Date: Thu, 30 Dec 1999 02:46:04 GMT
From: Brew Maxwell <dokker22@hotmail.com>
Subject: Unusual Christmas 4

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life
characters or situations is purely coincidental.  It is a work intended for
mature audiences only.  Therefore, any reader who is under the age of legal
adulthood in his/her jurisdiction is hereby ordered to exit this story.
This story may be posted to the Nifty Archives and may be downloaded for
personal enjoyment.  However, it may not be posted to any Web page,
newsgroup, or other location without the written permission of its author.
This work contains graphic descriptions of both homosexual and heterosexual
sexual acts.  Any readers who are offended by either or both types of
descriptions should exit now.  Otherwise, enjoy.  And Merry Christmas.


My Unusual Christmas

Chapter 4

	Scott and Matt must have come in some time after we went to sleep because
they were there in the morning.  We didn't see them, but their cars were in
the driveway, and they had each left signs of their presence around the
house.  Ina Mae was already there, even though it was 7:30 when we got up.
We had told her she didn't have to get there so early, but she had said that
her boys needed good breakfasts to get done all the important things they
had to do.  Yeah, right.  She had always been like a second mother to us,
but she had gotten even more maternal since Mom died.  If she hadn't been
black, I would have sworn she and my mother were sisters.  They loved each
other as much as sisters do.  Ina Mae was cool, though.  She never let on
that she even suspected we had "guests" sleep over.  In fact, in her eyes,
we could do no wrong.
	I don't know why Brett and I got up so early, except that we had had all
the sleep we needed.  I slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went
downstairs to get coffee for me and Brett.  I took it back to my room.
Brett was still in bed, naked, so I took my clothes off and got back in with
him.  We lay in bed, drinking our coffee and smoking cigarettes and talking
about what we might do that day.
	After we finished the coffee, Brett started getting kind of serious on me.
	"You know, what I said the other night about you giving me so much was
true," he said.
	"Do we have to talk about this," I asked.  "Can't we just talk about
today?"
	"No, Nick.  I want to talk about it.  You're the only guy I've known that I
feel completely at home with.  Hell, I don't even feel at home with my
parents.  I feel like I'm on display whenever I'm around them.  Do you know
I've never even farted in front of them?"
	"Well, you've made up for it in front of me," I joked.
	"I'm trying to be serious, man," he said, seriously.
	"I'm sorry," I said.
	"Really, you're the best friend I've ever had.  And I love you."
	I didn't know what to say.  What did he mean he loved me.  Was he _in_ love
with me?  Or did he love me like a friend loves another friend?
	He continued: "I'm not in love with you like I want you to be my boyfriend,
or anything."  That was a relief.  "I love you like I imagine you love your
brothers.  And I love it when you touch me and when you do ... er, you know
... sexual things to me."
	Neither of us said anything for a long time.  I was thinking of what to
say.  I liked this guy a lot.  I knew he had a reputation of being kind of a
dweeb at school, and he was only the manager of the football team and I was
the quarterback.  But there was a tenderness and sensitivity to him that the
other guys at school didn't know about and wouldn't have appreciated.  He
had lived in New Orleans for five years, but  this was only his second year
at Colton.  He was still kind of an outsider.  I was surprised as hell when
he was included in the brotherhood ceremony after the football banquet.
	Instead of talking, I put my arm around him and snuggled him to me.  I
kissed him gently on the lips, and I reached down and started gently rubbing
his stomach.  I could feel his dick respond.  Then I moved up to his nipple.
  He, like most guys, loved having his nipples stimulated.  His breathing
was starting to get a little heavy.
	"We're buddies, Brett, in every sense of the word.  I love you like a
brother, too, and I hope we'll always be close.  Next year, when you're at
Harvard," --he had already gotten early decision acceptance to Harvard--
"I'm going to visit you, and we'll have a hell of a good time."  I continued
to stimulate him, and he continued to respond.
	"How do you feel about Chuck," he asked.
	"I feel the same way about Chuck.  All three of us got together at a time
in our lives when we were kind of at the bottom of the barrel, you know?  I
mean, when you came up to me in the parking lot and told me you wanted to
talk to me, nobody else on campus would have anything to do with me.  They
were all afraid the cheating accusation might be true.  You saved me.  You
wanted to be my friend.  A week later I met Chuck on the worst fucking day
of my life--I was feeling shitty about my parents, and it was a game day, so
even you were out of town with the team.  Chuck didn't care.  He wanted to
be my friend.  Just like you.  I know you're having a tough time at home
with your parents, and they're treating you like shit.  But you've got us.
You've got me and Chuck, and you've also got Scott and Matt.  I know you
don't really know them all that well, but as long as you're my buddy, you're
their friend.  Chuck was at the bottom of his barrel, too.  He was
depressed, sick with life, confused about his sexuality.  He found us.  Now
he's happy.  I've been happy, too, the last three weeks."
	"So have I, man; so have I.  See, that's it.  We needed each other, and we
found each other.  How can that happen?  Did God make that happen?  Can God
make a guy want to fuck another guy so they can both be happy?"
	"Yes," I said.  "Fuck, yes.  He did.  He made us want each other, and that
made us happy.  I don't have a problem with that."
	"So, do you think we're gay?"
	I laughed.  "Hell, yes, I think we're gay.  But I also think we're
straight.  I've been holding you for fifteen minutes, and I've got a hard-on
that's been leaking for fifteen minutes.  And I know you do, too.  That's
being gay.  But what did you do at the party Sunday night?  Did you fuck
that red-haired girl I saw you with?"
	"Yeah, I did.  She was something else."
	"So see, you're also straight.  I've fucked girls a bunch of times.  So I'm
straight, too.  I don't know what Chuck did, but he's been married.  So he
must have been straight then.  Let's forget about being straight or gay.
There are more colors than black and white.  The most interesting ones are
gray."  I leaned over and kissed Brett, and he kissed me back.  We got into
the kissing thing a while.  Brett started stroking my upper body as I had
been doing to his, and that only made my cock harder and more insistent.
	"What do you want to do to me right now," I asked.
	"I want to suck your cock," he said.  "What do you want to do to me?"
	"I want to fuck your ass," I said.
	And so we did.  He sucked me off, and I fucked his ass.  Then, after we
cleaned up a bit, I sucked him off, and he fucked me.  It was the perfect
way to start the day.

	We took a shower together, and we fucked each other another time.  I always
shave in the shower, and I did so that day.  Then I shaved Brett.  Then I
had him shave my chest and my arms and my legs and my balls and cock (but
not my pubes) and my ass.  I offered to shave him, but he really didn't have
enough body hair for it to matter.  We soaped up a second time and finished
up drying each other off.  I really like the feel of not having any body
hair.
	We finally emerged from my room around 9:30, and it was too early to do
anything.  I suggested we work out, and Brett was a little apprehensive.  He
was a manager, after all, and not used to the jock routine.  We went to a
health club where I had a membership, and I got the owner, Al, to do a body
fat measurement on Brett.  He wasn't at all fat, but his fat-to-muscle ratio
was high.  Al explained that he didn't so much need to lose fat as to gain
muscle.  He prescribed an exercise routine that would take care of that, and
we got started.  We spent the best part of the morning working out, and then
we showered again and went for something to eat.
	After we had ordered club sandwiches, french fries, and cokes, I asked
Brett if he really wanted to get into shape.
	"Of course, I do," he said, "but I don't know if I'm willing to do what it
takes to get there."
	"See, that's it.  Everybody wants to be in shape, but nobody wants to do
the work.  I'm lucky.  My body type and genetic package make it easy for me,
but guys like you have to really work at it.  Frankly, I don't know if it's
worth it."
	"You're not being very encouraging."
	"I know, but maybe I'm being realistic.  I'll tell you what, let's go back
to the gym tomorrow and get Al to work up a routine for me, too.  You and I
will work out every day, or whatever he says, until Spring Break, and we'll
have you tested again.  Then you can decide what you want to do.  How's that
sound?"
	"That sounds like a deal.  I'll join tomorrow, too.  How much is it?"
	"I think its about forty bucks a month.  Have you got that much?"
	"Yeah," he said.  "My parents each gave me a thousand dollars for
Christmas.  Besides, money is never a problem in my family; it's love that's
the problem."
	We decided to go back to the gym right after we finished lunch.  Brett
joined, and the guy worked up an exercise program for me that was supposed
to increase my muscle definition but not necessarily my muscle mass.  He
said my muscle mass was just right for my size but that he could make me
look like a Greek god, definition-wise.  He gave us a five-day schedule.  We
wouldn't work everything every day, of course, but we'd get to all the
muscle groups in the five-day cycle.  He told us not to start that day,
since we had both worked out pretty hard that morning.  I was kind of
excited about that whole thing.
	We went back to my house and discovered that Joe and Frank and their people
had been there decorating.  Our house looked good every year, but I think
that year was better than ever.  I immediately called their shop to thank
them and to say how great it looked.  They seemed genuinely pleased that I
liked it and were very pleased that I had called.
	Brett and I went up to my room, and he asked me about my computer.  He had
one, but he had never really fooled with it much.  He just mostly used it
for writing papers for school and for playing games.
	"Have you ever been online," I asked.
