The usual warning applies: Don't be here if you shouldn't.

Some of the sexual encounters in this story are considered unlawful by most societies, but if that bothers you, you wouldn't have opened a story from this section anyway, so no warning needed in that respect.

But another warning may be pertinent: This is a romantic story (some will say sentimental) more than a saturated porn escapade. Like most of my stories this one also evolves slowly. I present my plot and my characters gradually rather than by measurements and bed-hopping on page one. In my stories, sex plays the role of the icing rather than the cake. But don't worry, the icing gets thicker the further along you get.

There is no virus anywhere near this story.

And English is still not my first language (which basically means my vocabulary is limited and my knowledge of idioms on the poorer side...)

I'd love to hear from you. All kinds of criticism is welcome as long as it's factual rather than insulting. winterboy@tutanota.com

And remember to support Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

 

 

OH, MARTIN! II

or

"FLESHABLE"

 

Magnus Winter

 

 

Part Eight

 

Doorbell sounds like a demented dog barking and mingles with a voice desperately yelling incoherent words. Martin hurries down. Only to find Filippo with a terrified face and a puke-covered Tin-tin under his arm. Without thinking, Martin grabs the boy with the unfamiliar gloss in his eyes and the slow movements from him, hoists him up over his shoulder and runs up the stairs, Filippo hard at his heels.

Into the bathroom. He puts Tin-tin down on the toilet seat, starts to pull the soiled sweater over his head. Tin-tin resists.

"Tin-tin! What's wrong? Talk to me!"

Tin-tin turns his head from side to side, tries to make his eyes stand still, and very slowly lifts his hand.

"I'm ... We ... There's this ... It's not good anymore ... It's a little scary ... " The last words come out as whispers.

Martin holds him, but Tin-Tin pushes him away, panting, like he's out of breath. Martin turns to Filippo, anguish, and also anger knits his brows.

"What's this? Are you drunk? Or is it drugs?"

Filippo cringes. "I don't know ... I guess", he stutters, on the verge of tears.

"What kind of drugs? Who gave them to you?" Martin almost shouts.

Filippo can't hold back the tears any longer. "Please don't be mad! It wasn't me!"

Martin bites his lip, watching Tin-tin who just sits there on the lid staring into space.

"I didn't mean to yell at you, Filippo. You did the right thing to bring him home. Now tell me what's been going on."

"There was something in a nose spray bottle and Andy said it would make us feel good. And feel funny. I think he stole it from his brother because he kept talking about how his brother danced naked in his room with the music on loud after he ... I don't know, sprayed his nose, and Andy asked if we wanted to try, and Tin-tin said yes and Andy sprayed his nose a couple of times and nothing happened so then he did it again."

He dries off his tears. His eyes still look frightened to death and there's panic in his voice.

"It seemed okay at first, Tin-tin just giggled a lot but not at anything, like he was in a different place, and we started to walk home and then suddenly Tin-tin started to moan and sway and stagger a bit and then he puked all over himself and I got so scared!"

"And you don't know what was in that bottle? How come you don't feel bad as well?"

"I don't know what it was!" Filippo moans. "And I didn't wanna do it, so I didn't!"

Martin scrutinizes him. "Stay with him. I'm going to call Boyd."

Filippo is left alone with Tin-tin who just sits there with that far-away look. He moves closer, strokes Tin-tins cheeks, searches into those unfocused eyes. Mumbles: "Please? ... Tin-tin? Please?"

Tin-tin obviously makes an effort to concentrate on the face before him. Suddenly he giggles and says in a deep, gravelly voice:

"Ya wanna see my cock, Mister?" And bends over and vomits on both of them. "Ooops!"

What now? Well, the logical thing is to clean them up, and that practical task will maybe make him feel less helpless and less frightened. He strips them down to their underwear, Tin-tin seems happy to let him do it, then Filippo turns the shower on, throws their soiled clothes into the shower and turns the water on. Directs the jet from the shower head onto the clothes on the tiled floor and tries to wash the vomit off. But there's puke on their underwear as well, so he leads Tin-tin under the cascading water, tighty-whities and all. It's still a bit cold, but Tin-tin doesn't seem to mind, so ...

White, wet cotton clings to pale and golden skin, outlining nipples and navels, clearly showing two cocks of different size, and that's the sight that meets Martin when he comes back into the bathroom. He sits down on the toilet seat and for a while revels in the display of the two half-naked, beautiful and wet boys. Feels a stirring in his loins in spite of the seriousness of the situation. Swallows and clears his throat.

"Boyd says it sounds like it's GHB, except for the puking", he tells them, "Probably too big a dose for comfort, that could maybe explain the sickness, although he said that's probably just a coincidence and more likely from something he ate. Anyway, he said as long as Tin-tin is not unconscious, we don't have to do anything. It will wear off in a few hours."

Tin-tin suddenly hugs Filippo tight and humps his hips against Filippo's groin, not bothering that they're in Martin's full view. Filippo withdraws from him. "Don't!"

"Why not?" Tin-tin speaks slowly, sounds like he's slightly drunk. "It's okay to have stiffies in front of Martin, cuz he likes `em too. Show him yours! Show him your Mister Biggie!"

Martin interferes. His voice is stern and his words come with emphasis.

"Now, Tin-tin, how many times do you need to be told to let Filippo decide for himself what to say and what to do? So drop it, this is neither the time nor the place for stuff like that!"

Filippo has gone to lean against the wall away from the spray of water. The front of his wet briefs is strained with something growing in there. He covers it with his hand.

Tin-tin unhurriedly pulls down his underpants and looks down on his stiff dick, then wraps his hand around it still watching it. The swollen head pokes out of his fist.

"See? It's getting longer all the time!" he proudly announces.

Both Martin and Filippo watch him dumbfounded, both have trouble concentrating on anything else. Tin-tin lets go of his treasure and starts pulling his soaked T-shirt over his head. Martin pulls himself together and fetches a large towel, grips Tin-tin by the arm and pulls him out of the shower and into the towel.

"Filippo, please turn the water off. And lose those wet things and get into that robe there, mine should fit you better that Boyd's. I'll deal with this little bundle of joy here."

He rubs Tin-tin down, the boy closes his eyes and leans his head back. Suddenly filled with remorse, his voice comes out small and timid.

"Sorry, Filippo. Please don't be mad."

Martin puts Tin-tin's bathrobe on him. Tin-tin leans heavily against him. "I feel so weird", he croaks. "Like I'm in waves or something."

Martin leads him out to give Filippo the privacy to get himself sorted out. Martin sits Tin-tin down on the couch and puts his arm around his shoulders. Kisses him lightly on his forehead.

"How do you feel now? Still sick?"

"No. Just strange. Like the floor's too far down. I don't wanna talk."

Filippo now comes in, sits awkwardly down at the edge of the armchair in the corner, wary and uncertain of the whole situation. Martin smiles reassuringly at him. "Smart of you not to try this, Filippo. Why didn't you?"

Filippo frowns, fidgets with the robe's belt. Looks out of the window.

"I don't know. I just didn't want to."

He thinks some more.

"Maybe because I'm finally off that stupid medicine they've given me for years and years, and I've started to feel that maybe I'm a person and not a shadow in the middle of a fog. And I want to feel real and ... and I don't want any more stuff to make me feel like I'm not."

Tin-tin lifts his head. "It was fun at first," he moans, "but then it wasn't and I want it to stop now!"

Martin squeezes his shoulder lightly. "It will. You just have to wait for it to pass, there's nothing we can do to hurry it. Just hold on, and you'll be yourself again in a couple of hours. And then we'll talk about this."

But Tin-tin seems not to listen. He opens his robe and then just sits there caressing his still stiff dick.

"This is my cock", he says, as if it needs explanation. "And don't tell me to stop, cuz I'm gonna play with it until this is over and you can do whatever you like ... but I'm not going to stop, cuz I like my willy. My cock."

Martin looks at Filippo. Filippo looks at Martin. Then both pairs of eyes are drawn to the boy who sits there in front of them, robe open to reveal flat, smooth chest and stomach tapering down to a shadowy tiny wreath of small dark hairs, and a longish, slim cock that is being pushed down by a thumb and let loose to bounce back with a smack against taut belly-skin. Again and again.

Filippo is getting unbearably turned on and struggles to hide his quandary. His throat feels like sandpaper and all his sensible thoughts are being chased away to give room to the devastatingly beautiful and immensely arousing sight in front of him. Blindly his hand in his lap, the hand that was meant to cover his raging excitement, starts to pressure and squeeze, not very overtly, but Martin's keen eyes observe what's going on. And it's starting to affect him rather heavily.

Filippo's eyes swiftly meet Martin's again, there's such a desperate plea in them it tears at Martin's heart. He smiles, removes his arm from Tin-tin's shoulder and rises.

"It's fine, Filippo", he says softly. "Go ahead. I'll leave you boys to it."

Filippo looks wildly at him. "No!" he whispers. "You too!"

Martin is flabbergasted. Did he hear that right? Is this really happening? And if he lets this happen, whatever it is that's going to happen, can he face himself afterwards? But his pants are getting way too tight and his brain is about to give way to the rearing monster down there, and what the fuck should he do?

"Really?" he asks feebly. "Are you sure that's something you'd like?"

Filippo just nods silently. And his hand starts to openly move along the cloth-covered pole between his legs. Martin pulls another chair up and sits down, now they're sitting in a wide triangle.

"I'm getting uncomfortably hard because of you boys", Martin says. "I have to do something about it. Would that bother you?"

Filippo stares at Martin's bulging crotch, opens his mouth, but his tongue feels too dry to speak. He slowly shakes his head and sucks on his tongue to moisten his mouth. Like a flash he spreads his robe open. And Martin almost explodes in his pants.

