Date: Thu, 24 Oct 2002 10:09:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tim Mead <timmead88@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dr. Tim and the Boys 03

Dr. Tim and the Boys

	The following story is fiction.  It involves sexually-
explicit erotic events between males.  If you are offended by such
material, are too young, or live in an area where it is not allowed,
don't read it.  In the world of this story, the characters don't
always use condoms.  In the real world, everyone should practice
safe sex.

	The author retains all rights.  No reproductions or links to
other sites are allowed without the author's consent.

	I want to thank Evan, Patrick, Ash, and Tom W. for lots of
helpful ideas and steadfast encouragement as I worked on this story.
If it's any good, it's because of their help.  If it's not, it's my
fault.  --Tim

timmead88@Yahoo.com Chapter 3:  House Call #2

	If I thought I was a nervous wreck Friday, I was a basket
case all day Saturday.  I had to go back to Chaz and Trey's
apartment again that evening.  What could they possibly do to me
that they hadn't?  One of them had said something about "traffic"
and my asshole.  Sounded ominous.

	Did I have any options?  I should have done something before
going there Thursday night, when they had only the one picture.  I
might have gone to the police, I suppose, but I had no idea at that
time who my tormentors were.  It would have been embarrassing to
tell the police what happened, though it would have been better than
the mess I was in now.  Hindsight is always better, they say, but in
most cases it's useless.

	Now, of course, they had all of those pictures, and there
was no evidence in any of the pictures that I was being coerced.  In
some of them, in fact, I was smiling (leering, actually)!  I'd have
no chance of making a case that anyone was forcing me into those
absurd and shameful poses.  And I was very obviously squirting cum
in the one, with no other person in sight.

	Given all that, I didn't think I had any choice but to go
back that evening as they demanded.  One thing was for sure, I
wasn't going to drink anything unless they forcibly poured it down
my throat.

	I decided to get out of the apartment, so I went to my
office, where I could grade some essays.  I hadn't expected to find
anyone around on a Saturday morning, but Gwen Fairchild was in her
office.  I thought I remembered that she was Cedric's advisor, so I
knocked on the frame of her open door.  She, too, was working on the
ever-present papers.

	"Sorry to interrupt, Gwen."

	"Tim, PLEASE interrupt me.  Come in and sit.  How are you?"

	I didn't want to tell her how I was, so I said I was fine,
and we made small talk for a few minutes.  Then I asked, "Aren't you
Cedric Jones's advisor?"

	Gwen must be pushing sixty, but she doesn't seem that old.
She was always beautifully dressed (but then, on a full professor's
salary she could afford to be).  Her hair always looked as if she
had just had it "done," and she had young-looking skin.  She
appeared, in short, as if she was expensive to maintain.  Gwen was
one of the most pleasant of my colleagues.  She was also one of the
most popular professors in the department.

	She smiled as she said, "Yes, I am.  Cedric is such a
delight!  He's in one of your classes, isn't he?"

	"Yes, that's why I stopped in.  Can we talk about him for a
	moment?"

	"Of course.  Is it about his mid-term?"

	"Yes, in part."

	"I must say, Tim, I wondered about that.  But I hesitated to
ask because I didn't want to seem to be interfering."

	"You know about his sister's accident and his absence from
	my class?"

	"Yes, but that was all cleared through the dean's office."

	"So I've heard, but I never received any notification from
the dean about the sister's accident or Cedric's subsequent
absences."

	"So you gave him the F because of his attendance?  That
doesn't sound like you, Tim," Gwen said, looking at me with concern.

	"Oh, there was more to it than that.  He still owes me two
papers, one dating back several weeks before the accident.  And when
I've tried to get him to come in and talk with me, he never shows."

	"I didn't know that.  It sounds as if something's wrong.
Such behavior just doesn't sound like Ced.  He's a very responsible
young man.  He did fine work in my class in the fall semester, and
he's carrying a 3.5 GPA."

	"What's he like in class?"

	"A delight.  He's always prepared, he seems to enjoy the
class discussions, and he writes beautiful papers, always with what
I have told him is a 'lawyerly lucidity.'"

	"He's an English major?"

	"Yes, but he plans to go to law school.  His father's a
lawyer in Shaker Heights, you know."

	"No, I didn't.  Cedric did good work early in the term, but
he began to seem nervous in class, then to more or less shut down,
and finally he quit coming."