	"You mean on the Internet?  No.  I've got a modem, but I've never bothered
to subscribe to a service."
	"Let me show you some of the stuff you can get."
	We played around for a while, and I showed him some of my favorite
newsgroups and sites on the web.  He was rather amazed at what all was out
there.  After a while, I  got bored watching him surf the Net, but he was
fascinated.  I lay down on my bed and fell asleep.  I slept hard for two
hours or more, and, when I woke up, Brett was still surfing.
	"Can I tear you away from that screen long enough to go shoot some pool," I
asked.
	"Sure," he said.  "But this is fucking fantastic.  I'm going to hook up my
modem and get online the first chance I get."
	We went to Chubby's and shot some pool.  There weren't many people in the
place, it being close to Christmas, and all.  I reminded Chubby about
Christmas Eve and told him to bring his mother and whoever was his current
squeeze, and he said he would be there.  He told us he was having a little
Christmas party the next night and for us to come and to bring anybody we
wanted to.  I told him we would be there.
	I had told Ina Mae not to cook, since we didn't know where we'd be or what
we'd be doing.  It was getting on to dinner time, though, and I was feeling
pretty hungry.  I called Chuck's house and got no answer.  Then I called his
office and spoke to him.
	"What's up," he asked.
	"Brett and I are starving and want you to come get something to eat with
us," I said.  "I know you've got to work, but you also gotta eat."
	"Where are you guys," he asked.
	"We're at Chubby's.  Why don't we meet you at that little place down the
street from your office?  Is that okay?"
	"Yeah, that's great.  I'll see you guys in ten minutes."
	It had gotten cooler since it had gotten dark.  I had my leather jacket,
but Brett didn't have anything.  I remembered I had a jeans jacket in the
trunk, so I got it for him.  Then we drove to the restaurant.
	Chuck was already seated, sipping a martini and smoking a cigarette.
	"Hi, guys," he said when we got to the table.
	"You guys want a drink?"
	We both said we did.  I had drunk more alcohol in the last week than I'd
usually drunk in a month or more, but what the hell.  It was Christmas.
	We talked about what we had done that day.  Chuck said the volume of mail
had been twice what he had expected but that he thought the worst was over.
The next day, Thursday, would be the last day the office was open until the
following Tuesday.
	"I thought Fed Ex was a 365-day-a-year operation," Brett said.
	"It is," Chuck replied, "but only the main station downtown will be open
after tomorrow, and they'll have only a skeleton crew.  That's one of the
great things about this company--they take care of their employees."
	"They're taking care of your ass pretty good," I said.  "What are you
working, fifteen-hour days?"
	Chuck didn't say anything.  Instead, he reached into the inside pocket of
his coat and pulled out an envelope.  He opened it and showed us a check for
ten thousand dollars.
	"That's my Christmas bonus.  That's why I don't complain."  We all laughed.
	"So what are you going to buy," I asked.
	"Probably nothing right away," he said.  "I've been saving these up for the
last three years, and I've got enough for a pretty good down payment on a
house.  Trouble is, now that I'm not married, I don't know if I want a
house."
	We told Chuck about the party at Chubby's the next night.  We also told him
about Brett's joining the gym.  He said he ought to do the same thing.  We
told him we agreed.
	After we ate and had coffee, Chuck had to get back to work.  I asked him if
he wanted to come over when he finished up, but he told us not to plan our
evening around him.  He said it might be after midnight before he could get
away.
	"Do you have to work late tomorrow night," Brett asked.
	"Probably.  We close the doors at five, but there may still be customers
there.  Plus, we've got to get all the stuff sorted and delivered to the
next point.  One good thing, though, is I don't have to get there until noon
tomorrow.  There are roving managers who are supposed to give us a break now
and then during the rush season.  The guy who's coming in for me tomorrow
morning has been sick, so this is the first time I've been relieved.  I'm
looking forward to a late sleep."
	"So, will you make it to Chubby's," I asked.
	"I hope so, but don't count on it.  Give me a call around six, and I should
be able to give you a better estimate of how late I'll be.  You guys have a
good time, if I don't make it."
	Just as Brett and I were about to leave, I got a page.  It was Philip, so I
called the number on the pager.
	"Yeah, Philip.  What's up?"
	"Scott told me to call you to remind you you're expected at Mr. Hamilton's
house tonight at eight."
	"Oh, shit," I said, "I forgot all about that.  Okay, thanks for calling
me."  We hung up.
	"What's going on," Brett asked.
	"I forgot I was supposed to go to my Uncle Stephen's house tonight.  He's
this old dude who was my grandfather's best friend and law partner.  He's
like an honorary grandfather.  There's no way I can't go.  You can come,
too, though.  We'll have to go home and change first.  This is coat and
tie."
	Brett and I hurried to my house and changed in just a few minutes.  Luckily
Uncle Stephen's house was close.  When we got there, there was a large crowd
of cars parked on the street.  He lived just a few blocks from my house, so
I drove home and we walked back.  That was easier than trying to find a
place to park.
	Uncle Stephen and Aunt Martha were in their seventies, but they still
looked great. I kissed her and shook hands with him.  I introduced Brett,
and it turned out they knew his parents.  They thanked me for their
gifts--the scotch and cigars all the partners got, and a Waterford crystal
vase all the wives got that year.  Thank God I remembered they were on the
list.
	I knew most of the people at the party, and most of them were rather
elderly.  My brothers came in a little while after we did, but, apart from
them, there weren't really any young people at this soiree.  Matt got us all
drinks.  Then he said,
	"What are you two fuckers up to tonight?"
	He said it louder than he should have, or so I thought, and I said, in a
much softer voice,
	"Keep your fucking voice down, asshole."
	"Why?  These old fuckers can't hear me anyway."
	Just then a guy turned toward us and said, "This old fucker can hear you
just fine."
	I almost shit my pants.  Mom probably did a 360 in her grave.  Then I saw
who it was.  It was Uncle Tyler, Matt's trustee, and he was grinning from
ear to ear.
	We shook hands and I introduced Brett.  He knew his parents, too.  I began
to wonder if my parents knew his parents.  They probably did.
	"So what are you little shits up to," he asked.  "Waiting for Santa Claus
with visions of sugar plums dancing in your heads?"
	We laughed.
	"Yes, sir," Matt said.  "Only the sugar plums have to be sticking out of a
dripping  . . ."
	Before he could finish what he was about to say, which was "pussy," I
bumped into him, pretending to be jostled from behind by someone passing.
He almost spilled his drink.  I should have realized it before, but Matt was
drunk.  Scott came up just then to shake hands with Uncle Tyler.  Tyler
wanted to know all about the clubs, so he and Scott went off into the corner
to talk.
	I pulled Matt through the dining room into the butler's pantry off the
kitchen.
	"Why are you acting like such a fucking asshole?  How much did you have to
drink before you got here?"
	"Look, Bubba, I'm sorry.  I'm not really drunk.  Scott made me come to
this, and I absolutely hate it.  I was acting like just what you said--an
asshole.  I'll behave myself."  He lit a cigarette and offered me one.  I
shook my head no.  I didn't think Aunt Martha would appreciate us smoking in
her house.  Then I took a couple of drags off Matt's smoke.  So much for my
integrity.  He snuffed the butt in his glass and left the glass on the
counter.
	Then he said, "I wonder if Skippy's here."
	I had forgotten about him.  The guy he was talking about was Skip Hamilton,
Uncle Stephen's grandson.  He had graduated from Colton in Matt's year, and
he was at Dartmouth.  Matt didn't particularly like him, hence the "Skippy."
  We had known this guy all our lives, and he and Matt had been rivals more
or less, although Matt had it all over him in everything but grades.
	"Let's go find out," I said.
	We didn't have to go far.  Skip and Brett were standing together, talking,
in the dining room.
	"Hey, guys, look who it is.  I never made the connection between Skip
Hamilton and Mr. Hamilton.  Why didn't you tell me, Nick?"
	"I wanted it to be a surprise," I said.  And besides, I forgot he existed.
	"Hi, Skip," I said, shaking hands with him.
	"Nick," he said.
	"Skip," Matt said, and shook hands.
	"Matt."
	So much for the warm greetings.
	"I was so sorry to hear about your parents and Mr. Matt," he said.  "I
couldn't come for the funerals, but I hope you got my card."
	"Yeah," I said.  "We understand, and we really appreciate your
thoughtfulness."
	Matt nodded.
	There was a kind of awkward silence for a moment.  Skip wanted to be a
lawyer like his father and grandfather, and he naturally expected to work
for Marshall Hamilton Smythe one day.  I certainly didn't give a shit who
they hired, and Scott and Matt didn't either.  The problem was, the Hamilton
in the name was a fiction.  Uncle Stephen had accepted a federal judgeship
and had had to sell his share of the firm.  Smythe was long dead, with no
heirs, and a clause in the partnership agreement gave my grandfather first
right of refusal.  Well, he didn't refuse.  He bought Uncle Stephen out and
became the sole owner.  There were other partners--like twenty-five or
more--but they didn't actually own the firm.  They had the lawyer equivalent
of tenure, but they didn't own the building or the name or anything else but
their personal stuff.  It wasn't a bad deal for them, by any means, and they
got some awesome perks--kind of like the law firm in the movie "The Firm."