Even if he's already had a glimpse of Filippo's soft penis, he wasn't prepared for this. Oh my god in heaven, he thinks, that is the biggest cock I've ever seen on such a young boy. Well, honestly, he hasn't seen many young boys like that, only on his teacher's paintings, but they weren't anything like this. And now Filippo frowns at him and beckons him to follow suit, and his fingers shiver and feel numb as he rises, unzips and lets his pants fall to the floor. Followed by his boxers. His cock springs forward in all it's might and Filippo gasps.

The smacking sound from Tin-tin's activity stops, like he's suddenly awake and notices what's going on in the room. His smile widens, his eyes crinkle behind his glasses and it makes him look almost evil, and the longest sigh in the world escapes him. "Oh fuck", he breathes. "Oh, fucking great!"

It's all about cocks now. The three of them, silently sitting there, nothing on their minds but the cocks in front of them, no faces, no smooth skin, no skinny or sinewy bodies, all and everything is cocks. Each of them slowly and caressingly stroking their own and filling their vision with the other two's, each of them in their own private heaven of cock visuals and cock dreams.

But now Tin-tin slips out of his robe and walks to the middle of the floor, stands broad-legged, dick pointing north, hands waving, beckoning the other two to come to him. Martin hesitates, but as Filippo rises and slowly gets nearer to the naked boy, robe open and cock in hand, his reluctance evaporates like mist, he gets up and shuffles his feet forward, pants around his ankles, until they all stand facing each other. Well, facing ... they're all looking down at the assembly of jutting members.

It's like a graphic chart of penis growth: Tin-tin just starting puberty, his cock with its slight upward bend, not much thicker that a thumb, but its length makes up for its lack of girth, balls like starling eggs are drawn up now to sit almost on the side of his penis' root. Filippo, further into development, has grown to man size, actually past quite a few men, his cock fat enough for a good fistful, more than long enough to demand attention, straight as an arrow with foreskin retracting to reveal half a shiny head. And at the top of the columns, Martin with the crown product, the master cock, in Filippo's eyes absurdly large. He can't take his eyes off it: The veiny shaft, shockingly long and fat, the tapered head with the drop of liquid trickling out from the slit, the thick foreskin that's pulled slowly back and forth. There's just one overwhelming thought in his head: He wants to touch it. He must touch it.

His right hand still loosely holding and barely stroking his own stiffy, Filippo tentatively reaches out his left hand, not actually close to Martin's whopper, but clearly signaling what's on his mind. Martin takes a step forward, and Filippo's arm reaches further. With a soft grip Martin takes Filippo's hand and leads it to close around his balls, feeling the violent tremble that surges through the skinny arm. He pushes the ball-holding hand even further backwards and lets his cock slide along the scarred underarm, it reaches from the boy's wrist almost up to his elbow. He fantasizes that his cock is a magic stick that will heal the skin and remove the sad marks of all those unhappy years.

Oh shit, what am I doing? Panic flashes through Martin's brain and he lets go of Filippo's hand. But he's too far gone to be able to withdraw from the situation, his feet seem nailed to the floor and his body is consumed with heat and lust. He mobilizes all his willpower to stay passive, let Filippo take the lead and decide whatever it is he feels should happen and eventually when it should happen.

Filippo, eyes glued to the cock on his arm, slowly lets his hand glide away from Martin's balls and close around the base of the cock, squeezing hard trying to make his middle finger meet his thumb, the tips of his long fingers just barely touch. He loosens the grip. Martin exhales loudly but doesn't make a move. So Filippo's trembling hand glides along the shaft, pulls and pushes softly at the foreskin, then peels it all the way back to reveal the glistening plum-shaped head.

Tin-tin breaks the silence, sways a bit.

"I still feel weird", he confesses, "but Martin, do you see that Filippo's willy, I mean his cock, is as big as Boyd's? I wish mine was big, too!"

Both Martin and Filippo seem to come out of a trance, but Martin still feels the tremble in Filippo's hand. "It's more than big enough for a boy your age", Martin says, swallowing hard. "And it's the prettiest one I've ever met."

"Yeah, but don't you think Filippo's cock is pretty?" He reaches out and closes his hand around the object in question, pushing Filippo's own hand forward to encase the tip.

Martin swallows again. Allows himself to meet Filippo's gaze. "Yes, it's a beautiful piece of equipment. Very beautiful."

Tin-tin now reaches for Martin's cock, and suddenly there are two soft boy's hands caressing Martin's bloated meat. He bites his lip as goosebumps race down his neck and back, almost painful.

"I think he'll be as big as you!" Tin-tin sings out enthusiastically.

Filippo remains silent, but now his hand leaves his own cock and starts to stroke Tin-Tin's. And so the two boys have someone else's cock in each hand, slowly jerking and squeezing them, Filippo's whole body shivering like a leaf.

It's too much for Martin. Those two soft hands, those two handsome ... no, beautiful boys playing with his cock, and the sight of those lovely young cocks fondled by young hands ... He folds his hands behind his back to stop himself from grabbing at the boys, but now everything in his abdomen and groin ties up into a hard knot and then loosens and spreads out in ripples of exquisite pleasure as his orgasm hits him and his cock pumps a fountain of pearly cum up in the air to land on the arms and thighs of his young friends. My young lovers, he imagines for a fleeting moment. God, how I want to touch them ...

It's the trigger Filippo can't withstand. He yelps like a puppy as his knees buckle, his body goes spastic and he thrusts his cock through Tin-tin's fist and shoots his spray of almost transparent fluid right onto Martin's still hard cock. Then sinks to his knees.

"Oh, shit!" Tin-tin moans. "You didn't wait for me!" He turns around, his ass almost in the dazed Filippo's face. "Please, Filippo! Like you did in the shower! Pretty please!"

He spreads his legs hopefully, his whole being tingling with lust, wanting so much, longing for so much. And Filippo does what he's asked to do, no reluctance, wanting to please this boy he's come to love so much ... because what else can it be but love? ... wanting to please him in every possible way, and his tongue is homing in on its destination, this is where it belongs, right here, giving pleasure to this wonderful boy, and his cock rises again and throbs as his face is buried between two firm hemispheres and his tongue tickles and prods at the tiny opening that is the most intimate and personal place on earth.

And Tin-tin moans and wriggles and jerks his dick, lost in the sensation, consumed by lust and engulfed by love ... because what else can it be but love? ... and now it's happening, now it comes ...

He arches his back.

"Look!" he shouts. His slim cock twitches and throbs, and out flies a small drop, and then one powerful string and several smaller spurts of cum. And that relentless tongue keeps on, jerky now, and he hears Filippo's staccato panting, so he bends his head down between his legs, and holding his breath, he sees Filippo squirt again, less this time, but enough. Something inside him suddenly becomes very clear, and he turns, crawls down in front of Filippo and licks the droplets off the floor, all the way up to Filippo's yummy cock that seems to await him, and he kisses it, licks it, and then tries to suck it all the way into his mouth and down his throat. And gags.

Martin, dumbstruck from what he sees, feels like his head is about to explode. Never has he seen anything more devastatingly arousing, never has he felt so almost painfully aware of a beauty he couldn't even have dreamt up, and never has he felt so hopelessly old and so full of this sharp awareness that such immense sexual beauty is something he never had in his own youth. His blood thunders in his ears and in his cock, he jacks it off as tears start to spring from his eyes, and he comes in a frenzy of love and regret and shame.

And through his confusion his clearest thought is Oh, my! I came two times in a row!

 

***

Filippo's head is filled to bursting point with contradictory feelings:

This is beyond anything I could dream of, this is so way out of my reach, and yet ... here I am, holding the most beautiful boy in the universe naked and asleep in my arms, my ugly body and my cursed skin next to him, stuck to him, almost like melting into him ... so why do I still feel so frightened? Is it because my brain tells me all of this will vanish at the drop of a hat? Is it because a monstrosity like me has no right to this, my birthright is misery and my heritage is agony and emptiness ... Is it because somewhere in the back of my head betrayal and faithlessness hammers nails into my ... my soul? ... because I have betrayed Felix, Felix who was there for me, who had to die ... because he defended me ... Felix who is gone forever ... and I'm just ... just leaving him, leaving the memory of him because I'm ... I'm ... I'm in love with someone ...

He wants to scream.

But I haven't betrayed him! Stop telling me things like that! He's in my head as long as I keep him there! Why can't I let myself just be in this moment, maybe even let myself think I could deserve something like this?

Tin-tin stirs in his arms. Pushes even closer to him, closer to his chest, closer to his hard dick. Filippo's wiggles his hips and feels his stiffy throb against the satiny skin of Tin-tin's butt.

And if I let myself go in this ... this bliss ... if I let myself believe in this, if I let myself own this ... this feeling, this strange and utterly incomprehensible thing that's happening to me ... because of this boy, because I love this boy ... why do I still also see big Martin in my head ... and want him to touch me with his hands ... and his cock ... that unbelievable cock ... and that makes me a treacherous asshole, because being with Tin-tin should be enough, should imply that he's all I want ... and I do want him ... but also ...

A loud yawn. The body he's holding suddenly stretches and breaks out of their spooning cocoon.

Tin-tin turns over on his back, opens his eyes.

"Hi."

Filippo just smiles. Tin-tin looks groggy and puzzled.

"Why are we here?"

"You fell asleep on the couch and Martin put you here. And told me to look after you in case you got sick again."

"I feel better now." Tin-tin noisily blows air through his lips. "Fuck. I'm never gonna do this again. I'm not gonna end up like Mum." He turns to face Filippo. "Jesus, you still got a stiffy!" His hand closes around it. Squeezes it. "Yum!"

But Filippo is now on a different plane. "I didn't know you had a mum. I thought it was just you and Boyd. And Martin."

Tin-tin yawns again and sits up.

"She died. She was a lush. I mean, she wasn't mean or anything, she was just drunk all the time and puked a lot, well, most of the time anyway. I don't wanna be like that. And Boyd was the one who looked after me always. Shit, I hope he's not mad at me now."

