Date: Fri, 1 Jan 2010 17:00:23 -0800 (PST)
From: Peder Pederson <pederdagreat@yahoo.com>
Subject: Chapters VI & VII of the story "Why?"

Chapter VI
A Battle


	The next part of this . . . is written in the third person, as it
is easier for me, easier for me to try to fathom my actions and
reactions. Distance makes analysis easier.


	As Brad sat there trembling, Dane slowly got up, slowly walked out
of the shower, dried himself and left. Not a word was spoken.
	Brad sat there, cross legged for long minutes. The tears ceased
flowing, but his face was a leaden mask. Slowly he got to his feet, stepped
back into the shower and turned the cold faucet on full blast. The cold
water pelted him unmercifully. He didn't seem to notice or react! It was
only after he began to shiver that he turned off the water, took a towel
and briskly rubbed his body dry.
	Wearily, he climbed into bed and fell into a deep sleep. He had not
bothered to check the door, a normal procedure, nor had he turned off the
lights. There were few times in his life that Brad could not sleep. He
found sleep healed and restored his strength, especially in times of
stress. This was a stressful time.
	Suddenly he was awakened by the bedside phone. He jolted out of
sleep and lunged for the receiver, the same time he glanced at the
clock--10:00 a.m.!
	"Damn!" he said to himself, then, "Hello?"
	"Brad?" He recognized Charles' voice--his colleague at Bassingers.
	"Yeah."
	"You all right?"
	Quickly Brad sought an excuse. "Actually, no. Think I caught the
flu. . . . . Meant to call but just woke up. Will probably be out another
day."
	"You need anything?"
	"No, thanks. Just sleep . . . . and orange juice . . . I have
plenty of that."
	"OK, Well if u need anything, call."
	"Thanks, Chuck."
	"Bye," and Charles rang off.

