By Quentin Collins (firstname.lastname@example.org)
© BJB Conglomerated Media
This story is fictitious and takes place in a fantastic realm where inconvenient physical, biological, medical, legal, and moral strictures don't exist. It is intended only for the entertainment of those who are legally permitted to access and read it.
This is my first attempt at storytelling, so please be gentle in your criticism, lest you make me cry.
Another thing that makes me cry is the thought that Nifty might go away if we don't support it. Think of the hours of fun you've had on this site. Isn't it worth the price of a movie ticket every month or even every quarter to keep it going? Donate here.
My son Tian and I were almost to our new house! We had exited Interstate 77 onto 378, we just needed to go a mile or so on a few local roads to the house.
I had kept going back and forth between looking for a house on Lake Murray on the west of town or getting a larger property closer to his new school on the southeast side of Columbia. I decided on the latter, figuring that we'd have to drive to the lake no matter what because of hauling kayaks, sculls and other equipment.
I hadn't told Tian much about the new house because I wanted it to be a surprise. I had found a property next to the county recreation fields off Garners Ferry Road. It was an old farm of one hundred ninety-seven acres that had been fallow for years. There was a rundown shack set back far off the road. It was enough of a building that I could get remodeling permits and conduct a "leave one wall up" whole-house remodel and expansion.
Chan was enthusiastically looking around, turning his naked body from one window to the other to take in the neighborhoods and business districts we were going through on the way to our home. He was clutching Mr. Bunny.
"Hey, Bunny, are you excited or nervous," I asked him. "I hope the house would be everything we need."
"I'm excited, dad. I'm sure the house will be everything you've dreamed of." He smiled quixotically.
I stroked his gorgeous, flawless face. "Everything I've dreamed of is right here. There's nothing more I could want."
"Dad, tell us more about Bruiser and Jackson. What happened with them after you met in the weight room?"
I told Tian that we didn't have a whole lot of time left, but I'd give him an abbreviated version for now.
"We have all the time in the world, dad. Tell me everything," Tian enthused.
"Bunny, what are you going to do?"
Tian laughed. "You're way too suspicious, papa bear."
_ _ _ _ _
Bruiser dropped me off at home that evening with Jackson Dries (rhymes with breeze) riding in the back seat until I got out. Both of them had just fucked me in the school showers.
We had arranged to meet after school the next day to go over to Mike Mitchell's house to work out in his basement gym. I had to remember to bring a towel with me. I didn't need anything else since we were going to participate in my new favorite tautology, "naked gym."
I went around to the kitchen door and disrobed in the back hall.
"Did I just see you kissing Bruno di Napoli?"
I turned, surprised to see my mother standing by the living room window, hands on her hips and right foot tapping on the hardwood floor. I quickly finished taking off my clothes and went in to talk to her.
"Yeah, mom, he's a good kisser – a really good kisser. He's a really good lover too. So is Jackson Dries. I didn't know the two of them were gay until today. Jackson's not as good a kisser, but I told him we would practice."
I could see about four thousand emotions running across my mom's face. She took a step toward me and folded her hands in front of her face, resting her chin on her thumbs and stood for a long moment.
"Is Bruno better than Shahin?" she asked through a growing smile.
I closed the distance between us and wrapped her up in a twirling exuberant embrace. I hadn't made it a habit of hugging my mom while I was naked, but I didn't care at that moment. I spun her around three or four times and set her down.
"Mom, it was the freakiest afternoon. First, I met Mr. Katema, our new conditioning coach, during my eighth-period study hall. He's from Ethiopia. Mom, have you ever met anyone from Ethiopia? Do they all have such beautiful complexions? I bet they do. I wish everyone were from Ethiopia. Imagine how much better-looking we'd all be.
"Anyway, Mr. Katema told me to undress so that he could assess me and design a weight conditioning program for me. I got naked, which he said wasn't necessary, but, whatever. And then I forgot that I was supposed to catch the bus, so I went out into the weight room to look for him to tell him I had to go, and that's when Bruiser saw me naked in the middle of everybody. He was there with other guys from the wrestling squad, even though he plays football too. He wanted to be naked when he saw I was naked. Mr. Katema said it was ok. So a few of us got naked, and Bruiser helped with my assessment.
"Then Bruiser told me I was a sweaty, smelly mess. But I didn't have anything to wash with, so he took me with him to shower, and we washed each other. And we kissed. And then we kissed some more. And then I sucked Bruiser. And I sucked Jackson too. And then I told Jackson to fuck me. He wasn't sure, but I convinced him it would be a good idea. And it was, mom. It was the best idea I had all day!" I could barely contain my enthusiasm.
"As soon as Black Jack came in me – Black Jack is Jackson Dries. He's different from Slack Jack, who is the slowest guy on the football team. He doesn't like being known as a slacker, but he kind of is, according to Bruiser. I think they call Jackson `Black Jack' because he likes to play cards. Oh, wait, Jackson is black. Maybe that's why they call him Black Jack? Duh.
"Anyway, Black Jack shot his load in my ass, then I spun around and took Bruiser in me. Mom, he is really, really something else. I had a massive orgasm while he was fucking me. Then we kissed some more.
"Oh, mom, Bruiser kissed me like he already loves me. I know that's stupid because we just talked for the first time today. But it felt like that.
"Oh, mom!!!" I shouted in exhilaration.
Mom grabbed me by the shoulders and told me to calm down. "What is it, Andy? I'm right here."
"Can he come over sometime? He seems to like being naked, so I bet he'd enjoy himself at our house. Maybe he could bring over a di Napoli pizza, and we could hang out? And maybe Jackson could stay too. They're both really nice, mom. I can tell.
"Oh, and we're supposed to go over to Mike Mitchell's house tomorrow to lift weights in his basement. Mike is a wide receiver on the football team. He's really tall. Mike's dad is Dr. Mitchell the dentist, or oral surgeon , or whatever he is. I need to remember to take a towel. Bruiser and Black Jack are going to give me a ride there.
Mom pulled me into another hug and kissed my cheek. "Was that kiss as good as Bruiser's," she joked.
I kissed her back. "Oh, mom, you know that mom kisses are in a league of their own. Nothing will ever be better than a kiss from my mom."
By this time we heard the kitchen door opening, and my dad came in and started to undress for his pre-dinner shower after a day working as the area's best plumber. Maybe I'm prejudiced. Mom told me to go downstairs with him to wash his back and fill him in on everything I just told her.
As I was helping dad dry after the shower, he asked me, "Andy, you're only thirteen. Do you think you're a little young to be going out with a junior and a senior?"
I hadn't really given it much thought. I pondered for a minute and then said, "Bruiser is younger than Dan and Shahin. And Jackson is even younger than Bruiser. And they're both way, way, way younger than you. I've sucked all of you off, and you've all fucked me. Why should Bruiser and Jackson be off limits if we like each other?"
Dad said, "But Dan, Bird, and I are family. That is different. Please don't take this the wrong way, but what do two upperclassmen football and wrestling studs see in a scrawny freshman like you, adorable as you are? Can you be sure they're not just using your gullibility to get a quick blowjob and a willing hole to throw a fuck into?"
Dad must have seen me wince. My eyes filled with water. "Dad! Please don't say that. We talked a lot before we showered. We really hit it off. I know you will like them. Please, dad, let's invite them over so you all can meet.
"Please, dad. Mr. Katema treated them like they're good people too. I trust Mr. Katema. He saw us showering together. I know he would have warned me off from them if he thought they were untrustworthy or predatory. He knows them pretty well already. And he's a psychologist too so he would know if they're sociopaths or psychopaths or serial killers. Please, please, please, dad!"
My dad and I hugged for a long time. His cock pressed into my scrawny belly while he rubbed my back.
"I'm sorry, Andy, for being so blunt. I just don't want to see you hurt. You are very young, and your hormones seem to win every battle. You've already gotten a girl pregnant. I don't want to see you get pregnant too."
It took me a few moments to get the joke. When I did, I smacked my dad's bare ass. Dad took my face in his hands and kissed me affectionately on the lips, briefly exploring my mouth with his tongue.
"You're right, Andy. I shouldn't judge Bruno and Jackson before we meet properly. Ask them to come over. Maybe they'll want to come Friday night after the football game. Or maybe they can come over Saturday and spend the night. Whatever works best for the three of you."
I kissed my dad giddily.
_ _ _ _ _
The next day I was anxious all day for the final bell so that I could go to Mike Mitchell's house with Bruiser and Black Jack. It seemed as if the day was forty-five hours long. I was finally at my locker trading out my books for my backpack.