"What about your dad?"

Tin-tin spreads his hands and shrugs. "No idea. Why do you wanna know?"

Filippo rolls over on his back and looks away. "I don't know. Maybe because I never had parents. That I can remember, anyway. Just strangers who yelled at me and locked me up in cupboards." He tries to laugh it off.

Tin-tin studies him keenly. "How shitty! Is that why you cut yourself?" He regrets the words as soon as they're out. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

Tin-tin feels a need to make amends, to make his rash words go away.

"But now we can share Boyd and Martin, cuz they're like parents, only nicer that most. If you believe what others say about their rents."

Filippo frowns and shakes his head. No. That's not going to happen. That's not an option. That would be imposing. That would mean again being pushed on to someone who doesn't really want him. He knows only too well what that's like.

Tin-tin just sees something dark pass over Filippo's face. He lies down again and wraps his arms around Filippo.

"They like you, you know. A lot. I can tell."

Filippo just hides his face in the crook of Tin-tin's neck.

"I would so dig that", Tin-tin says. "The four of us. Like a family. And then you didn't have to leave every night."

"Don't!" Filippo whispers. "I don't need fantasy. I don't wanna wish for stuff I can't have. It's more than I ever thought I could have just to be with you every now and then."

Tin-tin hugs him harder.

"I wanna be with you all the time", he murmurs, "but right now I should get up and face the music. If Boyd's back, I know he's gonna give me a lecture. Bound to. Will you please be there with me?"

Filippo sighs. "I'll do anything you want", he whispers. "Anything."

***

 

The two boys come out of Tin-tin's room, Tin-tin fully dressed, Filippo in Martin's robe. They hear the sound of the shower going.

Martin is at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables, still in his paint-stained work clothes. He turns when he hears them, knife in hand, the blade flashes in the light. Filippo suddenly feels a jolt of panic. Martin puts the knife down.

"Feeling better?"

Tin-tin draws a deep breath. "I'm fine now. I'm sorry, Martin."

Martin studies him closely. "Well, maybe you should be", he says, his voice is serious, but still friendly and soft. "But I guess the important thing is what you've learned from this."

Tin-tin looks a bit shame-faced as he looks down and silently nods his head. The shower stops, and Tin-tin's tension is suddenly very obvious.

"Is he mad?" he timidly askes Martin with a slight movement towards the bathroom.

Martin just looks at him before he turns away to finish with the vegetables. "Not mad", he finally answers. "Just worried."

Boyd comes out, also in his robe, identical with the one Filippo's wearing. He stops, looks from one to the other, then strides over to Filippo and gives his shoulder a quick pat.

"Thank you, Filippo. Thank you for looking after him. That was very responsible of you."

He leaves the blushing boy, grabs his brother by the back of his neck and leads him to the couch. Sits them both down and puts an arm around Tin-tin's shoulder. The familiarity of it helps Tin-tin relax and forget his apprehension. He leans in and starts to weep.

Boyd lets him finish. It doesn't take very long, there's no heavy crying, just a bit of tension that has to leave Tin-tin's body.

"Now, this will be a very short talk", Boyd begins, "because I want Andy to be here for the big talk."

He looks down at his brother's bent head, then softly kisses the short hair. "You didn't think you'd escape a sermon, did you?" he says softly into Tin-Tin's crown. "You bring Andy over after school tomorrow. If he says no, you can tell him that if he won't come, I'll have to notify his parents and the principal and the police and everyone about the incident. Yes, I know that's blackmail, but I think it's necessary in this case. Okay?"

Tin-tin nods.

"So all I'm going to say right now, is that I'm very happy and relieved that Filippo was there for you, and that he was smart enough not to experiment with stuff none of you knew anything about."

He changes his attention to Filippo. "Your clothes are dry now", he tells him. "It's getting a bit late, so you can go home to Marion if you like, or you can eat with us first. She knows you're here, I suppose?"

"I texted her", Filippo says, barely audible.

Tin-tin lifts his head. "He can sleep over! Please? He doesn't have to go! I want him to stay!"

Martin puts a dish in the oven and straightens his back. "There you go again, Tin-tin. Now please let Filippo decide for himself!"

Boyd looks questioningly at Filippo. "What do you say? Go or stay?"

Filippo blushes again. These people! Always wanting him to choose, always asking him what he wants, always making it so difficult for him ...

"I don't know", he finally mumbles. "I don't want Marion to get angry with me if I don't come back."

"She won't. I'll call her if you decide you want to sleep over. I want to talk to her about what happened today anyway."

Filippo looks down at his naked feet. "I'd like to stay, please", he whispers.

 

***

They've eaten, and Filippo has helped Tin-tin stack the dishwasher and clean the surfaces. Suddenly Martin pops up behind them like a genie from a bottle.

"Filippo. Will you please come with me to the studio? I want to show you something."

Filippo puts down the sponge and looks uncertain and a bit concerned. Martin gives him one of his rare smiles. "Nothing to worry about, Filippo."

"Okay", the boy mumbles.

"Tin-tin, I think you should go change the sheets on your bed. It's been a while, hasn't it? If you invite people for sleep-overs, you should offer them clean sheets, don't you think?"

Tin-tin just giggles while Filippo turns a deep red.

"Come on."

Martin leads the way out and up. Outside the studio door he stops and inspects Filippo's shy and bashful countenance. Wants to put him at ease, but doesn't quite know how. Honesty is probably the best policy anyway.

"That was a ruse", he admits. "I will show you your almost finished portrait, but my real agenda was to talk to you about what happened earlier. Just to make sure you're okay. If you don't want to talk to me, then now is the time to go back down again."

Filippo looks at him, those big, brown eyes show a mix of wariness and admiration, it's hard to know which feeling will win.

"I'm not afraid of you", he whispers, more to himself than to Martin. "I'm not!" he repeats loudly.

Martin unlocks the door, leads Filippo inside and over to the easel by the windows. There it is, the new portrait. Blue cap and all. The face painted in warm colors, eyes looking directly at you from the canvas, lips slightly parted, looking moist and shiny. Kissable, Filippo suddenly thinks. But the lower half of the canvas is just empty outlines.

"I wanted to ask you how you'd feel about it if I did your shoulders ... well, the whole visible bit of your upper body shirtless", Martin says. "But first I need to know how you feel about what happened downstairs. I mean when Tin-tin sort of set us off playing with our penises and all that. I know most people would think I should have left you two alone, not have joined you like I did. Grown-ups aren't supposed to behave like that with kids, you know. And even though I thought at the time that you wanted it to happen, you may well feel different about it now. Do you understand why I feel uneasy about this? I just don't want to create new problems for you, you know."

Filippo swallows. Breathes heavily a couple of times. How can he make those grown-ups stop making problems where none exist while they ignore the areas where the real issues are? He sits down on the floor in front of the easel. The robe slides open and shows his right leg right up to mid-thigh, but he doesn't care.

"I'm not afraid of dicks!" he says somewhat impatiently. "I never was! It's not dicks that make me feel bad. It's that people don't want me! They always push me away and call me names and tell me I'm disgusting, but you never did. You've told me I'm not ugly so many times I almost believe it. But you wouldn't touch me. Why didn't you touch me?" And in a whisper: "I know why."

Martin is astonished. Has he, have they all been wrong about this boy the whole time? Withholding touches and hugs, keeping distance, because they thought he reacted negatively to physical contact?

"But ... but that's what we've been told", Martin almost stutters. "That we should be careful not to push ourselves on to you, mentally or physically. So we try not to!"

Filippo sounds quite disturbed. "Why are you all so stupid?" he almost shouts. "Why did everyone think ignoring me and scowling at me ... or on the other hand boxing my ears or punching my nose or pinch and squeeze until I cried ... why did they think that was a good thing?"

He scratches at his underarm, wondering for a fleeting moment why Martin's cock isn't still there on top of the scars.

"Because that was all I got." His voice is quieting down. "And when they saw that I tried to hide from it and run away from it, why didn't anyone try to just hug me and hold me instead? No, then they found out that the smart thing was to ... like, walk in a big circle around me ... and whisper behind my back and talk bullshit to me, like to a baby ... and put poison in me and tell everyone to be careful not to touch me!"

He jumps up, runs to the door, but stops and turns around. It's like all his shyness evaporates as words tumble out of him like an avalanche.

"Listen, that man who fucked the daylights out of me, the one that Felix gave a hole in the head, I'd have let him do it if he had been nice about it, just to feel someone hold me, but he just did it to punish me because that cunt told him to do it, and when you're told you need punishment for being an ugly freak enough times, you believe it ... and the only one who ever held you and touched you in a nice way was taken away from you ... and everyone told you that you weren't allowed even to think about him ...and you sorta learn that's how the world works and you know you have to stop hoping for anything else ... but you still want something ... something ... but in the end you just don't want anything to do with people anymore, because you know they'll just turn out to be mean bastards in the end and there's a limit to how much hurt you want in your life, isn't there?"

He leans against the door, panting, like he's exhausted.

"But you! You made me think I was almost a normal person!" His tears now spring like a fountain from his eyes. "So why wouldn't you touch me?" he sobs.

Martin feels the floor sink under his feet. Jesus, how is he going to deal with this? He runs his hand through his hair, takes two steps in Filippo's direction, looking confused and distressed.

"But Filippo! It's not like that! I would have loved to touch you, it was all I wanted to do down there, but think! I didn't know anything about what you have just told me, I just knew what others had told me about you. And apart from that, you know as well as I do what the law says about adults doing sexual things with underage kids. I'm sorry I'm being blunt about this, but those two things were what held me back, maybe not even as much as they should have, I probably shouldn't have participated at all. Will you please try to understand that?"

Filippo crosses his arms in front of his face, shoulders trembling from the small sobs that run through his body.