	Brad had not considered taking time off. He had plenty of sick
leave accrued, so that was no problem. He got out of bed, padded into the
living room, turned off the lights, checked the front door--it was closed
and locked--went to the kitchen where the half-full coffee maker was still
on from last night and poured himself a concentrated cup of day old black
coffee. As an automaton, he went back to his bedroom, placed the coffee on
the bedside table, disconnected the phone jack, and crawled back into bed.
	He laid back, clasped his hands behind his head and began to
consider what had happened the evening before. Desperately, he attempted to
make sense of what had transpired, more precisely, of what he had done.
	Time after time he tried to reconstruct that period of time,
particularly the obscene tableau of the last few minutes. Time after time
he met a blank wall in his analysis. He attempted to approach his problem
without passion or emotion, but that was futile!
	Several times throughout the day he heard the phone ring in the
kitchen. He disregarded it. He wanted no contact with anyone at this
time. He spent the whole day in the subdued light of his bedroom.
	Finally, natural inclinations took over. He suddenly realized that
he was famished. He had not eaten since Sunday noon. He rose up and again
padded to the kitchen where he constructed a massive ham sandwich and
devoured it. The coffee maker had been emptied earlier, so he made a new
pot of coffee, strong! He stood there 'til the last drop had filtered down,
filled his cup again and returned to his bed.
	The sheets were rumpled and softened from over twenty-four hours of
constant occupancy. He seemed not to notice. He then tried to clear his
mind. He went back to his high school days and painstakingly, step by step,
reconstructed those things, those relationships, those contacts that he
felt were important--right up to Sunday evening. It was time consuming and,
ultimately exhausting.
	Again, several times he heard the phone ring in the kitchen
throughout the evening. As before, he ignored it. He fell asleep.
	Brad woke early the next morning. His body was refreshed, but his
mind was still in turmoil. As he swung out of bed, he detected a light
musty odor. He had not showered since Sunday and had spent nearly thirty
hours in his bed. Quickly he showered, stripped his bed and spent the rest
of the morning in a frenzy--cleaning the whole apartment. He stopped long
enough to phone Charles to tell him that he would not be in that day, but
probably would the next. He had donned a pair of jogging shorts and a
t-shirt to go the the communal laundry in his building . There he spent an
hour washing and drying his clothes.
	Twice that morning the phone rang, but he ignored it. He was not
quite ready to return to the realm of the living!
	Brad fixed a light meal at 1:00, consumed it and then sat down in
the living room and turned on CNN.
	About an hour later he was jolted back to reality by a knock on the
door. He wasn't going to answer it!
	Then he heard, "Brad? Brad, are you there?"
	He recognized Del's voice.
	"It's Del, Del Wadsworth. . . . "
	Brad had been considering calling Del. This was fortuitous,
providential. He moved to the door, looked through the security peep,
seeing Del, he opened the door.
	"Hi, I was going to call you . . . " Brad said sheepishly.
	Del walked in, turned and asked, pointedly, "Are you all right?
I've been trying to contact you since yesterday." He exuded both concern
and annoyance.
	"Well . . . . actually . . . . No! I feel like shit!" Brad stated
flatly.
	"You wanna talk about it?"
	"Guess I should," he stated as he walked to the sofa and sat,
motioning the chair opposite for Del.
	"What's he matter?" Del queried.
	Quietly, almost dispassionately, Brad related the events of the
past few days. He left no stone unturned, told all. When he had finished he
merely sat there gazing at Del. Much of the time Del had watched Brad, then
towards the end he closed his eyes as he assimilated and arranged the
information Brad transmitted.
	Then Del's eyes opened and he looked directly at Brad, "And, what
conclusions have you reached?"
	"None! None . . . at this time."
	"Well . . . . it may take time. But, you must resolve this
. . . . not just for yourself . . . there are others involved as well."
	"I know. God, I know!"
	"Maybe it would be easier . . . . if . . . . you had some help
. . . . reaching a conclusion."
	"You mean you?"
	"Not entirely . . . . Brad, I must tell you, you probably have
guessed already, I was aware of what happened. Dane had called me
yesterday. He had been trying to phone you, but you didn't answer. He was
concerned . . . very concerned."
	Brad's eyes didn't leave Del. He flushed slightly.
	"Brad, Dane wants to see you . . . to talk . . . He's in my car
now, outside."
	Brad's eyes widened.
	"No," he uttered in panic, "I can' see him now . . . ." Then came
the plea, "Please!"
	"All right, I understand. But! You must see him, contact him
. . . . or at least, take his call!"
	"I will," Brad stated in contrition, "I promise."
	"All right, and also promise me that if things get to the point
that you think you can't cope, you will call me."
	"I promise."
	Del left and strangely, Brad went to the window and watched Del get
into his car. He saw Dane too. He sobbed once, then got another cup of
coffee.
	An hour later the phone rang.
	He wanted to ignore it, but he could no longer do that."
	"Hello?"
	"Brad?" Dane asked.
	"Yes."
	"Are you all right?" Brad fought for an answer. Again, "Brad?"
	"I'm here . . . . I guess the real question is . . . . Are you all
right?"
	"Physically? I'm OK. But, I'm worried about you! Are you all
right?"
	"Physically, I'm fine . . . . "
	Then he asked, "Brad, can I come over?"
	Brad took a deep breath and answered, "Dane, I'd rather you not. I
need some more time."
	"OK . . . . I understand."
	Brad could tell by the tone of voice that he didn't understand or
was upset, or both.
	Then, "Can I call you?"
	"Of course," Brad answered.
	"OK, Bye then."
	"Bye."
	Brad hung up the phone and flopped down on the sofa!
	Wednesday he went to work and performed his duties dutifully! The
same can be said of Thursday as well.
	The shock of his actions was wearing off. He was returning to his
normal routine, normal considering his actions the past Sunday. Dane had
called both Wednesday and Thursday nights to inquire after him. He did not
press. Brad was somewhat relieved after these calls, relieved that Dane
called at all.
	The time spent at home was consumed with the returning of his
logical thought processes. The emotional trauma had lessened
considerably. Still there was an incomprehensible miasma shrouding him.
	Friday, after work, Brad took an early supper at a small cafe near
Bassingers. He got in his car and drove west on the freeway. Driving always
seemed to relax him. After an hour he turned north to the small city of
Brazil and then east on the four lane state highway back to
Indianapolis. Skirting the north side of the airport, he headed north again
on the belt line. Soon he drove into the parking lot outside Dane's
apartment building. Brad turned off the ignition and sat in his car for
long minutes.
	Taking a deep breath, he mounted the stairs to the second floor and
knocked on Dane's door. Momentarily it was opened.
	Dane was a bit surprised, but more, he was pleased. "HI!" he said
brightly.
	"Hi," answered Brad, "Can I come in?"
	The shook hands briefly. "Of course."
	Dane led the way to the living room and they sat down, facing each
other. There was a moment of silence.
	Gazing intently at Dane, Brad said, "Dane . . . can you ever
forgive me . . . . what . . . ."
	Dane raised his hand as if stopping Brad's statement. "You've been
forgiven . . . . days ago."
	Again a moment of silence.
	"What I did was . . . horrendous . . . uncalled for . . . monstrous
. . . obscene . . ."
	"You've . . . been . . . forgiven," Dane repeated, a bit more
forcefully, emphasizing each word.
	Brad stopped again, his gaze still locked on Dane.
	Then he asked, quietly, "Why?"
	Dane merely shrugged his shoulders.
	Brad stood up. These few minutes had been terribly exhausting.
	"I should be going," he announced.
	Dane stood and stepped up to Brad and hugged him. It was a way of
physically underlining the fact that he had forgiven him.

