean went home. The next part of this story happened after dinner. My brother Scott wasn't here. I think he was working for my dad in New Orleans painting some houses we owned. Matt was here, though. Matt smoked, but my parents didn't know it. Really, they did know it, but Matt didn't smoke in front of them. Every night after dinner he and I would take a walk so Matt could smoke. Anyway, when we got outside where my parents couldn't see us, Matt lit up a butt. I said, 'Give me one.' 'When did you start smoking,' he said. 'Today,' I said. Matt didn't say anything else. He gave me a cigarette--Marlboro red box, just like I smoke now--and we walked on. He watched me to see if I inhaled. 'How did you start smoking,' he asked. I told him Sean smoked and that he gave me a cigarette that afternoon. 'And you know what else," I said. 'Sean taught me how to jerk off.' "Matt stopped in his tracks. 'You didn't know how to jerk off until today?' 'No,' I said. 'Did you come?' 'What does that mean,' I asked. 'Did you make some white stuff?' 'Yeah. Is that bad?' I was really pretty dumb for having two older brothers who were both horny as two-peckered goats. We were walking again by this time. 'No, that ain't bad,' he said. 'That white stuff is called cum--c-u-m--and when you make it, you come, c-o-m-e.' 'Why do they spell it different,' I asked him. 'Shut up, you dumb fuck, how do I know?' "We were walking toward the lake. Matt didn't say anything else until we got down here. 'Nick,' he said, 'I've got a duty to do. As your older brother.' 'Yeah? What's that?' 'I've got to make sure Sean taught you right,' he said. You've got to know that Matt is one horny-ass motherfucker. He must have been thinking of this all the time we were walking and not talking. "I thought that was probably a good idea. Matt was older than Sean, so he knew more. I wanted to get it right. Anyway, I said 'good' or 'great' or 'okay' or something, and I started to pull down my shorts. I was already half hard. Matt pulled his jeans off. He has never worn underware, as far as I know. At least not with jeans. That's something I learned from him. I was wondering why he was getting undressed. I had seen him naked a million times, but this time he had a big fuckin' woody." I hadn't heard "woody" before, but I knew what he meant. "I started working my meat, you know. I don't know how many strokes I got in before Matt stopped me. 'I want you to do it to me,' he said. 'That's the only way I'll know if you're doing it right.' That made sense to me, so I started in on Matt. That afternoon, Sean and I had both come real quick, but Matt seemed to take a long time. He moaned and grunted, and I even thought I was hurting him. So I stopped. 'Don't stop, asshole,' he said. He and Scott both called me curse names all the time, so I didn't think anything about the 'asshole' part. I went back to work. Matt's cock isn't as big as mine, even then. But I could feel it get harder and harder as I stroked him. Finally, the head got really big. He started to buck like I had earlier in the afternoon, and he shot a big load. "He was breathing really hard. He caught his breath for a few seconds, and then he said, 'I couldn't really tell if it was just right. You'll have to do it again.' I was so dumb I didn't know what this fucker was up to, so I did it again. He came again, although not as much that time. "Meanwhile, I'm still as hard as a son of a bitch. So I start fingering myself. I brought myself off, and Matt pronounced Sean an adequate teacher. Then Matt told me to lie down. We laid down on the sand. Then he did something that was really out of character for him. He put his arm over my chest and kissed me on my lips. I kind of freaked out, I guess. I didn't say anything, but he had never even touched me before except to hit me, and here he was kissing me. We laid there for a few minutes, then Matt wanted another cigarette. He sat up and fired one up. He offered me one, but I said no. "'We got to talk about this,' he said. 'Did Sean kiss your dick? Or put it in his mouth?' 'No,' I said. 'Well, see, that's the next step. I'll teach you how to do that in a few minutes,' he said. 'What about your assholes? Did you guys touch each other on the asshole? Did Sean stick his dick in your asshole, or did you stick your dick in his?' 'No,' I said. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind. 'What about nipples? Did you guys rub each other's nipples? Or suck them?' 'No.' 