"Think about Tin-tin for a minute. That boy ... that lovely boy is so in love with you, all he wants is to be with you all the time, and cuddle and kiss and make love and everything. Now, isn't that a wonderful thing? Isn't that exactly what you've been telling me you've been missing, what you want? Well, you have it now!"

Filippo drops his arms down. Sniffles and leans his head against the door. Closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I was unfair. Maybe they're right about me being sick in the head."

Martin takes the last steps over to him, holding his arms open, but leaving the decision to Filippo. And Filippo opens his eyes, puffs and snorts a few times, moans loudly and then throws himself into Martins embrace.

They're about the same height. Cheek to cheek, Martin rocks him slowly. "You're not sick. You just need to believe you can be loved. In many different ways."

"I don't know anything anymore", Filippo sighs, mumbling into Martin's shirt, "I don't know about ... about love and stuff. I thought maybe I was learning something ... but I'm not."

Martin holds him, softly swaying them from side to side. To Filippo, his arms suddenly feel like a home and his voice is like balm on sore skin:

"You will. I know you will."

 

***

 

Still dark. The distant hum of traffic is like background music to the regular breathing from the boy next to him. He feels like he's in a story, a fairytale, like someone has hacked into his consciousness and downloaded a trojan horse filled with dreamy images. How can this be real? How can this be him?

He eyes fix on the pale and shadowy shoulder and neck beside him. Now that all this has been planted in my brain, how can I leave it alone? How will I manage without it? His finger lightly touches the shoulder blade, so warm, so silky, so flawless. He puts his nose close to the skin and inhales.

But his bladder is killing him. Careful not to wake the sleeping boy, he slips out of bed and noiselessly finds his way to the bathroom.

On his way back he passes the opening to Martin's and Boyd's nook. Something in his brain tells him he shouldn't, that this is spying, but he stops to watch anyway. Martin, on his back, is covered all the up to his neck, but Boyd has turned over on his stomach and is halfway out of the sheets, one leg bent over the lump that Martin's body makes. Those pale buttocks seem almost to light up the room.

He shivers. This is real, he thinks, this is Boyd in flesh and blood, and not in a painting ... and what he sees is even more devastatingly attractive than pictures, more enthralling than he could imagine. That ass. That beautiful, gorgeous ass. It's had Martin's breathtaking cock inside it. He knows, he's heard them. He pictures it spread open, filled to bursting point with that magnificent cock, and his skin tingles and he shudders. How does that feel? How much does it hurt? Worse than that time when he ...? But he didn't hear Boyd scream or anything, and Tin-tin has said they both love to do it, so it must feel like ... Better than Felix' tongue? Better than his own fingers? He can't imagine what it would feel like. He wishes he could have seen them, see how they did it. And suddenly all he can think is that he wants to be part of this. Wants to feel a huge, hard cock slide into him and fill him up and make him real, and whole, and heal everything that's broken ...

He tears himself loose from the sight, tiptoes back to Tin-tin's room. Gets into bed, spoons the naked boy and slips his half hard dick in between his thighs. And like that he falls back into a dreamless sleep.

 

Part Nine

 

"There should be a license for parenting", Boyd sneers as he hangs up his coat. Martin lifts an eyebrow.

"I pity those teachers. I guess they go through the same shit year after year." Boyd sinks down on the couch, stretches his legs out in front of him. "No wonder there are so many fucked-up kids."

"What was it this time?" Martin asks, handing Boyd a cup of spiced chai.

"The main topic was supposed to be cyberbullying, but instead it turned into an endless quarrel about showers after PE with a thoroughly stupid and ridiculous squabble about sex ed in its wake."

"Oh, God. Is that still an issue?"

"For ever so, it seems. Where's Tin-tin?"

"In his room. Listening to music or playing games, I don't know."

Boyd gets up and walks over to Tin-tins nook. Finds his brother on top of the sheets in his underwear, vacant face, headphones covering his ears. Boyd waves his hand in front of his eyes to get his attention. Tin-tin gets rid of the mini blasters and picks up his glasses.

"Got a minute? I want to ask you something. Come sit with us."

Tin-tin, looking slightly alarmed, follows him and sits down next to Martin, then crawls in under his arm.

"What did I do now?" he asks with a frown.

"Nothing, I hope. I just want to know ... Your class, do you know any of the parents?"

Tin-tin thinks a bit. "Not really. Why?"

"You know Andy's parents, don't you?"

"I've met his mum. His dad doesn't live here and Andy sees him only on holidays and stuff. There's a step-father, but I don't know him. Andy says he stinks."

"Did you ever talk to his mother about us? About Martin and me for instance?"

"No! Why would I do that? She hardly spoke to me at all, so why would I talk to her?"

"No reason. Just that she uttered some rather ambiguous remarks tonight at the meeting."

Martin coughs. Tin-tin looks puzzled. "What does am ... that word mean?"

"In this case it means you don't really say something straight out, but still make it obvious what you mean. She was more or less trying to shut me up with some allusions to gays and naked boys while we discussed showering after PE."

"Oh!" Tin-tin exclaims. "Are the showers fixed now? Are we getting to use the showers again?"

"Not if half of the mothers have it their way." He mimics a whining female voice: "Oh, but my boy is so shy! Oh, my girl will never undress in public, never! Oh, but they should wear swimsuits when they shower! So I said I thought the whole point of showers after PE was to teach the kids about personal hygiene, and do they wear clothes when they shower at home? And that's when that crabby mother of Andy's couldn't resist her jibe."

Tin-tin thinks quietly for a while.

"That's weird. Andy says she doesn't much care what he and his brother does. You heard him when we had that talk about drugs and stuff. Why would she care about naked or not?"

"Just to get at me, I suppose. That's why I asked if you had told her about us. Anyway, I couldn't see why this was an issue at all, so I said let those who want to shower do it, and let the rest of them just skip it. I mean, why make sort of an ethical issue of it and go on about it for hours? But no, those mothers acted like it would be a crime if you differentiated, like there's a moral standard that says everyone has to do the same thing."

Martin breaks in. "But what's gay got to do with this?"

"Don't ask me. But whats-her-name got them going, and if that wasn't enough, they started to cackle about sex ed being homosexual propaganda. So I asked what happened to the thing we were there for, namely bullying on social media and all that, and Andy's mother uttered some more double-edged snide remarks about me, implying I was afraid to discuss this because gays use sex ed to recruit kids. Tin-tin, have you been experimenting sexually with Andy and that's why she's foaming at the mouth so?"

"No." Tin-tin shakes his head and shrugs. "I don't think I like him that way. And I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to. He's always on about girls and stuff."

"Good. I want you to be careful there. Anyway, that teacher of yours, Alsted, tried several times to direct the discussion over to the main issue, but he gave up in the end and called the meeting off and postponed the theme until the next meeting."

Martin sniggers. "Sounds like a fruitful event."

Boyd sighs. Looks at Tin-tin. "Sometimes I wonder if any of your schoolmates have fathers. They never show up at these meetings, like it's a sissy thing to do or something! Nor do some of the nice mothers I remember from earlier. I guess they've all realized what a waste of time it is."

He stretches and scratches his neck.

"Next time I want you to come with me", he says to Martin. "That could be interesting."

 

***

 

Filippo is sitting naked on a cushion by the window. Martin is busy with his paints and his brushes, every now and then mumbling unintelligibly, or uttering small encouragements aimed at Filippo. Not that they're needed, Filippo is strangely at ease in the situation. Still, his mind goes in repeated circles, wondering how on earth he's come to this point: Sitting here au naturel and not feeling mortified, not even the least bit awkward, and Martin's scrutinizing gaze feels like a bath in warm waves. And his scrawny, afflicted body has turned into ... something to feel good about? Something to be proud of? What are these people doing to him?

Tin-tin, not one to keep his clothes on when the opportunity of nudism presents itself, is belly-down on the leather couch, pale buttocks like buns waiting for the oven, volume of Canterbury Tales open in front of him.

"Whoever said these are sexy stories was lying", he suddenly sings out.

Martin sniggers. "Oh, but they are!" he comments. "Some of them, at least. You don't need four-letter-words to write a sexy story, you know. You have to see everything in the right context. But there's so much more to it. Remember this book has survived for seven hundred years. How much of today's overly explicit literature do you think will remain in ... say fifty years?"

He refocuses on his canvas. "Filippo? Head to the left, please?"

They hear thumping footsteps outside the door, and Boyd comes into the studio, like a whirlwind, slightly out of breath, deep frown. They all look up. Filippo automatically covers his crotch, suddenly feeling exposed, revealed, and shit, ugly again.

"I've had it up to here!" Boyd grumbles and indicates a point in the air a couple of inches above his head. "I'm going to quit!"

Tin-tin rises and runs to him and hugs him. Boyd pushes him rather unceremoniously away, but then grabs him by the arm and leads him back to the couch and flops down, pulling Tin-tin down beside him.

"What is it now?" Martin softly asks.

Boyd blows out air, like a horse snorting.

"It's the same shit as always, only more of it. The jealousies, the arrogance, the bitchiness, the stupidity. I've told my agent to get me released from the contract."

Tin-tin regards him with worried eyes behind his glasses. "What will you do for money?"

Boyd slams the back of his head against the leather. "Anything! Just not this! Besides, I'm not a good actor anyway."

"That's not entirely true", Martin protests. "Actually, you're brilliant at times. You're in the wrong show, is all."

"Not for long." Suddenly it's like he just noticed the shrinking, uncomfortable boy by the window. "Hey, Filippo", he nods, shakes off his gloom and comes over to look at Martin's canvas. Watches it critically for a moment, then smiles from ear to ear.

"Yeah", he laughs and jolts Martin with his elbow. "You're doing it again! God, you're so good at what you do! I wish I was as talented as you." Now his gloom returns.

Tin-tin feels an urge to change the subject.