I had brought only a towel as instructed. Well, that's not true. I actually brought two towels: a smaller one to sit on, and a large bath towel. I also brought a small bottle of lube in case we needed to grease ourselves up for some post-workout sex play. A boy can dream.
I slammed my locker door and spun around to race to the front of the school. My face implanted in the solid wall that is Jackson's chest.
"Hello, Drew! I came to make sure you were still a go for our workout session today." Jackson wrapped an arm around me. I looked up at him like a goof, with a dreamy smile spreading across my face. Jackson was handsome even with clothes on!
He grabbed my backpack from me and carried it along with his. He opened the doors in the hallway for me and held open the front door of the school for me. He was kind and chivalrous. It felt as if we were on a date or something.
"Jackson," I asked tentatively as we made our way to the senior parking lot, "my dad wants to know why a stud like you would be interested in a scrawny freshman like me?"
Jackson stopped in his tracks. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Drew. Wait just a damn minute! I can't believe you just said that. You wanna repeat that to my face? Did your dad actually say I was a stud? He used the word `stud?'"
Jackson puffed out his strong chest and ran a hand over the black skin of his shaved head. "I can't believe your dad called me a stud. That makes my day."
I looked at Jackson and laughed. "Dude, I think you missed the point."
"What do you mean?"
Why would you, Jackson `Black Jack' Dries, be interested in hanging out with me, Andrew `Andy-Drewski-Drew' Tarnow?"
Jackson laughed in return. "Oh, that's easy: I like you, Drew. You say stupid shit, but it's always true."
"I mean that you say what you think, Drew. There's no bullshit. You give as well as you take. That's so cool. But you're a smartass, you're not mean. I don't like mean people. And Bruiser thinks you're totally adorable.
"Do you know how often I'm talking to someone, and they're saying all these politically correct words, or acting all polite and stuff, but all I can hear are the undertones of `nigger, nigger, nigger?' You would call me a nigger to my face, just like Mike called you a faggot yesterday. That's why I like you. And I like the way you responded to him. Remember what you said?"
"What? I don't remember," I stammered, taken aback hearing Jackson utter those words.
"You said to Mike, `I am a faggot.' That took balls, Drew. You didn't know that Mike is really a sweetheart. He could have messed you up. You got balls. They taste good too. I know that if you wanted to call me a nigger, you would do it to my face," Jackson said matter-of-factly.
"But I don't want to call you that."
"I know. But I'm saying that, if you wanted to call me a nigger, you would just flat out say it. That's what I like: that you'd call me a nigger."
I was getting frustrated. "I. Don't. Want. To. Call. You. That!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that," Jackson said. "I'm just saying you would call me a nigger if you wanted to, and not hold back. That's cool."
I yelled, "Jesus cunt-licking Christ, Jackson! I don't want to call you a nigger! Dammit! God dammit! God fucking dammit! Shit! Fuckity! Fuckity! Fuck! Look what you made me do! And, for the record, you're not a very good kisser even though you're a great fuck," I yelled at the top of my lungs.
Suddenly everyone in the parking lot was looking at us and carefully backing away. My voice, perhaps, carried a wee bit farther than I intended. Probably all of Somerset County heard me.
Jackson kept walking along as though nothing happened and bellowed with laughter. "See, that's what I mean: you say what you think. That's why I like you, Drew. Tell your dad that. Also tell him I said, `Thank you' for calling me a stud."
We were at Bruiser's car by now. Jackson threw our bags in the back seat, then turned around and kissed me with a probing tongue while people were still staring at us. "So, that kiss wasn't any good, Drew?"
I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. "I'm sorry."
He kissed me again, more tenderly. It was really quite nice. "How was that Drew?"
"I mean I'm sorry about what I said, Jackson. I don't think that word has ever come out of my mouth before. I am truly sorry. Can I have my backpack, please? I'm going to take the bus home. I can't stand myself right now. I'm really sorry, Jackson. It was a nice kiss."
I began sobbing right there in the parking lot in front of everyone. Bruiser saw me crying and got out of the car. He held me close. "What happened? What's going on?"
Jackson threw up his hands. "I don't know, Bruiser. We were having a nice little chitchat, you know, laughing and shit, and suddenly he just started crying like a baby. Maybe he has colic. We should rub his belly."
Jackson reached between Bruiser and me and made small circles on my belly. Despite my current emotional meltdown and the fact that he intended it as a joke, his hand did feel soothing.
I pulled myself away from Bruiser's powerful embrace and turned to Jackson. "I called you the N word."
Jackson looked at me as if I were a space alien. "No, you didn't."
"Yes, Jackson, I said that word."
"No, dumbass, you didn't. You said that you didn't want to call me a nigger. You didn't call me a nigger. It would be the same as if I said to you, `Don't give me a reason to call you a cunt. I don't want to call you a cunt.' Would you say that I called you a cunt?"
I wiped my face with the back of my hand. "But I used that word. That terrible word."
"You mean `nigger,'" Jackson asked.
"Stop saying that word! It's terrible. I'm sorry. What does it say about me that I even thought to say it? What if I am a secret bigot?"
Jackson laughed. "Drew, you are a secret bigot, buddy. So am I. Everyone has unconscious biases. You think that my being black makes me immune from it? The key is that you have to step back from time to time to question whether you're acting because of your biases.
"I have a feeling you question yourself every day, Drewski. Let's get in the car and discuss this on the way to Mike's house. You think a lot, Drewski. You think way too much."
I reluctantly got in the back seat of Bruiser's car. Jackson got in the front seat. That was probably the twenty-seven-thousandth time today someone told I overthought something.
We exited the school parking lot and headed down the road.
Jackson turned to Bruiser. "Drew says I'm not a good kisser, but that I'm a great fuck."
"Truth," Bruiser said.
I wanted to jump out of the car.
Jackson turned in his seat. "What the fuck, man! Why is this the first I'm hearing this? Doesn't anybody think I'm a good kisser?"
I leaned forward from the back seat, still recovering from my emotional crying jag in the middle of the parking lot. "You are a good kisser, Jackson. When you kissed me just before – in front of every damn body in the parking lot by the way – it was very nice. But you always seem to hold back with your tongue game. I don't know. But I enjoy kissing you, Jackson, I really do. And, you know, I don't have a lot of experience, but, oh man, you are a fantastic fuck."
Bruiser grabbed Jackson's hand and kissed it. It was such a sweet and tender gesture that I only then realized how much those two care for each other. "Sweetheart, you can't be the best at everything, even though you think you should be. I love to kiss you. I love to fuck you. I love to get fucked by you. I love to rim you. I love you, Jackson Dries."
Jackson leaned on Bruiser's shoulder, and they shared a quiet few minutes. I enjoyed the quiet too.
We drove through the neighborhood where Nate and Jerry Randolph live, and finally pulled into a driveway a couple more blocks down the street. The Randolphs had a nice middle-class house. Two blocks away the houses must have been three times the size of the Randolphs', and five times the size of my parents' house.
We got out of the car. Jackson insisted on carrying my backpack again. I wasn't in the mood for this: I wanted to go home.
Bruiser must have sensed my mood. "Jackson! Stop for a minute, please, darling."
Jackson turned around to look at Bruiser as he grabbed me by the shoulder and gently pushed me against his car. "Look at that man, Drew. Look at him!"
I looked at Jackson. He looked as confused as I felt.
Bruiser continued. "I love Jackson more than I thought I could love anyone. I want everything that's good in this world to come his way. He and I are thinking about going to the Netherlands to get married. We can get legally married in the Netherlands! We kind of think of ourselves as married already."
Jackson and Bruno beamed at each other. They were truly, deeply in love.
Bruiser put his arm around me. "Do you think that I would let you anywhere near my husband if I thought it was even a remote possibility that you might be a bigot? Do you think I would consider inviting you to be our boyfriend if I thought you might treat my husband badly because he is black?
"I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the smartest guy in the world, Drew, but I ain't dumb enough to put my husband in contact with anyone but the finest people, Drew. We think that could be you."
I stood in fuddled silence. Bruno and Jackson are going to get married? Can guys get married, like for real and legally? They want me to be their boyfriend? They like me?
"I, uh, I mean," I stammered. "You called him your husband? You can get married? That's so cool! I never thought about that. I can see how much you love each other. Can I come to your wedding? Maybe I will get married one day. Will you guys come to my wedding?"
Bruiser kissed me briefly but sweetly and dragged me over to Jackson so I could walk between them. Jackson kissed the top of my head.