'You guys have a lot to learn,' he said. "Matt was fifteen, and he had his driver's license. That's the legal age in Louisiana. Did you know that?" "No. I didn't," I said. "It's sixteen in most states." "Well, it's fifteen here. Anyway, he was gone most of the time. I found out later he had three girlfriends, and he was fucking every one of them. One of them was twenty-three! But back to the story. He hung around the next day, and he went off with Sean and me when Sean and his mom got to the country place. He spent the whole day teaching us all about sex. I spent the night with him that night so we could practice." Nick laughed at this point, but the laughter was more ironic than genuinely humorous. I probably chuckled, too. "Well, there was no stopping me and Sean. We were both horny as hell, and we fucked and sucked each other all the rest of the summer. Sometimes Matt joined us, but most days he didn't. Every night, though, he and I slept together, and, of course, we practiced. Then something happend on the Fourth of July weekend. My brother Scott came up for the weekend, and he brought a friend with him. It turns out this was a guy who also worked for my dad, with Scott. They were living together at our house in New Orleans, and my parents didn't even know it. We had a big party on the Fourth. My dad had some of his clients up. There were family friends, my uncle Matt and his current squeeze, a whole bunch of people. We had a great time. We had fireworks. They're illegal in Louisiana, but this is Mississippi, so we shot them off like crazy. Finally, after everybody had left to go home, it was just me, Sean--he was spending the night--Matt, Scott, and Scott's buddy Doug. Doug was maybe twenty. We had some fireworks left, so we decided to go down to the lake to shoot them off. Mom and Dad went to bed. It was only about 9:30. They told us all the usual parent shit--be careful, go to bed at a reasonable time. You know. "We got into a pickup that's part of the rolling stock around here. Scott and Doug loaded a cooler onto the back with me, Sean, and Matt. I thought it was soft drinks, but it was beer. But that's another story. Anyway, we came down here. We built a fire, shot off a few fireworks, and then stretched out around the fire. Matt said he was hot, and he took off his clothes. Doug said he was hot, too, and took off his clothes. In a few minutes we were all naked. And--you guessed it--in a few more minutes we were all hard. That night I had my first group sex. We sucked. We fucked. We kissed. We felt. We did it all. "Scott and I got into a jerk-off thing, and I came in just a few minutes. Scott took a long time. When we were done, he asked me if I always came that quick. I told him I did and asked why he wanted to know. 'You've got to learn some control, little brother,' he said. He knew Matt and I were sleeping together, so he asked me if Matt had taught me how to control my dick. 'No,' I said. 'I guess I should have known better,' Scott said. 'I want you to learn how, though. It'll make it better for you and the person you're with.' "Scott taught me how to strengthen the muscles that control my climax. He told me to do the exercises every time I thought about it--'In class, sitting around the house, you name it,' he said. 'Don't let up, man. Keep with it.' Scott was my hero that summer. He was eighteen, a grown-up. He had just graduated from high school and was going to Tulane in the fall. If Scott thought I should pump my muscles, then I'd do it. Now that I look back on it, that was the best advice--sexually, I mean--anyone ever gave me. I can stay for a long, long time if I want to, and it's because I have control over my dick." "Explain to me what you're talking about," I said. "Okay. You know when you're taking a leak and you have to stop for some reason?" "Yeah." "You use a set of muscles to squeeze off the piss. You can use those same muscles to keep from coming. But you need to develop them for it to work right. You just squeeze like you're trying to cut off piss, and that makes 'em strong enough to cut off cum, too. Let me show you something." Nick stood up right in front of me. His dick was soft. He started pumping the muscles he was talking about, and his dick started jumping up and down. Then it started getting hard. The more he pumped, the more it jumped, and the harder it got. I was amazed. "I can also make myself come by doing that, but I won't," he said. "Come on. I want to see you do it," I said. "I'll keep you company with my hand." I couldn't believe what I had just said and what that guy had done to me. Twenty-four hours ago I was running into a bathroom out of fear of creaming my jeans, and now I was talking like this. And loving it. Nick knelt down right in front of me and started pumping his muscles. I got on my knees, too, and started pumping my hand. I wanted to try Nick's technique to see if I could keep from coming. He, apparently, wanted to get off quickly, and he did. He made more cum than last time, and he shot it with a lot more force. Some of it hit my chest. Ordinarily that would have made me come instantly, but I