Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2000 21:24:47 -0800 (PST)
From: Brew Maxwell <brew_drinker23@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Adventures with Nick, Part Four

Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and any resemblance to real persons is
purely coincidental.  It contains graphic descriptions of sex between and
among young adult men, and anyone who finds this subject matter
objectionable, or who is not of legal age in his or her political
jurisdiction to read such material, must leave immediately.  This story is
being posted to the Nifty Archive for the amusement and entertainment or
readers.  It may not be posted or reprinted in any other medium without the
written consent of its author.  Comments are always welcome.

My Adventures with Nick, Part Four

	We got to the house, and Nick went into the pavillion to get the
suntan lotion, tanning butter, actually.  I went to the car and got his
cigarettes and a Bic lighter I found in the glove compartment.  After we
had a smoke, we applied tanning butter to each other, making sure our dicks
got a generous supply.  We both got half hard again but didn't pursue
anything.  Nick asked me if I wanted a beer and then got one for each of
us.  We settled down into lounge chairs to take in the sun.
	I closed my eyes to think about everything that had happened to me
in the last twenty-four hours and to try to sort out how I felt about all
of it.  Once or twice I looked at Nick's gorgeous torso sprawled in the
lounge chair, and he appeared to be sound asleep.
	My thoughts turned to a fundamental question.  Was I gay?  In terms
of my enjoyment of sex with Nick and of how eagerly I took to it, I had to
be.  I wasn't scared to be or ashamed to be, but I didn't particularly want
to be, except for Nick.  Nick's diatribe about "fuckin' categories" kept
intruding itself into my thinking, though, and his simple equation of "sex
is sex" made me wonder even further.  He had said it wouldn't surprise him
if his brother Matt showed up with girls in tow and that I ought to try sex
with a girl at least once.  I fantasized about what that would be like,
what she would be like.  I imagined a Cindy Crawford type.  I mentally
visualized her magnificent face, her perfect breasts, and her superbly
rounded bottom.  I imagined her long legs wrapping themselves around me as
I buried my face in her hair and hugged her tight.  In my mind's eye I saw
myself giving her head, slowly, lovingly caressing her clit and lower lips
with my tongue. I imagined the soft warmth of her vagina as it surrounded
my throbbing cock, generously moisted with her juices, and I pictured
myself pumping in and out, gently at first but gradually increasing the
tempo and the force until she dug her fingers into my back and released
wave after wave of orgasmic heat.  I imagined my own climax, starting deep
inside me and then building, building, building to an incredible burst of
pleasure that left me weak with exquisite sensation.
	All of this was pure imagination, of course, since I had never been
with a woman and had no idea of what "the soft warmth of her vagina" really
felt like.  The effect on me was the same as the effects of these sorts of
fantasies usually were, and I achieved the kind of erection that probably
produced permanent stretch marks on the skin of my cock.  When I opened my
eyes, Nick was standing above me looking down at my dick.
	"Son of a bitch," he said.  "That must have been some fuckin'
dream.  I hope I was in it.  You made me hard just watching you."
	I smiled at him but didn't say anything.  I felt a twinge of guilt
that he hadn't been in it, and I'm sure my skin reddened even more from
embarrassment than it already had from the sun.
	"That goddamn thing is too good to waste.  Scoot over," Nick said.
	I moved over as far as I could on the lounge chair, and Nick got
into it next to me.  He put his right arm around my shoulder, and part of
my left side rested on him.  He swung his left leg on top of both of my
legs, and his erection was wedged between him and my side.  He started
playing with my left nipple and tonguing my left ear.  My nipple got hard
at once, and his hot, wet tongue made me gasp.  His right arm was buried
under me, so he took leave of my nipple and grabbed my cock with his left
hand.  Our whole bodies were both moist with perspiration from the hot sun,
and Nick's odor, sweat and tanning butter, wafted up and added another
sensory stimulation.  As he stroked my glistening cock, he rhythmically
prodded his cock into my side.  In a moment, I was moving in counterpoint
to his hand and body, as we both moaned with the intense pleasure of our
synchronized hump.
	"You're so fucking hot," he said.  "I want to fuck you so bad I can
almost feel your ass opening and grabbing my dick.  I want to be inside
you, not just my cock in your butt but my whole body inside your skin.  I
want us to become one giant orgasm, one groan of lust that never stops and
that deafens the universe.  I want to feel your hot cock explode in my
mouth, my ass, my everyplace."
	The dialogue was a new wrinkle in our sex play, and it worked its
magic.  Nick could feel me tense as I was about to come, and he let go of
my cock.
	"Not so fast, stud," he said.
	STUD!  He called me stud.  Just hearing that word made me hard when
I was younger, and now the arch-stud was using it to describe me!
	My dick quivvered, and for a second I thought I was a goner.
Evidently, though, he had caught me an instant before I reached the point
of inevitability, and the urge to come passed.  Instinctively, perhaps, or
maybe from experience, he knew when he could start again, and he did.  In a
few moments I was again climbing to orgasm, this time more intensely than
last.  I remember wondering if I would ever be as good as he was.
	Twice more he brought me to the very edge and pulled me back.
Then, when Nick was ready, he pulled down forcefully on my dick and we came
at the same instant.  He held on for a few minutes as the cum oozed from my
shaft and I settled into a kind of beatific glow that could only be a
foretaste of heaven.