I suddenly felt on top of the world. These sexy and kind men want me to be their boyfriend. I had no idea how the three of us would be boyfriends, but I was willing to try.
_ _ _ _ _
Mike met us at the front door as we walked through the front portico. "Hey, guys! Come on in! What took you so long?"
We walked into a spacious foyer as Mike held open the door, uncaring that anyone might see him standing naked at his front door. The large house was set back more than a hundred feet from the street, so I guess people wouldn't be able to see very well.
Bruiser said, "We had to convince Drew to come with us. He wasn't sure we really wanted him here after he criticized Jackson's kissing technique."
"Of course we want you here, Drew. Bruiser and Black Jack like you. That means you're good enough to go anywhere in the world. They have very high standards. Let's get going. Tell me how bad a kisser Jackson is."
We went downstairs to a finished spacious recreation room with a pool table and full wet bar. I tried to explain that Jackson was a fine kisser, but not the absolute best, in my limited experience.
The rec room was beautiful. It was definitely the work of a professional decorator. We walked through to a doorway on the other end. We had arrived at the gym.
The Mitchells had better equipment than we had at school. I followed the three of them to a corner locker area where Jackson put my backpack in one cubby, and his own in another. Bruno put his duffle bag in a cubby next to Jackson's.
We took off our clothes and stored them with our bags. I asked about grabbing a towel to sit on.
Mike asked, "Is your ass clean?
"Yeah. I used the water wand in our basement shower at home. We got it from Nate Randolph when my dad took us over to their house. Nate showed Dan and me how to take enemas and use anal rinsing equipment. I clean myself every day!" I said proudly. I deliberately omitted mentioning Shahin to protect the secret of his orientation.
Mike, Bruiser, and Jackson exchanged smirking glances as we put on our workout shoes.
Mike announced that it was chest and back day, adding that they would teach me everything I needed to know to start building muscles.
We started by getting our blood flowing on the treadmills and elliptical trainers. There were two of each. I had just worked up a good sweat when it was time to move on.
Mike looked at the distance I clocked on the treadmill and offer effusive praise for my speed. He had been on the treadmill next to me and was running full out for fifteen minutes. From what I could see in my peripheral vision, his form was perfection. No wonder he is the best pass receiver in the league.
I was feeling better by the minute. They were treating me as if I had always been part of their group.
All three guys were very kind and patient with me as they explained and demonstrated how to do each exercise. They put hands on me frequently to correct my form, but nothing felt particularly sexual. Well, except for when we would tweak each other's nipples from time to time as one of us lay back on a weight bench or inclined sit-up board. But it was all in good fun. Mike had great nipples.
It was great to work out naked with these guys. I felt our bond strengthening very quickly. I also felt my muscles responding to unaccustomed stress. I knew I would be sore later on, but it would be a good sore, not one from injuries.
I was the last one on the rowing machine, being cheered and guided by my three good friends and sweaty, well-muscled athletes. I didn't realize that, while it was upper body day, the rowing machine worked pretty much the entire body.
"Hey guys, you working out?" I heard an unfamiliar voice.
"Yeah, dad. We're in here just finishing up," Mike said. I looked up into the wall mirror to see Dr. Mitchell walking through the gym. He was a tall and fit-looking man in his early forties, maybe a couple of years younger than my dad. He wasn't as bulky has his son, Mike, but his musculature looked well-developed under the thin cotton fabric of his mint-green scrubs. It looked as if his nipples were trying to poke through his shirt. I was pretty sure he was going commando too from the poking that was going on down there.
"You guys are working out naked now, I see. Mind if I join in?" Dr. Mitchell spotted me continuing to row while Black Jack acted as my cockswain. "Oh, I didn't realize that you have a new member in your club. Welcome, young man."
Jackson was counting my repetitions encouragingly as Mike explained who I was and how I almost accidentally instigated naked workouts in the school weight room, so they decided to do them at home too.
"Well it's about damn time," Dr. Mitchell said as he took off his scrubs and shoes and stood completely naked and relaxed with us. My lats and triceps were burning from rowing with one of the lowest resistance settings on the machine, but I was able to steal a few glances at Dr. Mitchell's impressive body.
He was covered in a dusting of dark, closely trimmed hair. While his abs weren't quite cut, they were obviously very tight. His pubic hair was tightly trimmed as well, making visible his four-inch flaccid uncut cock. His thighs were very impressive. They weren't Jackson Dries impressive, but they weren't far behind.
Though a couple of inches shorter, and with unkempt body hair, Mike looked very much like his dad, except his dad's nipples were seriously extended, probably almost an inch from his areolas.
After he folded his scrubs and put them and his shoes in a clubby, he explained, "I pressed for separate workout rooms attached to the boys and girls locker rooms specifically for that purpose when they were designing the new school. I was on the building advisory committee. We raised the extra money for duplicate equipment with just a few phone calls. I would have given all the money myself if it had come to that.
"I can't believe it's taken this long for anyone to put that room to its intended purpose. I know how guys like to be naked whenever possible. I'm not sure about the girls, but they are free to do the same if they wish."
Jackson declared that I was done on the rowing machine. I got up and stretched my scrawny naked body, offering myself for inspection by my team of trainers. Sweat was trickling down my flushed skin. I was exhilarated to have worked so many of my muscles today. I wondered how many of the six hundred fifty muscles that Mr. Katema talked about yesterday I had used today.
Dr. Mitchell took a few steps toward me and put his arm around me with the confidence of a man who is used to being in charge. "Thank you, young man, for educating these guys on the way to properly exercise. Did you learn anything from them today?"
I looked up into Dr. Mitchell's gray-green eyes, happy to be leaning against his strong unclothed body. He must have been six-feet-three inches tall. I smiled like a dork. "I think I did, sir. I hope I did. Your son Mike was very kind and patient with me; and, he was very kind to invite me over. You have a beautiful home, sir, from what I've seen."
"I'm glad you are enjoying your visit. I'll pass your compliments about the house to my wife when she gets back from her fall fashion buying spree in Europe. Feel free to explore anywhere in the house you'd like. You are welcome at any time. Any time at all. If Mike thinks you're good people, then you're good people. I'm sorry. I've forgotten your name, young man."
I reintroduced myself to him and told him about my family. I was pleasantly surprised that his attorney and golf buddy, Mr. Madsen apparently speaks of my dad frequently. He also knew that Dan was going to Notre Dame on a soccer scholarship. He spoke as if our family were one of the most important in town, and how everyone respected my dad. I felt like a minor celebrity!
"See there, you are good people!" Dr, Mitchell asked how I came to be part of the group. I told him how Bruiser helped with my assessment by Mr. Katema, then he decided I need to be showered, and that he and Jackson took care of me very well.
"I'm sure they did," joked Dr. Mitchell.
Jackson piped up. "We had a great time until I found out that everyone thinks I'm a terrible kisser." He stuck out his lower lip and looked smoking hot and cuddly cute at the same time.
"I didn't say that!" I protested. "I just said that your tongue skills maybe could stand some improvement. I enjoyed kissing you."
"You know what," Jackson answered, "I wonder if you might be right, though. My vocal teacher told me that I have a lazy tongue today too. We were working on some Italian vocalizes, and I just couldn't wrap my tongue around the Italian. I can't roll my r's for shit.
"Maybe I'm a bad kisser because something is wrong with my tongue?"
"Well, let's see what's going on," Dr. Mitchell said. "Come here, Jackson."
I stepped aside to let Jackson approach. I had almost forgotten that Dr. Mitchell is an oral surgeon. Jackson walked over to Dr. Mitchell and began to kiss him. Jackson's black skin glistened with sweat. Dr. Mitchell wrapped his arms around the teen stud and kissed him enthusiastically.
Dr. Mitchell moved his hands to Jackson's shaved head. It was obvious that he was guiding Black Jack to various positions so that he could examine the teen's tongue with his own. He was dominant over the wrestling stud. They both were breathing deeply through their noses and occasionally grunting. I wished to be kissed like that.
They broke apart after more than five minutes of probing lip lock. A string of saliva connected their mouths. Mike, Bruno and I stood staring in disbelief as Dr. Mitchell licked the shared saliva from Jackson's face.
"First of all, Jackson, I meant for you to come to me so that I could look into your mouth; but, I have to admit that was a pleasurable way to exam a patient," the good doctor joked. Jackson's blush could be seen through his dark melanin.
"Second," he continued, pointing in my direction, "You have some very high standards because that was a very pleasant kiss. No wonder Bruno wants to whisk him away to the Netherlands to get married."