	"Tim, you have me worried.  That just isn't the Ced I know.
I assume you would have no objection to my getting touch with him
and trying to find out what's going on with him."

	"Of course not.  You are his advisor.  I'm concerned about
him, too.  I hope I haven't done anything to cause his problem.  And
if he makes up the work, especially since there was a memo from the
dean, there'll be no difficulty about changing the mid- term and re-
instating his baseball eligibility."

	"Oh, dear.  I hadn't thought about the baseball.  He must be
terribly upset about that.  Something may be seriously wrong.  I
promise I'll get on it Monday morning and let you know what I find."

	"That's great, Gwen.  Thanks."  I stood up.  "And you'll let
me know what you turn up?  When you see Cedric, please assure him
that I want to see him and that we can get this whole thing
resolved."

	"You can count on it, Tim.  Have a nice weekend."

	"Yes, Gwen.  You, too."

	Oh yes, it was going to be a great weekend.  I went to my
office, where I spent the rest of the morning marking papers.  When
my stomach began to growl, I gathered up the unread essays, put them
in my backpack, and headed home.

	After two pbj sandwiches, a vitamin pill, and a glass of
milk for lunch, I called Amy to tell her that we couldn't have our
usual Saturday evening talk.  I think I was relieved to get her
voice mail. Lying to her about going to a movie with colleagues was
easier one step removed, so to speak.  And I'd have to remember to
see a current movie before long, since she was sure to ask what I'd
seen.

	I marked a few more papers.  As I worked on them, I think I
was more lenient than usual.  Who knew what was going on in the poor
bastards' lives.

Later I tried to read, but reading was futile, for I couldn't
concentrate.  I put some Ravel on the stereo and promptly fell
asleep.  Sleeping at least helped pass the time.  When I woke up, I
went for a run.

	So, one way or another, having fortified myself with a tv
dinner, I was ready to go get it over with.  I put on the mandatory
t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers and set out for some sort of misery,
all the more worrisome because I had no real idea of what was
coming.  That comment kept coming back to me -- something about
traffic and my butthole.

	Chaz opened the door this time.  Trey was sitting on one end
of the sofa with a Heineken's.  There was a partially full bottle on
the coffee table, and several empties sitting around.

	Both guys were wearing t-shirts and cargo shorts.  Both were
barefoot.  I noticed again what big feet Chaz had.  But then he was
a pretty tall guy.  Mark was nowhere in sight.

	"OK, guys," I said grimly, "what's up tonight?"

	"Oh, you're going to find out what's UP tonight, Timmy boy,"
	Chaz said.

	Trey hadn't said anything.  He seemed to be watching me
intently. He also seemed to be letting Chaz take the lead in
whatever was going to happen.

	"Just so we're clear, professor," Chaz said, and the irony
as he said the word "professor" was unmistakable, "we really have
you by the short and curlies, so you better do as you're told.
Don't argue.  Don't complain.  We have lots of good ideas about what
to do with those pictures if you don't cooperate."

	I was beginning to get pissed.

	"Look, you two.  This has gone far enough.  I've already
told you I'd straighten things out about Cedric's grade.  Why can't
you trust me to do that and let things drop? You've still got the
damned pictures, so there's no fear of reprisals from me.  Where's
Mark, by the way?  Why isn't he in on whatever it is you've planned
for this evening?"

	"Chill, Mead," Chaz said.  "It's really none of your
business where Mark is, but he had something else he had to do.  As
for dropping this," he continued, "there's no way that's gonna
happen.  It all started as a way of paying you back for being such a
shit about Cedric, but things have changed."

	"Oh?" was all I could think to say.

	"Yeah, little man," Chaz said with a smirk.  "You remember
the note on your pillow this morning, don't you?"

	I sure as hell did, so I nodded my head.

	"There was one word there that might stand out in your mind,
DR. Mead.  Do you have any idea which one I'm talking about?"

	I was afraid I did, but I said nothing.

	Trey wasn't saying anything either at this point, but he was
staring at me intently, as if he were fascinated.

	"Come on, Timmy boy, what is that word that's been worrying
	you all day, huh?"

	"I suppose you mean 'slave'."

	"Right the first time!  Give the little man a gold star,"
Chaz said, laughing.  He seemed to really be enjoying all this.