	There wasn't much spunk to deal with, this being the seventh time
each of us had come since 9:30 this morning, but Nick massaged the little
that was there into the skin of our abdomans.  "It'll dry in no time in
this sun," he said.  We cuddled and nestled for a time.
	Then Nick said, "Brad?  Buddy?"
	"Yeah," I asked.
	"Do you remember when I got my right arm amputated?"
	We both laughed.  I shifted away from his right shouder and sat
upright.  We both got up; Nick got the Marlboros and took a seat in a
regular pool chair on my right.
	"I thought that was pretty intense," he said, and then inhaled his
smoke.
	"It was fair," I said.
	He chuckled.
	After a couple of minutes of silence, I felt as though I had to be
honest with him.
	"Nick," I said, "that hard-on I had wasn't from a dream.  I was
thinking about fucking a girl.  And I wasn't really thinking about you.  It
wasn't a dream.  I was awake."  I hope he detected the honest contrition in
my tone of voice.
	"Faggot."
	We both lost control and laughed until we ached.
	When we settled down, he was a little more serious.  "See, that's
the point I was trying to make last night.  Gay, straight, bi--those
categories don't really mean anything.  Brad.  That means something.  Nick.
That means something.  Buddies.  I hope that means something, too."
	"I'm beginning to see your point, I think," I said, revving up for
another of Nick's philosophical discussions.
	"Good.  Nothing heavy right now, though.  You haven't seen the
whole place.  You want to walk down to the lake?"
	Of course I did.  We got up to walk down to the lake, wherever that
was.
	"Bring the smokes and the lighter," Nick said.  I put the lighter
in the box of cigarettes, and off we went.
	The lake wasn't far, and we got there in less than ten minutes.  I
felt a little self-conscious walking around naked, but Nick acted perfectly
at ease.  The lake was large, and Nick explained that it covered more than
250 acres.  It was all on their property, but the fields at the end of a
stretch that doglegged off to the right were rented to tenants.  We
couldn't see them from where we stood.
	We sat down on a small sandy beach.  The road we had walked on to
get here continued a few hundred feet past the beach and ended at what
appeared to be a boathouse.  We decided to take a dip in the lake to cool
off.  Nick said that they did all of their swimming right here until the
pool was built.  The water was still pretty cold, so we didn't stay in more
than a few minutes.  We didn't have towels, so we decided to walk along the
shore until we dried off naturally in the sun.  We got to a thicket of
trees that came almost all the way to the shore line.
	"This is a special place for me," Nick said.  "This is where I
first jerked off."
	"You said something about that yesterday," I said, not really
expecting a reply.
	"Yeah.  I did it with my friend Sean," he said.  "I've known Sean
just about all my life.  His parents used to live on one of our tenant
farms, and his mother used to do housework for my mother when we were
little.  She used to bring Sean with her when we were here in the summers,
and we'd spend the whole day just running around this place.  In the spring
when I was ten, they moved away, and I didn't see Sean for two years.  I
was twelve when they moved back here, and we've been tight ever since.
	"Sean is two years older than I am, and he's just about my size.
We used to swim naked down here all the time before he moved away, so we
were used to seeing each other without clothes.  Neither of us had reached
puberty before he left, but both of us had by the time he moved back.  The
first day we were together after they came back here we were a little
awkward with each other.  It was like we had just met each other.  Then
Sean suggested we go for a swim.  I wanted to race him down here the way
we'd always done, but he wasn't interested.  He said it was too hot to run.
Anyway, we walked down here, and Sean pulled off his clothes really quickly
and stood in front of me showing off his bigger cock and pubic hair.  I
wasn't particularly impressed.  He was fourteen, after all, and I had just
figured he'd have some.
	"When I took my clothes off, Sean stared at my package.  My cock
was a good bit bigger than his. . . ."
	"Your cock's a good bit bigger than everybody's," I said.
	"That's not true.  But anyway, he saw the size of my cock and all
the hair I had, and I think he was surprised, and maybe a little
disappointed that he wasn't the only one that had pubed out."
	"You must have gone through puberty early," I said.  "I didn't
really get hair that you could see until I was in the eighth grade."
	"I guess I did; I don't really know.  I was twelve-and-a-half that
summer, going into the seventh grade.  Anyway, we went for a swim.  The
water wasn't a whole lot warmer than it is today, so we splashed around a
little, ducked each other a few times, and then we got out.  We came back
up here and sat on the bank.  Sean pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the
pocket of his shorts.  He asked me if I smoked, and I said yes.  I really
didn't, but I didn't want him to think I was a sissy or something.  Both my
brothers smoked, Scott openly and Matt behind my parents' backs, and I
guess I really wanted to but hadn't ever gotten around to it.  I took a
cigarette and coughed when I inhaled.  I had watched people smoke, so I
knew how it was supposed to look.  I hate it when guys hold a cigarette
like a pansy or something.  Anyway, we sat here smoking.  I got pretty
lightheaded, and I think Sean must have, too.
	"We both kept stealing looks at one another's equipment.  I told
you I always do that, and I do.  In a few minutes, Sean started getting a
hard-on.  He hadn't touched himself or anything.  It was probably just one
of those bonus boners you get.  When I saw that, I started on my own
hard-on.  Pretty soon, we were both sitting here buck naked with raging
hard cocks.  This wasn't the first time we had seen each other hard, of
course, but somehow this time we both felt different.  Sean asked me if I
thought we should jerk off.  That's just the way he put it. 'Nick, you
think we should jerk off?'  I said something like 'I guess,' but I wasn't
really sure what 'jerk off' meant.  I had heard my brothers call each other
that, but I thought it meant the same as plain 'jerk,' like 'asshole' or
something.