In a completely surprising and unexpected move, I shot off my mouth. "Oh, Dr. Mitchell, that's nothing. You should feel Jackson's cock in your ass! I thought I was orbiting Mars when he shot his load into me yesterday. Bruiser is a fantastically-skilled fuck too, don't get me wrong. But, Jackson can drill me for oil anytime he wants. This well will never go dry.
"Maybe it's that the shape of his penis is complementary to my rectum, or just that it's quite thick, but Jackson hit all the right spots inside me. His penis felt really good in my mouth too. I like the way his head flares just enough to let you feel it moving, but it's not so wide that it feels as if he's pulling your guts out when he pulls out of your ass, you know? And you can really feel it pulsing when he ejaculates. It's not subtle at all, whether it's in your mouth or up your ass. It's really, really good, sir.
"You really owe it to yourself to let both Bruiser and Jackson fuck you, if you haven't already. They are both really skilled, and really thoughtful too. And Bruiser will rock your world when he rims you. Have you had his tongue in your anus, sir?"
Oh crap. I did it again!
Dr. Mitchell laughed as I blushed with my hand over my mouth. "I have not had the pleasure that either of those two young men has given to you. That's something we can discuss later.
"For now, I'd like to get back to my examination of Jackson's tongue. Do you mind my talking about it in front of your husband and friends?"
Jackson glommed onto Bruiser and melted into him when Dr. Mitchell referred to his "husband." His smile was luminous. "Go ahead, sir. I think all of them – even Drew – know everything about me, so I have nothing to hide."
"Ok. Do you mind coming over here so that I can examine your tongue with my eyes this time?
Jackson spent a couple minutes moving his tongue according to Dr. Mitchell's directions, then he was sent back to his "husband."
"I will have to do a closer analysis in the office, but I think you are a candidate for a minor frenulectomy. Do you know what a frenulum is, Jack?"
"Isn't that part of your dick?"
"Well, you do have a frenulum on your penis, but the word refers to a band of tissue that connects one part of the body to another to govern and limit its movement. The frenulum on my penis helps govern the movement of my foreskin. You also have two frenulums which hold your upper and lower lips to your gums.
"The sublingual frenulum is the one I'm speaking of now. It connects your tongue to the floor of your mouth. Some people have a frenulum that goes right to the tip of their tongue, greatly restricting the movement of their tongue. They usually have pronounced difficulty speaking and eating. That condition is called ankyloglossia, or being `tongue-tied.'
"That is not what you have, Jack. Your frenulum is a bit thicker and farther forward than is typical, but I've not noticed any obvious speaking difficulties. Perhaps you are a master at overcoming the lingual restriction.
"The frenulectomy I propose would trim back the connection under your tongue by, probably, about an eighth of an inch. It doesn't sound like much, but it will allow your tongue more freedom of movement. It's not a major surgical procedure at all. Recovery time is generally three to five days. I'm sure someone in your good health would heal quickly.
"You wouldn't be able to exert yourself for a few days, to mitigate the risk of bleeding. That would include any sexual intercourse or masturbation, I'm sorry to say. I would use just a few dissolving stitches. They generally disappear by the end of the third day.
"The first day you might have some stinging pain and soreness. I would give you a mild painkiller for that. You would also be on a soft diet the first thirty-six hours and have to rinse every few hours with an antiseptic mouthwash.
"Other than that, the effects would be immediate. Your tongue will feel odd for a couple of weeks, but you'll adjust quickly, I am certain. I would advise seeing a speech therapist a few times to give you exercises and techniques for your newly-freed tongue. You would also be advised to practice kissing as much as you can after five days or so. You cannot skimp on that if you want to improve your score on the Drew scale."
We chuckled, but then stood silent, considering what Dr, Mitchell explained. Bruiser was rubbing his "husband's" sweaty back and kissing his forehead in reassurance.
Jackson turned to Dr, Mitchell. "It sounds kind of like a no-brainer to me. Or am I missing something? I would have to check with my parents to see if our insurance would cover it."
Dr. Mitchell also rubbed Jackson's back. "I think it is a no-brainer, as you say. But I will have to do a more detailed analysis in the office to verify what I saw – and felt – in your mouth today. And don't worry about the insurance coverage. Your dad works for the Pennsylvania Turnpike Commission, so I'm sure his insurance is very good. I will accept whatever they offer. If they offer nothing, I will cover everything that my practice does. You are like family, Jackson. We take care of family. I know that Byron, my anesthesiologist, will offer his services for free too. He is a big wrestling fan and an even bigger fan of yours."
Jackson laughed. "Heck, he can blow me in exchange for his services, if he wants."
Dr. Mitchell laughed. "He would love that, but not for five days. Other than that, you two can work out whatever payment plan you like."
Jackson hugged Dr. Mitchell. I wanted to take a picture. The wrestler looked up at the oral surgeon. "What about your payment plan?"
They kissed again for a couple of minutes. We could tell that Jackson's mouth was being explored again. Eventually, Dr. Mitchell said, "I'll gladly help you practice kissing after the procedure. I must confess that Drew's enthusiastic endorsement of both of your fucking abilities has me intrigued. I'm sorry to say that I've never engaged in anal sex."
"Don't feel bad, Dr. Mitchell. My dad never did either until a few months ago," I offered. "My mom says that, if you haven't done it, it's because you weren't ready for it. But now dad really likes anal stimulation. His was the first penis inside me. Then my brother Dan made love to me too. The three of us have made love to each other a lot.
"Mom and dad said that they have kind of an open marriage now. Dad likes to get fucked by Nate and Jerry Randolph too, and Tessa. I haven't yet, but I know I would like to. Nate taught us all about anal hygiene and preparation. He's very cute. My mom really likes his girlfriend, Tessa. They like to have sex too while dad, Nate, and Jerry get busy.
"I bet Nate and Jerry would be happy to help you out. Then you and Mike can initiate each other into anal pleasure. You won't regret it. My dad and I can help too if you'd like. But first, you'll have to convince your son to trim his bush. It would be like working your way through the Amazon to get to his dick and balls."
Dammit. Why can't I ever be quiet?
They laughed at my joke. Even Mike laughed while blushing. Dr. Mitchell ran his hand through his son's pubes. "You're right, Drew, we're going to have to take care of all this undergrowth. Don't any of your sex partners complain about your hair, son?"
Mike tensed and cleared his throat. "I like my fur. And, besides, dad. I, uh, don't have sex partners. I'm a virgin, dad."
Mike looked at his father, waiting for judgment or ridicule. Instead, he found a tender embrace.
"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, son. I just assumed that, since you're seventeen and a remarkably-handsome football star, that you would have had sex with someone. Has it been your choice to remain a virgin?"
Mike cried softly on his father's chest. "I don't know dad. I think something is wrong with me. I think I'm broken in the head somehow because I just don't want to have sex. I never think about sex, not like normal people anyway."
Dr. Mitchell squeezed Mike and kissed him over and over. "Oh, my love. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. But we should verify that you have no physical conditions that might cause it. Some people are just asexual. Do you understand?"
Well, you know what sexual orientation is, right? There's heterosexual, bisexual, pansexual, and homosexual. But, in addition to that, there's also the intensity of sexual attraction. Some people seem to have an insatiable desire for sex, no matter what their orientation. It might become so overpowering that it disrupts their life because they can't think of anything else. They are hypersexual.
"At the opposite end of the intensity scale are people who pretty much never have sex enter into their consciousness. Those people are asexual, or hyposexual. That sounds like what you're describing to me. There is nothing wrong with that if that's the way you're wired.
"But there could be a hormonal issue, or some other physical or mental thing going on that is artificially depressing your sex drive. We should run tests to make sure that there is no physical component.
"No matter what, you should never have sex because you feel compelled to. If you don't have a desire for sex, don't force it.
"Tell me, son, how often do you masturbate?"
"I don't know, dad. Maybe once a month or so. Is that normal?"
Dr. Mitchell kissed Mike again. "I would say it's less than normal, but it's fine if it's normal for you. What do you think about when you masturbate?"
Mike looked embarrassed. He looked at Bruiser and Jackson briefly, then looked down. "Them."
Mike cried again. "I'm sorry, guys. I know I'm a creep."
Bruiser grabbed Mike from his dad and hugged him tightly. "Are you kidding, man! That's, like, the highest praise I think I could get. You don't really care about sex. But, if you were going to have sex, it would be with my husband and me? That's the coolest thing ever. I love you, Mike. You're the best friend ever! I love you so much."