	I tried to swallow, but my mouth and throat were too dry.

	"Slave . . . how?" I asked.

	Still nothing from Trey.  He seemed to be willing to let
Chaz be the master of the evening's ceremonies.

	"One of the fraternities on campus occasionally finds a
likely prospect among their pledges, someone who becomes the
brothers' sex slave for the rest of the year. Not forever, just for
the rest of that year.  If he refuses, he doesn't make it into the
frat. If he goes along, he's a full brother.  If he agrees, they
insure his cooperation with pictures of the sort we have of you, or
sometimes much worse."

	Suddenly there was a rock in my stomach.  "And, . . .?"  I
	asked.

	"Well, little man, it will be really nice having our own
private sex slave.  That's YOU."

	"Our?" I wondered out loud.

	"Well, Trey's and mine.  And Markie's and Cedric's if they
want.  The four of us are buds.  We share things."

	"But you can't do that!" I spluttered.

	"Oh, yes we can.  Just think what we could do with those
	pics Mark took."

	"But I've got responsibilities, classes to teach, tests and
essays to grade -- a fiancee!"

	Trey spoke up for the first time in a while.  "Oh, we've
thought about that.  We don't want to completely disrupt your life.
At least not if you cooperate.  We won't do anything to let the
outside world know what you're doing for us.  We won't interfere
with your teaching.  You'll just be expected to be available to us
at certain times - to . . . fulfill our needs, shall we say?"

	"On the other hand," Chaz added, "you wouldn't want that
fiancee you mentioned to see those pics, now would you?"

	'Totally fucked,' I thought.  Then the rock in my stomach
doubled in weight as I realized how appropriate that phrase was!

	"Are you all right?" Trey asked.  "You're white as a sheet."

	"Naw, he's always pale as a slug," Chaz said.

	"How would you expect me to be?" I replied with some
	bitterness.

	"Relax, Timmy boy," Chaz said.  "I think by the time we get
through with you you are gonna love this."

	'Yeah, right,' I thought.

	"You're gonna be begging to slurp dick and take it up the
ass before you know it."  Chaz was really enjoying this.

	Things were getting worse and worse, and I had no idea what
I could do except go along, as monstrous as that sounded.  It was
bad enough to think of colleagues, administrators, or students
seeing those pictures from the previous night, but Amy? Though I
wanted to go crawl in a hole, the evening's events were obviously
ready to start.

	Chaz quickly brought me back to reality.  "So that's the way
	it's gonna be."

	"We're not going to call you 'slave' or anything like that,"
Trey added.  "And in public, like in class, I'll call you by your
title and show you all the respect you're entitled to as a faculty
member."  He glanced meaningfully at Chaz.

	"Oh, yeah," Chaz said grudgingly, "we all will."

	"But here," he continued, "your ass is ours.  So strip,
	PROFESSOR!"

	I kicked off my sneakers and pulled my t-shirt over my head.

	"You can just leave that and your shorts on the sofa.  You
won't be needing them for a while," Trey said.

	I did as I was told, then took off my shorts and put them on
	top of the shirt.

	"Well, little man," Chaz said, "where's your boner tonight?
Your weenie looks like you've been swimming in ice water."

	Given the way I was feeling just then, it's no wonder Junior
	was shriveled.

	Without saying anything further, Chaz jerked his head for me
to follow him.  I did, and Trey came along behind me.  They took me
to the bathroom.

	"The first thing we're going to do is make you look like a
slave, Timbo," Chaz said.

	I was almost more upset by "Timbo" than by the implications
	of his statement.

	While Trey stood in the doorway, Chaz reached in a drawer
and grabbed an electric mustache trimmer.  He proceeded to remove
the little patch of hair I had between my pecs.

	"Lift up your arms," he commanded.

	When I did, he removed the hair in my pits.

	"Now, turn around, bend over, and spread your cheeks."

	"Dr. Mead," Trey chuckled, "that ass of yours really does
	look like a little boy's."

	"So sue me," I replied, forgetting that I had been ordered
	not to talk.

	"Well," said Chaz, "you can straighten up, 'cause there
ain't nothin' there to shave."

	I knew what was coming next and instinctively put my hands
over my pubes. Chaz seemed to be really enjoying my embarrassment.