	"Well, ol' Sean started in.  I just sat there watching, and my
mouth was probably hanging open.  I had played with myself before and knew
it felt good, but I had never done what he was doing, and I had never come
when I was playing with myself.  I could come, although I didn't know
that's what it was, because I had had plenty of wet dreams and had woken
with cum all over the bed.  Anyway, Sean said, 'You've never done this,
have you?'  'Not exactly,' I said.  'Come on.  It's easy,' he said.  I
started stroking myself, and it felt really good.  In about a minute we
both came.  I thought, Wow!  this shit's really great.
	"We didn't stop there.  I was still pretty hard, and Sean was, too.
He pulled me closer to him and grabbed my cock.  Then he started stroking
me.  I was too interested in what he was doing and in what I was feeling to
do anything back to him.  Then I came again.  It was even stronger and
better that time.  Then Sean said for me to do him, and I did.  I think we
probably jerked each other off about five times that afternoon.  Anyway, I
wasn't really counting."
	Nick stopped here to light a cigarette.  I lit up, too.
	"So what happened after that," I asked.  I was more than half hard
at this point, and I wanted the story to go on much longer.
	"Well, we eventually went back up to the house, and Sean went home.
The next part of this story happened after dinner.  My brother Scott wasn't
here.  I think he was working for my dad in New Orleans painting some
houses we owned.  Matt was here, though.  Matt smoked, but my parents
didn't know it.  Really, they did know it, but Matt didn't smoke in front
of them.  Every night after dinner he and I would take a walk so Matt could
smoke.  Anyway, when we got outside where my parents couldn't see us, Matt
lit up a butt.  I said, 'Give me one.'  'When did you start smoking,' he
said.  'Today,' I said.  Matt didn't say anything else.  He gave me a
cigarette--Marlboro red box, just like I smoke now--and we walked on.  He
watched me to see if I inhaled.  'How did you start smoking,' he asked.  I
told him Sean smoked and that he gave me a cigarette that afternoon.  'And
you know what else," I said.  'Sean taught me how to jerk off.'
	"Matt stopped in his tracks.  'You didn't know how to jerk off
until today?'  'No,' I said.  'Did you come?'  'What does that mean,' I
asked.  'Did you make some white stuff?'  'Yeah.  Is that bad?'  I was
really pretty dumb for having two older brothers who were both horny as
two-peckered goats.  We were walking again by this time.  'No, that ain't
bad,' he said.  'That white stuff is called cum--c-u-m--and when you make
it, you come, c-o-m-e.'  'Why do they spell it different,' I asked him.
'Shut up, you dumb fuck, how do I know?'
	"We were walking toward the lake.  Matt didn't say anything else
until we got down here.  'Nick,' he said, 'I've got a duty to do.  As your
older brother.'  'Yeah?  What's that?'  'I've got to make sure Sean taught
you right,' he said.  You've got to know that Matt is one horny-ass
motherfucker.  He must have been thinking of this all the time we were
walking and not talking.
	"I thought that was probably a good idea.  Matt was older than
Sean, so he knew more.  I wanted to get it right.  Anyway, I said 'good' or
'great' or 'okay' or something, and I started to pull down my shorts.  I
was already half hard.  Matt pulled his jeans off.  He has never worn
underware, as far as I know.  At least not with jeans.  That's something I
learned from him.  I was wondering why he was getting undressed.  I had
seen him naked a million times, but this time he had a big fuckin' woody."
	I hadn't heard "woody" before, but I knew what he meant.
	"I started working my meat, you know.  I don't know how many
strokes I got in before Matt stopped me.  'I want you to do it to me,' he
said.  'That's the only way I'll know if you're doing it right.'  That made
sense to me, so I started in on Matt.  That afternoon, Sean and I had both
come real quick, but Matt seemed to take a long time.  He moaned and
grunted, and I even thought I was hurting him.  So I stopped.  'Don't stop,
asshole,' he said.  He and Scott both called me curse names all the time,
so I didn't think anything about the 'asshole' part.  I went back to work.
Matt's cock isn't as big as mine, even then.  But I could feel it get
harder and harder as I stroked him.  Finally, the head got really big.  He
started to buck like I had earlier in the afternoon, and he shot a big
load.
	"He was breathing really hard.  He caught his breath for a few
seconds, and then he said, 'I couldn't really tell if it was just right.
You'll have to do it again.'  I was so dumb I didn't know what this fucker
was up to, so I did it again.  He came again, although not as much that
time.
	"Meanwhile, I'm still as hard as a son of a bitch.  So I start
fingering myself.  I brought myself off, and Matt pronounced Sean an
adequate teacher.  Then Matt told me to lie down.  We laid down on the
sand.  Then he did something that was really out of character for him.  He
put his arm over my chest and kissed me on my lips.  I kind of freaked out,
I guess.  I didn't say anything, but he had never even touched me before
except to hit me, and here he was kissing me.  We laid there for a few
minutes, then Matt wanted another cigarette.  He sat up and fired one up.
He offered me one, but I said no.
	"'We got to talk about this,' he said.  'Did Sean kiss your dick?
Or put it in his mouth?'  'No,' I said.  'Well, see, that's the next step.