Jackson agreed and helped squeeze Mike in a stud sandwich. "I love you, too, Mike. When you said you think about us, what do you think about, specifically? Do you pretend that you are one of us, or that the two of us are doing something to you?"
Mike cried again. "I'm so sorry, guys. I'm so embarrassed. I think I need therapy."
"Don't be embarrassed, son," Dr. Mitchell encouraged. "Your friends are holding you and asking to get to know you better. None of us is going anywhere. We're here for you no matter what, am I correct?"
We all reassured Mike of our constant support. Even I pledged my support, who have known him only for a couple of days.
"Come, son. Tell us who you are," Dr. Mitchell whispered.
"I don't pretend to be either one of you," Mike stammered through his tears. "I'm your puppy. This is stupid."
Mike stopped talking, waiting for our reaction. Dr. Mitchell whispered again. "We're all still here, son. Keep going. What does that look like to you?"
Mike realized that we weren't laughing at him or chiding him. "See, I saw something online – I don't know – maybe a year ago about puppy culture. Something in me snapped or exploded. Some circuit in me powered up, and I've been thinking about it ever since.
"You guys are married and living together somewhere. When you make love, I'm right there, with a fuzzy tail on a butt plug, crawling around and licking you everywhere. Sometimes one or both of you put peanut butter on your dicks, or in your asses, and I spend hours feasting on your bodies. I hump your legs and arms too. Sometimes you have to put me on a leash or in my crate, so I stop licking you. It's, like, the only fantasy I have.
"I usually am able to stop myself before I let it go too far. But sometimes I actually masturbate and cum all over myself thinking that I'm your puppy. I can't stand myself. I can suppress it for a few weeks, but then it comes back. I can't make it stop."
Jackson sighed. "Well, okay, then."
Mike said, with some anger in his voice. "You hate me, don't you?"
Jackson laughed. "No, dude. I meant Okay, then. Let's do it. You can be our puppy if you want to be, right sweetheart?"
Bruiser looked at Jackson and broke into a wide smile. "Do you have any peanut butter, Dr. Mitchell? I want to play with my puppy!"
Dr. Mitchell laughed briefly, but then took Mike's chin in his hand. "So, you were lying before?"
Mike looked stricken.
Dr. Mitchell continued. "You told me that you weren't interested in sex. That was a lie. You're as interested in sex as anyone of us, but you've decided that the kind of sex you want is wrong, so you're trying to suppress your sexuality. That's not healthy, son."
"But, dad. But, I mean, did you hear me?"
"Yes, I heard you, son. Do you think that you are, in reality, a puppy?"
"No, dad, of course not."
"So, you have a sex fantasy. You know it's a fantasy. There's nothing wrong with that. You're allowed to indulge your fantasies as long as everyone agrees, and nobody gets hurt."
"Can I play with my puppy, then? Please? I think this could be fun," Bruiser was almost bouncing with excitement.
"I've never had a puppy," Jackson said. He began to scratch Mike behind the ear. Mike stood in shock for a minute, then got down on all fours and began to lick Jackson's feet, then planted his face in Jackson's delicious crotch, sniffing enthusiastically.
Mike's cock sprang up instantaneously. It was a monstrous erection.
I went to my backpack and found the flip phone that my dad handed down to me for emergencies. I beep-beep-beeped my way down my directory to Nate Randolph's number and hit "talk."
He picked up on the third ring. We chatted for a few minutes, and I hung up smiling.
Dr. Mitchell looked at me. I took him aside as Bruiser and Jackson started playing with their puppy. "Uh, Dr. Mitchell, do you mind spending some money?"
"Am I going to regret asking on what?"
I just got off the phone with Randolph's Grown-up Gadgets. I told Nate we had a sex emergency. He is on his way over with puppy supplies. The only thing they didn't have in stock was a crate big enough to hold the pup."
Dr. Mitchell kissed my cheek. "I'll spend whatever it takes to make my boy happy. I guess I'd better get dressed and go answer the door."
"Oh, no. Don't put on a thing. Nate would be disappointed if you did. He can stay a few minutes to show us how everything should be used, but he said he has to get back to the store."
Dr. Mitchell announced, "Come on, you two, we're going upstairs to the family room. Bring your puppy with you. I don't trust him alone down here. He might piss on the floor."
Mike bounded over to his dad and began to lick his legs. Tears of relief and happiness were running down his cheeks.
Dr. Mitchell sat on his haunches and mussed Mike's hair. "Who's the good boy? Are you a good boy? You are, aren't you? You're the best boy in the world! Bruno and Jackson are lucky to have such a good puppy! It's no wonder we all love you so much."
Mike licked his dad's face as Bruno and Jackson patted their puppy's bottom.
Bruno said, "Let's call him `Lucky' because we were so lucky to find our dream dog."
Jackson laughed. "I like that! Lucky it is! We are lucky."
_ _ _ _ _
The family room spanned a good portion of the back of the house and was decorated to tread the line between swank and casual. There was a large stucco fireplace flanked by four sets of French doors leading out to a covered loggia that, in turn, opened to a patio and beautifully-landscaped inground pool area.
The furniture was arranged in several groupings, one of them being with a round glass dining table with six chairs. Bruiser and Jackson sat together on a leather love seat by the fireplace. Before they knew what happened, they had a very muscular puppy in their laps, nuzzling them in turn.
Dr. Mitchell sat in a facing love seat and pulled me down next to him. He put his arm around me.
"Drew, why do I have a feeling I have you to thank for this breakthrough?"
"Me? What did I do?"
Dr. Mitchell laughed. "Well, there's that for one. Would you mind getting the door?"
I got up to head to the foyer. Bruiser, Jackson, and Lucky didn't even seem to notice the doorbell. I could see that it was Nate through the rolled glass lite of the door before I opened it.
He didn't look even a little surprised to see me standing naked in the foyer of the manse of one of the most prominent men in town.
Nate breezed into the house carrying two large bags. He kissed me on the cheek. "Hello, Andy, so good to see you again! How are your parents? I hope we can get together soon. Maybe this weekend?"
"I'll ask. Actually, Bruno di Napoli and Jackson Dries are coming over this weekend too. It should be a good time all around. I will have to ask if they can bring their puppy with them too."
We headed back to the family room. The three teens on the loveseat finally noticed our presence and sat frozen. Once they realized that Dr. Mitchell and I were also still naked, they relaxed somewhat. Mike seemed to come out of "puppy mode," and sat like a human squeezed between his masters.
Dr. Mitchell stood. "You must be Nate. I'm Ed Mitchell. You know Drew, of course."
"Drew?" Nate asked.
"Yeah, I'm Drew now," I answered, smiling.
"Ok. Do you mind if I get comfortable?" Nate didn't wait for a response before he began to undress.
"So, who is who over here," the now-naked Nate asked. I wanted to taste his smooth alabaster skin.
The guys introduced themselves, slowly becoming comfortable with the stranger in their midst.
"Which one of you wants to be a puppy?"
Mike's crimson full-body blush answered the question.
Nate looked around. "And you are all his sex partners? Are there others that aren't here today?"
Dr. Mitchell spoke up. "None of us is Mike's sex partner. At least not yet. Mike told us today that he is a virgin. He has had these puppy fantasies – mostly concerning Jackson and Bruno – but he has been trying to suppress them, and everything else having to do with sex because he thought he was a freak."
"Well, I can tell you that you are not a freak – at least not concerning this. We sell tens of thousands of dollars of merchandise for puppies and furries every year. You may not be exactly mainstream, but you are in very good and plentiful company, I can assure you."
Nate stood. "Mike, will you please walk me to the bathroom?"
Mike got up, and the two of them walked out of the room together. It was several minutes until they came back. Mike looked a little happier as he sat between his fantasy lovers.
Nate sat in a suede side chair. "I didn't really have to go to the bathroom, as I suppose you guessed. I wanted to hear from Mike directly that he wants to lose his virginity. I am convinced that none of you is pressuring him to have sex before he is ready. I didn't think that was the case, but one can never be too sure."
Nate sat, his posture and demeanor indicating that he was ready to restart his session. He turned back to Mike. "Do you have a puppy name?"
Jackson chimed in, "We decided to call him `Lucky' because we feel so lucky to have him in our lives."
Nate looked directly at Mike. "What should I call you?"
"I'm Mike. Sorry, I thought we went through that already."
Nate patted his knee. "I just wanted to verify that you don't go by `Lucky' all the time."
"Oh. Sorry. No. I've never been called `Lucky' until about ten minutes ago."
