A dozen men parted to allow Luke and me through to unlock the door to our suite on the 22^nd floor of the hotel. I was anxious to see how the housekeeping staff had rearranged the furniture to accommodate 15 overnight guests.

 

The crowd was hushed as they stood in the hallway, all of us wearing our matching tiny g-strings supplied by trainer/masseur Dan Archambeau. The garments were quarter-inch cords around the waist with a translucent pouch open at the top and fastened to the waist with two loops in the front.

 

One could adjust the loops close together or far apart to pull the pouch tighter or let it hang looser. My loops were pushed far apart to hold the tip of my 3.5-inch flaccid penis in place, leaving everything except my corona open to the fresh air and everyone's scrutiny. I was okay with that. The bag was fastened to another thin cord going up the ass crack, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Overall, the g-string was more comfortable than any underwear or jockstrap I had worn.

 

Our suite – dubbed a "junior business suite" by the hotel – consisted of a living room, office alcove, bedroom, dressing room alcove, and bathroom. The rooms were all generously proportioned compared with the cramped spaces I usually occupy during business trips. Still, I wasn't sure how we would all fit without tripping over each other.

 

As I was about to push open the door, Luke stopped me. "This feels like our honeymoon," he said with his handsome face lit with a smile. He turned me so he could scoop me up. Aw, my husband is going to carry me across the threshold!

 

The romance of the moment was ruined by the electronic door lock deciding it had waited long enough, so it relocked as Luke went to push it open. The result was that he rammed my shoulder into the unyielding door with a thud.

 

I laughed, but poor Luke was mortified. Since we were touching each other, we had our mysterious telepathic connection open. He knew instantaneously that I was amused and unhurt. I knew that he was embarrassed. I pulled my head to his right nipple and gave it a playful bite, then rested again in the crook of his muscular arm.

 

"It's an impatient bugger, isn't it," I said with a laugh before swiping my card again. This time Luke opened the door immediately and pushed it with my feet instead of my shoulder.

 

I heard some movement as the door swung open, and Luke set me down with a kiss. I looked across the living room to see Luiz and Pedro Garza, the hotel's 37-year-old chief electrician, and his 18-year-old bellhop son, standing naked, each holding a floral bouquet. They were both smiling, firing powerful dimple magic into my already-smitten heart.

 

Luke and I had had sex with Pedro this afternoon, edging him for close to an hour before bringing him off – me with my mouth on his 6.5-inch fat cock, and Luke with his 9-inch cock in Pedro's ass. Neither Luke nor I came, wanting to save it for tonight. Pedro came enough for the three of us.

 

We were both enthralled by the adorable bellhop and gave him a key to our suite so that he could come and go as he pleases, hoping that he would stay with us more often than not during our month-long stay in Chicago.

 

I met Luis shortly after our session with Pedro, a few minutes after Luke left to return to work. Pedro and I were still naked, but Luis's only concern was that I would fall in love with his son, then break his heart when we left. I told him I was already in love with the pup and that Luis should feel welcome to come and go as he pleases, too. That way, he can keep an eye on his precious and precocious boy. We sealed the deal with a three-way kiss.

 

Pedro stepped up to Luke to hand him a bouquet, and Luis did the same to me as the rest of our group started filing into the room.

 

"I'm so glad you decided to join us, Lou," I told the handsome electrician after sucking his tongue for a minute.

 

Pedro stretched up to kiss Luke, who was about a foot taller. Luke handed back his bouquet, then hoisted Pedro by his armpits. Pedro wrapped his legs around Luke's waist as they explored each other's mouths. They looked so cute that I fell in love with them a little more, not realizing it was possible.

 

After Pedro finished his intimate moment with my husband, he leaned back, stretched out his right arm, and smacked me on my ass with the flowers. "You are a naughty boy, Mr. Collins. There is a strict no-clothing rule in this suite. Compliance is not optional!"

 

I laughed and acknowledged my dress code infraction as I unceremoniously shucked my suggestion of a g-string. Although it was comfortable, it still felt better to be naked. The guys heard Pedro's admonition and immediately took off their garments as well, tossing them into the small closet area behind the entrance door.

 

"Mr. Garza," Luke got Luis's attention with a serious tone. "It seems I have my hands full with your son. I don't want to be the only one breaking the dress code rules. Would you be so kind as to remove my clothing for me? It's for Pedro's benefit."

 

"Please, Papi," Pedro played along with a sad face. "I don't want Luke to put me down yet. It's the only way. He might get arrested!"

 

Luis winked at me with a sly smile. "Oh, Mijo, you get yourself into such terrible situations, then I am stuck doing all the dirty, unpleasant work to help you out. This is going to be the last time, maybe. You are going to get spoiled soon."

 

I laughed heartily, knowing that Pedro was already spoiled and Luis would keep spoiling him. We were all wrapped around the almost-19-year-old's finger. I kept laughing at the thought that anyone would find it a distasteful task to have to strip my husband.

 

Luke had his hands on Pedro's yummy glutes to help support his weight while the teen had his ankles crossed over Luke's enormous glutes. The two resumed aggressively kissing.

 

Luis dropped to the carpet and knee-walked between Luke's feet. He craned his head and drove his tongue into his son's anus as Luke pulled the boy's cheeks apart. I remembered how good Pedro's ass tasted from our time together this afternoon. I was a little jealous of Luis: it looked like he might have found the remnants of someone's cum in his son's ass.