	The frightful pain of the forced invasion he had experienced that
Sunday coupled with what he had begun to feel for Brad scorched his
being. He had collapsed in the corner of the shower and let the warm water
flow over him as he fought the searing pain. Violent emotions wracked his
brain. Brad's scream caused him to turn his head and observe his
tormentor. There he sat, trembling, cross legged in the middle of the
bathroom, his face a mask of horror, whimpering.
	He stepped out of the shower. Pain still flowed through his body as
did the feelings of being betrayed. Quickly he toweled off, dressed and
left. Brad was still sitting in the floor. When he returned to his
apartment, he drew a hot bath and sat in if for over an hour. A hot bath
had always had an emotional and physical salutary effects upon Dane. It
relaxed him and soothed him.
	That night, as he fell asleep, he had already opined the basis of
his profanation. His mind began its healing process.

	They hugged quietly, hands un moving, heads bowed against the
other's shoulder. Dane lifted his head and kissed Brad simply on the cheek.
	Brad broke his hold and stepped back, quietly he stated, "I want
you to . . . fuck me."
	Shocked, Dane said, "No."
	"Yes!" Brad countered with some vehemence.
	"NO! Brad!"
	Brad stepped up, held Dane's face in his hands and planted a long
probing kiss on Dane's lips. Dane tried to move away, Brad held
tight. Finally, Dane submitted to the probing kiss--he did not fight it.
	Again, "Fuck me."
	Dane answered, "I can't!" In part this was true. Brad's contrition,
his remorse created emotions, feelings other than sexual desire in him.
	"Why?"
	"I . . . just can't"
	Brads hand snaked down to Dane's crotch, and immediately he sensed
the reason. Slowly, gently, he fondled that limp mass and again kissed Dane
with gentle persuasion.
	"Don't," Dane gasped.
	Brad continued, employing every trick at his disposal. He realized
that what he was doing was a passive rape, but it was the only way,
. . . in his mind!
	Soon, he heard the familiar, "Umph," and he began to sense a
swelling. He grasped the zipper tab and drew it down.
	"Please . . . not now!" He backed away.
	Brad stepped back up to him, groped for the burgeoning muscle and
gently freed it.
	"Oh, gawd," Dane gasped. This time he kissed Brad squarely on the
lips, as if in resignation.
	Brad's body, emotions were likewise transmuted to a growing
desire. He slipped down and took Dane's substantial tool into his mouth.
	"Ahhh!" Then Dane grasped Brad's bobbing head and backed away,
saying, "Not here." He lifted Brad and led him to the bedroom.
	There they quickly undressed. Then Dane said, "NO! . . . . I can't
do this!"
	Quickly Brad drew him to the bed and continued what he had started
in the living room. Soon Dane was beyond total conscious control. He was
gasping and rigid. His cock throbbed and jerked. Brad realized he had won
this small battle. Hastily he lay on his stomach beside Dane, spread his
legs and whispered, "Fuck me," again.
	Dane knew that there was no retreat. Brad had brought him to the
pinnacle of desire. But, he also knew that this victory could also be
disastrous. He reached over and turned Brad onto his back and crawled
between his legs. Brad's cock flopped against his thigh, completely
detumescent. He reached down and began to fondle that beauteous thing. Soon
it began to lengthen.
	Brad sensed that he might loose the battle. In that position, he
brought his knees up and spread his thighs wider. Again, he uttered, "Fuck
me."
	Dane, who had not spoken a word for long minutes, stated quietly,
"I will." Then he bent down and Drew Brad's hardened cock into his mouth.
	"Ahhhh!"
	Knowing that if he were to truly win, he had to proceed
carefully. Dane's same-sex experience had been somewhat meager. But, he
knew that his desire, his affection for Brad was somehow real and
important. He had been sucked, he had sucked--well, Brad for the first
time--he had fucked willing partners, but he had never, willingly allowed
himself to be fucked until that disastrous Sunday. That was the extent of
his same-sex experience! Yet, the two or three guys he had penetrated
willingly, had schooled him somewhat. One had asked Dane to tongue him. He
rebelled at that, but he had used his fingers skillfully, allowing his
erstwhile partners to relax a bit before he penetrated them.
	With Brad . . . . !