I'll teach you how to do that in a few minutes,' he said.  'What about your
assholes?  Did you guys touch each other on the asshole?  Did Sean stick
his dick in your asshole, or did you stick your dick in his?'  'No,' I
said.  The idea hadn't even crossed my mind.  'What about nipples?  Did you
guys rub each other's nipples?  Or suck them?'  'No.'  'You guys have a lot
to learn,' he said.
	"Matt was fifteen, and he had his driver's license.  That's the
legal age in Louisiana.  Did you know that?"
	"No.  I didn't," I said.  "It's sixteen in most states."
	"Well, it's fifteen here.  Anyway, he was gone most of the time.  I
found out later he had three girlfriends, and he was fucking every one of
them.  One of them was twenty-three!  But back to the story.  He hung
around the next day, and he went off with Sean and me when Sean and his mom
got to the country place.  He spent the whole day teaching us all about
sex.  I spent the night with him that night so we could practice."
	Nick laughed at this point, but the laughter was more ironic than
genuinely humorous.  I probably chuckled, too.
	"Well, there was no stopping me and Sean.  We were both horny as
hell, and we fucked and sucked each other all the rest of the summer.
Sometimes Matt joined us, but most days he didn't.  Every night, though, he
and I slept together, and, of course, we practiced.  Then something happend
on the Fourth of July weekend.  My brother Scott came up for the weekend,
and he brought a friend with him.  It turns out this was a guy who also
worked for my dad, with Scott.  They were living together at our house in
New Orleans, and my parents didn't even know it.  We had a big party on the
Fourth.  My dad had some of his clients up.  There were family friends, my
uncle Matt and his current squeeze, a whole bunch of people.  We had a
great time.  We had fireworks.  They're illegal in Louisiana, but this is
Mississippi, so we shot them off like crazy.  Finally, after everybody had
left to go home, it was just me, Sean--he was spending the night--Matt,
Scott, and Scott's buddy Doug.  Doug was maybe twenty.  We had some
fireworks left, so we decided to go down to the lake to shoot them off.
Mom and Dad went to bed.  It was only about 9:30.  They told us all the
usual parent shit--be careful, go to bed at a reasonable time.  You know.
	"We got into a pickup that's part of the rolling stock around here.
Scott and Doug loaded a cooler onto the back with me, Sean, and Matt.  I
thought it was soft drinks, but it was beer.  But that's another story.
Anyway, we came down here.  We built a fire, shot off a few fireworks, and
then stretched out around the fire.  Matt said he was hot, and he took off
his clothes.  Doug said he was hot, too, and took off his clothes.  In a
few minutes we were all naked.  And--you guessed it--in a few more minutes
we were all hard.  That night I had my first group sex.  We sucked.  We
fucked.  We kissed.  We felt.  We did it all.
	"Scott and I got into a jerk-off thing, and I came in just a few
minutes.  Scott took a long time.  When we were done, he asked me if I
always came that quick.  I told him I did and asked why he wanted to know.
'You've got to learn some control, little brother,' he said.  He knew Matt
and I were sleeping together, so he asked me if Matt had taught me how to
control my dick.  'No,' I said.  'I guess I should have known better,'
Scott said.  'I want you to learn how, though.  It'll make it better for
you and the person you're with.'
	"Scott taught me how to strengthen the muscles that control my
climax.  He told me to do the exercises every time I thought about it--'In
class, sitting around the house, you name it,' he said.  'Don't let up,
man.  Keep with it.'  Scott was my hero that summer.  He was eighteen, a
grown-up.  He had just graduated from high school and was going to Tulane
in the fall.  If Scott thought I should pump my muscles, then I'd do it.
Now that I look back on it, that was the best advice--sexually, I
mean--anyone ever gave me.  I can stay for a long, long time if I want to,
and it's because I have control over my dick."
	"Explain to me what you're talking about," I said.
	"Okay.  You know when you're taking a leak and you have to stop for
some reason?"
	"Yeah."
	"You use a set of muscles to squeeze off the piss.  You can use
those same muscles to keep from coming.  But you need to develop them for
it to work right.  You just squeeze like you're trying to cut off piss, and
that makes 'em strong enough to cut off cum, too.  Let me show you
something."
	Nick stood up right in front of me.  His dick was soft.  He started
pumping the muscles he was talking about, and his dick started jumping up
and down.  Then it started getting hard.  The more he pumped, the more it
jumped, and the harder it got.  I was amazed.
	"I can also make myself come by doing that, but I won't," he said.
	"Come on.  I want to see you do it," I said.  "I'll keep you
company with my hand."  I couldn't believe what I had just said and what
that guy had done to me.  Twenty-four hours ago I was running into a
bathroom out of fear of creaming my jeans, and now I was talking like this.
And loving it.
	Nick knelt down right in front of me and started pumping his
muscles.  I got on my knees, too, and started pumping my hand.  I wanted to
try Nick's technique to see if I could keep from coming.  He, apparently,
wanted to get off quickly, and he did.  He made more cum than last time,
and he shot it with a lot more force.  Some of it hit my chest.  Ordinarily
that would have made me come instantly, but I squeezed as Nick had
instructed, and I was able to hold off.  He probably saw the strain in my
face, and he smiled.
	"You're trying it, aren't you?"
	"Yeah, and I think it worked that time."
	"Here, let me have that."  He took my cock in his hand.  "You
concentrate on holding back, and I'll jerk you off."
	I approached climax again in just a few moments with Nick working
my cock.  I squeezed, and, great lover that he is, he turned me loose.