But Skip would one day work for us.  I had no idea, and still don't, what
kind of control we had over anything, but I knew they were eager to kiss our
butts whenever we had occasion to go down there.
	"So, how are things at Fart-mouth," Matt asked.
	We kind of chuckled, but it was getting a little tense.
	"Fine," he said.  "How are things at Jew-lane?"
	"Oh, I see you've turned into a bigot.  By the way, did you know Brett is
Jewish?"
	Big red face on Skip.
	"Are you," I asked.
	"Yeah," he said with a shrug.  "My father's a doctor, isn't he?"
	We laughed, and that broke some of the tension.  I made a mental note to
ask Brett about that later.
	Just then Aunt Sophia came up and slobbered all over Skip, Matt, and me.
She was Uncle Don's wife, and he was Scott's trustee.  We made small talk
with her for a while and tried to slip away when another two-hundred-pounder
came up.
	"Nick," the second one said, "we're counting on you to be a stand-in for
the season, you know."  She was talking about the debutante season, which in
New Orleans is intricately linked to Mardi Gras.  "You're not old enough yet
to be an escort, but we always need handsome young men like you to be there
when someone gets called away.  It's your duty.  Remember that."
	The tradition was that men who were bachelors but out of college were the
escorts, and younger guys were the stand-ins.  Usually the stand-ins were
college guys, so she must have thought I was in college.  That pleased me,
but the thought of going to a hundred awful parties like this one, and ten
or fifteen balls in a few weeks turned my stomach.  Scott had stood in for
the past four years, and last year Matt started.  I had a year yet.  Scott
once described being a stand-in as a guy who's ready when the groom can't
get it up on the wedding night.  Somehow the thought of Scott escorting a
deb just didn't work for me.  The myth was that these were all virgins who
were just now being introduced to "society."  The fact was that most debs
had been fucking since they were fifteen, and most of them would probably be
at one of the clubs sometime between now and their "coming out."
	Brett and I made the rounds of all the old people.  I introduced him as my
friend and houseguest for the holidays, saying his parents had been called
away.  Several more people said they knew his parents, but none of the names
were familiar to him, and he had never met any of the people.  After
forty-five minutes, or so, we said good night and thank you to Aunt Martha
and Uncle Stephen, and hauled ass.
	Outside, Brett and I both lit up cigarettes.  We started walking to my
house, and I thought about his being Jewish.
	"So, how did Matt know you were Jewish, but I didn't?"
	"I don't know.  He probably noticed I'm circumcised."
	"But I'm cir. . . Funny, man.  Really, how did he know?"
	"I really don't know.  I don't advertise it.  In fact, I'm only half
Jewish.  My father is Jewish, my mother is Catholic.  Why does it matter?"
	"Because Christmas is all about Jesus and shit, man.  Here I've made you
help me decorate a fucking Christmas tree, and you probably hate me for it.
I'm sorry, man.  I really didn't know."
	Brett stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and started laughing.
	"What's so fucking funny," I asked.
	"I'm sorry.  It's just that I don't consider myself a Jew, and, according
to the Jews, I can't be one--a real one--because my mother isn't one.  Hell,
I was baptized Catholic and made my first communion and everything.  Not
that my mother gives a shit about any of that.  My grandmother--her
mother--insisted.  I haven't been in a church or synagog in ten years.  By
the way, what religion are you?"
	"Catholic.  Nothing.  Catholic.  I mean, I was baptized Catholic and made
my first communion, too.  I even made my confirmation.  But I haven't been
to church in a long time, either.  Both my parents were Catholic, but my dad
in name only.  My mom took it pretty seriously and went to church every
week, but my dad never went.  I balked at going when I was about twelve, and
she never insisted after that.  She said I would come to it when I was
ready.  So far, I haven't been ready.  In New Orleans, almost everybody is
Catholic, even if they don't believe a word of it."
	"Does that mean I'll fit in," he asked.
	I grabbed his crotch.  "You fit in, Buddy.  You fucking fit in."  We both
howled with laughter, and I thought we better get along.
	"So how did Matt know?"
	"He probably took a wild guess to get back at Skip."  I later confirmed
with Matt that that's exactly what happened.
	We got back to my house in a few minutes.  Here we were, all dressed up and
nowhere to go.  And it was only 10 o'clock.
	I looked up and down my street and noticed there were cars all around a
house about four doors down.  It looked like a big party might be going on.
	"Let's walk down there and see what's happening," I said.
	"What are you going to do, crash a party," Brett asked.
	"Yeah," I said.  "Why not?"
	As we walked down the street, I realized the noise was coming from the
Suttons' house.  They had a son who was a junior at Colton, and I had known
this guy for years.  We walked up to the door, which was standing part-way
open, and walked in.  The place was noisy and smoky and filled with people.
They were all dressed up, but the men were in coat and tie, not tuxes.
Brett and I pushed our way to the bar and got drinks.
	After we had gotten our drinks, we headed toward the dining room to see
what there was to eat.  About halfway there, I heard a girl's voice.
	"Matt.  Matt Marshall.  You wait for me, you bastard."  The girl was well
on her way to being drunk, and she obviously thought I was my brother.
	I stopped and turned in the direction of the voice.
	"Matt, it's me.  Susan.  Don't try to run away."
	She came up to me and planted a big, wet kiss on my mouth.  Her tongue slid
in easily, and her hand went to my crotch for a grope.  I kissed her back.
	When she pulled away, she looked at me very hard.
	"You're not Matt Marshall, are you?  Oh, my God, I'm so sorry.  I thought
you were somebody else."
	"No, I'm _Nick_ Marshall, Matt's brother.  And you are?"
	"God, I'm so embarrassed.  I'm Susan Stewart, and I think somebody put
something in my drink.  I'd never act like this otherwise."
	Yeah, I thought, they put a triple shot of bourbon--several times.
	"It's an honest mistake," I said.  "Matt and I used to be mistaken for
twins when we were younger."
	"Oh, God, you're so nice.  And now that I really look at you, I can see
that you're much better looking than Matt."
	"Thanks.  How do you know ugly Matt?"
	She laughed at that.  More than the joke called for, in fact.
	She got real confidential all of a sudden.  "If you promise not to tell
anybody, he fucked the shit out of me at the Yacht Club last summer.  I
still fantasize about it when I masturbate.  It was wonderful, but don't
tell that brother of yours, okay?"
	"Okay," I said, "it'll be our little secret."
	"Are you here by yourself," she asked.
	"No.  This is Brett Walsingham.  Brett, Susan Stewart.  She's a friend of
my brother Matt."
	I could tell Brett was trying his hardest to keep from exploding with
laughter.  "How do you do, Susan.  That's a lovely dress you're wearing.
You really make that color come alive."
	I reached over surreptitiously and grabbed Brett's crotch. I squeezed it
lightly twice.  "That's definitely a 'yes,' Brett," I said.  I looked at
him, and he understood what I was doing.  From then on, between us, and
later with Chuck, too, a double squeeze was a 'yes' and a single squeeze was
a 'no.'
	"Why, thank you, boys," she said.  She had no idea what was going on
between us.
	"Let's go outside and dance," she said.  "It's too crowded and smoky in
here for me."  Her tone got confidential again.  "As a matter of fact, I
smoke, but nobody knows it.  At least my parents don't know it.  But this
really is too smoky for me."
	We went outside, and it really was a lot more comfortable.  There weren't
as many people packed as close together, and there was a DJ and a bar.  They
had covered the pool with plywood or something, and people were dancing on
it.  I pulled Brett aside and said we don't leave here until we score.  He
nodded agreement.  We separated and worked the crowd.
	I knew quite a few people at this party.  A lot of them were people I knew
from Colton or from Chubby's or from sports.  Four guys were playing Buree
at a table under a light in the corner of the patio.  I knew all four of
them from sports, and I walked up to say hello.  They shook hands all around
and seemed glad to see me, but they wanted to get back to their game.
	I saw Mike Sutton across the way, so I went over to say hello.  I had
crashed this party, but there was no point in not being polite.
	"Hi, Mike," I said.  "Nice party."
	"Hi, Nick.  Glad you could come."  He said that like I was at the head of
the invitation list.  "Have you checked out the pussy around here?"  I
nodded.
	Mike was always a reticent guy, never one to say what was on his mind.
	"Are your parents here," he asked.
	I don't know what my face must have looked like, but in an instant he said,
	"Oh, Christ!  That was so fucking lame.  I'm sorry, man."  Beat, beat.
"Let me get you a drink."
	He came back with my drink, which I really didn't expect him to do, and I
said,
	"Mike, that's all right.  That was a natural question and a natural
mistake.  I didn't take offense.  The fact is, I wasn't invited."
	"Me, either," he said.  "My dad does this party every year for his clients,
and I'm never invited.  This year I said, 'fuck it, I'm going, and I'm
inviting some friends.'  I would have invited you, but we don't really hang
out.  I hired the DJ, and my parents didn't even know it.  I got the yard
guy to put this thing over the pool.  It's pretty cool, no?"
	"Yeah, it's pretty cool," I said.  He and I talked a little longer, and
then he eased away toward some other people who had just come in.  I saw a
girl sitting by herself at one of the tables, so I went over.