"Remember you asked me about Andy's mum? I think I know why she got so narky."

Boyd comes back to the leather couch. "Oh? And ...?"

"Andy said it's cuz his brother was doin' stuff with a man, I don't know who ... well, seems like he let this man suck him or something to give him drugs, and she wanted to bust him. The man, not the brother. But she sorta failed and there was no case, and don't ask me why, cuz Andy didn't know."

"Well, well. That would explain some of it, I guess. How old is the brother?"

"Seventeen, I think. And know what? That guy who screws his mum – that's Andy's term for the stepfather – tried to beat him up. Not Andy, the brother, but he fought back cuz he's really strong, right? and the stepfather actually had to have stitches. Andy says it's been hell at home ever since. And he says he and his brother is sorta campaigning to make his mum get rid of the prick."

Boyd sits quietly brooding. Filippo, as unobtrusively as he can, is putting his clothes back on, leaving Tin-tin the only naked person in the room. Martin starts to clean his brushes.

"Why are grownups so stupid and mean?" Tin-tin suddenly asks. "They're supposed to be the smart ones, like, and you're s'posed to listen to them, and respect them and everything, but how can you, the way they behave?"

Boyd stares at him, mouth half open, frowning.

"Is that what you think of us?" His voice sounds bitter.

"Not particularly you, doofus. The others!"

"And you have a lot of experience with the others, I suppose?"

Tin-tin arrogantly throws his head back. "I have ears, you know."

"Oh, such a wise guy!" Boyd snidingly teases him.

"Better wise guy than idiot!" Tin-tin almost shouts angrily.

Filippo abruptly leaps up, hands randomly jerking in the air. "Stop it!" he cries out, on the verge of tears, "You're destroying everything!"

He runs to the door, grabs his shoes and like a bat out of hell is out of the room, leaving three flabbergasted faces looking at each other. Martin suddenly seems to have gotten an adrenaline injection and on bare feet runs after the boy. Boyd studies his brother, a mix of concern and resignation in his expression.

"What?" Tin-tin pouts.

"I think you, or we, touched a raw nerve or something."

"Oh shit!" Tin-tin grimaces. "I gotta go!"

He's halfway out of the couch when Boyd stops him by putting an arm around his waist. "Not like that! Are you out of your head?"

Tin-tin collects himself, hurriedly finds his clothes and starts to put them on.

"Stay here", Boyd orders him. "Let Martin try to ease him down a bit. I think he'll know how to deal with this."

"I don't wanna stay with you when you're in such a shitty mood."

Boyd sighs heavily.

"Sorry. Please. I'm just out of sorts, I don't mean to be a dickhead. Please don't leave."

He pulls Tin-tin closer and buries his nose in his brother's hair.

"It's just ... Sometimes when you're down it's like the whole world conspires against you. And it makes you forget the good things and just see shit everywhere."

Tin-tin's hand comes up and caresses his brother's jawline. "Are we gonna be poor again? Like really?"

"No idea", Boyd sighs, suddenly regretting his hasty decision, suddenly scared for the future. A twitch runs through his body.

"No. No, no. Something will turn up. That's what agents are for."

"Know what? If you're gonna be out of work, then we can go with Martin to Germany!" Tin-tin's tries to make his voice sound encouraging, uplifting. "Maybe that's what you need to feel good again!"

Boyd snorts. Then sighs again.

"This is what I need", he mumbles into his brother's hair and tightens his hold around Tin-tin's slender chest.

 

***

 

"I was afraid they were going to fight!" Filippo sobs into the crook of Martin's neck.

Martin caught him just as he was about to open the street door, grabbed him around his midriff and turned him. Filippo clung to him, trembling like a leaf, and is still clinging.

"No, they weren't", Martin soothes him. "It's just that sometimes even people who really love each other need to get rid of some tension."

Filippo, still vibrating from his distressing anxiety, hugs Martin harder.

"They love each other", he whispers as if to convince himself. "They do." He draws his breath deeply and shakily. "And you love them too."

Martin just rocks him silently, his right hand rests against the back of Filippo's head. Filippo lifts his face.

"Do you think ... that maybe you could ... you could love me?"

Martin can't help but emit a small, soft laugh. "I think I already do, you know."

"But ... ", Filippo mutters. "Do you think you could maybe ... maybe also love my ... my body?"

A bolt of lightning passes through Martin's head. He swallows.

"Let's not go there", he whispers, "we already talked about that." Then he reconsiders. "In an ideal world I wouldn't hesitate a minute. But we both know what the real world is like. And now my feet are almost frozen to the floor. Come on, let's go up to the others. You'll see everything is alright up there!"

Part Nine

 

Berlin in November. The cold wind in from the plains surrounding the city tear through the streets. People huddle in their coats, shoulders high, stepping fast and purposeful on their way to and fro.

But some hardy souls seem not to mind the wind and the cold. Late afternoon, walking through Tiergarten on the way from the gallery to the hotel, they suddenly spot a group of young guys – students probably – skinny dipping in a pond.

As on signal, all four of them stop to watch, not caring whether their uninhibited glaring makes them look terribly unsophisticated. Tin-tin's feet start tripping and skipping, and Boyd grabs his arm.

"No way!" he hisses through clenched teeth. "You're not joining them!"

Tin-tin giggles, then shivers. "Wasn't going to. I'd fucking freeze to death!"

Filippo suddenly looks away from the naked bodies and seeks Martin's eyes.

"They're beautiful", he says. "Why don't the others stare at them like we do?"

"They're probably used to it", Martin replies. "This is a clothing optional part of the park. The Germans have a very relaxed view on nudity."

Until now they've only seen the young men from behind, all of them look more or less slim and fit with buttocks tightening and loosening, legs spreading and gathering, as they splash about in the shallow water close to the bank.

"It's rude to stare", Martin admonishes. "Let's move on."

But as they get ready to go, three of the guys turn around, small, shrunken genitals in full view. Except one of them: Even in this cold, his surprisingly long cock flops from side to side as he comes out of the water. Filippo holds his breath. Tin-tin whispers: "Oh, wow!"

Even Boyd and Martin seem reluctant to leave the sight, but finally Martin propels them along like a herd of sheep.

"My willy's so stiff I can't walk", Tin-tin giggles to Filippo.

 

***

 

Filippo's fingers alternately caress and clutch the passport in his pocket. His passport! All his own! The intoxicating euphoria of sensing the whole world is now open to him mixes with the nagging fear that this also means responsibility. It means choice. It means escape ... And his brain clogs up with a growing anxiety: I don't want to escape! Not anymore! Please don't make me!

With Tin-tin's hand on his shoulder in the elevator, a recap of this day swirls through his head in a jumbled conglomerate: This morning's swishy, but very good-looking flight attendant, all he could think of was an image of this guy being ravaged by a hard cock up his ass ... and then Martin's paintings in the gallery ... all those naked bodies ... and the way the curator had looked at him ... made him feel both uncomfortable and gratified, there was lust in those eyes ... but that man was sort of leering at all of them, so ... and he wasn't at all attractive, overweight and in a way slovenly, and yet he had wondered what the man's cock would look like, feel like ... And those men ... or boys, actually ... in the park, why did he feel this strange longing for them? Because surely they would have sneered at him and ridiculed him if we had been naked among them ... but even so ... And his hard-on that won't quit, and the passport in his pocket screaming You can have all you want! You've got freedom!

Top floor now. They had checked in before they hit the gallery, but he hadn't really had time then to take in the surroundings properly, overwhelmed by the strangeness and newness of everything. Tin-tin hauls out his key card.

Inside, Tin-tin doesn't hesitate. Filippo gets no time to digest the splendor of the suite, Tin-tin is all over him, kissing and humping, pulling him down on the soft carpeted floor.

"I'm so fucking horny I could fucking die!"

Suddenly the chaos in Filippo's brain dissolves and he laughs.

"Alsted should hear you now!" he giggles, then imitates the teacher's voice: "Language, Martin! This is your last warning!"

"Screw him!" Tin-tin's tongue shuts Filippo up and his fingers impatiently picks at Filippo's fly, unbuttoning and unzipping.

They're still on the floor just inside the door. Pants pushed down, mouths glued together, hands tightly gripping and frenetically jerking each other's raging stiffies. Everything is frenzy and urgency, everything is balls desperate to empty themselves.

Tin-tin sends a long growl into Filippo's gasping mouth, his body is torn with spasms and he spews his little fountain of sperm up between them. It tips Filippo over, he shudders, and his cum joins Tin-tins on their stomachs.

Tin-tin pulls away and looks down between them, wanting to see the beautiful cock he's come to love so much.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaims with a short laugh. "It's on the carpet! They'll kill us!"

Filippo heavily draws his breath a few times, turns over on his back.

"You emptied my brain", he murmurs. "Thanks. It was just too full of dicks."

Tin-tin looks questioning at him.

"I don't know why, but it's like this whole day has been filled with every cock in the world ... and now it's like only you", he explains. "And that feels good", he adds.

They hear a click from the door, and suddenly Boyd and Martin is standing there, looking down on them. Boyd laughs loudly.

"Oh, you horndogs! Couldn't even get as far as your own room, huh?"

Martin just stares, trying to imprint the image on his brain, wanting to save every detail for later sketches and paintings, the beauty and the sensuality of it all making him feel joyous and jealous at the same time.

The boys scramble to their feet, pulling up their trousers, Tin-tin grinning, Filippo's face turning a deep scarlet.

"They close the restaurant in half an hour, so we need to hurry if we want to eat", Boyd continues. "So I guess you'll have to sit at table in your soiled underwear", he laughs, "because there's no time for a shower. Oh! You've dripped onto the carpet! Never mind, let's just get a move on."