squeezed as Nick had instructed, and I was able to hold off. He probably saw the strain in my face, and he smiled. "You're trying it, aren't you?" "Yeah, and I think it worked that time." "Here, let me have that." He took my cock in his hand. "You concentrate on holding back, and I'll jerk you off." I approached climax again in just a few moments with Nick working my cock. I squeezed, and, great lover that he is, he turned me loose. That kept me from coming, and my cock even lost some of it weight. He grabbed me again and went back to work. When I got near my climax, I squeezed as hard as I could, but I couldn't hold back. I shot a small but powerful load onto Nick. Without even thinking, he scooped it up with his finger and put it into his mouth. It was like a reflex. We sat down and lit cigarettes. "You held back twice, didn't you?" "Yeah," I said. "The third time, though, was too much for me." "See, that's why you've got to work those muscles. Yours get tired quick. I can do it seven or eight times before mine give out." "So how long can you keep going," I asked. "That depends. If I'm really horney, I can't last more than about fifteen minutes. That's in a pussy or an asshole. I have gone as long as forty-five minutes, though. And that was cold sober. If I've had some drinks, I can probably last longer--and not feel a fuckin' thing." Nick laughed at that. "My standard fuck at the clubs is twenty minutes. That works in nice with a half-hour gig. Five minutes to heat the chick up, twenty to fuck her, and five to clean up and calm down." I pondered the implications of what he had just said. Sex is life for him, I thought. It's a business, too. I'd been in awe of Nick for the two weeks I'd known him, and all of this only added to the mystique. After a few minutes, Nick said, "How's your butt?" "What," I asked. "Your butt? Your butt plug? How's it doing?" "Great, I guess. I really can't feel it anymore, except when I come," I said. "Okay, that means you've stretched out some. Let me check it. Lie down on your back and let me put your legs back." I assumed the position I had taken that morning, and Nick reached down and moved the plug side to side a little. He had a very serious face, much as a doctor might have examining a patient. "Yeah. You're ready for a bigger one," he said. He thought for a minute. Then he reached behind himself and pulled the butt plug out of his own ass. I expected to see it covered with shit, but it wasn't. In fact, it looked clean, and shiney from the Vaseline. "Do you mind," he asked as he held it up for my inspection. I shook my head. It probably wasn't the most sanitary thing in the world to do, but we hadn't exactly spent the day in an operating room. He pulled the plug out of my ass, and gently inserted the larger one. It was still warm from him, and I could feel that. Or at least I thought I could. The bigger one went in easily enough. I could tell it was there, and I had the same delicious feeling of fullness I had had when he had put the smaller one in me earlier that day. He stuck the smaller one back in himself. "So we don't have to carry it around," he said. We sat still for a few moments, and I could feel my hole adjusting to the larger plug. "Is this one going to do it," I asked. "Maybe. The one you got in you right now is about the size of your cock, and you're not that much smaller than me in thickness. The length really doesn't matter that much. It's the thickness. We'll just have to see in a few hours. Try to relax your asshole muscles as much as you can, and that will help them stretch." Just then I shivered. "What's the matter, Brad?" "Nothing. It's getting a little chilly out here. That's all." "Yeah. You're right. What time is it?" I still had my watch on. It read 4:30. The sun was still bright, and it would stay light until around 7:00, but we were now in the shade. "Are you up for a little one-on-one?" "No, but I bet you can get me up in no time if you set your mind to it." I grinned slyly. "I meant basketball, cunt-hair." We both laughed, but I had already used that one. "Oh. Okay," I said. "I'm not real good, though." "Yeah, but you're getting better. You'll be first rate by the time I'm finished with you." Again, laughter. We walked back to the house. There was a basketball goal next to the pool, and we fooled around for about an hour. By 5:30 the sun had retreated from the patio all together, and we were both tired, anyway. I played better than I usually do, but Nick was terrific, even at a sport he didn't consider one of his. He had a grace and naturalness about the way he moved that you have to be born with. I was distracted half the time watching his cock. Every time he went up for a shot, it would fly up and slap his stomach. A few times I even heard the "splat" it made as it hit, but