	"May I join you," I asked, in my most polite tone of voice.
	"Sure," she said.
	"My name is Nick," I said.  "Can I get you a drink?"
	"Hi, Nick.  I'm Karen.  Somebody is supposed to be getting me one." A
boyfriend, I thought.  "But she's been gone a good while.  Maybe you could
get me one, if that's not too much trouble."
	She wanted vodka and tonic.  I told the bartender to make it a large
double.  He had seen me walk over from her table, and he kind of smiled.  He
knew what I was up to.  He made a very genrous double.
	Back at the table, Karen and I got to know each other.  She was a freshman
at Vassar, home for the holidays.  She had gone to boarding school in
Virginia, so she didn't know many people at the party.  The girl who was
supposed to be bringing her a drink was her cousin, Elizabeth Higgins-- "Do
you know her," she asked.  I shook my head "no."
	I asked Karen to dance.  She moved really well, but we didn't finish the
fast song the DJ was playing because we both got pretty warm.  I took my
coat off and put it on the back of an empty chair.  That might discourage
other people from coming over to join us, I thought.  Karen took three or
four long pulls on her drink and then asked if she could have another one.
My conscience started getting to me, so this time I told the bartender to go
easy on the vodka.  I hadn't realized Karen was going to drink like she was
tossing back water on a hot, thirsty day.
	The next song was a slow one, and we danced.  I was a little worried about
being sweaty, but Karen didn't mind.  In fact, at one point she told me I
smelled really good.  I had used aftershave that morning, but nothing since
then.  Maybe she thought my sweat smelled good.
	Back at the table, she put her hand on my thigh and leaned into me.  I
thought she wanted to kiss me, so I kissed her on her lips.  No tongue or
anything, but definitely a kiss.  She didn't pull away, but when we were
done, she said, "Is that a pack of cigarettes in your shirt pocket?"
	"Yeah, but I won't smoke.  Don't worry."
	"Will you give me one, though?"
	I laughed, a little embarrassed, and took out my pack.  I offered her one
and took one for myself.  I pulled out my Zippo and fired it up.
	"God, I haven't seen one of those things in years," she said.  "They're so
masculine.  I love to see guys use them.  They remind me of World War II and
all those movies where the man would light two cigarettes at a time, one for
him and one for the girl."  I liked what I was hearing about romance.
	I was running out of things to say pretty fast.  Finally I thought of
something.
	"The nicest thing happened to me today," I said.
	"Really?  What was it?"
	I told her about coming home to find the whole house decorated for
Christmas.  "Would you like to see it?"
	"Now?"
	"Yeah.  I just live a few doors down.  I just walked over.  We can run over
there and be back in ten minutes."
	"Okay.  I guess so.  Only promise me that if I miss my ride, you'll take me
home."
	"I promise," I said.
	I got a couple of fresh drinks for the road.  We didn't go back through the
house.  Instead, I led her around through the side yard to avoid attracting
attention.  When we walked up to our gate, she said,
	"Wow!  This is your house?  I noticed it when we drove up and wondered who
lived here.  What does your father do?"
	I decided to avoid the whole accident story.  I'd use that later, if I were
desperate for a mercy fuck.  "He's a lawyer," I said.
	We looked at the decorations downstairs, and she was suitably impressed.
She asked a few questions about pieces of furniture and paintings and other
crap.  I just made stuff up, unless I really knew something about it, of
course.  I took her into the den to see the tree.  I wished it was twenty
degrees colder.  I could have made a fire, and we could have gotten cozy.
But since that was out of the question, I sat next to her on a sofa.  I put
my arm around her, and she leaned into me.
	"This feels nice," I said.  She said, "Ummmmm."
	I turned to face her and kissed her.  She liked what she felt, apparently,
and she kissed me back with some warmth.  Tongue, I thought.  Time for
tongue.  I made a tentative move to wedge my tongue between her lips, and
she opened for me right away.  Then she started drawing circles around my
right nipple through my shirt.  I moved to her ear and gave it a pretty good
lapping.  She was starting to breathe heavier, and so was I.  I had on dress
pants, and, as usual when I wear dress pants, I had on briefs.  My hard-on
was starting to get a little uncomfortable.  I reached down to adjust it
without appearing to do so.
	"You boys are all alike," she said.  I thought she was going to get pissed
because I had popped a boner and that she would want to go back to the
party.  "You don't have to be so modest.  Girls know what an erection is.
Let me help you with it."
	With those words, she palmed the head of my cock through my underwear and
pants.  She used just the right amount of pressure, and it was turning me on
even more than I already was.
	"Want to see my room," I whispered.
	"Ummmmm," she said, and I led her up the back stairs.  The sheets on my bed
were clean, and the room was tidy.  I led her over to the bed and sat down
next to her.  I pulled her back so that she was lying down, but with her
feet still on the floor.  I kissed her some more, giving her my best tongue
treatment.  She started undoing my tie.  I went to work on her dress.  She
had to sit up for that because it zipped up the back.  Once I had it open, I
went ahead and pushed the arm loops of her slip aside and undid the clasp of
her bra.  Getting a girl in a party outfit undressed takes a while, but I
finally did it.  I slipped out of my clothes in three seconds, and I pulled
down the comforter on the bed for us to get in.
	"You don't need to worry about a condom," she said.  It hadn't occurred to
me that I did, but I didn't say anything.
	We were all over each other in seconds.  I kissed her mouth and then moved
to her neck and upper chest.  I took both breasts into my hands and massaged
them.  She had nice nipples, so I sucked each of them a while.  I didn't
know if I should try to eat her out or not, but I continued working my way
down in that direction.  When I got to her navel, she pushed my head down
farther, so I knew I was on good ground.  Her pussy was hot and wet by the
time I got that far, and the aroma was thick and sensual.  I licked her
clit, but mostly I worked either side of it.  That really turned her on, and
she started bucking slightly.  Then I stuck my tongue into her hole and
moved my nose up and down on the sides of her clit.  That _really_ turned
her on.  Then, like we were acting out the script to some movie, she said,
"I want you, Nick.  I want you now."
	I got on top and slipped my cock into her.  Her pussy was so wet and
dilated that she took it without any careful adjusting or painful scraping.
Every guy wants a cock as big as mine, but they don't realize that a big
cock can sometimes be a liability.  More than once I've had to take a pussy
centimeter by centimeter to get it all in.  Not with Karen, though.
	"Do it hard, Nick.  Pound me.  Make me writhe with ecstasy."  This girl
reads romance novels, I thought.  But I did what she said.  I prefer a slow,
gentle fuck, usually, but she wanted a pounding, so I pounded.  She came
within seconds.  She made a loud noise that startled me a little at first,
but she didn't break stride.  I fucked her some more, and she came three or
four more times.  Finally, I was ready to shoot.  "I'm gonna come," I
whispered, thinking she might want me to pull out.  "Fill me up," she said,
and I did.
	After we unlocked, I got us cigarettes.  "That was the best fuck I've ever
had," she said.  "I hope it was good for you, but I won't ask."
	"It was great," I said.  It wasn't great.  It was good, but it wasn't
great.
	It sometimes takes me a while to get soft, and tonight it took longer than
usual.  I had no idea of how long we had been gone from the party, but I
figured it had been long enough for her cousin to begin wondering where the
hell she was.  I got up to get dressed and suggested she do the same.
	"I don't want to go back to that stupid party," she said.  "I want to stay
in this bed with you for the rest of my life.  I've only come about four
other times in my whole life, and always on my own, but tonight I came more
than that many."
	She looked over at me and saw that I was still pretty hard.
	"Come here, Nick.  It's not fair for me to come and come and come, and for
you to only come once."
	I walked over to her, thinking she wanted to fuck again.  I was game.  But
what she wanted was to suck me off.  She propped herself up in bed and took
my cock in her mouth.  She was pretty good at what she was doing, and I was
getting into it.  Then she did something that surprised me.  She reached
under my sack, pressed it up hard into my groin, and stuck her finger in my
asshole.  And I mean _way_ in.  She hit my spot and started rubbing it.  I
came in a matter of moments, and I came a gallon.  I was so weak, I had to
sit down.  She smiled at me and said, "You like?"  "I like," I said.  "I
like a lot."  I smiled back.
	I convinced her we had to get back to the party, and it was a good thing we
went when we did.  Her cousin and aunt and uncle were leaving as we walked
up.  She ran inside, got her purse, told me to call her, and was off.
	I made it a point to find Mike Sutton to see if he knew how I could get in
touch with her.
	"Why?  Did you fuck her?"
	"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did.  Want to smell my finger?"  I said that
as a kind of joke, but this fucker did want to smell it.
	"Choice," he said.  "I know her cousin pretty well.  I guess I could find
out her number from her."
	"You do that, Mike.  Call her tomorrow and tell her I'm having a party on
Christmas Eve and that I want you, the cousin, and Karen to come.  Okay?"
	"Cool, man.  I'll do it."
	"What are you doing tomorrow," I asked.
	"Nothing, now.  I was supposed to play tennis, but Dan Springer called
tonight and cancelled."  Mike was a pretty good athlete, and tennis was his
primary sport.  In fact, I think it might have been his only sport.
	"You want to do something with me and Brett?  We're going to work out
tomorrow morning.  Why don't you come with us?"