 

I knew it wasn't Luke's because my husband fucked Pedro but didn't cum. The lad must have had an encounter – or several – in the hours since he was with us.

 

Pedro eventually broke his kiss with my husband and began to giggle. "Daddy, stop licking my hole and get to work."

 

I think he was about to say more, but the expert rimming for his father left him speechless.

 

Luis pulled his tongue out of Pedro's anus after another minute but then began licking the boy's nuts, which were mashed against Luke's smooth pubic bone.

 

"Daddy," Pedro whined between giggles. "When I said to stop licking my hole, I didn't mean you should start licking my balls, silly."

 

The Garzas were entertaining the entire room. They were adorable. Pedro put his head on Luke's shoulder and looked over at me, his dimples luring me. His smile and glistening eyes told me he knew how lucky he was to have a father as loving and indulgent as his.

 

Pedro sighed in contentment as we maintained our glance. I felt lucky that he agreed to stay with us over the next few weeks. I could tell there was a lot more to Pedro than his outward silliness let on.

 

Luis finally relented and sat on his heels to get to his assigned task. Luke felt Luis's hands extracting his penis and scrotum from the g-string's pouch and lifted Pedro a few inches higher to give the electrician room to work.

 

With Luke's exquisite genitals freed from their confinement, Luis nudged the string down my husband's hips, reaching around to extract the vertical string from Luke's ass. Poor Luis had to stroke Luke's ass repeatedly to remove the string and then stroke Luke's ass several more times to ensure nothing was left. I appreciated his dedication to his duties.

 

The two men coordinated to have Luke step out of the strap, which was dispatched without a second thought. Luis went down on my husband's cock and sucked him to a full erection within a few minutes. Luke and I exchanged a look, knowing what was coming next.

 

Luke shifted his grip on Pedro's ass while Luis held Luke's 9-inch love stick at the ready. I realized that Luis had planned all this – slicking up his son's ass and my husband's cock so they could be joined together comfortably.

 

Pedro's face betrayed only the tiniest reaction to Luke's cock head pressing on his sphincter, squinting his eyes at me and smiling even broader. I stepped over and stroked the teen's cheek, but he pursed his lips, wanting a kiss. I gave in, of course.

 

It was a soft and tender kiss, filled with love and appreciation for his situation. I put my hand on Luke's shoulder as I kissed Pedro and shared with Luke the sensations in my mouth as he shared the feeling of being inside our beautiful friend.

 

I stroked both men's backs and could have sworn that I also had access to Pedro's mind. It wasn't a strong connection like I have with Luke, but we were able to share our admiration for each other. Luke joined our mind meld.

 

When we made love this afternoon, I thought of Pedro as submissive, but now I realize it was more complicated than that. Sure, the teen had a submissive bent, but he accepted love how it was offered to him.

 

I've found that some partners are submissive because they think very little of themselves and feel their only worth is letting themselves be used by others. Pedro knew to his core that he was worthy of love. But he let his partners decide how they wanted to express it. He wasn't a thing to be used for pleasure; he was a vessel to be filled with love.

 

I know he has sexual encounters just for entertainment and socialization, but I am confident now that he would never put himself in a situation to be used.

 

I kissed him again, and we stared into each other's eyes as I tried to deepen our connection. Pedro's warm smile, moist eyes, and flushed cheeks made for perhaps the most beautiful face I've ever seen. He knows that he is physically attractive, but he also knows that he has very little to do with his appearance.

 

Luke was slowly lifting and lowering Pedro on his cock, while simultaneously thrusting into the beautiful Mexican boy. We all felt the quiet pleasure of the coupling. There was a sudden awareness that we were inextricably connected. We didn't need to achieve an orgasm to prove our love: we had done it by wordlessly sharing ourselves.

 

Pedro lifted his head from my husband's shoulder and ran his thumb over my lips. "I love you, Quentin," he whispered. "I'm happy that you love me, too. Your love feels powerful and gentle. I think we are very much alike."

 

Tears flowed freely down my cheeks while I squeaked out my love for Pedro. He accepted it without question.

 

Then the lovely bellhop kissed Luke so softly I wasn't sure their lips were touching. But I felt the kiss as if it were being given to me. I also felt the tears well up in Luke's eyes as he spoke his love to Pedro.

 

In all the time I've known Luke – all 26 hours – I had never seen him cry. He let the tears flow just like I do. Maybe we're becoming the same person like an old married couple?

 

We let our emotions and love flow from one to the other. After a few moments of silence, Pedro lifted himself off Luke's penis and alighted on the floor. He stood on his tiptoes to kiss Luke's cheek once more. "Welcome home," he said sweetly. I got the same treatment. I had to fight another episode of the vapors.

 

I kissed Luis and congratulated him on being precisely the father Pedro needs. "I hope to be as good a father to our children when the time comes," I told him sincerely.

 

Luis chuckled. "I just handle the situation as it presents itself. For instance, not every son asks his father to teach him how to give a blow job for his 13^th birthday. But it was what he wanted, so what else would I do?"