	"Hold real still," he said, pushing my hands aside and
grabbing me by the dick. "You wouldn't want me to clip anything off
by mistake," he said, chuckling again.

	He used the trimmer to remove my pubes and a little hair in
	my groin.

	"No need to do his balls," he said to Trey," he's got no
more hair there than a boy."

	Then he got out a can of shaving foam and a razor, with
which he shaved my pits, chest, and pubes.

	"Hey, Timmy," he said with a smile that was more mischievous
than malicious, "you should thank me for doing this.  It makes your
little thingey look bigger. But not much," he added.

	He turned me around so I could see myself in the big mirror
over the sink.  My God, I did look like a slug!  Or a slightly
overgrown pre-pubescent boy.

	"Tim," Trey said, "you're adorable.  Let's get you into the
	bedroom."

	'Adorable?'

	Trey leading, Chaz following, I walked down a hallway.  We
passed a bedroom with a king-size bed.  It was large enough to have
room for a dresser, a large bookcase, a comfortable chair, and a
computer desk.  The room they took me to was its twin.  As I had
observed the evening before, these guys were obviously not hurting
for money.

	When we entered the room, Trey noticed that I was shivering
- from a combination of being stark naked and just plain fear.

	"Timmy," Trey said, "you're cold."

	Chaz chuckled.  "That's all right, we're gonna warm him up."

	But Trey left the room, and a moment later I heard the
heating system click on. Immediately, warm air began to pour from
the room's registers.

	By this time I had a pretty good idea what was coming.  I've
always considered myself "gay friendly."  I think what people do in
the bedroom is their own business. Besides, I knew and liked some
gay guys when I was an undergraduate.  And I had had several openly
gay students of both sexes in my classes since coming to the
university and had found them interesting, likable people.  But I
had never had any sort of gay experience beyond beating off a few
times with a friend in the eighth grade.  And, frankly, the thought
of what gay guys do to each other had never turned me on.

	Which brought up another question.  Were Chaz and Trey (and
Mark - and Cedric) gay, or were they just planning on using me to
get their jollies?  Maybe I was about to find out.

	"Well," Chaz said, "it's slave training time!"  He had that
	glint in his eye again.

	Trey seemed bemused, off in his own little world for the
moment.  Then I noticed the bulge in his shorts.

	Chaz pulled the front of his t-shirt up and sort of tucked
it behind his head. "Come over here and get on your knees," he
commanded.

	'Here we go,' I thought.  The time I had been dreading had
come.  'I'm about to become a cocksucker.'

	I did as Chaz ordered.  Kneeling, I saw there was a really
	big bulge in his shorts.

	"You're lucky, Timmy," he said, "you're going to start your
slave career with a big fuckin' piece of man meat.  Take down my
shorts."

	I was shaking again, but I undid the snap and pulled down
the zipper in front of me.  As his shorts fell to the floor, I was
faced with what had to be a 9" cock pointed straight at me, and not
yet fully erect.

	I could see out of the corner of my eye that Trey had sat on
the chair at the desk and was watching intently.  He wasn't stroking
himself, but his hand was in his lap.

	"I'm going to take it easy on you, Timmy.  You won't have to
swallow all of this monster the first time. That'll come later.
After all, we want you to get to enjoy being a cocksucker."

	'As if that's going to happen!' I thought.

	"OK," Chaz said.  "Put your hand around the base."

	I did.  It was not warm, but actually hot to touch.

	"Now, lick it like a popsicle."

	Here was the unspeakable moment.  Tentatively, I stuck out
my tongue and touched it to the underside of his big cock.

	"Aw, come on, little one, give it a good lick," Chaz said.

	At that moment, I'd have sworn that Trey giggled.

	So, I gave it a good lick.  I don't know what I expected,
but it wasn't at all repulsive.  The idea was repulsive, but his
actual tool wasn't.  It tasted like soap, along with the familiar
scent of man.

	Chaz grunted and said, "Yeah, lil guy, that's nice.  Keep
	doing that!"

	I kept licking.  In my mind, I was standing aside watching
this.  I had shut my eyes, so I was visualizing me there on the
floor, giving Chaz's big dick long, slurpy licks as Trey watched.
In the scene playing in my mind, Trey was smiling and rubbing
himself through his shorts.

	I kept wondering why I wasn't nauseated.  This wasn't
especially fun, and I sure wasn't getting off on it, but it wasn't
as bad as I had expected, either.