 

***

 

Their suite is not of the hotel's largest and most opulent ones, still it fills Filippo with awe. A small sitting room with deep, comfortable chairs, thick and soft carpet ... he can't stop thinking about the stains they left on it right inside the door ... Minuscule kitchenette, large flatscreen TV, and two adjoining bedrooms with en suite bathrooms. Run-of-the-mill large prints on the walls, pretty much normal standard as far as hotels go, but to Filippo this seems like the height of luxury. And it worries him. Because it feels like he's sponging on Martin, who obviously paid for this.

The others are yawning and half-heartedly watching a movie, but he is fervently texting Marion, hoping for an answer to a certain question.

Now Boyd gets up, stretches on his toes and announces his intention to take a shower. Unrest starts to spread in the room, Martin is next to follow Boyd. Tin-tin is getting impatient.

"What are you doing? Let's go to bed!"

"In a minute", Filippo answers stubbornly. "I have to find out something. I just ... need to."

Tin-tin sighs, starts to wander about, touches everything in the room. Filippo's phone goes beep twice. He reads. And nods. And looks up at Tin-tin.

"Ok. I'm ready."

They shower together, quickly and energetically, no fooling around now, just getting rid of the day's sweat and crusts. As they're drying off, Tin-tin's curiosity gets the better of him.

"What was all that texting about?"

Filippo thinks quietly for a while.

"I had to ask Marion how much money I've got", he says a bit reluctantly.

"Why? This is on Martin, don't you know?"

"Well ... that's it, in a way. I wanna pay my share. I don't wanna be a free-loader."

"Don't be daft. He invited us, right?"

Filippo sighs deeply. "You don't understand", he finally says. "And you don't have to. Just forget it. I'll talk to Martin in the morning." He starts to put on a fresh pair of boxer briefs.

Tin-tin looks disgruntled. "Don't!" he whines. "We're sleeping naked! We always sleep naked!"

Filippo stops with his underwear pulled halfway up his thighs. "But this is all so ... so strange ... so foreign. It felt like I should put them on, like it was the right thing to do."

Tin-tin just grabs the elastic and tugs the offending garment down. "Come on! I wanna do it on the bed instead of on the floor!"

***

 

Tin-tin pushes Filippo on his back across the wide bed, climbs on top of him and lowers his whole body down onto the smooth and faintly glowing territory of skin that awaits there. His tongue tickles Filippos earlobe, then down his neck, lips kiss and suck at the hollow above his clavicle. His groin thrusts rhythmically against Filippo's, he feels that gorgeous cock grow big and hard, his own cock throbbing, his tongue blissfully wandering over slick, smooth skin. Filippo's hands caress his ass, thrust meets thrust, cocks rub and frot together.

"I wanna do it to you", Tin-tin abruptly says, raises himself up, grabs Filippo's legs and lifts them.

Filippo just moans as he feels Tin-tin's breath pass over his cock, his balls, and further south ... and now the tip of a tongue gently tickles his perineum and finds its way to his closed, but twitching hole. Softly and teasingly it flickers across his sensitive opening, then becomes more eager and purposeful ... and suddenly his head almost explodes as he's back in Felix's bed and the first time he felt a tongue there, and tears flow from his eyes as he loses himself completely in the sensation, and a couple of sobs tear through his body.

The tongue disappears.

"Are you crying?" an anxious voice asks. "Did I do something wrong?"

He opens his eyes, sees Tin-tin's worried face, but his words are stuck in his throat. He just silently shakes his head from side to side, grabs Tin-tin's head and pulls him in for a kiss, a deep and hungry kiss, a kiss filled to the brim with want and longing, with abandon and total surrender.

"Put your dick in me", he says into Tin-tin's mouth.

Tin-tin breaks loose from the kiss. "What?"

"I want your cock in me", he whispers.

"In your butt?" Tin-tin sounds incredulous. "Really?"

"Yes!" he almost shouts, impatient now. He moistens his fingers with spit, his middle finger finds his tight asshole and pushes in, moves in and out a few times, conquering the sharp initial pain.

"Put a pillow under the small of my back", he tells Tin-tin, "and spit on your dick to make it slippery."

"Ok." Tin-tin chokes on the word, his mouth and throat has gone all dry. But now his head clears, even if his body trembles uncontrollably. He knows how to do this, he has seen them do it. You push in slowly, a little at the time ... and wait ... and then move in and out faster and faster, right?

Tin-tin spits into his fist and smears it on his achingly stiff cock, gets himself in place between Filippo's raised legs and aims the tip of his cock at the small, wrinkled hole. Pushes carefully. Then a bit harder. It won't go in. He clenches his teeth, he's so close to erupting right here and now. He takes a deep breath and tries again.

"Push harder", Filippo urges.

He does, and suddenly his slim cock sinks into something warm and soft and very tight, and he can't help it: Goosebumps rush over him, his lower abdomen tightens, his balls churn and his cock throbs and pulsates, and only halfway into this incredible tunnel he shoots his cum.

"Oh, no!" he moans. "Not yet!" But Filippo grabs his asscheeks and pulls him further in, all the way, until he feels Filippo's big balls against his abdomen and his cock throbs with the last contractions.

"Don't pull it out", Filippo whispers. "Just go on! Move it in and out a little."

He keeps it in, tries some small moves. Feels Filippo's ass tighten and relax several times around his still hard cock. The feeling is incredible even if he just came and his cock is kind of sensitive, this soft heat around it feels so unbelievably different than a hand or a mouth, and his cock stays as hard as ever. Instinctively his movements gets larger, further out and further in, and now it's like every nerve in his body has met and gathered in his cock, he wants more, more! ... it's like he can't get it far enough in, and his speed increases. His thrusts get more powerful, he totally forgets to be careful and not hurt Filippo, it's like some alien force has taken control of him, and he grunts as he slams his cock rapidly in and out. And suddenly he explodes again, whimpering, almost in pain, as deep into Filippo as he can get.

Filippo holds him in place with one hand as his other hand frantically jerks his cock to the finish, his ring muscle contracts around Tin-tins cock, he squeaks like a small animal when his first spurts hit his chin and the last land on his chest and belly.

They collapse together, exhausted and sweaty, and slowly their panting subsides and a peaceful lethargy comes over them. Tin-tin's feels how Filippo's inside slowly rejects his now flaccid cock, and it slips out.

"Whew!" Tin-tin whistles. "That felt ... I don't know ... ace!" But something suddenly occurs to him, and his face gets that worried look again. "Did it hurt? I just forgot it could hurt! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Filippo's eyes are moist. His heart wants to climb out of his chest. "It doesn't matter, because ... because it's you now", he mumbles in Tin-tin's ear. "I don't have to remember them that much. Just you."

***

Filippo's quandary is not over.

He had a talk with Martin this morning, trying to make him see why it was important for him to contribute to the travel finances. Not because he doubted Martin's wallet was fat enough, but because of a vague suspicion deep within him that it would help to make him belong with them. But Martin didn't seem willing to understand.

"Nonsense", he had said. "You are one of us, you've become just as much family now as I am. And this trip is my treat, my birthday gift to Tin-tin, and he wouldn't have been happy if you weren't with us."

He had still felt like a parasite, but in the end had given in and accepted Martin's suggestion that instead of wasting his money on someone who really didn't need it, he should spend it on a nice present for Tin-tin. But what? It had to be something special, something that Tin-tin would feel came from his heart, not just any old thing from some store.

The four of them had taken a two-hour guided tour, seen a lot of spectacular buildings and heard stories told through a scratchy microphone, seen the Berlin Wall Memorial and the Checkpoint Charlie Museum. They had sauntered through the shopping streets, mostly window-shopping, and every now and then they had entered a shop, mainly to get away from the cold wind.

But he hadn't found anything that seemed the right thing to give Tin-tin. One possibility had occurred: Tin-tin had stopped, clearly and unmistakably enthusiastic about a black hoodie with the Brandenburger Tor printed in rainbow colors, but Boyd had beaten him to it and bought it for his brother.

Now Boyd and Martin are having a discussion with Tin-tin. Where to eat, and is there a movie to see? But then, all the films are dubbed in German, aren't they? Tomorrow they're going home. And he has nothing to give. And then suddenly he knows.

Abruptly he gets up, excuses himself and leaves the room. Elevator down. Reception desk: Two things he asks for, gets them and pays for them, finds a toilet and locks himself in.

 

***

Some fifteen minutes later Filippo is back in their suite. The other's haven't moved an inch, but now they're rehashing everything that's happened during the day and anticipating the flight home. They stop talking and look at him when he comes in.

"Where have you been?" Tin-tin wants to know.

He hesitates. He had planned to get Tin-tin alone for this, but ... maybe all of them should know about it. Suddenly he feels utterly stupid. What on earth was he thinking? How pathetic is it possible to get? What the fuck has got into his conceited brain to think what he has done could be anything besides embarrassing and make them all uncomfortable? But shit, he needs to do it anyway.

He walks over to Tin-tin and stops in front of the boy. From behind his back he pulls a picture postcard and hands it face up to Tin-tin.

Tin-tin looks at it, then up at him. "The graffiti from the Wall?" he asks, uncertain about why he gets this.

Filippo turns red. "I didn't know what else to give you", he mumbles. "Turn it around."

Tin-tin flips the card over. In the middle of the blank side is a heart, smeared onto the surface with a red liquid starting to turn brown, fingerprints visible here and there.

Before anyone can say anything, Filippo jumps into speech. "It's ...It's like a promise ... that this is the last time I'll do this." He pulls up his left sleeve. His arm has a fresh scar, blood smudged around the edges. "I didn't know how else to tell you that I ... that you are ... that I love you." He hurries over to the empty chair and sinks down in it, hiding his face in his hands.

"It's stupid, I know" his muffled voice mutters. The room is very quiet. "Oh please! Say something!" he begs and looks up. To see three faces with half open mouths and tears running down cheeks.