 

"That's what makes you a good father. You proved trustworthy enough that your son would feel comfortable verbalizing his wish. Then, you trusted him enough to know his own mind," I reasoned. "Most kids are taught at an early age to be embarrassed about even wishing to give someone a blow job, let alone having such a strong bond to ask his dad to teach him how to do it."

 

"Well," Lou hesitated.

 

"Take the compliment," I commanded.

 

He laughed. "Thank you."

 

* * *

 

I looked around the room to see that Charya and his housekeeping staff (whom I'd yet to meet, having only been told by Luis that he was a good friend and would take care of us) had moved the sofa against a wall and angled the loveseat to make an open area for people to stand. They had removed the coffee table, end tables, and two armchairs but brought in three matching ottomans and two tall bar tables with three backless stools at each table.

 

I decided to nip into the bedroom to see what had been done there.

 

Our king bed remained in place, but two additional king mattress frames were abutted to it, replacing the night tables and dressers on either side, forming one 19-foot-wide bed for us to share. The giant bed left narrow aisles on either side – just enough for someone to sidestep in or out. One dresser had been removed to the dressing area, while the other was in the office alcove between the living room and the bedroom.

 

The bathroom was stocked with about two dozen towel sets and several robe and slipper sets. Every kind of toiletry – and several kinds of lube – were arrayed along the double vanity. The $200 tip I left for Charya and his crew was not enough.

 

As I went back through the bedroom, I noticed the staff had also draped the chaise lounge in the corner with their luxurious sheets and filled it with throw pillows.

 

My head began to fill with images of the various men in my newly extended family lying back naked on the chaise in post-orgasmic ennui. My cock began to fill out from the pictures in my head.

 

The sounds of conversation and rattling barware brought me back to reality. I went to the crowded living room to see a large bar cart being rolled in by Tristan, the adorable young front desk attendant who checked me into the hotel this afternoon. Behind him were two bellhops bringing in the snack order that Luis had placed for us.

 

Neither of the two bellhops – a young man and a young woman – seemed the least bit distracted by a room filled with 16 naked men from age 16 to mid-forties. Luis had directed them to place trays of fruits, veggies and dips, cheese, finger sandwiches, cookies, and other goodies on the credenza and a side table in the room.

 

* * *

 

The sight of Tristan Roberts pushing his portable loaded bar made me break into a giddy smile. He caught my eye and returned my smile as I could see him relaxing.

 

Tristan's thin dreadlocks cascaded loosely a few inches below his shoulders, framing his handsome, deep Black face. Tonight he wore bright, sparkly pink eye shadow with tiny rhinestones lining his perfectly-arched brows. He appeared to have glowy blush highlighting his prominent cheekbones. His full lips were extra glossy with a clear sheen. I hoped to see if it was a flavored gloss shortly.

 

Our bartender for the night sported a flowy wrap-around skirt in floral print silk with an uneven hem going from mid-thigh on his right to a couple of inches below the knee on his left.

 

He wore a very long silk wrap in light blue on his torso. It was draped around his neck but hung below his waist on both ends. It was wide enough to cover his pecs but left a slit open to the skirt's waistline. There appeared to be a glint of a silver chain under the scarf and some writing tattooed on his chest. His back was bare and lovely.

 

Paradoxically, the makeup, skirt, and silk scarf made him look masculine as hell. I couldn't see his body in the ill-fitting suit he wore at the check-in desk this afternoon, but his more revealing outfit tonight showed off a thin but extremely tight and toned body that would be the envy of most 18-year-olds.

 

"Good evening, Tristan. You are on fire tonight," I gushed. "I don't know how you make a skirt look so manly. Thank you for agreeing to work tonight. I know we hired you for three hours, but feel free to stay the night if you feel so inclined. But no pressure. Do whatever makes you comfortable. We're grateful for your presence however long you stay."

 

Why do I drone on and on and on and on and ... on?

 

Tristan smiled, although I think he was trying not to laugh at his effect on me. "Thank you, Mr. Collins, for your generous compliments. I like what you're wearing as well," he said as he scanned my naked body.

 

Before I could react, he asked if he should follow Luis's suggestion to set up in the office nook.

 

"Yes, Mr. Roberts, I think that will work well. I'll leave you to your setup," I said, trying to refrain from swooning.

 

"Oh, Mr. Collins," Tristan called.

 

"Please call me Q, Tristan," I instructed. "Everyone here is on a first-name basis. You are no different. What can I help you with?"

 

"Could you inform the guests that, since I'm 18, I am old enough to serve alcohol in the state of Illinois, but not within Chicago's city limits," Tristan said. "If someone wants an alcoholic drink, I will gladly prepare it, then place it on the bar for them to serve themselves. It's murky, legally speaking, but I've been advised to follow that procedure. I don't want anyone to think I'm rude by not handing them a drink."

 

"We'll gladly comply, my friend," I replied. "Don't feel hesitant to remind anyone who forgets. I'm sure none of these gentlemen will give you any problems."

 

I reluctantly tore my eyes away from the handsome teenager and went into the milieu in the living room. The two bellhops had finished arranging the snacks, plates, and utensils. I saw Luke giving each of them a twenty-dollar bill.