`	After a few minutes of that, during which Chaz's tool kept
getting harder and hotter and he was making appreciative sounds, he
said, "OK, lover boy, you can stop that.  I want you to lick on my
balls for a while."

	That wasn't at all pleasant.  The taste was a mixture of
soap, testosterone, and saltiness from sweat, I supposed.  But his
balls, not so much bigger than mine, I noticed, were pretty hairy,
and I found the hair in my mouth disgusting.  Chaz, on the other
hand, was obviously liking what I was doing.

	"Oh, yeah, that's nice.  Just keep doing that."

I licked.

After a time:  "Now, suck on them instead."

	I found I couldn't get both of them in my mouth, so I took
each one in turn and sucked on them for a while. Chad was beginning
to sort of moan.

	"Timbo," he grunted, "you're a natural at this.  You were
born to pleasure a man, little guy."

	Trey snorted and said, "So go ahead and come, Charles. I
want my turn at Timmy!"

	"Dammit, Trey," Chaz responded, "you just can't rush these
things.  You can have him as long as you want him when I'm
finished."  He seemed to be getting close, for his breaths were
shorter and more rapid.

	"Now, grab that big old dick and suck on the end of it!"

	I found I could take it in both hands, which I did.  I'd had
enough blow jobs to know what to do.  No teeth.  Lots of tongue.
And suction.

	The first thing that happened, though, was that I gagged.

	"I told you not to try to swallow it all this time," Chaz
	said through gritted teeth.

	I took a little less into my mouth and concentrated on doing
a good job with what would fit in there.  Chaz was whimpering by
this time.  It didn't take long after that.

	"Ohmygod, Mead, you're a quick learner!  Oh, shit, shit,
shit, I'm gonna cum!  Oh yeah! . . . unh! . . . unh! . . . unh!"

	When I felt the cum traveling up his tube, I immediately
pulled off.  He sprayed my hair, face, and chest liberally, as he
and the others had done two nights ago in my office.

	"Whee, little guy.  You're gonna do just fine!  Next time,
I'll let you swallow my jizz.  You're gonna love that.  Before long,
you'll be looking forward to having my big old tool in your mouth
and swallowing my man juice."  Chaz put his hand lightly on the back
of my head for a moment, looked down at me, and smiled.  Then he
moved away.

	Trey came over and helped me stand up.  It's funny how
smells can trigger memories.  At first all I could smell was Chaz's
cum all over me, but as Trey came close, I could tell that he was
wearing the same aftershave he had been wearing Thursday night as he
sat on my lap, rubbing me.

Then, with a towel he had produced from somewhere, he wiped all
Chaz's cum off of me.  Meanwhile, Chaz stalked off toward the
bathroom, saying, "Trey, buddy, don't start 'til I get back."

	He had apparently gone to clean himself up a bit.  But when
he returned he had a black permanent laundry marker in his hand.
His erection, I noted, had subsided, but his thing was still a good
six inches just dangling there between his legs.

	"Uh, Chaz," Trey said, "I don't think we really need to use
	that, do we?"

	"Damn right we need to use it.  That was part of the plan.
You aren't getting chicken at this point, are you?"

	"I just think that's maybe going too far," Trey said.

	"No way," Chaz replied.  He took the marker and wrote
something across my chest, just above the nipples.  I could see,
even upside down, that it said "COCKSUCKER."

	It would wear off eventually, I didn't know how long, just
as my pubes would grow back in eventually, if Chaz didn't keep
shaving them off.  In the meanwhile, though, I was going to have to
stay away from the gym.  A hairless white slug with "COCKSUCKER!"
written across his chest wouldn't dare be seen showering or changing
there.

	Chaz threw the marker on the desk and took the chair Trey
had been using.  "It's your turn, stud," he said to Trey.

	While Chaz was writing on my chest, Trey took off his shirt
and shorts.  He had the kind of body I've always wished for.  Good
muscle definition, great shoulders and abs, but fairly flat pecs.
No hint of breasts there.

	He turned to come toward me.  His bush was a little darker
than the hair on his head.  He had lighter hair on his forearms and
legs, none yet on his chest.  His cock was fully erect.  It was
about an inch longer than mine, but considerably bigger around.  Not
a "beer can," but fat.  It curved up a little, so, erect as it was,
it pointed back toward his flat belly.