"And we love you too", Boyd whispers, almost choking. And Tin-tin jumps up, runs to him, throws himself into the chair with him, so hard the chair almost tips over, and plants kisses all over his face. "It's the ... best gift ... ever", he says between the kisses.

***

There's a knock on the door just as Boyd removes Martin's mighty cock-head from his mouth to let out a long, loud sigh because Martin's tongue is doing magic to his asshole. Startled, they split up, change positions and hastily wrap the covers around them.

"What is it?"

The door opens a little bit and Tin-tin's face pops up in the crack. "Can we come in?"

Annoyed sigh from Boyd. "It's not really a good time."

"But we need to", Tin-tin pleads. "We need help."

Martin puts his finger to Boyd's lips. "Yes, you can come in", he says quietly.

A naked Tin-tin, cock at half mast, comes through the half open door, dragging a blushing Filippo in his black boxer briefs behind him.

"You have to help us", Tin-tin says earnestly, "cuz we can't make it work. I can't get it in! And it worked just fine when I did it to Filippo!"

Boyd lifts himself up on his elbows, frowning. "And this has to be now?"

" `Course it has to be now", Tin-tin goes on relentlessly, "cuz it's part of my birthday gift and it's still my birthday, remember?"

"Oh, Christ!" Boyd moans. "Gimme a break!"

But Martin looks keenly at the two boys. Moves over closer to Boyd, the bed would actually be wide enough for all of them, and he pats the mattress in front of him. Tin-tin sits down on the edge, Filippo stands nervously behind him, obviously ill at ease with the whole thing.

"Tell me," Martin says. "Just how did you go about this?"

"We tried with a finger first, and it went in, and it didn't hurt much, and I thought I was ... you know, ready for it? But when we tried for real, it just wasn't possible. So what do we do wrong?"

Martin strokes Tin-tins cheek. "This is your first time, right? You see, you need more than a finger to open up and be ready. Your sphincter needs to be persuaded to relax, and that takes time. And you need lubrication. Lots of it. What did you use?"

"Spit. What else?"

Martin reaches for a tube that sits on the shelf beside the bed.

"You need this. Spit's no good."

"It worked when I put mine in him!" He indicates Filippo with his head.

Boyd suddenly throws himself into the discussion. "Your dick is only half as thick as Filippo's", he growls.

"But..." Tin-tin tries logic: "I can get turds that are really massive out, so why can't I get a cock in when I really want it?"

Boyd groans again. "I give up."

"Please", Tin-tin begs, "it's important! Please show us how to do it right!"

Martin looks at Boyd. Boyd looks at Martin. There's suddenly a lot of tension in the room. Martin's eyebrows are raised. Boyd suddenly laughs. Grabs his brother and pulls him down on the bed. "You sneaky little scamp!"

"I could always get that fat bloke at the gallery to help", Tin-tin sniggers cheekily. "He almost ate us."

"God, yes!" Martin agrees. "He was fairly drooling!"

"But listen, Tin-tin." Boyd is serious now. "Don't you think you and Filippo should be on your own to find out about this? I mean, why would you want us in on it? Honestly?"

Tin-tin gives this a long thought. "Maybe because I love all four of us and I like it when we're all together, so why not with this as well? I think it would be really boss, cuz you two are so good at it, and you would know how to make it happen. And I want it! I want to have Filippo's cock in my butt! If you can put Martin's cock inside you, I don't see why I can't do it with Filippo!" Almost a whine, this last uttering.

Boyd sighs again, heavily. "Filippo", he says. "Please come over and sit beside us. And then tell us how you feel about this ... this thing that Tin-tin suggests."

Reluctantly Filippo moves closer, but remains standing close to the bed. "I don't know what I feel", he eventually says. "I want Tin-tin to be ... no, I want all of us to be happy, but I don't know how."

Boyd and Martin exchange glances again, Boyd looks worried.

"Can we stop squabbling?" Tin-tin is getting impatient. "Will you help us or not?"

Before Boyd has an answer ready, Martin pulls Tin-tin up on top of the sheets, his back against his chest, an arm around his belly. "Yes", he says, efficiency seems to be the clue now. "We'll help. Spread your legs, Tin-tin. More than that, wide open! Filippo, sit down between Tin-tin's legs."

He hands the lube to Filippo. "Squeeze out some on your fingers and rub it onto Tin-tin's hole. Not hard, just caress it. Round and round. Softly, right?"

Filippo complies. He feels the small, wrinkled hole twitch at his touch, like it closes up real hard. He continues the massage, pokes his finger softly into the middle, then circles around the opening again.

Martin takes the lube, hoists Tin-tin further up against him so he can reach his target, and now he squeezes out another dollop aimed at Filippo's fingers close to Tin-tin's puckered little hole.

"Now you can very carefully begun to push one finger in. Just stab gently and feel if it gives. And Tin-tin, my little darling, push out almost as if you try to take a shit. You already managed one finger, right? So just do as I say."

Tin-tin grunts as Filippo's finger slips in. Boyd is sitting up now, intently watching, his fingers start to fondle his cock, hidden by the covers.

"Now very cautiously start twisting your finger around and push it deeper in." Martin's hand strokes Tin-tin's stomach, he whispers in Tin-tin's ear: "We love you. If it hurts a little, don't fret. Just relax. Soon it will feel fantastic."

Boyd suddenly takes hold of Filippo's wrist. Guides his hand gently back and forth, adds a little twist. "Like this", he says softly in Filippo's ear.

Filippo's heart is thundering, blood pounds in his ears. His cock is painfully hard and squashed the wrong way in his tight boxers.

"Next time you're almost out, add one more finger", Boyd whispers. Filippo swallows hard, his throat feels like sandpaper. He gapes to loosen his tight jaws. Tin-tin squeals as he pushes two fingers in, and Boyd holds Filippo's hand still.

Martin tightens his grip around Tin-tin's chest, nuzzles his neck and whispers soothing words in the boy's ear, feels the slender body give in and relax. Filippo's fingers start to move again, aided by Boyd's firm grip.

"That's it", Boyd encourages. "Nice and slow."

Filippo squirms. Swallows twice, trying to moisten his throat. "My dick hurts so bad", he almost squawks.

"Just go on doing what you do now", Boyd mumbles. "I'll help." He lets go of Filippos wrist, crawls out of the covers, and with his now raging hard-on in full view gets behind Filippo, lifts him up until he kneels between Tin-tin's, and under the cover also Martin's, legs. Like a caress Boyd's hands glide over Filippo's hips, taking his boxers with them, slowly pulling them down to his knees, and Filippo's released cock springs forward, sways up and down in the air before it stands still, slanting slightly upwards. A relieved puff of breath escapes Filippo.

It's the first time Boyd sees Filippo aroused, and he's mesmerized. Instinctively his hand closes around this bewitching protuberance, explores its thickness and its length, and shivers run down his spine.

Filippo's free hand grips Boyd's hand hard. "Don't!" he growls. "I don't wanna cum yet!"

"Yes, you do", Boyd whispers in his ear. "Then you'll last longer when this starts for real. Trust me." And he bends down, face close to the steely spring of meat, his tongue flicks a couple of times across the piss slit, then around the retracting collar of foreskin, and slowly, slowly he lets the whole length of the cock slide into his mouth as deep as it goes. His tongue moves along the underside as he relentlessly increases the suction.

Filippo's whole body quivers and quakes, he holds his breath, his cock palpitates and pumps and rewards Boyd with six hard shots of boy sperm. A long shivering breath of air explodes out of him. His cock suddenly feels cold as it leaves the warm mouth.

Boyd takes hold of his hand again. "Don't stop", he says. "Feel how warm and soft Tin-tin's inside is."

Filippo twirls his two fingers around, and Tin-tin moans where he lies on top of Martin. "I can take one more finger!" His voice is strained, but clear. "I can!"

Filippo, head clearer now and concentrated on his task, looks sideways at Boyd. "It's like he's lined with silk", he says in wonder. "Amazing." He pulls his fingers almost out, and now three fingertips push gently at Tin-tin's hole, twirling and prodding, one by one slipping in, twisting the opening larger, and now his three fingers are in almost up to the second knuckle.

Tin-tin grits his teeth and whimpers. Martin rocks him very tenderly. "Are you ok with this?" he whispers. "You know you can stop it whenever you want to."

"It's doesn't really hurt", Tin-tin moans, "but it feels so weird. I'm scared I'll shit all over you!"

Martin laughs softly. "You won't." And he stirs and changes his hold on Tin-tin. "Turn around. Lie down on me on your belly", he tells him.

Tin-tin lifts himself off, Filippo's fingers slip out. He turns and swipes away the sheets that cover Martin, looks over his shoulder at Filippo. "Look at this!"

They all look. Martin there, exposed, half lying on his back, neck and shoulders against the headboard, legs spread and that terrific cock up along his flat abdomen, the tip reaches way past his navel. Filippo's feels like something heavy falls all the way through his chest to his stomach. He wants it. He wants all of this, all of them, all the naked skin, all the beautiful dicks, all the ... It's like an ache and it threatens to choke him.

Martin pulls Tin-tin down on top of him, embraces him and holds him tight. "This way it'll be easier for you to take Filippo in", he whispers in Tin-tin's ear.

And Boyd grabs the lube and pushes Filippo forward, again he takes hold of the boy's wrist, applies more lube to Tin-tin's hole and guides Filippo's hand to the target. "A little more with the fingers now", he instructs.

Tin-tin, spread-eagled on top of Martin, expecting pain but determined to go through with it, feels the intrusion. But there's surprisingly little pain, and the strange and slightly uncomfortable feeling of having to go to the toilet leaves him. He feels Martins cock move under him, and Filippo's fingers plow into him, slowly and carefully, and suddenly his whole body tingles with sensation, and anticipation, and the knowledge that soon, soon he will know what it feels like to have a cock up his ass, and not just any cock, but Filippo's ... and overwhelmed by everything his lips seek Martin's, suck onto them, and his throat squeezes out a pinched moan. His cock that has stayed soft all through the initial exploration of his butt now rises against Martin's skin, he squirms and twitches until it lies next to the whopper beneath him.