 

The young woman looked a little flustered standing in front of my naked husband, his 6'4" bodybuilder frame still a little pumped from his strenuous workout with Dan. She gathered her professional demeanor and said, "We have an order for an omelet and breakfast bar for 18 to be delivered at 7:00 tomorrow morning. If that is suitable, they will arrive a few minutes beforehand to clean up the snacks and drinks bar."

 

Luke confirmed those arrangements, knowing that we would have to get to work by 9:00 tomorrow, and Robert and the boys were expected for the last day of their student newspaper seminar at the same time.

 

"Please warn the morning staff of the scene they will encounter, in case any of them wants to avoid serving us tomorrow," Luke said with a slight gesture to the room filled with naked men.

 

"That's not going to be a problem," the young woman said with a smile and a glance about the room.

 

Luke laughed and showed the two bellhops to the door, thanking them and wishing them a good night.

 

* * *

 

I plopped my bouquet on a credenza and joined Luke in the center of the crowded living room, hopping on one of the ottomans to be seen and heard without raising my voice too loudly. Luke playfully chewed on my nipples and licked my belly, almost distracting me from my task.

 

The dynamic dozen new members of my family did not know Pedro and Luis Garza or Tristan Roberts. I introduced the father and son as our special guests, noting that Luis had arranged for the arrangements in the suite, prompting 37-year-old Luis to join me on the ottoman.

 

"Thank you for the kind words, Mr. Collins," Luis announced. "I know that my boy and I are unfamiliar to you, but please be assured that we are eager to get to know all of you in whatever way you wish." Luis looked for Pedro and hauled him up onto an adjoining ottoman.

 

The nude father and son kissed briefly but with great passion. Then Luis turned his almost 19-year-old son forward and pinched his adorable cheek. "This may look like an innocent face, but my son has never said `no' to anything suggested by a handsome man such as you all here – especially when the inconvenience of clothing has been dispensed with. Truthfully, neither have I."

 

The room laughed and applauded the friendly Mexican men.

 

I explained Tristan's predicament with serving alcohol at his tender age. Everyone nodded in assurance of their understanding. Luke appeared next to me and wrapped me in his arms from behind.

 

"I would like us all to get a beverage of our choosing from Tristan and reassemble here so I can offer a toast to my beloved Quentin. Then I have an announcement to make."

 

The guys moved around to queue up at the bar Tristan set up in our office nook, murmuring in speculation about what Luke wanted to announce. I wondered, too.

 

* * *

 

It seemed nobody had requested an alcoholic beverage so far, so Tristan didn't have to worry about breaking a city ordinance. Most of the guys got bottled water or juice.

 

Dan and his dad, Michel Archambeau, had bottles of macadamia milk. I didn't know there was such a thing. When Declan, the bodybuilder and soon-to-be strength coach at Quad Cities Academy, asked Dan about it, he was told it's one of the lowest carbohydrate nut milks you can get. Declan joined in.

 

Martin Dempsey, the university psychologist, was the last guest in front of Luke and me. He asked if getting a bourbon and branch would be too much trouble. As I stepped closer, I could finally see Tristan behind his bar cart. He had taken off his wrap, which made sense, leaving him topless.

 

What I thought was a silver necklace on his chest turned out to be something quite different: the 18-year-old bartender was wearing a white patent leather restraint collar with four stainless steel D-rings around it. A large circular ring with two chains attached hung from the ring over his throat. The chains looped below his sternum, each connected to a nipple clamp. Tristan was a hot, kinky fuck!

 

Martin picked up his drink, which Tristan had put on the bar cart for him to retrieve, and walked away, giving me a peck on the cheek as he did so. When I bellied up to the bar, I noticed that our bartender had sparkly gel nail polish to match his eye shadow. And also, he was naked from the waist down, too.

 

I could read the tiny writing of the tattoo on his heart: Property of James Roberts. I suddenly wanted to be James Roberts.

 

Every inch of his lustrous umber skin was on display. He also sported a stainless steel cockring/ball splitter. His smooth balls, larger than golf balls, were held firm by the trefoil contraption. His slender cock was hard and standing upright. It had to be 10 inches if it was an inch. Tristan was enjoying his work!

 

He had another tattoo inscribed on two concentric lines on his shaved pubic mound: Jimmy's jam. It took a while to read it because his enormous penis kept getting in the way. I assumed "Jimmy" referred to the same James Roberts etched on Tristan's heart. Awww.

 

I spent so much time admiring Tristan's body that he had to ask me twice if I wanted to drink something other than him. My face turned hot as I met his gaze, but he was enjoying my discomfort.

 

"You're so goddam beautiful," I muttered.

 

Luke rubbed my ass while Tristan laughed at me. "Is that a mixed drink, Q?" the bartender asked.

 

"My husband will have a Seven and Seven with diet," Luke chimed in. "I'll have a Borland if that's possible," Luke chimed in.

 

I tried to regain my composure as I looked again at Tristan's dick. I saw a dewdrop start to form in his piss slit. I guess he really does enjoy his work. But I wanted to verify that he was okay with everything. "I hope you know that you don't have to be so exposed. You are free to keep your skirt on if you would prefer."

 

Tristan's broad – and glossy – smile made me tingle. "I know that, Q. But thank you for looking out for me. I just recently discovered that I enjoy being on display. I'm having fun. You don't walk around Chicago as a young Black man wearing sparkly eye makeup, lipstick, and a skirt without attracting a bit of attention."