	"Chaz, would you help me with this," he asked.

	The two of them took the bedspread off of the bed and spread
some towels over the sheets.

	Trey actually seemed nervous.

"Dr. Mead, would you please get on the bed, put your head on a
pillow if you want, and stick that little ass in the air?"

	'Dr. Mead?  Please?  Where was that coming from?  Not from
the clever preppy who had first accused me and then rubbed me off in
my office on Thursday evening.'

	But I did as I was told, knowing full well what was coming
next.  And I guess I was lucky.  Trey's cock was smaller than
Chaz's.  That monster would have split me in two.

	"That was a pretty big carrot we stuck up your ass last
night," Trey said.  "So this shouldn't hurt too much."

	After I got into the specified position, I heard Trey open a
drawer in the bedside table.  When I felt something cold and wet
against my butthole, I knew it was lube.  First, he stuck a finger
up there.  I had done that often enough, so the feeling was
familiar, except that his fingers were longer than mine.  It felt
pretty good.  He wiggled his finger around, and that felt even
better.

	I reminded myself that this was the next thing to rape, and
that I wasn't supposed to like it.  As he kept exploring with his
finger, he must have hit my prostate, for I jumped, my cock began to
fill, and I moaned.

	"I told you you'd like it," Chaz said.  "You have all the
makings of a cum dump, Timmo!"

	I didn't like the sound of that at all.  I was offended by
the term and appalled by the idea of becoming anything of the sort.
But by then Trey had stuck a second finger up my hole, and I was
really into his ministrations.

	I tried hard not to let them know how good that felt, but I
don't think I was fooling them.

	Trey climbed onto the bed.  "Relax, Tim," he said.  "This
will be easier if you're not too tense."

	I heard a squishy noise that must have been him lubing up
his cock, after which I soon felt him pressing against my hole.  I
came up onto my hands and knees.

	I had put a finger up my ass often enough.  I couldn't
remember last night's carrot, but it looked big in the pictures, and
the guys had said it was big.  I'd had Trey's two fingers up there
just moments ago.  But nothing prepared me for the shock when he
pushed the head of his fat dick through the anal ring.  I must have
grunted or gasped.

	"I'll take it easy.  After all, we want you to like this,
you know.  I'm going to push it in very slowly.  It will help if you
push back, as if you were straining to take a crap."

	I did that.  Trey pushed.  And the pain was almost blinding.

	"Ohmygod, stop," I pleaded.

	"Relax, Tim," Trey said.  "The pain you are feeling will
	pass in a minute."

	(I learned later that Trey had never done this before and
that he was relying for knowledge and technique on stories he'd read
on the web.)

	I did try to relax, and Trey quit pushing.  Sure enough, the
pain very slowly began to subside.  For a moment, nothing was
happening.  I felt as if a truck had driven up my ass, but it didn't
hurt as much.  And I had a flash of awareness that now I was being
fucked by another guy.  How could I ever look Amy in the face again?
How could I look other guys in the face again?  Would they all know
that I had taken it up the ass? Would I have some sort of
recognizable scarlet F for "fag" long after the word on my chest had
faded?

	Trey pushed his cock a little further, then paused again.
He repeated the procedure until eventually he was all the way in.  I
could feel his pubes against my ass.

	"See, Timmy, you've done it, you've taken it all," Trey said
	enthusiastically.

	"Yeah, and you know what that makes you, don't you?" Chaz
	added.

	Trey pulled his cock back until the head almost popped out.
Then he slowly pushed it in again.  He continued that movement, and
it continued to hurt.  But as he began to speed up, the pain began
to subside.  Then he somehow shifted his position so that he was
hitting my prostate again, and my whole body was suffused with
pleasure.  I didn't WANT it to be pleasant, but it was.

	I still didn't know whether Trey was gay or not, but I was
sure that being his bottom was a gay thing.  I was ashamed,
humiliated at being fucked by one of my students while another
watched.  Yes, Chaz was there on the desk chair, rubbing his monster
prong as he watched Trey screw me.

	I became aware that tears were streaming down my face.
Tears of shame.  Tears of mortification.  Tears of humiliation.
Here I was, naked, shaved, having just sucked off Chaz, taking it up
the ass.  Hating what was happening to me.  And loving what was
happening to me.