	He grasped Brad's thighs and pushed them towards his chest. This
action rotated his hips, bringing the rigid cock in contact with Brad's
belly and brought into full view that puckered hole. Brad was not
particularly hairy--the normal profusion on his legs, crotch, pits and a
sprinkling on his chest--but his hole and surrounding areas were devoid of
hair.
	As stated, Dane had never rimmed a guy before. He had found such an
action somewhat repugnant, although when he was thusly ministered to--he
was ecstatic. Dane took a deep breath in an attempt to conquer his
disinclination, bent down, extended his tongue and circled that tight
opening.
	"Ahhhh!" Brad gasped.
	The fact that his action brought such an intense, instantaneous and
obvious delight to Brad, coupled with the neutral taste, caused him to
continue.
	"Oh! Gawd!" Brad groaned.
	Dane continued, probing tentatively. Brad began to twitch and his
tight hole spasmed. Dane backed off, reached for the lotion on the bedside
table, poured a liberal amount onto his fingers and slathered it over the
quaking hole.
	"Ahhhh!" Brad gasped again.
	Slowly, Dane inserted a finger into that tight hole.
	Again, "Ahhhh!"
	With gentle deliberateness he began slow penetration and
withdrawal.
	A low, satisfied "Mmmmm."
	Dane sensed that the initial tenseness in Brad had lessened. He was
sure of it when Brad grasped his knees to support them.
	Faster and deeper he plunged his finger. Brad's head began to whip
back and forth in obvious delight.
	Slowly, carefully, Dane inserted a second finger and continued as
before--slowly at first and then deeper and faster.
	"Oh! Yeah!"
	Soon Dane sensed that that muscled gate had relaxed to a
considerable degree.
	"Fuck me, Dane. I want you to fuck me." Brad gasped.
	Dane withdrew his fingers, re-anointed that quivering hole and
rubbed a liberal portion on his hard cock. Carefully he crawled up to that
offered hole, grasped his cock and rubbed the head over the puckered
opening. Brad tensed.
	"Relax . . . . take deep breaths . . ." he suggested.
	"Yeah," Brad answered and he complied. He had remembered
Prof. Kim's admonitions the first time.
	Carefully Dane applied pressure. The gate held fast. Then Brad
pushed against that hard cock-head and suddenly, it popped in.
	"Ahhhh!" escaped from both men's lips.
	Dane held his position for a minute then slowly pushed forward a
bit.
	"Ahhhh!" escaped from Brads throat.
	"You all right?"
	"Yeah . . . it's OK!"
	After a while, after slow, gentle insertions, Dane was completely
imbedded.
	"Oh! Gawd," he said as he was now completely incased by that hot,
lascivious tube.
	Then slowly he withdrew part way, and then reinserted his throbbing
cock all the way in Brad's hot fuck-tunnel. He continued this slow
in-and-out-and-in-and-out motion for long minutes. Neither men spoke, only
moaned and gasped at the sensations. Dane started to move faster
in-and-out.
	"Oh! Yesss!" Brad finally vocalized.
	Then, Dane bent over and kissed Brad on the lips.
	Brad let loose of his knees and wrapped his legs around Dane's
waist as if to draw him in further.
	"Oh, Brad . . . . you feel so good . . . you make me feel so good!"
	"Mmmmm!" was the only response.
	Normally, in the past when he had fucked his willing partners, Dane
had reached orgasm relatively quickly. Now, he merely revealed in the
process and the sensations.
	After a few minutes of this delicious probing, Dane withdrew.
	"Why?" Brad asked, then, "Did you cum?"
	Dane bent over again and kissed Brad. "No," then, he simply stated,
"I want you to fuck me!"
	"No . . . "
	Before he could finish, Dane kissed him again and began to fondle
the now soft cock, bringing it back to its former hardness.
	"Yes!" Dane stated, authoritatively.
	Brad then complied with the same gentleness as he had just
experienced from Dane
	Long minutes later he rolled off Dane and lay beside him panting.
	"You didn't cum!" Dane half accused.
	"Mmmm! Neither did you!" he murmured simply with a smile.
	They turned towards each other and embraced--feeling each other's
warmth and sweet breath. Although not sated, they were both content and at
peace with themselves. A massive, high, seemingly impenetrable wall had
been breached. Individually, they had conquered their demons and to
together they had been victorious.
	Dane whispered, "Will you stay with me tonight?"
	"Mmmmm!" Brad answered sleepily.
	The both drifted into golden sleep.