 

He put my cocktail on the bar, nodded to it for me to retrieve, and started working on Luke's drink. I had to ask again, "So, you don't mind my staring at your erection? You have a beautiful penis. Every part of you is beautiful."

 

"Thank you, Q. I'm glad you like looking. Carry on. Do you really think my penis is beautiful? I kind of like it, too, if I'm being truthful. I probably look at it more than I should." Tristan chuckled as he thrust his hips toward me so I could look more closely at his penis. My eyes were about 18 inches from his cock head, so I had a perfect vantage to watch his drop of Cowper's fluid grow, then drizzle off his corona and down his shaft.

 

Tristan must have felt it because he shuddered and smiled at me before turning to Luke. "Mr. Vestergaard, I hope you don't mind that I make my own non-dairy whiskey cream so that it's lower in carbohydrates but higher in protein from the whey powder and macadamia milk."

 

Luke told Tristan that he was eager to try his adaptation and complimented him on his creativity. "I also enjoy looking at your body," Luke said, "including your lovely penis, and hope you consider staying with us tonight," Luke encouraged. "I can assure you that you will be most welcome. Also, how does someone as young as you know how to make a Borland cocktail? It's not the most common concoction."

 

I watched Tristan's chains swing as he bent to retrieve a bottle of Glenfiddich Scotch and wondered how tight his nipple clamps were. They appeared to have rubber tips, so they weren't torture devices. Luke likes to have his nipples played with. I contemplated if he might like some jewelry.

 

Tristan finished putting the Scotch, whiskey cream, almond milk, and a drop each of three "secret" flavor extracts into his cocktail shaker filled with ice. He stepped closer to Luke as he agitated the shaker – and the chains attached to his nipple clamps with it, giving my love a perfect view of his body and a chance to be heard over the jostling of the icy mixture.

 

"You're very kind, Mr. Vestergaard. I like looking at your fantastic body, too. Regarding the cocktail recipes, I seem to be one of those odd ducks with a combination of hyperthymesia – or Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory – and persistent eidetic memory. The former means that I have a superior recall of the events of my life. For instance, I can tell you every meal I've ever eaten. I know all my classmates' names and seating order for every school year and the days that any of them were absent.

 

"The latter means that I have what is commonly called a photographic memory. But most people with eidetic memories don't keep those images forever. I seem to maintain them for years, so I can mentally scan every book I've read in the past several years. That includes the eight bartender's guides I've read over the last year."

 

I sighed. "You're an amazing young man, inside and out. I bet it's not all fun and drinks recipes, is it?"

 

Tristan smiled in appreciation. "It has its downsides. Hyperthymesia is strongly correlated with obsessive-compulsive disorder. My brain relentlessly reviews all my experiences, reevaluating and reorganizing them until they are etched into my long-term memory. So far, I don't have full-blown OCD, but I know I have those tendencies. My morning bathroom routine is immutable and timed to the second," he explained with a small laugh.

 

"I can also tell you the date, time, weather, and place of every instance when I've been called a queer, faggot, nigger, homo, or freak," Tristan offered dispassionately. "I'd like to forget at least some of those."

 

We stood silent for several moments as Luke and I absorbed that information. A non sequitur is the best defense against melancholy, so I changed the subject. "Could Luke test one of your nipple clamps? His nips are connected directly to his cock. He enjoys people playing with them or nibbling them. For me, it's not much of a turn-on."

 

Tristan smiled lasciviously at Luke. "I love titty play, too! I'm not often into pain, but these clamps can be adjusted to be as gentle as you like. It's more the weight and movement of the chain that provides the stimulation. Go ahead, try them," the teen offered, puffing out his chest toward Luke as he stepped from behind the bar.

 

Luke smiled and looked at me. "You do it, Q. I want to feel you putting them on me. I submit my body to you to do whatever you want."

 

My cock jumped hearing Luke say that. Tristan made a puppy dog face at how cute we were.

 

I removed the first clamp and noticed that Tristan's nipple was erect and a little flattened but didn't appear to have been tortured. I kissed and licked it anyway to show my appreciation. I ran a finger over his tattoo, then kissed it to show respect for the mysterious James Roberts. Tristan nodded in acknowledgment of that gesture.

 

I turned to Luke and kissed his right nipple before gently placing the clamp on it.

 

The chain wasn't overly long, so Luke had to take a step closer to Tristan to allow a little slack. They stood less than a foot apart, eagerly smiling at each other.

 

I stepped around Luke to get to the other side and repeated the process. Then I lifted each chain an inch and let it drop to tug on Luke's tits. He hummed in appreciation, and I saw his penis begin to inflate. I lifted each chain higher and dropped it again. That elicited a full-fledged groan from my husband and a knowing chuckle from Tristan.

 

I tugged the chains several times to verify that Luke liked the sensation. He liked it very much. Tristan looked down to see Luke's cock at about 8 inches, touching Tristan's 10-inch thin erection. I turned the thumbscrew on the clamp to allow the spring to force a tighter grip, which received humming appreciation from my lover.

 

"Is that too much pressure, my love," I asked my husband.

 

"That's up to you to decide," Luke instructed. "Remember that time, about 45 seconds ago, when I submitted my body to you? I meant it. If you think it's too much, then it's too much. I'm yours entirely. I'll happily accept any amount of pleasure or pain you decide I should experience as a gift from you."