he didn't get hard. I didn't do a lot of jumping, but the little I did made me hard as a rock. When Nick noticed my erection, he said he was going to tell his P.E. teacher about an alternative to shirts and skins--hards and softs. That made us both laugh, and it made me less self-conscious. We were sweaty when we finished our one-on-one, and I thought sure Nick would want a shower. But I was wrong. My feet, which had been bare since we got there, were filthy, and I could smell myself and wasn't pleased. I could smell Nick, too, but he smelled kind of good to me. Earthy. Natural. His perspiration had washed off all the tanning butter, it seemed. We went into the house, and Nick got busy in the kitchen. He had taken two huge steaks out of the freezer when we first arrived, and now they were fully thawed in one of the sinks. He asked me if I liked salad. When I said I did, he got out a bag of pre-chopped salad greens, a tomato, a jar of salad olives, a jar of marinated artichoke hearts, and a bag of homemade crutons. He turned on the oven and put two baking potatoes inside. "Do you want a vegetable," he asked. "If you do," I said. He got out a container of frozen squash, of all things, and put it in the microwave to thaw. He also took a small loaf of French bread from the freezer, and set that on the counter. "I'll warm it up when it's thawed out," he said. It was as though he had to reassure me I'd be well taken care of. "How 'bout a drink," he asked. "Sure. Why not?" He made us each a pretty strong drink. It was Scotch again, I think. I nursed my drink as I watched Nick work. He made his own salad dressing using oil, vinegar, a little garlic, and some dried mustard powder. He put salad greens and the other ingredients into two bowls, but he didn't pour on the dressing. "Let's set the table," he said. He got out cloth placemats and matching napkins, silverware, and wine glasses. "Do you mind if we eat in the breakfast room?" I assured him that would be fine. I went into the breakfast room, which was right off the kitchen, and watched him set the table. He took a lot more care than I would have expected getting everything straight and in the right place. Then we went back to the kitchen. "It'll only take a few minutes to cook the steaks, but these potatoes will have to bake about another hour. Can you wait that long?" "Sure," I said. I realized Nick was just being polite in asking me if I could wait to eat, but, realistically, what was the alternative? I guess he could have microwaved them, but microwaved baked potatoes just aren't as good as the real baked kind. Nick got a wedge of cheese from the refrigerator and put it on a serving plate. He arranged crackers around it and got a cheese knife. Then he set the timer on the stove to go off in forty-five minutes. "Let's go into the living room and relax. Bring your drink, and I'll bring this stuff," meaning the cheese and crackers. The living room he was talking about was really the room he had earlier called the morning room. It was a very masculine place, with very soft leather furniture, a TV, a coffee table--the usual living room furniture. It also had an old up-right piano that appeared to have been refinished at some point in the past. "Do you want to watch the news or something," Nick asked. "Not really," I said. It felt good to sit down, although I was very uncomfortable being in this room nude. I had gotten used to being nude outside, but somehow this place called for clothes. "Nick," I said, "would you mind if I got dressed? I don't feel right being in this beautiful house without clothes on." "Oh, hell, no, man. As a matter of fact, I'm kind of feeling the same way. I keep thinking my mom will walk in any second." He chuckled. "Besides, we aren't going to be getting any more sun today." We went upstairs to Nick's room to get dressed. When we got there he wanted to check my butt plug. He pronounced me ready for the next size, and we took care of that matter before we put our clothes on. Nick took his plug out but didn't put another one in. It felt a little strange having clothes on after being naked most of the day. It was kind of like it feels when you put on long pants after being in shorts for a long time, only all over. I still thought we should shower, but I didn't say anything about that. I did go into the bathroom and wash my feet, however, before I put my shoes back on. I hadn't closed the bathroom door, and, when Nick saw what I was doing, he laughed but washed his feet, too. I felt much better after that. I was used to my smell by now, and I decided it wasn't all that bad, after all. We went back downstairs and dove into the cheese and crackers. The cheese was soft and creamy, and it had a kind of sweet-bitter taste. I asked Nick what it was, and he told me it was