	"That sounds good.  Give me a call, but not too early, okay?"
	"Don't worry," I said, as I checked my watch.  "It's only 11:30, but I'm
just getting started good.  What time is this over?"
	"Christ, it won't be over for hours, yet.  The DJ has to leave at midnight
because the noise might disturb the neighbors, but we can rock and roll in
the house until the sun comes up.  If anybody can last that long, that is."
	About then Brett showed up on the patio.  He looked like he had been having
a pretty good time.
	"What's up," I asked.
	"Plenty.  I'll tell you about it," he said.
	"Mike, you know Brett Walsingham, don't you," I asked.
	"Oh, sure," Mike said.  "Glad you could make it, Brett."  They shook hands.
	"Nick, I'm beat, man.  I think I'm going to go home and go to bed.  That
workout this morning and everything else today have worn my young ass out."
	"Okay," I said.  "I'll see you later."  I gave him the code to open the
gate, and he walked away, after telling Mike he had a really good time.
	"So what are you doing hanging out with him," Mike asked.
	"He's a good friend, man.  In fact, he's more than a friend.  He's a buddy.
  Do you know what I mean by 'he's a buddy.'"
	Mike thought for a minute.  I could see in his face and eyes that his mind
was working.  A smile crept across his face, and in a second he was
grinning.
	"Get out of here.  You guys?"
	"That's right.  You've got a buddy, too, haven't you?  Jeff Goldsmith?"
	Mike seemed amazed I knew.  "Who the fuck told you that?"
	"Jeff told another guy, who told me.  It's true, isn't it?"
	"Jeff and I _were_ buddies.  Yes.  But I haven't even seen him since he
went off to Rice in September.  His parents moved to Shreveport, or some
such godforsaken place, and he's not even coming to New Orleans until Mardi
Gras."
	"So there's nobody in Jeff's place at the moment?"
	"Come on, Nick.  Give me a break.  Yeah, there's somebody else.  A
freshman."
	"Oh, Jesus, Mike, a fucking freshman?"
	"Well he's cute, okay?  And he thinks my cock is a telephone pole.  He
worships me."
	"I've seen your cock, man, and it ain't no fucking telephone pole.  Plus,
what you're doing is probably illegal."
	He shrugged off my last comment like he didn't care if if was.  Then he
said, "You been checking me out?"
	"Yeah."
	"Well compared to his it is."  We both laughed.
	I looked down and saw that Mike's cock was about half hard.  I decided to
make a move.
	"You didn't get laid tonight, did you?"
	"Not yet, but the night's young."
	"And you want me right now, don't you?"
	He didn't say anything for a few seconds.  He took out a box of Marlboros,
offered me one, and we both lit up.
	"You know what they say, any port in a storm.  Besides, sex is sex."
	I suddenly realized I really liked this kid.  We had been neighbors all our
lives, knew most of the same people, but we had never really become friends.
  I knew he was also eighteen because we had been in first grade together,
but he had been held back, for some reason.  "You don't have to tell me
that," I said.  "I invented the saying."  We both laughed.
	We stood there smoking for a little while, not saying anything.  Then Mike
said, "Want to see my room?"
	We both got two fresh drinks each, and he went over and paid off the DJ.
Then he led me inside through the back door and up the back stairs.  When we
got into his room, he put down his drinks, locked the door, and kicked off
his shoes.  I did the same.  He came over to me and kissed me hard on my
mouth.  His tongue found its way into my mouth.  We started undressing
ourselves as fast as we could.  He was all over me--neck, chest, nipples,
stomach, cock.  He knew how to suck cock, and in a few minutes I spurted
down his throat.  He swallowed every drop.
	"You want to get in bed," he asked.
	"Not unless you do.  So far, so good."
	He led me over to his desk and put one of my feet onto the desk chair.  He
got down on his knees and rimmed my ass for a good while.  Then he stood up
and stuck his cock into me.  He was built about like Brett and Chuck and
Scott and Matt--about five and a half inches.  I took everything he had
without a hint of pain.  He fucked me from behind.  I moved to meet his
thrusts, and I had to admit he knew what he was doing.  He didn't stay with
it long, and I felt him come in my ass after only twenty strokes or so.  But
we were both still hard, so he continued.  His second orgasm took longer,
but in ten minutes we were both ready to pop.  Neither of us had touched my
cock, but the pressure from the inside was enough to make me shoot.  I shot
my wad all over his desk, and we both groaned with pleasure when we came.
	When he pulled out, he got a towel to wipe up the evidence.  Then he got on
his knees again and cleaned my ass with his mouth.  There was some of my
shit on his cock, so I wasn't about to put it in my mouth.  Instead, I led
him into his bathroom and washed him--really washed him--at the sink.  He
came in a great grunt.
	We went back into his bedroom and got dressed.  We sat on a sofa in there
and each smoked a cigarette.
	"You're all right, Marshall," he said, grinning.
	"You ain't bad yourself, Sutton," I said, grinning back.  I could hear the
DJ announce his last song, and I figured it was time to go.  I was getting
late, and I had had some pretty good sex for the evening.
	We went downstairs.  I said good night and thanks to his parents, whom I
hadn't even talked to all night, and he walked me to the door.
	"You'll call me tomorrow when you're ready to go, no?"
	"I'll call you," I said.  I wanted to kiss him good night, but I knew that
was out of the question.  Instead, I reached down and rubbed his basket.
That was my good-night kiss.
	It was only a few minutes after midnight when I got home, and I really
wasn't sleepy.  I went up to my room and put on jeans and a sport shirt.
Brett was sound asleep in my bed, naked and mostly uncovered.  I covered him
up and went downstairs.  I decided to see if Chuck was still at work.  I
called his office, and he answered.
	"Hi, Buddy," he said.  His voice was unusually cheerful.  "What's up?"
	"Brett and I crashed a party tonight.  We had a pretty good time.  He's
asleep now, but I'm a little wired.  I took a long nap this afternoon while
he was fooling with my computer."
	"Well, I got a pretty good nap myself," he said.  "When I came back from
dinner, I closed my office door, turned off the light, and lay down on my
couch.  I slept till 9:30.  I feel great, and I don't have to be here until
noon tomorrow.  I'm about to leave.  Why don't you come over?  In fact, why
don't you spend the night?"
	"Are you sure?"
	"I haven't seen you for more than an hour since Sunday.  I need to see you.
  I need to feel you."  I felt my cock stir when he said that.
	"Well, I'm on my way.  I'll leave a note for Brett."
	I wrote the note and took it upstairs.  Brett didn't even stir when I
opened the door.
	I got to Chuck's place at the same time he did, and we walked up to his
apartment together.  He fixed us each a drink, and we sat together on the
sofa.  He put his arm around me and one leg over my leg, leaving his crotch
wide open and exposed.  He'd never done that kind of thing before, so I
figured he must be really horny.  I started rubbing the inside of the thigh
that was over my leg.
	"Christ, that feels good," he said.  "I've been think about you and Brett
almost nonstop for three days, and I've really been looking forward to
squeezing and hugging and playing with you guys.  I'm sorry he couldn't
come, but I'm glad you're here."
	"Well, I'm here, Buddy.  Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it.  I'll
be your sex slave until you walk out the door for work tomorrow."
	"Give me a kiss," he said.  We kissed deeply and tenderly.  My cock got
hard pretty fast, and so did Chuck's.  I nibbled his neck and chin, and then
I tongued his ear.
	"Take my shirt off," he said.  I did as I was told.  He wasn't wearing a
T-shirt or anything, so I got right to his skin.  "Now take your shirt off."
  I did that, too.  "Lick my nipples."  I licked his nipples, but I also
sucked them and nibbled them and teased them until they were hard as little
pebbles.  Then I kissed his chest and worked my way down to his navel.  He
really liked it when I worked on his navel.
	He kicked off his shoes and told me to take off his socks.  Then he told me
to do the same thing.  "Undo my pants."  I noticed for the first time that
he was wearing jeans.  I undid his belt and the buttons on the fly, and I
discovered he wasn't wearing underwear.  "Now take off the rest of your
clothes."  I did.  "Take out my cock," he said,  "and suck it nice and
easy."
	I squatted down between his knees and went to work on his tool.  I licked
it up from the base and then washed the head with my tongue.  I kept that up
until he was close to exploding.  Then I wet the middle finger on my right
hand and told him to scoot back so I could get to his ass.  I stuck my
finger in and found his spot.  That made his pre-cum gush out, and I knew
his cum wouldn't be far behind.  I got his cock back in my mouth and sucked
it gently.  I felt his ass contract around my finger, and he started to buck
a little involuntarily.  He made a great grunting noise and came in my
mouth.  Some of his cum ran down the side of my face and onto my chin.  I
didn't scoop it up; instead, I let it run down my neck.
	He pulled me up and kissed me deeply.  Then he said, "Thank you, Nick.  I
love what you do to me."  He pulled me on top of him.  We both still had our
feet on the floor.  He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leaning back.  I
let myself drape onto him, and my hard cock was pressed into his stomach.
We lay there with me on top for a few minutes.  Then he said, "What do you
want to do now?"