	Saturday I awoke, utterly satisfied and at peace. I turned to my
side and gazed at Dane still sleeping there. I smiled to myself as I
noticed a bit of drool running into his carefully clipped beard. I slipped
out of bed, went to the bathroom for my morning piss, rinsed my mouth out,
rubbed tooth paste over my teeth with my fingers, rinsed again and slipped
back into the bed.
	He opened his eyes, turned and slowly focused on me.
	"Good morning, " I said.
	"Morning, " He murmured, rubbed his face, rolled out of bed and
went into the bathroom.
	A few minutes later he padded out of the bathroom and crawled in
beside me. We snuggled and then began to talk of things past. I find it
most interesting that there we were two healthy men with equally healthy
libidos lying in each others arms nude and talking.
	I mentioned that to Dane with a smile.
	He returned the smile and stated, "We have plenty of time . . . . I
think . . . . for our physical explorations . . . . don't you think?
	"Yes," I said simply.
	Our conversation was more in the form of a confession and an
emotional purging. We talked openly of what had happened in high school,
the trials that Dane had suffered prior to that, last Sunday--we held
nothing back.
	Finally we were quiet.
	"You know what time it is?" Dane asked.
	"No."
	"10:45," he announced and continued, "You know what I want?"
	"I'm afraid to ask," I grinned.
	"Hah! You're a hopeless romantic," he responded, "And, a bit horny,
I think." Then he announced in mock seriousness, "I need a cup of coffee,
you pervert!" With that he jumped out of bed and walked to the kitchen. I
followed.
	"Pervert? Pervert! Look who's talking . . . . making coffee in the
nude with your tally-wacker hanging out!"
	He laughed uproariously, gave me a kiss on the cheek and a swat on
the ass. Actually, it was a bit amusing seeing him preparing the coffee in
his state of undress. Dane, as I have mentioned, is considerably masculine
in appearance and demeanour--quite natural for him. Guess I am too. Up to
now I had generally observed him dressed. Dane was not what you would call
a fussy or modish dresser. But, his present state was amusing. He got the
mugs down from the cupboard and retrieved the cream from the fridge.
	He turned to me and stated, "I normally don't eat anything for
breakfast." Saying that he got a bottle of honey off the shelf walked over
to me, grabbed my limp cock and squeezed a portion of the thick honey on my
cock.
	"But with you, I'll make an exception." He dropped to his knees and
licked the sweet substance off--my reaction to all this was most normal! I
rose to the occasion.
	He stood up, grinned as he glanced at my burgeoning cock and said,
"See. I told you . . . pervert!" Again he laughed and walked to the coffee
maker.
	"You gonna leave me standing here like this?"
	"Why not?"
	"Damn!" I walked over to him cupped his ass and let my finger snake
inward.
	"Mmmmm!" he moaned, "Better than coffee," and pushed his ass back
towards me.
	"Better than coffee? . . . . No, I don't think so!" I poured my
coffee and went to the living room, stating as I went, "Turn about is fair
play!?
	"Pervert!" he snorted.
	"Degenerate!" I shot back.
	We both laughed.