That kept me from coming, and my cock even lost some of it weight.  He
grabbed me again and went back to work.  When I got near my climax, I
squeezed as hard as I could, but I couldn't hold back.  I shot a small but
powerful load onto Nick.  Without even thinking, he scooped it up with his
finger and put it into his mouth.  It was like a reflex.
	We sat down and lit cigarettes.
	"You held back twice, didn't you?"
	"Yeah," I said.  "The third time, though, was too much for me."
	"See, that's why you've got to work those muscles.  Yours get tired
quick.  I can do it seven or eight times before mine give out."
	"So how long can you keep going," I asked.
	"That depends.  If I'm really horney, I can't last more than about
fifteen minutes.  That's in a pussy or an asshole.  I have gone as long as
forty-five minutes, though.  And that was cold sober.  If I've had some
drinks, I can probably last longer--and not feel a fuckin' thing."  Nick
laughed at that.  "My standard fuck at the clubs is twenty minutes.  That
works in nice with a half-hour gig.  Five minutes to heat the chick up,
twenty to fuck her, and five to clean up and calm down."
	I pondered the implications of what he had just said.  Sex is life
for him, I thought.  It's a business, too.  I'd been in awe of Nick for the
two weeks I'd known him, and all of this only added to the mystique.
	After a few minutes, Nick said, "How's your butt?"
	"What," I asked.
	"Your butt?  Your butt plug?  How's it doing?"
	"Great, I guess.  I really can't feel it anymore, except when I
come," I said.
	"Okay, that means you've stretched out some.  Let me check it.  Lie
down on your back and let me put your legs back."
	I assumed the position I had taken that morning, and Nick reached
down and moved the plug side to side a little.  He had a very serious face,
much as a doctor might have examining a patient.
	"Yeah.  You're ready for a bigger one," he said.  He thought for a
minute.  Then he reached behind himself and pulled the butt plug out of his
own ass.  I expected to see it covered with shit, but it wasn't.  In fact,
it looked clean, and shiney from the Vaseline.  "Do you mind," he asked as
he held it up for my inspection.  I shook my head.  It probably wasn't the
most sanitary thing in the world to do, but we hadn't exactly spent the day
in an operating room.  He pulled the plug out of my ass, and gently
inserted the larger one.  It was still warm from him, and I could feel
that.  Or at least I thought I could.  The bigger one went in easily
enough.  I could tell it was there, and I had the same delicious feeling of
fullness I had had when he had put the smaller one in me earlier that day.
He stuck the smaller one back in himself.  "So we don't have to carry it
around," he said.
	We sat still for a few moments, and I could feel my hole adjusting
to the larger plug.  "Is this one going to do it," I asked.
	"Maybe.  The one you got in you right now is about the size of your
cock, and you're not that much smaller than me in thickness.  The length
really doesn't matter that much.  It's the thickness.  We'll just have to
see in a few hours.  Try to relax your asshole muscles as much as you can,
and that will help them stretch."
	Just then I shivered.
	"What's the matter, Brad?"
	"Nothing.  It's getting a little chilly out here.  That's all."
	"Yeah.  You're right.  What time is it?"
	I still had my watch on.  It read 4:30.  The sun was still bright,
and it would stay light until around 7:00, but we were now in the shade.
	"Are you up for a little one-on-one?"
	"No, but I bet you can get me up in no time if you set your mind to
it."  I grinned slyly.
	"I meant basketball, cunt-hair."  We both laughed, but I had
already used that one.
	"Oh.  Okay," I said.  "I'm not real good, though."
	"Yeah, but you're getting better.  You'll be first rate by the time
I'm finished with you."  Again, laughter.
	We walked back to the house.  There was a basketball goal next to
the pool, and we fooled around for about an hour.  By 5:30 the sun had
retreated from the patio all together, and we were both tired, anyway.  I
played better than I usually do, but Nick was terrific, even at a sport he
didn't consider one of his.  He had a grace and naturalness about the way
he moved that you have to be born with.  I was distracted half the time
watching his cock.  Every time he went up for a shot, it would fly up and
slap his stomach.  A few times I even heard the "splat" it made as it hit,
but he didn't get hard.  I didn't do a lot of jumping, but the little I did
made me hard as a rock.  When Nick noticed my erection, he said he was
going to tell his P.E. teacher about an alternative to shirts and
skins--hards and softs.  That made us both laugh, and it made me less
self-conscious.
	We were sweaty when we finished our one-on-one, and I thought sure
Nick would want a shower.  But I was wrong.  My feet, which had been bare
since we got there, were filthy, and I could smell myself and wasn't
pleased.  I could smell Nick, too, but he smelled kind of good to me.
Earthy.  Natural.  His perspiration had washed off all the tanning butter,
it seemed.
	We went into the house, and Nick got busy in the kitchen.  He had
taken two huge steaks out of the freezer when we first arrived, and now
they were fully thawed in one of the sinks.  He asked me if I liked salad.
When I said I did, he got out a bag of pre-chopped salad greens, a tomato,
a jar of salad olives, a jar of marinated artichoke hearts, and a bag of
homemade crutons.  He turned on the oven and put two baking potatoes
inside.  "Do you want a vegetable," he asked.  "If you do," I said.  He got
out a container of frozen squash, of all things, and put it in the
microwave to thaw.  He also took a small loaf of French bread from the
freezer, and set that on the counter.  "I'll warm it up when it's thawed
out," he said.  It was as though he had to reassure me I'd be well taken
care of.
	"How 'bout a drink," he asked.