imported brie, his favorite. I had heard of brie, but I had never tasted it before. I made a mental note to put this stuff on my "favorite foods" list. We made small talk for a few minutes, and then I asked Nick about the piano. "Does anybody ever play it," I wanted to know. "Yeah. Sometimes. You want to play it?" There was a note of eager hopefulness in his voice. "I wish I could," I said. "I love music, but I can't play a note." Then I wondered about him. "Can you play?" "Yeah. What do you want to hear?" "What do you know," I asked. "I can play just about anything, as long as I've heard it before. Any popular song, that is. I've got to study and practice on the hard classical pieces." "Player's choice," I said. Nick got up and sat at the piano. In a second he was playing an old Elton John tune that I recognized but couldn't name. I was standing now next to the piano watching Nick play. When he got to the chorus, he started singing the words to "Benny and the Jets." His voice was terrific. In a second I started singing along, but I knew my singing voice wasn't my best attribute. When Nick finished that song, I applauded, and I do believe my buddy actually blushed a little as he grinned at me. He reminded me of a little boy who was basking in the approval of somebody he really admired. I grabbed his head and kissed the top. Then I asked him if he could play anything by Springsteen. He thought for a second and started in on "Dancing in the Dark." After that he played a couple more Springsteen songs, and then he quit. Seated in a leather chair again, with me close by on the sofa, Nick lit a cigarette and took a longish pull on his drink. "How did you learn how to play like that," I asked. "I took piano lessons for five fuckin' years when I was a kid," he replied. "I know people who've taken piano lessons for much longer and can't play nearly as well as you, especially without sheet music," I said. "I guess it's just something I can do," he said. "I don't even think about it, and I haven't touched a piano in more than a month. It really used to piss my brothers off. Mom and Dad made them take piano, too, and they used to have to practice their asses off and still didn't get it right half the time. I would practice maybe twenty minutes and have the piece down perfect." "Why did you stop taking lessons," I asked. "Sports. I wanted to play football, and I couldn't do both. So piano lessons had to go. Besides, I hated my teacher. He never would accept the fact that I could play pretty good without a lot of practice, and my two prick brothers made it a point of making sure he knew I didn't practice much." We heard the buzzer on the kitchen timer go off, so we went back in to finish cooking. The stove had a built-in grill, and Nick used that to cook the steaks. He served the plates and got a bottle of red wine out of another refrigerator-looking device (that I later learned was a modern wine cellar), and we went in to eat. The food was good and the meal satisfying, but it wasn't exactly gourmet. Nick had to get up almost as soon as we had sat down to fetch the butter and sour cream for the potatoes he had forgotten. We ate in silence for a little while, and then I asked Nick to tell me about his brothers. "Scott--he's the older one, remember?--is a little taller than I am, but he's otherwise built like me. Not as much muscle, though." He grinned a little self-consciously at that pronouncement. "He wasn't much of an athlete in school, but he works out a few times a week, just like me and Matt, so he stays in pretty good shape. Scott's the real business man of the three of us. My folks left us quite a bit of rental property--you know, houses and stores and office buildings and that kind of shit. Scott manages all of that. Really, there's a management company called Marshall Management, Incorporated, and they do the day-to-day work of finding tenants and billing and that kind of stuff. Scott sort of supervises all of that, though. Then he also runs the three clubs. Each club has a manager and an assistant manager, and they do the nitty-gritty shit, but Scott keeps them on their toes." "Is Scott one of the dancers. What was it you called them, a stud. . . ." "A stud in the stable." "Right. Is he a stud in the stable?" "He'll fill in sometimes, but he tries to get to all three clubs every night, so he doesn't like to be tied down to just one place. Besides, Scott is a little more serious than that. He kind of has a girlfriend at the moment, and she doesn't like him sticking it in every woman that has a hundred dollars. You know what I mean?" "What about Matt," I asked. "Matt's Matt. What can I say about Matt? He's the best looking of the three of us." Better looking than you, I thought. No fucking way. "He was an athlete in school and has a really