 

I shuddered as I began to leak precum.

 

I moved behind Luke and gently pushed him closer to Tristan. He caught on and put his hands on the bartender's narrow hips. I reached around and played with Tristan's nipples while jostling the chains attaching Luke's nips to Tristan's restraint collar. Both men were humming with pleasure and rubbing their erect penises together. Tristan appeared to provide enough natural lubricant for both of them, with plenty to spare.

 

"Thank you for sharing your toys with us, Tristan," Luke whispered before kissing the teen's forehead. Tristan tilted his face to Luke's so their lips could meet as I continued stimulating both of them. My six-inch cock was poking up into Luke's taint. I stood on my toes to meet his taller frame and slide into his ass crack. It felt like home.

 

The men ended their kiss. I looked around Luke's back to see the dreamy look in Tristan's eyes, happy to know he had fallen in love with my husband.

 

"I wouldn't mind staying chained to you all night," Tristan offered.

 

I walked to Tristan's back to see things from his perspective. He and I were the same height, so my cock slid into the trench of his perfectly round ass without effort. I resumed pulling and twisting his tits while tugging on the chains to stimulate my husband.

 

My face nuzzled into Tristan's dreadlocks, and I inhaled deeply. He smelled of herbs, eucalyptus, and what I presumed were Tristan's pheromones. I moaned my appreciation and leaked precum into his solid ass.

 

I sniffed around more, then parted his dreads with my nose to lick the nape of his neck below the patent leather collar. I felt a tingle as I tasted his skin. "I love you, Tristan. You are a precious gift from the universe. Thank you for sharing yourself with us."

 

Luke stuck his tongue into Tristan's ear, then proclaimed his love for the 18-year-old as well. "We don't need these chains to keep us together. We will be in love for a very long time, even when I'm back in Denmark."

 

I heard a contented sigh, filled with love and yearning. I wasn't sure whether it came from Tristan or Luke. It emanated from all three of us, simultaneously breathing our bond into existence.

 

Luke leaned back from kissing Tristan's glossy lips as I looked over the young man's right shoulder, still sniffing his hair and tasting his skin. I tapped Luke's shoulder to signal to him that we should bring our playtime to an end since our guests were waiting in the living room.

 

Luke stepped back to put tension on the chains attached to his nipple clamps. I watched his nips tugged harder until the clamps popped off, accompanied by a growling moan from my lover.

 

Luke's cock was almost vertical at 9 inches, while Tristan's 10 inches were still aimed at the ceiling. Both were wet with precum, but it was unclear how much came from each man. Tristan leaked more profusely than Luke. Neither man let himself cum, both wishing to save it for later.

 

I reached around the young bartender and reattached the clamps to his tits as I kissed his cheek and whispered my affection, causing another substantial drop of precum to form in his piss slit, then lazily run down his impressive cock. I licked his jaw, which utterly lacked any stubble.

 

"Where did you get this delightful contraption," I asked our new friend.

 

He rubbed his cheek against mine, and I felt him press his ass into my cock. "I get many of my accessories from a place called 665 in Los Angeles," he offered. "Would you like the street address, phone number, and email addresses of the people I deal with? I can also recite the item numbers of everything on their website."

 

I laughed but told him I wouldn't mind him jotting down the essential information for me before he left tonight or, better still, tomorrow morning.

 

"This isn't available on their website – at least, not like this," Tristan informed. "My mom's brother helped me customize it. They sell these clamps attached to a stainless steel collar that gets bolted on with an Allen screw. But that requires a trusted partner to be with you, which I don't always have.

 

"My uncle – my mom's younger brother – is a jeweler and suggested I get a leather collar I can put on and remove on my own. I ordered the pieces from 665leather.com, and he fitted them together for me."

 

Luke ran his fingers along the chains, tugging them lightly. "He's a good uncle."

 

"Very good," Tristan agreed. "My mom is good, too. They grew up in a very strict, repressive household. I think maybe they overcompensated raising me."

 

* * *

 

"I've been infatuated with my Uncle Jim since I can remember, which is a very long time," Tristan joked about his hyperthymesia. "I remember cuddling in his lap when I was just over a year old, thinking it was my favorite place to be.

 

"I never met my biological father, but I know who he is. My mom had a brief affair with the football coach in high school when she was a junior and a cheerleader with a rockin' body, which she still has. She says it was consensual, even though he was in his early 50s at the time and she was 16.

 

"When she told him she was pregnant, he offered her money for an abortion and perpetual silence on the matter, but Mom said she felt a maternal calling that she couldn't explain, even though she knew having an abortion was the logical thing to do.

 

"My mom's impregnator told her to keep the money as long as she agreed for him to sever all paternal rights. She consented on the condition that he provide blood samples and a medical history in case I needed it. She was always thinking about medicine, even then.

 

"Having me certainly made getting through medical school and becoming a psychiatrist more challenging, but Uncle Jimmy pledged to do everything to help, even though he is 17 months younger than Mom.

 

"As a toddler and young boy, I used to beg for piggyback rides but always ensured I got my hands under Uncle Jim's shirt because I loved to feel his skin at any opportunity. It got to the point that he would take off his shirt when I asked for a piggyback ride.