	"I want to fuck you.  Here, stand up."  I moved him to an arm of the sofa
and had him sit down, with his back against the top of the sofa and the wall
and his left foot on the floor.  I straddled the arm, my right foot on the
floor and my left knee on the sofa.   As I moved into him, I put his right
leg on my knee.  He figured out what I was doing and wrapped his right leg
around me.  I pushed my dick into his ass, and I was overwhelmed by our
closeness.  I wrapped my right leg around his.  His cock, which was hard
again, stood between us.  Every time I thrust into him, his cock rubbed on
my stomach and chest.  I don't think we could have been any closer
physically.  I took hold of his nipples, and I rubbed them in time with my
thrusting.
	I don't know if it was the position, the alcohol, the fact that I had
already come a bunch of times that day, or some combination, but I lasted a
long, long time.  I wasn't watching a clock, but Chuck came three times
while we were like that, and each time his orgasm was harder and stronger
than the one before.  When I finally came, my muscles got so tense that I
felt faint when I finally released.  When I was finished, we hugged each
other and stayed in that position for a long time.
	When we finally pulled apart, Chuck got some towels and wet washcloths to
clean us up.  We settled back onto the sofa, and we each lit up.  Chuck
spoke first:
	"That was the best sex I've ever had.  In fact, I never really had sex
before I met you."
	"You're exaggerating," I said, "but that fucking was pretty fucking
intense.  I liked that position, too.  We're going to have to try that one
again."
	Chuck got up and got fresh drinks.  When he came back, I told him to sit
facing me, with his legs out in front of him.  I sat facing him and put my
legs on top of his.  Our cocks were touching.  I started rubbing Chuck's
right nipple, and he did the same to mine.  In a few minutes, our cocks were
hard and pressed against each other.  I took one of the towels and asked
Chuck if he minded if I tore off a strip.  He said no, so I ripped off a
long strip about an inch wide.  I held our cocks together and wrapped the
towel strip around them.  Then I tied the two ends, making a kind of
bandage.  It wasn't too tight, but it was snug.
	"Close your eyes," I said, "and concentrate all of your attention on your
cock.  Feel the heat from mine."  Pause.  "Feel the smoothness of my cock.
I just shaved it, so there's no rough hair to get in the way."  Pause.
"Feel the drop of pre-cum that's running down my cockhead onto yours."
Pause.  "It's hot and sticky."  Pause.  "Now think of your ball sack.  It's
touching mine, and mine is hot.  Yours is, too."  Pause.  Chuck was
breathing harder now, and his body was tensing up a little.  "Don't move,
but think about fucking my ass.  Think about pumping and thrusting and
reaching deep inside me."  Pause.  "Feel your nut sack getting tighter.
Your cum is about to bubble out of your dick, all over itself and all over
my dick."  Pause.  "Your breathing is getting heavier and heavier as you get
closer to coming."  Pause.  "You feel the cum starting to move around inside
you, inside your balls."  Pause.  "You want to come very badly, but you're
not quite there yet."  Pause.  "I feel my cum starting to move into my
shaft."  Pause.  "The head of my cock is swelling, getting tighter and
tighter.  Yours is, too."  Pause.  "I'm going to count to three, and, when I
do, we'll both come at the same time."  Pause.  "Ready?  One.  Two.  Three."
	When I said "three," Chuck pushed himself closer to me, and he came.  To my
surprise, I came, too.  It was intense, and I wanted to buck and jerk, but I
couldn't.  It was so intense that I shrieked, and I never do that.  Chuck
made a loud noise, too, and he shot his cum six or more inches above the
head of his cock.  We slumped into each other and held each other.  Chuck
sobbed.  I thought he was just catching his breath, but when he did it
again, I pulled back and saw he was crying.
	"What's the matter," I asked, with real compassion and tenderness in my
voice.
	"Nothing.  I'm sorry.  That was just so intense, I couldn't help myself."
He laughed a little to show me it was all right.
	I undid the towel strip, and we wiped ourselves off.
	"Where do you learn stuff like that," he asked.
	"I read about it in a story from the Internet.  I didn't think it would
work, but I guess it did.  It was pretty awesome, wasn't it?"
	"It was . . . awesome!"  We both laughed.
	We each smoked another cigarette and finished our drinks.  I was starting
to get sleepy, and it was a little after two.  We went to bed.
	I made Chuck sleep on his side, facing away from me.  I snuggled up as
close to him as I could get, and we formed spoons.  The bed was cold, and we
both shivered a little.  I put my arm over him, and my cock was wedged
between my stomach and the crack of his ass.
	In a few minutes, he asked, "Are you getting hard again?"
	"Guilty as charged," I said.
	"What would it be like to sleep with your cock up my ass?"
	"I don't know," I said.  "Wanna try it?"
	"Yeah.  Do you need some lube?"
	"I don't think so," I said, "but let me try to see."
	I put my cockhead on his butthole and pushed a little.  The head went in
smoothly and easily.  I pushed a little more, and he took another couple of
inches.
	"Any problems," I asked.
	"None," he said, so I pushed all the way in.  I kept really still, and so
did Chuck.  In fact, in about ten minutes his breathing slowed, and I could
tell he was asleep.  I fell asleep a few minutes later, enjoying the warmth
and tightness of Chuck's body.

	I woke up before Chuck did, and only the head of my cock was still in him.
I gently eased in a little more, then a little more, then a little more,
until I was in him up to the hilt.  I read one time that it isn't unusual
for a boy my age to have several erections during the night, so I figured I
had gotten soft and slipped out a little, then gotten hard again, then soft
again several times.  Right then Chuck's asshole was completely relaxed, so
it felt like my cock was encased in soft, warm butter.  I lay there enjoying
the feeling of being totally connected to another person.
	In a little while, Chuck woke up.  "Is your cock still in me," he asked.
	"Yeah," I said.  I reached down and found his cock, and it was rock hard.
I started stroking it, and he responded by moving back and forth on me.  I
started fucking him.  It took us a long time to come, but it was worth the
wait.
	Chuck got up first, took a leak, and then went to make coffee.  I got up to
piss after he did.  Hearing his stream hit the water in the toilet almost
made me pee in bed.
	He brought coffee and cigarettes back to bed.  We propped up on the
headboard and drank our coffee and smoked.
	"What time is it," I asked.
	"A little after ten.  I better start getting ready for work.  You want to
take a shower?"
	Without saying anything, I got up and started walking to the bathroom with
him.  There was only a shower stall and no tub, just like in my bathroom at
home and at the Country Place.  We soaped each other up.  Chuck said I'd
better clean his ass good and proper, so I did.  Then he cleaned mine.  We
both came twice.
	We got dressed.  Chuck put his jeans back on from the day before, but he
used a clean dress shirt and a fresh tie.  He selected a nice sport coat
with a kind of blue plaid, and everything looked good together.  Our shower
had taken quite a while, so we didn't have time to go to Shoney's for
breakfast, as I thought we might.  We kissed goodbye before we left the
apartment.  He looked at me deeply and said, "I love you.  I know you don't
want to hear that, but I do.  I really and truly love you."
	"I love you, too, Chuck.  You're my buddy."
	I wasn't sure what he meant by what he said, but I hoped my reminding him
we were buddies would help him remember the nature of our relationship.
	On the way out, I reminded him of the party that night at Chubby's.  He
said he'd try his best to be there.
	"Come after work.  It won't be over early.  That I can guarantee."
	I drove home expecting to find Brett up, dressed, and ready to go work out.
  Wrong.  His sorry ass was still asleep.  I guess I had worn him out the
day before.  He woke up when I came into the room, though.
	"Hi," I said.  "Are you just waking up?"
	"Yeah," he said, like a person coming out of a coma.  "What time is it?"
	"It's 11:30."
	"Have you been up long," he asked.
	"Not really.  I spent the night at Chuck's house last night.  I left you a
note, but you obviously didn't get it."
	"Ouch," he said, as he started to stretch.  "Goddamn, I'm really sore."
	"It was that workout yesterday.  That won't last long, once you get used to
doing it.  Do you want to get started on our program today?"
	"Not feeling like this, I don't," he said.  I didn't blame him.  I knew how
uncomfortable it can be to feel stiff and sore from a workout.
	"Where does it hurt," I asked.
	"Everywhere.  Especially my upper body.  My legs don't feel too bad, but my
shoulders, my arms, my chest, my stomach.  Everything hurts."
	"I know how to take care of that," I said. "But first let me call Mike
Sutton.  I invited him to go work out with us today.  I want to tell him we
have to cancel."  The maid answered the phone on the second ring.  I asked
to speak to Mike, and she said he was still asleep and that she didn't think
he was feeling good.  I told her to tell him our work-out date was off.
	I went into my bathroom and got a couple of big towels and some baby oil.
Brett came in right behind me and took a leak.  I led him back to bed.  I
got undressed, spread the towels on the sheets to keep from getting oil all
over them. and then I told him to lie back and enjoy.
	"Tell me if I do anything that hurts too much, okay?  It's supposed to hurt
a little, but mostly it's supposed to feel good.  Your muscles are cramping,
and I'm going to loosen them up."