	"Sure.  Why not?"
	He made us each a pretty strong drink.  It was Scotch again, I
think.  I nursed my drink as I watched Nick work.  He made his own salad
dressing using oil, vinegar, a little garlic, and some dried mustard
powder.  He put salad greens and the other ingredients into two bowls, but
he didn't pour on the dressing.
	"Let's set the table," he said.  He got out cloth placemats and
matching napkins, silverware, and wine glasses.  "Do you mind if we eat in
the breakfast room?"  I assured him that would be fine.  I went into the
breakfast room, which was right off the kitchen, and watched him set the
table.  He took a lot more care than I would have expected getting
everything straight and in the right place.  Then we went back to the
kitchen.
	"It'll only take a few minutes to cook the steaks, but these
potatoes will have to bake about another hour.  Can you wait that long?"
	"Sure," I said.  I realized Nick was just being polite in asking me
if I could wait to eat, but, realistically, what was the alternative?  I
guess he could have microwaved them, but microwaved baked potatoes just
aren't as good as the real baked kind.
	Nick got a wedge of cheese from the refrigerator and put it on a
serving plate.  He arranged crackers around it and got a cheese knife.
Then he set the timer on the stove to go off in forty-five minutes.  "Let's
go into the living room and relax.  Bring your drink, and I'll bring this
stuff," meaning the cheese and crackers.
	The living room he was talking about was really the room he had
earlier called the morning room.  It was a very masculine place, with very
soft leather furniture, a TV, a coffee table--the usual living room
furniture.  It also had an old up-right piano that appeared to have been
refinished at some point in the past.
	"Do you want to watch the news or something," Nick asked.
	"Not really," I said.  It felt good to sit down, although I was
very uncomfortable being in this room nude.  I had gotten used to being
nude outside, but somehow this place called for clothes.  "Nick," I said,
"would you mind if I got dressed?  I don't feel right being in this
beautiful house without clothes on."
	"Oh, hell, no, man.  As a matter of fact, I'm kind of feeling the
same way.  I keep thinking my mom will walk in any second."  He chuckled.
"Besides, we aren't going to be getting any more sun today."
	We went upstairs to Nick's room to get dressed.  When we got there
he wanted to check my butt plug.  He pronounced me ready for the next size,
and we took care of that matter before we put our clothes on.  Nick took
his plug out but didn't put another one in.  It felt a little strange
having clothes on after being naked most of the day.  It was kind of like
it feels when you put on long pants after being in shorts for a long time,
only all over.  I still thought we should shower, but I didn't say anything
about that.  I did go into the bathroom and wash my feet, however, before I
put my shoes back on.  I hadn't closed the bathroom door, and, when Nick
saw what I was doing, he laughed but washed his feet, too.  I felt much
better after that.  I was used to my smell by now, and I decided it wasn't
all that bad, after all.
	We went back downstairs and dove into the cheese and crackers.  The
cheese was soft and creamy, and it had a kind of sweet-bitter taste.  I
asked Nick what it was, and he told me it was imported brie, his favorite.
I had heard of brie, but I had never tasted it before.  I made a mental
note to put this stuff on my "favorite foods" list.
	We made small talk for a few minutes, and then I asked Nick about
the piano.  "Does anybody ever play it," I wanted to know.
	"Yeah.  Sometimes.  You want to play it?"  There was a note of
eager hopefulness in his voice.
	"I wish I could," I said.  "I love music, but I can't play a note."
Then I wondered about him.  "Can you play?"
	"Yeah.  What do you want to hear?"
	"What do you know," I asked.
	"I can play just about anything, as long as I've heard it before.
Any popular song, that is.  I've got to study and practice on the hard
classical pieces."
	"Player's choice," I said.
	Nick got up and sat at the piano.  In a second he was playing an
old Elton John tune that I recognized but couldn't name.  I was standing
now next to the piano watching Nick play.
	When he got to the chorus, he started singing the words to "Benny
and the Jets."  His voice was terrific.  In a second I started singing
along, but I knew my singing voice wasn't my best attribute.  When Nick
finished that song, I applauded, and I do believe my buddy actually blushed
a little as he grinned at me.  He reminded me of a little boy who was
basking in the approval of somebody he really admired.  I grabbed his head
and kissed the top.  Then I asked him if he could play anything by
Springsteen.  He thought for a second and started in on "Dancing in the
Dark."  After that he played a couple more Springsteen songs, and then he
quit.
	Seated in a leather chair again, with me close by on the sofa, Nick
lit a cigarette and took a longish pull on his drink.  "How did you learn
how to play like that," I asked.
	"I took piano lessons for five fuckin' years when I was a kid," he
replied.
	"I know people who've taken piano lessons for much longer and can't
play nearly as well as you, especially without sheet music," I said.
	"I guess it's just something I can do," he said.  "I don't even
think about it, and I haven't touched a piano in more than a month.  It
really used to piss my brothers off.  Mom and Dad made them take piano,
too, and they used to have to practice their asses off and still didn't get
it right half the time.  I would practice maybe twenty minutes and have the
piece down perfect."
	"Why did you stop taking lessons," I asked.
	"Sports.  I wanted to play football, and I couldn't do both.  So
piano lessons had to go.  Besides, I hated my teacher.  He never would
accept the fact that I could play pretty good without a lot of practice,
and my two prick brothers made it a point of making sure he knew I didn't
practice much."