 

Pretty soon, he would automatically take off his shirt whenever he came over. He told me it was only fair that I take off my shirt as well. I discovered the pleasure of skin-on-skin contact with him.

 

"I heard my mom telling him that he was spoiling me, but then she kissed his cheek and told my uncle to spoil me as much as he wanted. She wanted him to help me explore what I liked and be comfortable with it.

 

"When I was five years and 13 days old, and Jim was 20 years and 217 days old – it was a Saturday – we were lying on the sofa together at my house after a long piggyback ride and general horsing around. Uncle Jim claimed to be exhausted – which he never is – and collapsed on the sofa with me still on his back. We were both happy with the arrangement. We were shirtless, with him wearing some grey sweat shorts and me just in my underpants." Tristan got a wan look on his face as he recalled the event.

 

"I began to put my mouth on his perspiring skin for some reason, not really kissing him, but tasting him and pretending to bite him. I didn't understand why, but I was compelled to move lower and lower down his back until I got to the waistband of the shorts.

 

"I didn't want to stop, so I began to roll the shorts down into themselves. It was easy because they had an elastic waist. He wasn't wearing anything under the shorts, so I got to taste his butt. I was addicted to crack!"

 

We three shared a laugh.

 

"My mom looked over at us and asked what the heck I was doing," Tristan said. "I explained simply that I loved how Uncle Jim tasted and wanted to taste all of him.

 

"She looked at her brother, who just shrugged at her as if to say that he didn't get it either, but he wasn't about to stop me. Neither of them ever said `no' to me.

 

"My mom yelled at me, saying I would ruin Uncle Jim's shorts if I kept it up. She instructed him to take them off before I stretched them all to hell. Uncle Jim obeyed and lay naked on the sofa. He told me that it was only fair that I should strip as well if he took off his shorts. I shucked my shorts and climbed aboard for the Uncle Jim Experience.

 

"With both of us happily naked, I kissed his ass for several minutes, even putting my face between his cheeks and licking his crack. I was too scared to taste his hole that first time, knowing I wanted to but unsure if he would like it. That would come later.

 

"I went all the way down his legs and then asked him to turn over so I could taste his front. He rolled over with a big smile – and an even bigger cock. Uncle Jim is about a foot long. I had never seen him fully hard before, even though it was not the first time I had seen him naked.

 

"I worked my way up his front. When I saw his penis up close, I was astounded. I held it up to look at it from every angle. But I didn't taste it yet. I wanted to go in order. I guess it might have been the latent OCD.

 

"I called my mom over and told her to feel how hard and heavy it was. She laughed but came over and wrapped her hand around it. She spent some time feeling her younger brother's penis up and down and twisting it around. `I guess I can't call you my little brother anymore, can I,' she joked.

 

"He asked if it was the biggest one she had ever handled, and she said it was by a long shot. Then he told her that if she kept up her massage, she would see what a long shot really was. She returned to her chair and warned me not to hurt myself with Uncle Jim's big bat.

 

"I decided my uncle's balls were the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted. Then I licked his penis. I knew then that I would have his cock and balls in my mouth over and over. And I have." Tristan unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of his uncle's genitals in his mouth. Luke and I chuckled at him.

 

"My mom heard me squealing in delight," Tristan continued, "as I went back and forth from his foot-long penis to his large musky balls. She laughed and told my uncle that he had better get used to my mouth on his cock, because I would never stop. She also reminded him that Christmas was nearing, so he'd better treat me right since I was treating him so well.

 

"I had no idea what `gay' or `straight' meant at that age, but I knew I loved my uncle – body and soul – and began to notice other men, too.

 

"When I was ten years and 47 days old, I was excited because Uncle Jim was going to spend the weekend with me while mom went to a college friend's wedding in Ohio. I told her I wanted to look pretty for Uncle Jim, so I asked her to put makeup on me like she wears to make herself look pretty for her friends.

 

"My mom never questioned me or tried to talk me out of it," Tristan said with admiration in his voice. "She assured me I didn't need makeup to look pretty, but she would do whatever I wanted. She asked what kind of look I had in mind. We discussed possibilities; then, she applied her foundation, eyeliner, eye shadow, blush, and lipstick. I was elated with how I looked, which pleased my mom.

 

"When Uncle Jimmy arrived, I was wearing my mom's makeup, a bright smile, and nothing else. Uncle Jimmy said he had never seen me look prettier. I was over the moon. Of course, I told him that he would look prettier when he took off his clothing.

 

"I hadn't seen him in more than a week and didn't understand why he had his back toward me as he stripped – not that the view from the rear was disappointing. He told my mom and me he had a special surprise for us. He turned around to show us that he had shaved his pubes and balls and had gotten a tattoo above the base of his penis. It read `Tristan's Toy' on two concentric lines.

 

"It hadn't completely healed yet, but my mouth was on it in a flash, kissing and licking the tattoo in appreciation. By then, I had been sucking Uncle Jim to orgasm for more than a year (519 days, to be precise), but I never got him to cum faster than that morning. I must have swallowed ten loads out of him through the weekend."

 

I looked at Tristan's pubic tattoo and surmised that it replicates the one his beloved uncle got.