	"Mead," Chaz said, chuckling, "I knew you would be a perfect
pussyboy.  Look at you!  You've got a hardon, man."

	And I realized I did.  I was so busy sorting and registering
impressions having to do with Trey's dick up my ass that I hadn't
noticed Junior's reaction.  Again, there was a certain detachment,
as if I were hovering above, watching the coupling taking place on
the bed below me.  It was all pretty surreal.

	Trey, meanwhile, was beginning to moan and mutter, obviously
getting into getting into me.

	"Man," he gasped, "your ass is SO tight!  And it's so cool
	the way you're helping!"

	'Helping?'  I realized that I was clenching my sphincter on
the backstrokes.  What was happening here?  Was I really getting
into this myself?  What did that say about me? Was I, AM I, gay?  It
certainly seemed that I was getting off getting it on with Trey.
What was I learning about myself?  And, even if I was finding this
particular coupling enjoyable, what about being at the mercy of the
two men, or perhaps of Trey, Chaz. Mark, and Cedric?  My whole life
would be at their pleasure.  I could be summoned to suck dick or to
be fucked at their whim.

	That thought caused Junior to lose his enthusiasm.  Trey,
however, who had been moaning and grunting, was obviously getting
close.

	"Oh . . . Tim . . . you must . . . have been . . . hiding
your . . . ung . . .past!  You . . . ung . . . are . . . SO . . .
good at this!"

	I realized that I was shoving my butt toward him on the
instrokes, eager to feel him plunging his cock in to me, wanting it
in as far as possible.

	"Oh, shit!  Yeah!  I'm gonna cum!  I'm cuuummming!"

	Trey pulled out of me, spraying cum all over my back and
butt.  I felt empty, cheated, deprived.  It appalled me to know that
in some visceral way, I wanted his cock back inside me.

	"Boy howdy," Chaz said.  "You two put on a real show!"

	Then he came over, handed Trey a towel, and, using another,
began to clean up the cum from my backside. When he finished, he let
his hand rest on my butt for a moment.  I thought perhaps that
signaled a change in his hard-ass attitude until he picked up the
laundry marker and wrote something across my back just above my ass
crack.  Trey looked at what Chaz had written and sighed.  I didn't
learn until later what it said.

	At some point during Trey's and my session, Chaz had put on
his shorts and pulled his t-shirt back down.  After wiping himself
off, Trey put on his shorts, too.

	"Well, Timmy boy," Chaz said.  "That was a pretty good first
time.  Like I said, before long, you're gonna be beggin' us to let
you suck our dicks or fuck you.  You won't be able to get enough.  I
can just tell!"

	"Don't count on it, Chaz," I said.  "You obviously have
leverage so that I am pretty much at your beck and call.  But you
can't make me like it."

	"Oh, I think we already have, Timbo, we already have.  Your
little dick was hard, and I saw how you were pushing your butt at
Trey.  Just wait till next time, and you get to take my big
bludgeon.  I'll bet you even get to like that."

	I hadn't thought about that.  I squirmed just to think about
that big thing of his inside me.  And I wasn't squirming with
pleasure, either.

	Trey came over and, smiling, looked me in the eye.

	"Tim," he said," I know you hate having to do this.  And I'm
sure you have a lot to think about.  Go home.  Get a good night's
rest.  You were great.  We'll be in touch with you again soon.  And,
remember, outside this apartment, no one will ever know what has
happened or will be happening here."

	"You guys are finished with me?  It's all right to go?"

	"Yeah, Timbo," Chaz said, "you can run along now."

	I went back to the living room where I put on my t-shirt,
shorts, and sneakers. The two men watched me silently.  Looking back
as I went out the door, I saw Trey wink at me.

	It took me longer to get home than it had to come to the
apartment, for my ass was sore.  It hurt too much for me to run.
When I got home, I took a long shower.  I soaped up my finger
thoroughly and reamed out my chute as far as I could reach.

	Shortly afterward, I went to bed.  This had been one for the
books.  I had a lot to sort out.  What had I discovered about
myself?  Was I gay?  Did I really like what had happened to me that
evening?  And how could I cope with being on call whenever they
wanted me?

	The last thing I remember before going to sleep, though, was
to think how important it was to keep Amy from learning about any of
this.

(to be continued)