	I guess our past together and separately had held enough
seriousness. We tended to be light hearted when together--good natured
repartee. That is not to say that we didn't have our serious moments. We
did. There was, by necessity, a lot of accommodations to be made. Sometimes
they were difficult.
	Dane had stated that even though he had experienced several
same-sex liaisons, they were generally one way--he allowed himself to be
sucked or he fucked the guy. But, there was never any emotional attachment.
	As we spent more time together, he would often state that his
feeling for me as a man was so alien to him but so compelling. He had
always considered himself a macho, straight male. Yet, here he was, wanting
to hold me and to have me hold him--wanting to kiss me and to have me kiss
him, wanting to caress me and to have me caress him, wanting to enter me
and wanting me to enter him.
	Both of us were passionate by nature. Certainly, my passion for him
was becoming monumental. Yet, I realized that to let it have full sway
might be ultimately ruinous. I suspect that Dane felt the same way. We
proceeded carefully, one step at a time.


	Several months after our rapprochement, we were lying in bed one
Friday evening, after a glorious coupling. The room was lit by the setting
sun and the shadows and forms were soft. Maybe the softness was part of the
post-orgasmic afterglow.
	Dane queried, "Can I ask you a question?"
	Whenever he made that request, I knew that something revelatory was
about to transpire. Guess the same can be said of me when I asked the same
question of him.
	"Sure, what?"
	"What are the things you might expect in a relationship?"
	Now there was a pregnant question!
	"Mmmm!" I mused, then listed, "Companionship . . . trust
. . . Yeah, trust is important . . . similar or at least compatible likes
. . . respect . . . understanding . . . and . . . friendship . . ."
	Quietly he probed, almost sarcastically, "No passion?"
	I squeezed him, "That goes without saying."
	"Oh, good! I don't want a monk!"he snorted.
	I understood the implication of his initial question. "Have I acted
like a monk?"
	"None that I know," came the retort.
	We lay quiet for a minute or so, digesting.
	"And . . . what about a . . . commitment?"
	I knew, or at least suspected, that this would be the next query.
	"What do you mean?" I wasn't trying to be evasive. Guess it was my
. . . former nature surfacing.
	"What would you expect from a commitment?"
	I thought long and hard about this one. "Well, there are the
obvious . . . technical considerations. . . . "
	"Technical?"
	"Yeah! Where to live, and what to do about the furniture and
kitchen stuff. Then there's the division of labor . . . "
	"Division of labor?" he snorted.
	"Who's going to cook, who's going to do the dishes, who's going to
do clean . . . that kinda stuff."
	"Damn! You make it sound like a business merger."
	I laughed. "Well . . . . they may not be the most important things,
but they do have their place . . . kinda like a foundation."
	"What about the . . . nontechnical things?"
	"Well, I guess the main thing is the willingness to set aside the
individual for the combined . . . not to deny the importance of the
individual, but to realize or accept that the joining of the two is equally
important. If the relationship is to flourish . . . certain accommodations
have to be reached . . . willingly."
	"Accommodations?"
	"Yeah."
	"Like what?"
	"Well, and here I'm referring to two guys . . . "
	"I'm glad of that!"
	"Shit!" I laughed and continued, "If they both tend to be
. . . . assertive . . . ah . . . tops. There will have to be some
accommodation!"
	"Ya mean like . . . . even days on, odd days off?" he said
jokingly.
	"That could be a solution," I answered seriously. "But, some
accommodation has to be reached."
	At the point Dane turned towards me, supporting himself on his
elbow. He was serious, I could see.
	"Brad, I think you know how I feel about you!"
	"Yeah! I know."
	Dane had announced a couple of weeks earlier that he felt he was
falling in love with me. Strangely, I didn't panic when the declaration was
made. But, I was hesitant to declare the same.
	He continued, "And, we both tend to be . . . . ah, to prefer
. . . . to assume . . . . Shit! What I'm trying to say is that we both lean
towards being tops!"
	I guess he was right there. However . . . .
	I stated, "Yeah, but there's where the accommodation comes into
play. I don't mind . . . sometimes . . . . I want to bottom for you
. . . because of . . . . how I feel for you."
	"I know, I feel the same way."
	"I do it because I want to. I do it because of how I feel for you."
	"I know."
	"That's what I mean by accommodation. It doesn't mean that we have
to change, just that, from time to time, we want to."
	Again, we lay quiet for a minute or so, digesting.
	"What about monogamy?" Dane asked.
	"What about it?"
	"Do you think a commitment ought to be monogamous?"
	"Again, that depends upon the commitment, I think. If both partners
want monogamy. No problem! If both partners want an open relationship. No
problem! If their opinion is mixed . . . then an accommodation has to be
reached and if it isn't . . . . then there could be serious
problems. . . . "
	"How do you feel about that?"
	"About monogamy?"
	"Yeah."
	"I would want a monogamous relationship."
	"Whew!" Dane vocalized and added, "Me too!"
	I smiled, reached for him and enfolded him in my arms. We lay like
that for long minutes, reveling in the closeness. I knew what Dane was
getting at. I knew what he really wanted to say. I knew that he took this
tack because of me.
	Then I stated, "I gotta go!"
	"Why? It's Friday!"
	Dane's voice echoed concern even a bit of panic.
	"I know, but, I've a couple of things to do at home."
	"Oh! OK."
	Dane's response was perfect. He was not about to enslave
. . . neither was I. We both respected each other opinions and occasional
need for privacy.