 

"Flash forward to the last day of my first year in high school," Tristan continued. "We went to family court, where my mom signed papers to give Uncle Jim joint custody of me and make his apartment my primary domicile. She told me it was unfair to keep two people apart when we deeply loved each other.

 

"When we got home – Jim's apartment – we undressed, and I saw he had another, smaller tattoo on his heart that reads: Property of Tristan Roberts.

 

"I still live with Jim, and we are still as ravenous for each other as when I was ten. I kiss his tattoos daily when I play with my favorite toy and pledge my heart to him anew. Of course, I told Jim that I did not claim exclusivity to his body and was willing to share my toy with whomever he deemed an appropriate playmate.

 

"I see Mom several times a week, and she says she couldn't be prouder of how I turned out. I realize now how lucky I am to have two people so enthusiastic for me to be myself, and to figure out for myself what that should look like."

 

To nobody's surprise, I cried. I wrapped my arms around the 18-year-old and squeezed him tightly as I expressed my thanks that his mom and Uncle Jim guided him so well.

 

* * *

 

Luke embraced the two of us and suggested we get the evening started. He took Tristan's hand and asked him to accompany us into the living room. The three of us had gotten hard and wet again during our embrace. I don't leak very much, so most of my wetness was contributed.

 

Luke stepped onto an ottoman and helped me up to stand next to him. I felt entirely at ease standing before my beloved friends and family with a wet six-inch erection on display, just as comfortable as Luke was with his 9 inches standing proud.

 

Most of the guys were standing around with their drinks, chatting, but Declan Goff was sitting on the loveseat with John Hamilton tasting his scrotum. Atlas Ioannou, the Los Angeles-based location manager, and my work friend Yoshi Hirano were playing sucky-face and making googly eyes at each other by the front door to the suite.

 

"My dear brothers," Luke declaimed to get everyone's attention. "Thank you for joining my husband and me in our temporary home tonight."

 

All eyes turned to the most handsome man in the world, not that I have an opinion on the matter.

 

"I've traveled throughout Europe, North and South America, Australia, and Asia over the last five years in my job supporting our content management systems," Luke continued. "But I never had my life changed in an instant as I had when I met Quentin Matthew Collins last night, the love of my life."

 

We exchanged a look that carried our infinite love from one to the other. Okay, it was googly eyes. We're hopeless romantics. I heard cooing and sighing coming from our family.

 

"Quentin's love created this instant family assembled here. Watching how he loves each of you makes me love him even more.

 

"Please raise your glass or bottle and toast a man I know we all love, Quentin Collins," Luke implored. The room filled with men saluting me with their voices and drinks as I stood awkwardly, trying not to cry.

 

"Speaking of creating family, please welcome our newest love, Tristan Roberts," Luke said to a round of appreciative applause as he helped the handsome Black teen up to the ottoman and presented him to the crowd.

 

Tristan told me that he liked to be exposed and observed. His twitching 10-inch penis leaked profuse amounts of precum as he drank in the 16 pairs of eyes admiring his beauty and sending their love to him.

 

Pedro walked up and licked the running precum from Tristan's balls before it dripped on the carpet. It was very thoughtful and selfless of him. I jiggled one of Tristan's chains, causing him to leak even more nectar into Pedro's mouth. It was thoughtful and selfless of me, too.

 

After several moments of appreciation for Tristan, Luke helped the young man step down, where continuous loving embraces enveloped him. I felt lucky to have had him as my check-in clerk this afternoon and luckier still to have fallen in love with him tonight.

 

"It's been a whirlwind day," Luke continued. "Tonight is all about strengthening our bonds of love with each other in whatever ways we choose to do that. But I have a request of all of you beautiful men on behalf of my husband.

 

"The love that Quentin and I share is inextricably linked to our love for each of you. In a few minutes, I will make love to my husband for the first time. We want you to be enveloped in our love by staying physically connected to us as I enter him and leave part of myself in him.

 

"It can be the touch of a hand, foot, lips, penis – any part of your body at all – touching either one of us anywhere on – or in – our bodies. You can also be making love with someone else as you stay connected with us. It would mean the world to us, and I know you will feel something more powerful than you've ever experienced."

 

Eyebrows raised, and smiles broke out among all the guys assembled as they contemplated Luke's request.

 

"Finally, I have a personal favor to ask of you: we are all indebted to my gorgeous husband for bringing us together. To repay his kindness, I would ask that each of you find some time during the night to ejaculate on his handsome face. He would love nothing more than to be masked in the essence of your love."

 

I felt my face turning red as I listened to my husband speak my intimate desire. I had to admonish myself to take my own advice: There's no shame in admitting what you like. I felt my cock run with a few drops of precum. There was no denying how much I love the sensation of a man's penis caressing my face as it expels ejaculate on me.

 

"One last thing," Luke said. "I know that Q thanked Luis for making the housekeeping and room service arrangements, but we also have him to thank for the great blessing of hiring Mr. Roberts to be our bartender tonight. Thank you, Luis."

 

Everyone happily applauded and embraced the Garzas while Luke and I descended from our perches. We had finished our drinks during the introductions and speeches, so we left our glasses in a busing bin under the bar as we walked to the bedroom.

 

"There is so much love to share," Luke sighed as he kissed my cheek. "Thank you for opening my heart."