"Very good. So, you don't actually think of yourself as a puppy, correct? You understand that it's a role-playing sex game, right? You can go into your puppy personality and come back out of it to carry on with your daily routine, right?"
Mike stared at Nate with growing anger. "Are you asking if I'm crazy?"
Nate was unfazed. "Yes, actually I am. I'm happy to assist people in having a fulfilling sex life, but I refuse to play into someone's delusions or psychopathy. I wasn't trying to accuse you. I was trying to protect myself and my business. Do you understand?"
Mike relaxed a bit. "Yeah, I see your point. You must get some pretty, shall we say, `interesting' people coming through your doors."
Nate had a good belly laugh at that. "Definitely. But I am pretty sure you are not one of the `interesting' ones. I don't know your dad, but, the fact that he's a doctor gives me hope that he would recognize signs of this moving from a fun fantasy to an unhealthy obsession.
"Now, is it alright to get started? I assume that everyone here is willing to be open and honest with me and that you are all supportive of Mike's desire to play puppy games?"
We all nodded. Bruiser and Black Jack also kissed Mike.
Nate proceeded to empty his bags. They contained a vast assortment of puppy tail butt plugs, masks, collars, harnesses, leashes, gloves that look like paws, and knee pads. There were even cock rings and chastity devices. Some of it was almost comical, other stuff looked pretty menacing and bondage-adjacent. He also brought several kinds of lube, some of it flavored.
He spent several minutes explaining each thing and how they differ from the others. A few of the plugs were actually hollow anal spreaders so the puppy's anus could be kept open at all times, and he couldn't refuse penetration until play time was over.
Mike looked at Bruiser. "Do you think this one would be good for me?"
Nate stood abruptly, pointed forcefully at Bruno and told him to keep quiet. Then he turned back to Mike. "He," pointing to Bruiser, "and he," pointing to Jackson, "and he," pointing to Dr. Mitchell, "and he," pointing to me, "do not get to define what makes you happy or fulfilled. Do you understand me?"
Mike sheepishly nodded.
"I don't want to come off like a jerk, Mike, but I cannot impress upon you enough that it is up to you to decide what kind of sex life you want to have. This kind of sex fantasy play implies submission on your part, but you decide when and how you are going to be submissive. These can be dangerous games with young, inexperienced people.
"You can lose some of your self-worth if you're not careful. Always remember that it is up to you how you permit others to enjoy your body, and you must respect your partners' boundaries too. It's up to you to set limits on how much submission, bondage, or pain you're willing to experience, if any at all.
"You are not anyone's plaything. Do you understand? You set the rules for your own body, not them.
"If you like this particular puppy tail, tell your partners that, and then ask if they would like to play with you using this tail. If not, maybe you will find another one that you like and that they think is also fun.
"If you all can't come to a mutual agreement, then maybe you have the wrong partners for this particular game. That doesn't make any of you wrong, or bad people. It just means that you have different tastes. Move on.
"Now, have I explained all this stuff well enough? I'll have to get going soon, but I won't leave until I'm comfortable that we understand each other."
We sat silently for a couple of minutes. Mike picked up an anal spreader tail again.
"Guys, I like this one because it tells everyone that I'm ready for penetration. As long as I get to decide when and for how long I have this in me. If I'm wearing this, I'm giving consent for anal play. Maybe I'll be wearing a mask or decide to go nonverbal for a while, but there will be no confusion about my intentions once I slide this into my ass.
"If I insert one of these others, you will have to ask if your puppy wants to have his tail replaced by your penises, mouths, or hands. I guess you could also ask if I'm willing to have one of the other tails replaced by the anal spreader.
"Is that what you meant, Nate? I mean, I feel suddenly powerful saying what I like out loud. I've never done that before."
Nate jumped up. "Yes! You get it! This isn't about telling them what to do. It's about giving yourself permission to like what you like. It's extremely powerful to speak your desire out loud. I am happy that you understand so well, so quickly."
Nate stood. "As I said, I should get back to the store. Tessa is there by herself, and it's getting to be our busier time of day."
Dr. Mitchell also stood and approached Nate. "Mr. Randolph, you are a very impressive young man. I feel as if I have watched a year's worth of therapy in thirty minutes. I am thrilled that Drew thought to call you. I'm very grateful to both of you.
"Please wait just a moment, I want to get something."
He ran out of the room. I was impressed by how tight his body was while he jogged away. About a minute later he was back with a fistful of cash.
"I would like to settle the bill. We'll keep everything and decide later what to use. Here are two thousand dollars. Will that be a good down payment on all this merchandise?"
Nate laughed. "Dr. Mitchell, that's about four times what this is worth. You need to come into our store sometime to get an idea of the market prices."
"I will proudly do that, and I will tell everyone I know that I am a customer of your establishment. Keep all the money. Your assistance today is worth more than this. Take your lovely Tessa for a weekend trip somewhere. Or buy yourself something pretty. I don't care. Just take it with my gratitude."
The embrace that Dr. Mitchell received from Nate was long and filled with loving touches. "I'm going to take Tessa to a spa we've been hoping to try outside of Washington, D.C. When we make love there, I will tell her to think of you. I'll be thinking of you as well!
"Gotta run. Thanks again. Enjoy yourself, Mike, however you want to."
Nate swept up his clothes in one arm and ran out the front door naked. I looked at Mike, still sitting between Jackson and Bruiser. He met my glance. "I'm a little bit overwhelmed. I don't know what to do."
"Maybe you just need to relax and not think for a while," I offered. "I'm usually accused of thinking too much."
I smirked at Jackson and Bruiser. I thought for a moment. "Dr. Mitchell, is there a place the four of us can give Mike a soothing massage?"
Ed Mitchell clapped his hands. "Yes, that's a perfect idea. What do you think Mike? Would you like all of us to help you relax as we show you how much we love you?"
Mike just looked from one to the other of us, beaming. His eyes brimmed with emotion.
"Good. That's settled. You guys will all stay for dinner afterward, won't you? I don't want us to rush. As a matter of fact, I'd like you all to stay with us overnight. I know it's a school night, but maybe I can convince your parents. I too have to get up early tomorrow to get to the hospital."
_ _ _ _ _
Dr. Mitchell led the way upstairs to the master suite. He pointed to a phone in an adjoining sitting room and said I could use that to call home if I didn't want to use my cell phone. My mom was happy to allow me to stay for dinner but didn't want me to stay overnight. I explained that Mike had a very emotional day, and Dr. Mitchell wanted those of us who went through it with him to stay the night. Jackson and Bruiser would be staying too.
"Is Mike going to be okay?" mom asked with concern.
"I think so, mom. He has been suppressing something about himself for a while now. He's been hating himself for desires he thought were improper. Nate Randolph was here, and we all talked about everything. Mom, the love and compassion that Jackson, Bruiser, and Dr. Mitchell showed to Mike was breathtaking. I don't know why they want me to be a part of this, but I feel privileged to have been asked."
"It sounds as if this would be good for you too, Andy. I think you should sleep over as long as you can be of assistance. Do you know what you're going to do?"
"First the four of us are going to give him a long and quiet massage to help him let go of everything that's been troubling him. I have a feeling he is going to cry himself to sleep in relief, and that's going to be it for the night. We will stay with him, of course."
I heard my mom sniffle over the phone. "He will be lucky to have you there, Andy. Love him as much as you know how. Tell him your dad and I send our best if you think it will help. I love you, Andy."
"I love you, too, mom. Oh, and mom?"
"They seem to be calling me `Drew' all of a sudden. I think I like it. It sounds grown up."
Mom chuckled. "Do you want your dad and me to call you Drew as well?"
"Yeah, mom, I think I do."
"I love you, Drew. Have a good night."
I went into the master bedroom to find Dr. Mitchell pulling back furniture from in front of the glowing fireplace. We spread out several layers of blankets, and then a top sheet. There was also a small pillow there for Mike's head, and several other pillows scattered around for our comfort.
Dr. Mitchell lit candles around the room and turned on some soothing music. It was romantic. Bruiser and Black Jack looked alluring in candlelight. I felt myself getting an erection just looking at them.
Mike lay on his stomach, and we began passing around a bottle of oil. Bruiser and I each took a leg to start with, while Jackson and Dr. Mitchell took his back and arms. We did our best to remain as quiet as possible while coordinating our moves.
Mike emitted almost constant sighs and moans. About ten minutes into the massage, Bruiser and I were both at the top of Mike's legs and began to work his glutes on our upstrokes. Our thumbs spread Mike's glutes, exposing his virgin hole.