	I sensed that he was disappointed. But the truth was . . . I did
have things to do at home, away from him. I drove home thinking about our
conversation and how Dane felt about me. I needed time to think, alone!
	I needed to consider things . . . without Dane's presence, without
his powerful influence on me. Sometimes that is necessary.
	I sat on my sofa and considered all that I knew and tried to ponder
the unknowns as well. At 11:00 p.m., I reached for the phone. I usually
don't phone this late. But . . .

	"Dane?"
	"Yeah."
	"It's me."
	"Yeah, I know."
	"I have something to tell you."
	"Oh?"
	"I needed time to think . . . . and I wanted to tell you something,
but not face to face. . . ."
	"Well?" I sensed apprehension in his voice.
	"I know how you feel about me . . . . that you are . . . . falling
in love . . ."
	"Yes . . . "
	"Damn! This is so hard to say . . . ."
	"Just say it Brad! Get it over with!" There was an edge to his
voice.
	"Dane . . . . I'm falling in love with you . . . ."
	There was silence on the other end of the line.
	"Dane?"
	Nothing.
	"Dane! Are you there?"
	Nothing. I hung up the phone, bewildered and just sat there.

	Exactly eighteen minutes later there was a knock at the door.
	It was Dane, beaming, laughing as he rushed in and hugged me. He
kissed me hard. He seemed ravenous.
	Finally, breaking and gasping, I said, "No! Wait!"
	He looked a bit alarmed.
	"The door!" I rasped.
	It was wide opened. Dane chuckled, quickly closed the door, turned
and stated, "Man! Your going have a time tonight that you won't forget."
Again he enfolded me in his arms and proceeded to make his statement true.