	We heard the buzzer on the kitchen timer go off, so we went back in
to finish cooking.  The stove had a built-in grill, and Nick used that to
cook the steaks.  He served the plates and got a bottle of red wine out of
another refrigerator-looking device (that I later learned was a modern wine
cellar), and we went in to eat.  The food was good and the meal satisfying,
but it wasn't exactly gourmet.  Nick had to get up almost as soon as we had
sat down to fetch the butter and sour cream for the potatoes he had
forgotten.  We ate in silence for a little while, and then I asked Nick to
tell me about his brothers.
	"Scott--he's the older one, remember?--is a little taller than I
am, but he's otherwise built like me.  Not as much muscle, though."  He
grinned a little self-consciously at that pronouncement.  "He wasn't much
of an athlete in school, but he works out a few times a week, just like me
and Matt, so he stays in pretty good shape.  Scott's the real business man
of the three of us.  My folks left us quite a bit of rental property--you
know, houses and stores and office buildings and that kind of shit.  Scott
manages all of that.  Really, there's a management company called Marshall
Management, Incorporated, and they do the day-to-day work of finding
tenants and billing and that kind of stuff.  Scott sort of supervises all
of that, though.  Then he also runs the three clubs.  Each club has a
manager and an assistant manager, and they do the nitty-gritty shit, but
Scott keeps them on their toes."
	"Is Scott one of the dancers.  What was it you called them, a
stud. . . ."
	"A stud in the stable."
	"Right.  Is he a stud in the stable?"
	"He'll fill in sometimes, but he tries to get to all three clubs
every night, so he doesn't like to be tied down to just one place.
Besides, Scott is a little more serious than that.  He kind of has a
girlfriend at the moment, and she doesn't like him sticking it in every
woman that has a hundred dollars.  You know what I mean?"
	"What about Matt," I asked.
	"Matt's Matt.  What can I say about Matt?  He's the best looking of
the three of us."
	Better looking than you, I thought.  No fucking way.
	"He was an athlete in school and has a really good build.  He's my
height, great hair, a little longer than mine but better."
	Better hair, I thought.  No fucking way.
	"He's real outgoing.  He never met a stranger, and people like him
right away.  I guess I'm kind of like that, too, but Matt is even more than
me.  He loves to party, and Scott and our trustees will really have to
watch him since he turnes twenty-one.  Scott, Matt, and I all have
birthdays in the same week in November, so we're all exactly two years
apart."
	"Why is turning twenty-one so important that Matt has to be
watched?  I would have thought just the opposite."
	"We get the full profits of our trusts when we turn twenty-one.  We
can't touch the principals until we're thirty-five, so even Scott can't get
to all his money.  Besides, most of it is tied up in real estate.  But the
profits are quite a bit of money."
	"Like how much?"  I realized as I was saying the words that that
was none of my business and that Nick would probably slap me down for
asking.  But he didn't.
	"It's around five million a year.  Or at least it has been for the
last few years.  A little more than that, really."
	"Wow!"
	"Yeah, I know.  They don't want Matt to be totally wreckless with
his money or give it away to some chick or pretty-boy who makes his cock
swell.  He's just the type to do that, too.  He and Scott have almost
gotten into fist fights over that, but Scott says Matt will thank him for
it someday.  I'm not sure."
	"So do you get any money, or what?"
	"I get an allowance.  Since I was already eighteen when my parents
died, I started getting $5,000 a month."
	"Jesus Christ!"
	"Yeah, I know.  Plus I get what I earn."
	"How much is that?"  I wasn't going to let up until he made me.
	"That varies a lot.  I get twenty dollars for each show, so that's
forty a night.  Then I get my tips.  That's usually around two hundred a
night.  Then I get forty for each private show.  I usually do four a
night--when I'm working.  I don't have any regular private clients at the
moment, though."
	I added up the amounts as he was listing them off.  He makes four
hundred dollars a night, I thought, doing what most guys fantasize about
when they jerk off.  I couldn't believe it.
	Nick continued: "I worked twelve nights in the last two weeks.
We're closed on Sunday nights.  I made almost five thousand dollars."
	"Goddamn," I said.
	After a moment's pause, Nick said, "I wish you wouldn't tell
anybody about the money, okay?"
	"Sure, buddy.  I won't."  Who'd believe me, I thought.

	It was almost nine o'clock by the time we got up from the table.
We spent maybe ten minutes straightening things up in the kitchen, putting
the dishes in the dishwasher, etc.  We were getting close to my moment of
truth, and I was getting excited.
	Nick asked me what I wanted to do.  "We could watch some TV or a
movie on the VCR.  Or fuck," he said.
	"Why don't we just fuck," I said.  He grinned.
	We went up to Nick's room.  As soon as we got there, I started
taking off my clothes.  Nick had a look of mild surprise on his face, but
he didn't say anything.  He started undressing, too.  I was already more
than half hard, and I had started producing pre-cum fluid.  Nick was in
about the same shape.
	He walked seductively over to where I was standing and took my cock
in his hand.  He pumped me several times to make me rock hard.  Then he
turned on his stereo to a CD with slow dance music.  He put his arms around
me, pushed his cock up against me--and mine up against him, of course--and
we danced.
	"You smell good to me, Brad," he said softly.  We continued
dancing, our pre-cum smearing on one another as we slowly moved around the
room and around on each other's stomachs.  When I thought I was getting
close to exploding, Nick waltzed me toward the bed.  He gently lay me back
on it and just as gently lifted my legs back toward my shoulders.  Then he
removed the last butt plug and set it aside.  My asshole felt completely
relaxed, and I remember thinking fleetingly that I hoped I didn't shit all
over the bed.