Mike moaned each time and let his hole open. Bruiser and I poured generous amounts of oil in our hands. As we went up this time, Bruiser's thumbed brushed directly over Mike's anus. Mike didn't flinch or contract at all. He simply moaned long and low.
I brushed my thumb over his anus and got the same reaction. The oil matted down the hair in his crack, and I enjoyed coaxing all of it to lay in one direction. Bruiser lingered a little longer with his next turn. On my next turn, I circled his lovely anus with my thumb several times.
"Yessssssss," was Mike's response. I felt my erection rise more. I saw Bruiser's large tool harden also.
Bruiser dipped the tip of his thumb inside Mike's anus on his next turn and got a similar response. I stuck my tongue out at Bruiser. He nodded.
We both brought our faces to Mike's ass, me from the top, and Bruiser from the bottom. Our tongues met in the middle, and we proceeded to give Mike his first ever rimming.
"O-o-o-o-oh god, yessssss."
I think Mike was enjoying it. He brought his ass up to make it easier for us to access it. I was surprised that Mike tasted so clean. He obviously believes in hygiene.
I enjoyed sliding my tongue along Bruiser's. We gave each other pleasure as we gave pleasure to Mike. We continued doing so for many minutes. We were able to push our joined tongues into his anus as far as we could extend them.
I suspected that Mike used some kind of anal toy the few times he did masturbate because he seemed capable of taking our tongues with ease and eagerness.
"Bruiser. Bruiser. Please," Mike moaned.
"What do you want me to do, my love," Bruiser asked.
"Fuck me, Bruiser. Please show me you love me. Please."
I looked at Dr. Mitchell with some concern. I certainly wouldn't want Mike's first experience to be painful. Dr. Mitchell kissed Mike's cheek. "Sweetie, do you mind if I play with your hole for a bit? I want to make sure you're ready for Bruiser to love you the way you want to be loved."
"Thank you, dad," Mike sighed.
I poured oil onto Dr. Mitchell's hand. He inserted his index and middle fingers simultaneously. Mike simply sighed and relaxed into it. Dr. Mitchell scissored his son, twisting his fingers around inside Mike's relaxed and willing anus. A third finger was added. Dr. Mitchell was hand fucking his son now. Mike couldn't get enough.
"Please, all of you. Please inside me. Please," Mike begged,
Ed Mitchell smiled at Bruiser and kissed his lips as I lubed up Bruiser's rampant erection.
"Shall I make love to Mike or Lucky," Bruiser asked.
"Mike, please. I think I'd like to be myself."
Dr. Mitchell looked visibly relieved to hear that. He withdrew his hand from his son's ass. Mike hiked up his knees to raise his ass to a better fucking position but left his upper body limp and splayed out on the blankets.
"I love you, Mike. I am eager to show you how much," Bruiser whispered.
Bruiser sank his substantial penis into Mike's ass in a single slow drive. It was difficult to determine which one of the teens was enjoying himself more.
Mike kept his eyes closed and bit his lip occasionally. He looked as if his entire consciousness was centered in his rectum. I noticed his uncut penis was now more than eight inches long and drizzling precum.
Bruno looked erotic as he slowly fucked his friend. His chest and shoulders remained mostly still, but his hips moved in and out in a practiced figure eight. This boy knew how to fuck.
Mike must have thought so too because he started shooting powerful ropes of cum about two minutes later. It was amazing: he remained perfectly still during his orgasm except for his bobbing squirting penis and his spasming ass. He didn't make a sound other than deep breathing.
The squeezing of Bruno's dick by Mike's ass set him off much sooner than I presumed he would have liked, but he was concerned only with Mike's happiness.
Bruno rubbed his hands all over Mike's oiled body as he groaned through his orgasm. He pulled out after catching his breath and went back to rimming Mike.
Bruiser pointed to Jackson to indicate that he should go next. I happily oiled Jackson's cut dark brown dick which I had effusively praised down in the gym. I could see it throbbing almost as easily as I could feel it in my hand. Bruiser moved aside so his "husband" could make love to their friend. Jackson closed his eyes and beamed a smile to outer space.
After only a dozen strokes in Mike's ass, Jackson's eyes flew open. I could see Mike ejaculating again. The load was perhaps even more substantial this time than the first. Jackson enjoyed the massage Mike's anus gave to his penis, but he did not stop fucking him.
It took another five minutes for Jackson to achieve his orgasm. As he did, Mike fired off yet again, still perfectly still, though his face was becoming flushed with ecstasy.
While Jackson was still recovering from his bliss, Dr. Mitchell indicated that I should go next. I surmised that he wanted to be the grand finale, as was only fair.
Dr. Mitchell masturbated me slowly with his oiled hand as we locked eyes. Yup, I was in love. He smiled at me, but gently pushed me away after only a few strokes.
I knelt behind Mike and looked at his beautiful anus. It was still open and filled with Jackson's and Bruiser's spunk. I couldn't – and didn't – wait to drive my fuck stick through their mixed cum.
Mike's ass was pure joy! I wouldn't feel another like it until I fucked my own son for the first time. I tried my best to hold off, but his muscles were doing something around my dick that made it impossible.
All too soon I fired off into my new friend. I felt the contractions of yet another orgasm in Mike's ass. I couldn't comprehend the pleasure I was receiving.
I looked to Dr. Mitchell with a pleading expression. He nodded his approval for me to stay for a second ride. His restraint was remarkable.
I kept fucking Mike. My second orgasm took about ten minutes to arrive, but it seemed even more intense than the first. It was also met with an intense orgasm in Mike's ass. I could actually hear his ejaculate hitting the blankets. Where was it all coming from?
It was finally time for Mike to experience the love that only his father could give. I oiled up Dr. Mitchell's almost nine-inch penis. I was mesmerized by his foreskin but knew it wasn't the time for my exploration.
Ed Mitchell knelt behind his son, taking a few moments to appreciate him and what they were about to experience together. It was the sexiest damn thing I had ever seen in my life.
His erection slapped against his tight stomach. I would have sworn that his distended nipples were throbbing with desire. I was rock hard even though I had already cum twice.
The proud father aimed his cock at his son's ass. As soon as he started pushing in, Mike was cumming again.
This time Mike's entire body vibrated with his orgasm, and he groaned loudly. I deliberately blinked my eyes because it looked as if the father and son were sparkling as they made love. Now I know what was happening, but then it was a bewilderment.
Ed professed his undying love and support for his son and also experienced his first orgasm. It was to be the first of three consecutive ones.
I stood behind Dr. Mitchell and ran my hands over his sexy body. I paused, waiting for a sign that my touch was welcome. He turned his face to me with an alluring smile. We kissed, briefly exploring each other's mouth. I broke the kiss so that he could behold his son experiencing his paternal love.
I found the good doctor's tits and began vigorous pinching, twisting, and pulling. He couldn't get enough as he fucked Mike. I half expected milk to start flying out of those enormous man udders.
I couldn't tell how many orgasms Mike had, because it seemed as if he never stopped ejaculating as long as his father was inside him. It must have been a twenty-minute orgasm.
I had thought Bruiser had looked sexy as he fucked Mike, but Dr. Mitchell's practiced movements made him a primo ballerino. It must have been a joy to be on the receiving end of his masterful strength and restrained confidence.
Mike kept firing sporadically even after his dad withdrew from his ass. I moved to orally clean Dr, Mitchell's cock. I couldn't get the entire thing inside my throat, which pissed me off. But I did everything I could think of to make Ed's bath time pleasurable.
Jackson and Bruno were eating and soothing Mike's anus. They were felching gob after gob of happy juice out of Mike's ass.
We had exhausted ourselves. I seemed to be the only one more than semi-conscious.
We zombies rolled Mike onto his back and slowly rubbed and stretched him as he lay in a puddle of his own ejaculate. I doled out new portions of oil. I was amazed that Mike was still erect, his eight-inch penis throbbing with his heartbeat.
Mike didn't open his eyes as we took turns kissing him. As Dr, Mitchell was lazily kissing his son, I took a greasy hand to Mike's penis to feel its heft. I rubbed my thumb under his glans.
He shot two ropes of cum across his father's cheek and his own face. They licked each other clean.
I rubbed Mike's scrotum. It felt as if it were finally empty.
I noticed that dusk had turned into night. I calculated that we weren't going to have a proper dinner, so I decided to go to the kitchen to get us at least something to rehydrate ourselves.
As I walked down the impressive staircase, I could feel cum drying all over my body. I had no idea who came on me where, but it didn't matter. I knew I was part of something special and was proud of whatever role I played.