good build. He's my height, great hair, a little longer than mine but better." Better hair, I thought. No fucking way. "He's real outgoing. He never met a stranger, and people like him right away. I guess I'm kind of like that, too, but Matt is even more than me. He loves to party, and Scott and our trustees will really have to watch him since he turnes twenty-one. Scott, Matt, and I all have birthdays in the same week in November, so we're all exactly two years apart." "Why is turning twenty-one so important that Matt has to be watched? I would have thought just the opposite." "We get the full profits of our trusts when we turn twenty-one. We can't touch the principals until we're thirty-five, so even Scott can't get to all his money. Besides, most of it is tied up in real estate. But the profits are quite a bit of money." "Like how much?" I realized as I was saying the words that that was none of my business and that Nick would probably slap me down for asking. But he didn't. "It's around five million a year. Or at least it has been for the last few years. A little more than that, really." "Wow!" "Yeah, I know. They don't want Matt to be totally wreckless with his money or give it away to some chick or pretty-boy who makes his cock swell. He's just the type to do that, too. He and Scott have almost gotten into fist fights over that, but Scott says Matt will thank him for it someday. I'm not sure." "So do you get any money, or what?" "I get an allowance. Since I was already eighteen when my parents died, I started getting $5,000 a month." "Jesus Christ!" "Yeah, I know. Plus I get what I earn." "How much is that?" I wasn't going to let up until he made me. "That varies a lot. I get twenty dollars for each show, so that's forty a night. Then I get my tips. That's usually around two hundred a night. Then I get forty for each private show. I usually do four a night--when I'm working. I don't have any regular private clients at the moment, though." I added up the amounts as he was listing them off. He makes four hundred dollars a night, I thought, doing what most guys fantasize about when they jerk off. I couldn't believe it. Nick continued: "I worked twelve nights in the last two weeks. We're closed on Sunday nights. I made almost five thousand dollars." "Goddamn," I said. After a moment's pause, Nick said, "I wish you wouldn't tell anybody about the money, okay?" "Sure, buddy. I won't." Who'd believe me, I thought. It was almost nine o'clock by the time we got up from the table. We spent maybe ten minutes straightening things up in the kitchen, putting the dishes in the dishwasher, etc. We were getting close to my moment of truth, and I was getting excited. Nick asked me what I wanted to do. "We could watch some TV or a movie on the VCR. Or fuck," he said. "Why don't we just fuck," I said. He grinned. We went up to Nick's room. As soon as we got there, I started taking off my clothes. Nick had a look of mild surprise on his face, but he didn't say anything. He started undressing, too. I was already more than half hard, and I had started producing pre-cum fluid. Nick was in about the same shape. He walked seductively over to where I was standing and took my cock in his hand. He pumped me several times to make me rock hard. Then he turned on his stereo to a CD with slow dance music. He put his arms around me, pushed his cock up against me--and mine up against him, of course--and we danced. "You smell good to me, Brad," he said softly. We continued dancing, our pre-cum smearing on one another as we slowly moved around the room and around on each other's stomachs. When I thought I was getting close to exploding, Nick waltzed me toward the bed. He gently lay me back on it and just as gently lifted my legs back toward my shoulders. Then he removed the last butt plug and set it aside. My asshole felt completely relaxed, and I remember thinking fleetingly that I hoped I didn't shit all over the bed. Nick moved my legs back to their normal positions and got between them, still standing on the floor. He kissed me deeply and tenderly awhile, and our cocks rubbed against each other, heightening my arousal. Then Nick started moving down my body with his tongue. First my neck, then my shoulders, then my chest, and then my nipples. He licked each one, now nipping gently with his teeth, now sucking hard. He traced the faint line of hair down my abdoman, and just when I thought I was in for the blowjob of a lifetime, he hauled my legs back to my shoulders and went to work on my hole. Hotly, wetly he tongued me. I felt his tongue inside my anus, and my viscera turned to warm jelly. He kept that up until I was ready to come, then he backed off. "Remember to use your muscles to keep from coming," he whispered. I nodded. In a second I felt Nick's finger