	Nick moved my legs back to their normal positions and got between
them, still standing on the floor.  He kissed me deeply and tenderly
awhile, and our cocks rubbed against each other, heightening my arousal.
Then Nick started moving down my body with his tongue.  First my neck, then
my shoulders, then my chest, and then my nipples.  He licked each one, now
nipping gently with his teeth, now sucking hard.  He traced the faint line
of hair down my abdoman, and just when I thought I was in for the blowjob
of a lifetime, he hauled my legs back to my shoulders and went to work on
my hole.  Hotly, wetly he tongued me.  I felt his tongue inside my anus,
and my viscera turned to warm jelly.  He kept that up until I was ready to
come, then he backed off.  "Remember to use your muscles to keep from
coming," he whispered.  I nodded.
	In a second I felt Nick's finger applying KY to my anus.  Then
there was a pause as he lubed his cock.  In a matter of seconds I felt the
head of his cock against my hole, and then it was inside me.  "Relax," he
said.  "Relax.  Relax."  Slowly, but steadily, Nick pressed forth, and I
felt my ass welcome his shaft.  In a moment he reached my "g-spot," and I
emited a spurt of pre-cum.  Instead of humping right away, Nick leaned up
on top of me and kissed me.  Wave after wave of affection for this
gorgeous, funny, talented guy swept over me, and I began to cry.  Nick
licked at my tears.
	"Are you ready for this part of the adventure," he asked.
	"Yes.  God, yes," I said.
	Then he started.  Slowly at first, just an inch or two at the time.
I matched his thrusts, and he accelerated the pace.  Faster and faster his
slid up and down my insides.  Greater and greater came the pleasure.  When
I thought I was about to come, Nick slowed down.  "Squeeze," he said.  I
did, and it worked for both of us.  He quickened the pace again and once
more brought me almost to the point of inevitability.  I squeezed again,
and again Nick resumed his work.
	Finally, I got to the point where coming was the sole purpose of my
existence.  I said, "Nick, I can't hold off again."  With that he stopped
moving.  He loosened his grip on my legs and moved them forward so that my
cock was pointing straight up between us.  Without pulling out of me, he
bent over and took most of my cock into his mouth.  He started fucking me
again, but now moving his mouth up and down on my cock, as well.  My
asshole contracted as a violent spasm shook my loins.  Nick's orgasm began
at the same moment, and he began bucking into me uncontrollably.  I let
myself go completely and spewed my seed into Nick's mouth.  I came and Nick
came.  He looked up at me with what I thought was intense feeling, and we
were fused together emotionally, as well as physically.
	After he had gotten soft and my own cock was a wet wad of mush, he
moved into bed with me.  He took me into his arms and petted me.  The
emotion was too great to bear, and once again I cried.  Nick wrapped his
legs around me and held me tight.  I regained control before too long, and
we separated.  Nick got cigarettes, and we smoked.
	After a time, Nick spoke.  "I think you liked that."
	"Um huh."  Then, "Why does it keep getting better?  Where will it
end?"
	"I don't know, buddy.  It's been gettin' better for me, too.  I
guess the more you care for somebody, the better it gets."
	After a pause: "Nick, I'm sorry about the crying.  I just can't
help myself.  I feel so much that it just doesn't have anywhere to go."
	"I know, Brad.  I almost joined you this last time.  It was really
intense.  I felt it, too, but I've been conditioned not to cry, no matter
what.  The day my parents and uncle were buried was one of the most intense
days of my life.  After the funeral, we went back to our house, and there
were a million people there.  I just wanted to be alone, but I couldn't.
We don't have many relatives.  None, really.  My mom was an only child, and
both her parents died five years ago in a hotel fire in Cairo, Egypt.  My
dad had his brother, but he was dead, too.  My dad's dad died when my dad
was in his thirties, and my grandmother got leukemia when I was in the
eighth grade and died in about a month.  My parents and Matt had a lot of
friends, and they were a comfort, but not on the day of the funeral.  That
night I went to bed and couldn't sleep.  I got up and went into my parents'
room, and Scott was already in their bed.  In about ten minutes Matt came
in and joined us.  We made love--really made love--to one another that
night, and we all cried and cried and cried.  The sex was bitter-sweet.  We
all promised each other we would never cry again.  And I haven't."
	"Nick?"
	"Yeah?"
	"You're the most fascinating person I've ever know.  You know
that?"
	After a long pause: "Thanks, buddy."  And he kissed me.  "I think."
Then, "What time is it?"
	"Almost 10:30," I said.
	"You want to take a shower," Nick asked.

	We did it again in the shower, this time Nick taking me from behind
as I had him--when?  this morning?  that didn't seem possible.  We broke
out clean clothes this time, Nick very tight and faded 501's and a black
pocket tee, me some newish 501's and another Tommy Hilfigger shirt.  Nick
had never looked more sexy to me than he did in that outfit, but my cock
didn't respond.  We went downstairs and watched a movie on HBO until after
midnight.  Nick had another drink, but I passed.  We both dozed during the
movie, although it was a good one for a Thursday night.  We went to bed
naked and we sucked each other off.  Nick opened the windows in the room,
and the cool spring air made us want to snuggle up close.  We were on our
sides in the "spoon" position, and I got hard again.  Nick wiggled his butt
onto my dick, and we fell asleep with me inside him.