I looked through the glass doors on two large refrigerators in the million-dollar kitchen. I saw plenty of drinks in one.
The other one held enough produce to stock a small grocery store. I started grabbing various fruits. It appeared as though most of it was already washed because all sorts of berries and sliced melons were in storage containers. There were also cleaned cucumbers, celery stalks, carrots, tomatoes, and other vegetables on the lower shelves. Whole apples, oranges, pears, and bananas sat in baskets.
I started grabbing things and putting them on the enormous island counter, thinking I would make up a fruit tray. Then I noticed a large appliance sitting at the end of the counter. It was a Nutrifaster juicer. Perfect! I'd make smoothies, or juice, or something. It had only one button one it, so I figured even I could use it.
I had no idea how much of what to put in the concoction, but I reckoned I'd do half fruits and half veggies. I saw a large tub of whey protein powder on another counter. That must be Mike's. I decided I'd use some of that too.
In about ten minutes I had a gallon pitcher two-thirds full of juice. I stirred in about two cups of protein powder. I tasted it. It didn't taste like much of anything and was a bit thick. I juiced a couple of lemons and also emptied a twenty-ounce bottle of ginger ale into the pitcher, filling it almost to the brim. That was more like it. It was not gourmet, but it was palatable.
I fished around the cabinets for glasses and a tray to put everything on. Next to a cabinet that held serving trays, I discovered a dumbwaiter. They actually have a dumbwaiter in their house!
I put everything on the tray, including a few bottles of water, slid it into the dumbwaiter and pulled down the sliding door. I hit a button marked "2," assuming that would be the second floor.
When I went upstairs, I had trouble figuring out where the dumbwaiter was. It turned out to be in a small alcove immediately outside the master bedroom. There was a small chance I would actually be able to give everyone a drink instead of a bath.
I walked over toward the fireplace and put down the tray on a coffee table we had moved out of the way. I saw Mike lying on top of Dr. Mitchell, kissing him woozily. Jackson and Bruno were cuddled together petting each other.
Jackson saw me first and whispered, "You're my hero, Drew!" It was loud enough to get everyone's attention. There was enough that we each had two moderate glasses of juice, then opened the water to sip.
"This is really good, Drew," remarked Bruno. "Where did you get the recipe?"
"It's okay, I think. I had no idea what I was doing. I pulled the recipe out of my ass," I responded.
"That's why it's so good!" Bruno laughed.
I apologized to Dr. Mitchell for making a mess of the kitchen. He told me he would give a bonus to Umberto when he comes to clean and cook tomorrow. "I'm sure it can't be worse than some of the disasters I've created," he told me.
We had our fill and were sitting quietly. I looked at the mantle clock to see that it was nine thirty. I asked, "May I make a suggestion?"
They all nodded. "Let's go to the bathroom – but only to pee because I don't want to lose the fragrance of our lovemaking – then we can get into bed. I think it would nice if we took turns holding Mike and telling him how much we love him. We also have to tell him one quality or trait that we admire about him, or one cherished memory of him before we pass him to the next person. The last man to run out of things to say gets the honor of holding Mike through the night."
They all agreed that it would be a fun game. Mike blushed at the thought of being the center of attention. I caught Dr. Mitchell's glance and winked at him. We both knew it would be rigged in his favor since he knows Mike since birth and loves him best.
His affirming smile at me gave me an instant boner. He looked down at my throbbing penis, which was about half the size of his, and his smile overspread his face. We both knew I was infatuated with him.
We took only a few minutes in the bathroom. We didn't shower, but we did blot the excess oil off Mike's body. We were careful not to rub off any of the pungent cum that coated him. It was all over him, and it was virtually all his.
We extinguished the candles. There was faint light from the clear October night twinkling through the windows. The game was touching, literally and figuratively. I reveled in the feeling of Mike's embrace. He his such a sweet young man.
I was the first one out since I didn't know Mike well. But I learned many wonderful things about him by listening to Black Jack, Bruiser, and Dr. Mitchell talk about his generosity, kindness, meekness, and many good memories from holidays and trips.
Dr. Mitchell was the last man standing, so to speak, as I hoped he would be. They embraced and continued to whisper their love to each other as they kissed.
Bruiser pulled me to his massive chest, and Jackson scooted behind me. I was happy to be the meat in their sandwich; I inhaled our mixed cummy, musky aroma and swooned. I fell asleep to the sound of Ed and Mike Mitchell sharing affectionate kisses.
None of us moved during the night, and all slept soundly until the alarm went off at a quarter past five o'clock in the morning.
_ _ _ _ _
Dr. Mitchell turned off the alarm and told us to go back to sleep. He said he had to get going to the hospital to join an orthopedic surgeon for a jaw reconstruction, and that he would set the alarm for seven o'clock for us.
Bruiser turned away from me to hold Mike. I turned around to plant my face in Black Jack's chest. We sighed ourselves back to slumber for another ninety minutes as I sucked on Jackson's black nipple.
I had never woken up having slept with a lover who wasn't my dad or brother. I felt as grown up as a thirteen-year-old could. The guys all treated me as their equal. I'm not sure why that surprised me.
I gathered the glasses, bottles, and pitcher, and put them on the tray and back into the dumbwaiter and hit the "K" button to send it to the kitchen.
We went down to get some breakfast. We were famished teens who didn't have a proper dinner the night before. We were ready to devour whatever we could find.
We were greeted by the smell of ham and eggs cooking. A man, probably around thirty years old, wearing checked chef's pants and a white smock was tending the range. He turned around and looked a bit shocked to see three crusty naked teens standing in the kitchen. "Good morning, gentlemen. Dr. Mitchell left a note that there would be three very hungry men for breakfast this morning. Would they be you?" He laughed at his own joke.
Bruno went over to Umberto and gave him a hug. "Good morning, cousin Bert! I haven't seen you in months."
The two di Napoli cousins embraced briefly. "You smell like cum," chided Bert.
"I sure do hope so," said Bruno.
I introduced myself, assuming I was the only one unknown to Umberto di Napoli, the Mitchell's cook. "It's my fault the kitchen is a mess. I will clean, don't worry. I made juice for us last night, but I had no idea what I was doing."
Bert laughed. "It wasn't that bad, Drew. I already took care of most of it before I made Mike's morning smoothie. I made enough for three. Help yourselves."
We stood around the island and downed our drinks. We decided to stand to eat breakfast too. Bert made the best eggs I ever tasted. They were smooth and perfectly done.
We all gave Bert a peck on the cheek in gratitude for a wonderful breakfast. We went upstairs to brush our teeth and shower in Mike's suite. There was a little bit of grab ass, but we knew we had to get a move on.
I rode to school with Mike while Bruno drove his "husband."
Mike told me several times that he was glad to get to know me. He even held my hand for part of the drive.
"Mike, can I ask you something personal?"
He laughed. "I think you know as much about me as anyone by this point. Let's make nothing off limits between the two of us, okay?"
I readily agreed. "I was just wondering if you trained your ass with a dildo or stretcher, because, though you were really tight inside – and unfathomably coordinated, by the way – your anus itself seemed really relaxed. You were a really, really good lover last night. Are you sure you were a virgin? Maybe you forgot all the other sex you had?"
Mike squeezed my hand. He laughed and then blushed at my compliment. "I have been training my ass for a while, even when I didn't masturbate. I'm glad it seems to have been worth the effort."
"Definitely. I can't wait for next time. I can't wait for you to be inside me. For my sake. I don't know that you'll get anything out of it, but I know I sure as hell will."
"Oh, Drew, don't underestimate yourself. I just hope to give you as much pleasure as you gave me last night. Thanks for your kindness, and for calling Nate. He really helped me put things into perspective."
I had a great day at school that day. It turned out that Mike was in my conditioning class with Mr. Katema. We were the only naked ones at the beginning that day, but each class saw more and more of the twenty-five boys getting naked for gym class. "Naked gym" was really taking off.
_ _ _ _ _
Tian was staring at me with a goofy smile.
"Why are you looking at me with that expression," I asked him.
"Because you're so damned cute, dad. That's all. I hope I get to meet Bruno, Mike, and Jackson someday." He giggled.
I looked left and right at the four-way stop, I was at, only to realize it was the exact place I was at when I started this story.
"Bunny, how long have we been sitting at this intersection?"
He laughed, knowing why I was asking. "Just a couple seconds, dad. You talk really fast, you know? Keep driving, but I want to hear some more."
I kept going down the road to our new house wondering if I would ever understand my son's capabilities.