"Now!" Boyd whispers to Filippo, gets in behind him and puts an arm around the boy's chest. Pushes him down and forward, takes the boy's cock that again is stiff as a board in his hand and steers it to the point where the fingers now are on their way out. "In you go!" he whispers and kisses the boy's neck, the arm around the boy's chest now finds and teases a nipple. Filippo must plant his hands on the mattress on both sides of Tin-tin not to fall flat over him.

Tin-tin feels a sudden emptiness when the finger's leave him, but now something different pushes against his butthole, something that feels bigger and rounder that those fingertips, and instantly a rush of panicky goosebumps flow over him. Martin feels how Tin-tin's body stiffens, his hands caress the boy's back, his mouth opens and sucks in the boy's tongue as Filippo's cock stabs and pushes and with a hard thrust slips through the sphincter. A half-choked whimper echoes into Martin's mouth, and then Tin-tin throws back his head and a growling wail escapes him as the sharp pain tears through him.

Boyd puts both hands on Filippo's hips and hold him still, watching Tin-tin's tense body and Martins face, hearing Martin's soothing voice whisper sweet words in Tin-tin's ear. And gradually Tin-tin seems to relax, his head again resting in the nook of Martin's neck.

Filippo's brain has taken leave, his body feels numb and at the same time more awake than ever, desire and lust prickle his skin and boil in his blood, but there's another feeling too, something huge and soft and enveloping ... and it's not just this amazing warm and tight silken tunnel that envelops half of his cock, it's something that wraps his whole body, even his soul, in velvet ... and he's filled with a yearning to please this boy he's about to enter, to love and cherish him, and at the same time there's an immense urge to slam his cock ruthlessly in and bury it as deep as it gets.

And now Boyd presses against him, he can feel the stiff cock against his buttocks, pushing him forward, into this moist and hot cave, he can hear Boyd's breathless yes! and Tin-tin's moan, and it's not a moan of pain, and he loses himself completely in a sea of unrestrained passion.

"I'm in you!" Filippo cries out. "Tin-tin! My dick is in you!" And his hips start to move without him willing them to, his cock slides almost by itself slowly in and out of this incredible silk-lined glove that encloses his cock. He lets himself down until he feels Tin-tins skin on his belly and his chest.

"Yes! You are!" Tin-tin pants under him. "It doesn't hurt anymore", he grunts under the weight. "You can go faster."

Boyd lifts Filippo up a bit. "Rest on your elbows," he says, "or Tin-tin will be squashed."

Martin has another idea. He pushes Tin-tin up off himself until he rests on his hands and knees. Nods with his head towards Boyd, who gets what he means. Filippo's upper body is lifted off Tin-tin's back and wrapped in Boyd's firm embrace, now his cock in Tin-tin's ass is the only connection, the only point of contact. And Martin crawls in under Tin-tin and swallows the boy's cock.

Filippo has no rational thoughts left. His cock does all the thinking, thrusting in, pulling out, and each time he pulls out, Boyd's hard cock presses against his buttocks and urges him in again. Faster, harder ... and suddenly he feels the opening of the wonderfully moist and tight tunnel clamp hard and rhythmically around his cock, he hears Tin-tin's breath turn almost into sobs, and he can't hold back, he rams his cock in as far as it gets and shoots ... and shoots ... and shoots all his adoration and devotion and sperm into the boy he loves.

"Oh, Jesus!" he hears Boyd's voice behind him as he collapses over Tin-tin's back. "Martin! Now!"

Tin-tin flats out on the bed, Filippo on top. Filippo is almost unable to move, his body feels overloaded with love, with tenderness, with gratefulness, and he kisses Tin-tin's neck, shoulder blades, spine, all his lips can reach from where he lies.

Tin-tin wriggles himself out from under him, turns over on his back, wanting to kiss Filippo, and bumps into his brother who is also on his back now, legs in the air, hand closed around Martin's cock, aiming it at his asshole. Tin-tin nudges Filippo, he lifts his head, and together they watch Martin's monumental cock sink and disappear into Boyd. Filippo, even in his spent state, gets the shivers from the sight.

The boys sit up, enthralled, fixed on the spectacular scene in front of them: Boyd's ravishingly beautiful body totally surrendered, Martin's small and sinewy form that makes his cock look so impossibly big, their total absorption in each other, the seamless way they move together, so synchronized, so completely united.

Tin-tin looks at Filippo who is totally absorbed. Touches his shoulder, leans towards his ear.

"This is a bit crunchy", he whispers, "cuz we haven't asked if we can watch. Boyd says I always have to ask."

Filippo jerks as if he is jolted awake. "But ... but Boyd sucked my dick ... and he didn't ask!"

Tin-tin muses over this. "True", he finally says. "So do you wanna suck him?"

"I don't know ... Maybe ... but I don't know how, I never did it."

"You just put it in your mouth and suck on it! Like a lollipop, you know? Just make sure your teeth doesn't come near it. Wanna try?"

A relaxed Tin-tin pulls the apprehensive and trembling Filippo even closer to the men. "Touch it", he whispers.

Filippo nervously reaches out and brushes Boyd's cockhead with two fingers. It jumps at the touch. Boyd opens his eyes, gazes at him, says nothing. Filippo leans closer, wraps his hand around the curved shaft, watching Boyd's face for approval. Boyd meets his eyes, opens his mouth, and flexing his neck and closing his eyes again lets out a loud sigh. Martin holds Boyd's ankles and moans softly as he bends his head backwards and thrusts his pole in and out of Boyd's warm inside.

Filippo closes his grip a little firmer, runs his hand up and down the shaft, feels the impact of Martin's thrusts, marvels at the softness of the skin and the hardness underneath, just like Tin-tin's cock feels, only much thicker. About the same thickness as his own, but it feels so infinitely more exciting to touch Boyd's dick than to touch his own.

If only he could stop trembling, if only these waves of pricking down his spine would stop! He bows down over Boyd's cock, his lips hover just above it. Tentatively the tip of his tongue touches the head, shiny with moisture, tasting the transparent fluid that seeps out from the slit. It doesn't taste bad, doesn't taste very much at all, and he feels more confident. He lowers his head and opens his mouth slightly, lets the top of the head touch his lips.

"Oh, Jesus, that's so hot", he hears Martin grunt and suddenly he feels a hand on the back of his head, gently urging him down. He closes his eyes, opens his mouth wide and lets the hand push him down until half of the lovely cock is in his mouth, and the pressure stops. He holds still, his tongue moves cautiously around the unfamiliar object, the taste is a little stronger now. He shivers like he's freezing, and slowly moves his head up a bit, then down again. He closes his lips tighter and feels the cock twitch. Lifts his head again until he feels the ridge of the head against his lips, and now he sucks a little harder a couple of times, like Tin-tin told him to do. He hears Boyd moan, and a hand caresses his jaw, a finger follows his lips where they close around the rod. He holds still again, senses how Martin's thrusts move the cock just a little bit in and out of his mouth. He shudders. He pulls off and gasps, realizes he's been holding his breath.

And a memory grows large in his head. He knows what he should do now, he moves his head down towards Boyd's tight balls. Martin seems to instantly sense what he wants, he pulls his cock almost out to give him room, and Filippo homes in on that place Felix taught him felt so good, his tongue tickles and teases the skin just behind the balls, then swipe over those silky globes, and back again. He fills his eyes with the sight of the massive cock that's halfway sheathed inside Boyd, moving just a little bit, and every time it moves out, the skin around it, the skin of Boyd's hole, is drawn out like a small collar. His tongue wants to go there, he can't resist. And Martin's loud moans resound in his head as his tongue bathes the place where the men are joined.

Suddenly he feels something cool gently press on to his asshole. He looks up over his shoulder. Tin-tin is there behind him, standing on the floor beside the bed lubing his ass, finger going effortlessly in, and instinctively he moves so his knees rest on the edge of the mattress, and his hole is accessible to the boy behind him. He sighs and dives down again to that incredibly hot place his lips and his tongue need to explore again. The sting he feels back there doesn't seem like real pain, just a little burn, and he feels Tin-tin's slim dick enter him and he pushes out to let it slide all the way in.

His mouth feasts on skin, his hand finds Boyd's curved cock and caresses it, his other hand closes around the base of Martin's fat intruder, moves about to feel two slick and heavy balls, comes back to envelop the shaft again, and Tin-tin's lovely dick slides in and out of him ... Fleshabel! his brain screams. It can't get more fleshable than this!

Tin-tin's cock has just found that place inside him that feels so ... so weird and so overwhelming, and a low and gurgling sound, almost like a strange song, is born in his throat and he can't stop it, it rises through him as his stomach ties itself into a knot and his lower body trembles and explodes in waves of immense pleasure, and his cock throbs and hammers to shoot out every last drop his now almost empty balls have in them.

He falls over, loses his grips, the cock inside him disappears, and in his exhausted trance he just feels how the bed rumbles and shakes, and as from far away he hears deep voices, men's voices, cry out and moan and whimper. His brain is a void, his body is drained, but his heart beats with a thundering certainty and an all-consuming satisfaction he has never known.

And now arms enfold him. Many arms. Arms that feel like he belongs in them. And his ugly faggot soul is at rest.

 

The End

My other stories on Nifty:

"Mr. Marshall stops running" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/mr-marshall-stops-running/

"The Crushing Colors of Love" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/the-crushing-colors-of-love/

"My Blood sings in Bendik" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/my-blood-sings-in-bendik/

"The Sound of his Footsteps" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/the-sound-of-his-footsteps/

"The Tower and the Maze" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/the-tower-and-the-maze.html