applying KY to my anus. Then there was a pause as he lubed his cock. In a matter of seconds I felt the head of his cock against my hole, and then it was inside me. "Relax," he said. "Relax. Relax." Slowly, but steadily, Nick pressed forth, and I felt my ass welcome his shaft. In a moment he reached my "g-spot," and I emited a spurt of pre-cum. Instead of humping right away, Nick leaned up on top of me and kissed me. Wave after wave of affection for this gorgeous, funny, talented guy swept over me, and I began to cry. Nick licked at my tears. "Are you ready for this part of the adventure," he asked. "Yes. God, yes," I said. Then he started. Slowly at first, just an inch or two at the time. I matched his thrusts, and he accelerated the pace. Faster and faster his slid up and down my insides. Greater and greater came the pleasure. When I thought I was about to come, Nick slowed down. "Squeeze," he said. I did, and it worked for both of us. He quickened the pace again and once more brought me almost to the point of inevitability. I squeezed again, and again Nick resumed his work. Finally, I got to the point where coming was the sole purpose of my existence. I said, "Nick, I can't hold off again." With that he stopped moving. He loosened his grip on my legs and moved them forward so that my cock was pointing straight up between us. Without pulling out of me, he bent over and took most of my cock into his mouth. He started fucking me again, but now moving his mouth up and down on my cock, as well. My asshole contracted as a violent spasm shook my loins. Nick's orgasm began at the same moment, and he began bucking into me uncontrollably. I let myself go completely and spewed my seed into Nick's mouth. I came and Nick came. He looked up at me with what I thought was intense feeling, and we were fused together emotionally, as well as physically. After he had gotten soft and my own cock was a wet wad of mush, he moved into bed with me. He took me into his arms and petted me. The emotion was too great to bear, and once again I cried. Nick wrapped his legs around me and held me tight. I regained control before too long, and we separated. Nick got cigarettes, and we smoked. After a time, Nick spoke. "I think you liked that." "Um huh." Then, "Why does it keep getting better? Where will it end?" "I don't know, buddy. It's been gettin' better for me, too. I guess the more you care for somebody, the better it gets." After a pause: "Nick, I'm sorry about the crying. I just can't help myself. I feel so much that it just doesn't have anywhere to go." "I know, Brad. I almost joined you this last time. It was really intense. I felt it, too, but I've been conditioned not to cry, no matter what. The day my parents and uncle were buried was one of the most intense days of my life. After the funeral, we went back to our house, and there were a million people there. I just wanted to be alone, but I couldn't. We don't have many relatives. None, really. My mom was an only child, and both her parents died five years ago in a hotel fire in Cairo, Egypt. My dad had his brother, but he was dead, too. My dad's dad died when my dad was in his thirties, and my grandmother got leukemia when I was in the eighth grade and died in about a month. My parents and Matt had a lot of friends, and they were a comfort, but not on the day of the funeral. That night I went to bed and couldn't sleep. I got up and went into my parents' room, and Scott was already in their bed. In about ten minutes Matt came in and joined us. We made love--really made love--to one another that night, and we all cried and cried and cried. The sex was bitter-sweet. We all promised each other we would never cry again. And I haven't." "Nick?" "Yeah?" "You're the most fascinating person I've ever know. You know that?" After a long pause: "Thanks, buddy." And he kissed me. "I think." Then, "What time is it?" "Almost 10:30," I said. "You want to take a shower," Nick asked. We did it again in the shower, this time Nick taking me from behind as I had him--when? this morning? that didn't seem possible. We broke out clean clothes this time, Nick very tight and faded 501's and a black pocket tee, me some newish 501's and another Tommy Hilfigger shirt. Nick had never looked more sexy to me than he did in that outfit, but my cock didn't respond. We went downstairs and watched a movie on HBO until after midnight. Nick had another drink, but I passed. We both dozed during the movie, although it was a good one for a Thursday night. We went to bed naked and we sucked each other off. Nick opened the windows in the room, and the cool spring air made us want to snuggle up close. We were on our sides in the "spoon" position, and I got hard again. Nick wiggled his butt onto my dick, and we fell asleep with me inside him.