	It was 11:00 Saturday morning when I awoke. We had spent several
hours in exhausting, passionate couplings. Dane was still sleeping, half
covered, midst the hair on his chest I saw dry clots of cum. I looked down
and observed the same on my chest and belly. We had not bothered to
shower--we fell asleep exhausted from our sport. I slipped, quietly out of
bed and went to the bathroom. I was standing in the hot shower when the
glass door opened,
	"Mind some company?"
	"Not at all, " I said turning towards him, and added, "You're a
mess!"
	He just rubbed his hand over his torso and chuckled. Soon he was
covered with lather and I washed his back, carefully and thoroughly,
leaving no crease or crevice unattended.
	"You are bad!" he murmured.
	"My turn!" I said brightly and turned to have my back washed.
	His hands roamed over my back and down to my buttocks. Lightly he
cupped them and then ran his hands over them and slipped a finger into my
crease. It was so sensuous. I began to become aroused. Then he slipped his
arms around my chest and drew me to him. I felt his thunderous cock wedge
itself into my ass-crack, pointing upwards. I rocked my hips. Dane
gasped. A hand slid down to my cock and grasped it. I groaned. I arched my
back 'til his cock slipped between my legs and brushed past my puckered
bud.
	"Ahhh!" we both groaned.
	I began to move my hips forwards and backwards over his
thigh-trapped cock. He moved his hand from my cock and brought it around
and slid it down my crack and fingered my hole. I stopped my rocking and
luxuriated in his fingering. Neither of us spoke.
	"Ahhh!" I gasped as he slid a second finger in and began to trace
his tongue around my ear and neck. I was quivering with desire. His two
fingers slid in and out, eroticizing my spasming tunnel.
	Finally, he whispered in my ear. "Can I?"
	My answer was to thrust my hips backward. I felt his substantial
cock-head rub back and forth over my bud. Then he exerted a bit of pressure
and the head popped past the muscled gate.
	"Ahhh!"
	He held it there until I pushed back signaling my readiness. He
slid in further and waited. Finally, he was completely buried in my ass. I
bent over a bit as to allow for complete penetration. He grasped my hips.
	Slowly, gently he began that primal movement--in and out.
	"Ohhhh!" I began to groan as his movement and his stuffing pole
began to infuse me with the most delicious feeling.
	He would withdraw all but his bulbous cock-head and then slide it
all the way back in, again and again.
	"Oh, Yeah!" I gasped, and added, "More."
	Slowly he began to increase the speed of his pistoning rod.
	"Yes, Yesss!" The sensations he was engendering in me were not
entirely new, but their intensity was. My desire was monumental. My
reactions were phenomenal.
	Suddenly he pulled out with a pop, and sat with his back against
the shower wall. I turned, confused.
	"Sit on my cock," he stated. His eyes were glazed with passion.
	I bracketed his hips and sat down upon that upstanding, throbbing
cock. I leaned back against the opposite wall and lifted my
legs--bracketing his head.  He began to thrust upward.
	"Oh! gawd," I gasped. The sensation was incredible--the angle of
his penetration coupled with my own position in those cramped quarters was
phenomenal.
	Again and again he lunged upward, off the floor, into me. Sweat
mixed with the shower. I was pelted externally and internally. I had never,
never experienced such sensations. I know now it was the angle which
brought his cock-head against my sensitive prostate. I was gasping. Dane
was gasping.
	Without warning, hundreds of lights popped against my minds
eye. Without the normal preamble of feelings, I was catapulted over the
edge. I was spiraling out-of-control. My whole being suddenly tensed and
then that cosmic, elemental, primal explosion!
	"Arghhh!" I shouted.
	My whole body spasmed violently and then . . . . copious amounts of
lustral cum shot and spewed out of my upstanding, untouched cock. It was
amazing! Fantastic! Incredible! Marvelous!
	My sphincter contracted again and again 'round Dane's hard,
thrusting cock.
	He yelled, "I'm . . . . gonna . . . . CUMMMM!" and then, "OH!
GAAAAWD!" As he arched off the floor, lifting me with him
	And, I felt his cock lurch again and again in me. He fell back to
the wet floor, panting.
	We remained in that position for long minutes, then slowly we
untangled ourselves, stood up, embraced and kissed gently. The water flowed
over us.
	Then he said, with a smirk, "Remind me not to take a shower with
you again . . . you're too dangerous!"
	I chuckled, "Look who's talking!"

	Our normal habit over the past few months of restrained love making
was thrown out the window that week end. We were insatiable.  Chapter VII
Epilogue


	A month later, Dane and I had moved in together. We decided that
our first social thing together was to invite Del to lunch.
	Del was not surprised at the invitation. He was not surprised that
Dane and I had managed to connect, although he found it a bit ironic! He
was not surprised that a commitment had been made. I guess he had greater
faith in me than I had initially.
	One of the most ironic things in our commitment, our relationship
was in the accommodation. Since we both tended to be the initiator,
assertive, a top, we assumed that this would be a point of friction. It
wasn't! As we look back now, we see a pattern. There would be days, weeks,
sometimes even months when either Dane or I would take the lead, only to
surrender it willingly to the other. There is no question as to whom is the
dominant one. We are partners. Sure, there are some things in which Dane
takes charge--he is better in the financial aspect than I. I am more adept
in dealing with the minutia than he.
	We both tend to become exasperated, and from time to time, 'fly off
the handle.' Our disagreements have been quite verbal, never physical, and
we never 'hit below the belt.' And, one thing we have learned--we never go
to sleep with out neutralizing whatever it was or is that causes our
disagreements. Making up has its advantages.
	I still marvel at what has developed between Dane and me! I marvel
at the joy I feel in our commitment.
	Why? It's obvious!