	I put him on his stomach and started working his shoulders and neck.  I
could really feel the tightness in them.  The oil helped reduce the friction
on his skin, and it felt good, too.  I got his neck and shoulder muscles a
lot softer than they had been, and then I worked on each of his arms, on
down to his hands, which were also sore.  I moved down his back to his
sides, and then to his butt.  His butt muscles were pretty tight, so I
worked them a pretty good while.  I knew all this physical contact was
making him horny, but we'd have to take care of that later.  I took care of
the back of his legs and his ankles and feet.
	When I told him to turn over, I saw that indeed the contact had gotten him
turned on.  I oiled up my hand and started jerking him off.
	"This is just going to be in the way, so let's take care of it first," I
said.  He smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying my strokes.  Doing him made
me hard, so I jerked him with one hand and myself with the other.  We came
at about the same time, and I made sure to spurt on his stomach.
	"The cum will add to the lubrication," I said in my most professional
voice.  He laughed, and I did, too.
	I straddled him to work his pecs, which were really tight.  I avoided his
nipples because I knew I would turn him on if I touched them.  I worked his
abs pretty well, but he got a little ticklish, so I didn't give them as much
attention as they needed.  I worked down the front of his thighs and his
shins, and then I finished up with his feet.
	I made him do some light stretching exercises to further loosen his
muscles, and then I led him to the shower.  I was covered with almost as
much oil as he was, so I hopped in with him.  Now was the time for sex play.
	We soaped each other up and rinsed off.  Then I told him I wanted my ass
cleaned.  I soaped up his already-hard cock, and he shoved it in me.  In and
out, in and out--forty times, maybe, before he came.  I didn't come on that
one.  Then I probed his ass with my soapy cock.  It took me maybe a hundred
thrusts, but finally I came.  We soaped up again, groping each other and
jerking each other off when we "washed" each other's dicks.  We came again,
of course.
	By the time we finished, Brett was feeling pretty good.  "Let's go get some
lunch," I said.
	We went to a Pizza Hut that wasn't too far away, and we both got the lunch
buffet.  I was pretty hungry, not having had breakfast, so I ate a big salad
and six or seven slices of pizza.  I saw my history teacher, the one on
whose exam I was accused of cheating.  He waved, and I waved back, but I
didn't go up to his table to speak.  He was with a really good looking guy
about his age, and they seemed to be in deep conversation.  I figured Mr.
Butterfield wouldn't want to be disturbed.  Also, I was still pretty hurt
that he hadn't told Jason Bennett to go fuck himself when he first
approached him about my cheating.  Mr. Butterfield had been my favorite
teacher, but I wasn't feeling all that close to him just then.
	Brett and I finished eating and lit up.  I saw Butterfield look over at me
like I was doing something I wasn't supposed to be doing, but I ignored him.
  Pretty soon the other guy was staring in our direction, too.
	"Let's get out of here," I said.  I left the money for the meal, plus a
generous tip, on the table, tucked my cigarette into the right corner of my
mouth so that anybody who looked at me could see it (Yeah, Butterfield, I
smoke.  Want to write me up?), and we walked out.
	It took me a couple of seconds to get my composure when I got into the car.
  I was really angry at Butterfield, but I didn't know why.  He had only
done what he was supposed to do in turning me in, but I resented the shit
out of it.
	"Are you okay," Brett asked.
	"Yeah, I'm fine," I said.  I took a few deep breaths, and I started to
relax.  "You know what you need," I asked Brett, not expecting a reply.  "A
steam bath."
	I drove to the gym.  When we went inside, Alvin, the guy who runs the
place, said he wondered if we were coming in today.
	"This poor bastard is stiff and sore all over, Al," I said.  "He needs to
use the steam room and the whirlpool."
	"Too much of a workout yesterday, huh?  Steam and water.  Can't beat 'em."
Alvin had a nasal twang that sounded a lot like Marlon Brando as Stanley
Kuwolski in the movie of "A Streetcar Named Desire."
	"Yeah, I think so, too," I said.
	He told us the place was empty and to do whatever we wanted.  We rented
towels and went back to the locker room.  This was a male-only gym, so guys
walked around naked all the time.  We needed the towels, though, to dry off
after.
	The steam room was empty, as it probably usually was at this time of day,
but I locked the door from the inside to keep it private.  There were
several tiers of seats on either side of the room, but the steam was best on
the top level.  Brett and I both lay down on the top tier, and the contrast
of the hot, wet air and the colder, wet tile of the tier was kind of nice.
We both coughed a little when we first got in there, but I told Brett that
was good, too, because it was clearing our lungs.  Which was true.  We both
hawked up big wads of snot, which we spat into the drain in the middle of
the room.  It was gross, but I had seen other guys do the same thing a
hundred times.
	After five minutes, I asked Brett if his muscles were feeling any better.
	"Yeah," he said, "but not as good as after that massage you gave me."
	I crawled over to him and made him get on his stomach.  I worked on his
shoulders and neck, his back and arms, just as I had done earlier.
	"My butt hurts," he said.
	I worked his butt.  Then I went back down his thighs and calves to his
feet.  I flipped him over, and, once again, I was greeted by a boner.  This
time I didn't jerk him off.  Instead, I got on top of him with his cock in
my crack, and we humped until we came.  Before he got soft, I stuffed his
cock in my ass, as I straddled him.  This time I didn't avoid his nipples
but worked them like they were the focal point of the massage.  I moved up
and down on his cock as I kneeded his pecs and abs.  I spun myself around on
his dick and faced his feet.  I worked his thighs from the front and then
reached down to work his shins.  I spun around again without getting off his
cock, and pulled him up to me.
	"Fuck me," I said.  "Fuck me hard."
	We rocked back and forth, Brett thrusting into me as best he could and me
matching his thrusts.  I felt his cock get bigger inside me and my own ass
contract, and we came together for the second time.  It was pretty intense,
and I eased him back down, resting myself on top of him, with him still in
me.
	"How'd you like that," I whispered into his ear.
	"Pretty intense," he said, also in a whisper.
	"We better get out of here before we turn into prunes," I said.
	There were showers right next to the steam room, so we rinsed off before we
got into the whirlpool.  The whirlpool was hot, really hot.  I lowered
myself in, an inch at a time.  The water wasn't deep, and my cock floated on
top of the water.  I put Brett in front of one of the jets and told him to
find the place that hurt the most and aim the water at it.
	We stayed in the whirlpool maybe fifteen minutes.  Then we got out, dried
off, and got dressed.
	As we were leaving, Alvin asked us how we felt.
	"Great," I said.  "You know what steam and a whirlpool can do for you."
	"I know steam will make you as horny as a two-peckered goat.  Did it have
that effect on you guys?"
	We didn't know what to say, so we didn't say anything.
	"You guys are buddies, right," he asked.
	We looked at each other and at him like we didn't know what he was talking
about.
	"You guys are fuck-buddies, right?"  Again, no response from us.  "I seen
what you done to him, Nick.  I got it right here on closed-circuit.  Hey,
man, it's okay.  I got a couple of fuck-buddies of my own."
	I must have turned red or something.
	"Nick, don't be embarrassed.  Your Uncle Matt?  We got it on more than once
in that steam room.  He lent me the money to buy this place.  I'd cut my
heart out before I said anything about you to anybody.  Beside, it ain't on
tape."
	We still didn't say anything, and I really had no clue about what to say.
	"Hey," he said, "you guys fuck girls, don't you."
	"Yeah," we said together.
	"So do I.  Fuckin' a boy is better sometimes, though, ain't it?"
	"Yeah," we both said again.
	He grinned.  "I know that, too," he said.  "Maybe sometime the three of us
can get it on," he said.  "I'd like that.  You guys looked really hot in
there."
	I didn't really know this guy very well.  He was always there when I went
in to work out, but I didn't know Uncle Matt had known him or had lent him
money.
	"Say, Al, what are you doing on Christmas Eve," I asked.
	"Are you kiddin'?  On Christmas Eve an Italian family like mine has a
fuckin' food orgy.  My mama's been cooking for days.  I'll have to work out
for a week to keep the lasagna from sticking to my butt."
	"Well, we're having a party at my house.  You got the address.  It'll start
around eight, but it'll go till Santa Claus comes.  Drop by, if you can."
	"Thanks, Nick.  I might do that.  I might have somebody with me.  Is that
okay?"
	"Hell, bring a crowd, for all I care."
	"Thanks, guy.  You'll probably see me."
	Brett and I left right after that.
	"Can you believe that guy watched us," Brett said.
	"Yeah.  It's his place, and he's horny as hell.  He probably came when we
did.  I figure the lock on the door activated the camera.  We might want to
remember that in the future."
	I was just driving, without any real destination in mind.  It was still
just the middle of the afternoon, and nothing would be going on for a good
while yet.
	Without really thinking about it, I headed for my house.  Matt's car was in
the driveway when we got there, but Ina Mae's car was gone.  I guessed Matt
had given her the afternoon off.  That must mean he has somebody here with
him, I thought.  That was okay.  They could stay in his room, and Brett and
I would stay in mine.  We had done that before.
	Matt's door was closed when we went upstairs, so Brett and I went into my
room and shut the door, too.
	"Let's do some more with your computer," Brett said.  "I was looking at
some pictures of guys on there yesterday, and I thought they were, er,
interesting."  We both laughed.
	"I was almost wishing Alvin had made a tape of us," I said.  "I'd kind of
like to watch it.  And maybe of other guys, too."
	"I've never seen one of those tapes," Brett said.  "Have you?"
	"You mean of guys doing it with one another?  Yeah.  I've seen a bunch of
them.  Matt's got a whole collection."
	"Go get one so we can look at it," he said.
	"They're in Matt's room, and he's in there with somebody," I said.
"Otherwise, I would."
	"How do you know he's got somebody in there?  He might just be taking a nap
or something."
	"You've got a point.  Let me go see."  I went out into the hall and up to
Matt's door.  I put my ear next to it, but I couldn't hear anything.  I
tried the door to see if it was locked, but it wasn't.  I opened it slowly
and very carefully.  If he was asleep, I knew he wouldn't want me waking him
up.  I got the door open enough to stick my head in, but the room was empty.
  I hurried over to his desk, which was where he kept his porno collection,
and quickly got four triple-X all-male tapes.  I didn't bother to notice the
titles, but we weren't exactly going to be watching these for plot.
	I hurried back to my room and said "Success!" when I got inside.  I closed
the door again and popped the first one into the VCR.  It was a jerk-off
tape.  There were scenes of one guy jerking off, of guys jerking each other
off, and a couple of scenes of circle jerks.
	"Some of these guys are really hung," I said.
	"I don't think any of them are any bigger than you, big boy."  We both
laughed.
	"I wasn't fishing for a compliment.  It's just that most guys I know aren't
built as big as that, and every one of these guys seems to be."
	"Don't you think that might be one of the requirements," Brett asked.
	"Yeah, I guess so," I said.  Duh.
	We were lying on my bed, heads propped up on pillows against the headboard.
  We had taken off our shirts, but we still had our jeans on.  I noticed
that Brett was hard, as I was, so I reached over and started rubbing his
bulge through his jeans.
	"That feels good, Buddy," he said.
	"I know it does.  How about helping me out a little?"
	He started rubbing me, and it did feel good.  In a few minutes we opened
our flies and took out our cocks so we could jerk each other off.
	A lot of the tape was pretty boring, so I fast-forwarded through a good bit
of it.  I put in a second tape, and it was about three guys on a camping
trip.  They decided to go swimming in the buff, and one thing led to
another.  At least it had a semblance of a plot, and they did more than just
jerk off.
	"Not too fast and not too hard," I said to Brett, meaning his stroking of
my cock.  "I don't want to come too fast.  Let's just enjoy the feeling."
	He slowed down, and I did, too.
	"I wish Chuck was here," Brett said when the boys on the screen got into a
three-way.  "I'd like to try that."
	"I would, too," I said.  Just as I said that, Matt opened my door and came
in.
	"Whoooa!  This looks like a bad time."
	I paused the tape.  I could tell Brett was embarrassed at being caught
redhanded, but I didn't care.  It was only Matt.
	"Not really," I said.  "This is your tape we're watching."
	"Which one is it," he asked.
	I picked up the cover and read the title.  "_Boys in the Woods_," I said.
	"Have you come to the part where one guy sucks himself off while another
one fucks his ass and the third guys fucks the second one?"
	"I think we're almost there.  The first guy just took his cock into his own
mouth."
	"Back it up some," Matt said, "and push over."
	He took off his shirt, undid his fly, and got into bed with us, making me
the middle man.  I rewound the tape about ten-minutes' worth, and we
watched.  Matt popped a boner right away, and it was my job to jerk it.  I
went back to jerking Brett, too, and he went back to work on me.  We watched
the scene Matt had described, and he paused the tape again.
	"Can either of you guys suck yourself off," he asked.
	"I can," I said.  "At least, I've done it a few times."  That's all we had
to say.  Matt got up and got some towels for us, and he, Brett, and I took
off our jeans.  Matt and Brett hadn't seen each other naked before, so Matt
checked him out, even going so far as to wrap his hand around his hard-on.
"Nice," he said.  Brett blushed.
	"Let me limber up a little before we try anything," I said.  I did some
stretches, mainly to loosen my back and neck.  "Okay, I'm ready."
	I got on the bed on my back, and I pulled my legs up over my head.  I got
my cock in my mouth well enough, but my ass was so high, nobody could reach
it with a dick.  I got on the floor and flipped my legs back, and this time
the angle was good.  Brett slicked up his cock with some lube and shoved it
into me.  He fucked me a few times, then Matt mounted him.  Matt's thrusting
into Brett made him thrust harder and deeper into me, and that made my cock
go deeper into my mouth.  It was like we were a machine being powered by
Matt.
	"Fuck his ass, Brett.  Stick that love pole into him until you fill up his
guts.  Don't give him any mercy, man.  Jam it up into him so hard you hit
his cock on its way down his throat."  Like the kid on the baseball team who
does all the chatter, Matt kept up a steady stream of this kind of stuff.
"Suck it, Nicky-boy.  Suck that big, hairy dick of yours until you pull
yourself inside out through it.  I'm havin' fun with your buddy's ass back
here, and it's craving my hard, hot cock like it ain't never been fed.  He's
tickling me with his ass muscles, Nick, and I love every fuckin' minute of
it.  Grind on his tool, Nick; milk his cum out of him."  He said so much, it
all ran together.
	We kept up this scene for quite a while, and my back was getting sore.
Also, I didn't really like having my cock jabbed down my own throat.  I like
getting and giving blow jobs, but this wasn't my style for either.  Brett
came first, I think, and Matt and I weren't too far behind.
	"So how was it, Nick," Matt asked.
	"Better on videotape than in real life," I said.
	They both laughed, but I was serious.  "That isn't the most comfortable
position in the world, and my idea of a blow job is a slow, easy suck, not a
dick pounding my tonsils.  I hope it was better for you guys."
	They both agreed it was okay, but only okay.
	Matt noticed our tattoos.  He had seen mine at the Country Place, but he
hadn't seen Brett's or Chuck's.
	"Your tattoos are really cool.  I think I want to get one."
	"Anytime you're ready, I'll take you down there," I said.  "I'm thinking
about getting another one."
	"Oh, yeah?  Where," Matt asked.
	"On my dick," I said.  Matt had actually given me that idea the week before
when he first saw mine, but evidently he hadn't remembered that.  He had
been drinking, and it was a pretty exciting night.
	He thought about that for a second.  Then he asked, "Can they do that?"
	"I don't see why not.  A regular needle tattoo would hurt like hell on your
cock, but this is dye, remember?  I saw the design I want the last time we
were there.  It's a snake that'll wrap around my cock."
	"Oh, wow!  That would be so fucking cool," Matt said.  "I can see the other
person's face when you pop that sucker out.  I'm gettin' two--one on my arm
and one on my cock.  Let's go right now."
	"Let's call to see if they're open," I said.  "No use going down there if
they're not working."
	The guy had given me a business card when we were in there, and I still had
it in my wallet.  I found it and called the number.  It didn't answer right
away, but I let it ring.  On the sixth ring, a woman answered.  I explained
why I called, and she said they'd be open till midnight.  I asked her if she
could do a tattoo on a penis, and she said she had already done three that
very day.
	We got dressed and headed to the Quarter.  Matt was really excited.
Traffic was pretty heavy, but we got there and parked in half an hour.  We
went into the shop, and I told the woman I was the guy who called earlier.
Since I knew what I wanted, she took me first.
	"I can do this with you soft," she said, "but it works out much better if
you're hard.  Do you have a problem with that?"
	"Not a bit," I said.
	She washed my cock with warm, soapy water, and she ran her hands up and
down the shaft several times.  I started to get aroused, of course. Then she
washed the head, although she might have just been trying to get me as hard
as she could.  Whichever reason was true, it worked.
	"That's a good-looking cock you got there, guy."
	"Thanks," I said, not knowing how else to react.
	"It's pretty smooth, but I felt a little hair up around the base and on the
sides.  I'll have to shave that off.  You must shave it yourself.  Do you?"
	"Uh-hunh," I said, a little embarrassed.
	She shaved my cock and rubbed it some more to get it even harder.  She made
me sit on the edge of the table with my feet on the floor so that she could
get to all sides of it.  Then she sketched the design, with the head of the
snake pointing toward my belly and the tail ending up on the actual
cockhead.  It went around my cock twice.
	I had to spend about twenty minutes under the ultraviolet light because the
design was so complex.  She came in to check me every now and then to make
sure I was still hard.  She couldn't touch the part of my cock that had the
design on it, but she rubbed the head a few times and the spot right below
the head on the underneath part to keep me hard.  Brett helped out too by
playing with my nipples.  When it was all done, I looked at it in the mirror
and loved it.  The colors were dark blue, orange, and teal.  It really
looked awesome.
	Matt decided on a tribal design for his left arm.  He had it done in dark
blue, and it looked cool.  He couldn't decide which design he wanted on his
cock, but I knew we wouldn't leave there until he had one.  Finally, after
more than a half hour of trying to decide, he picked a cartoon figure
holding a machine gun, with the words "No Misfire."  It was cute, I guess,
but I liked my snake more.  Secretly, he did, too, I think.
	The lady gave us each a bottle of some ointment to rub on our new dye jobs.
  She said she didn't figure they would hurt much, especially since she knew
we didn't have any plans to use our tools for the next few days--big laughs
all around.  The ultraviolet light causes the equivalent of a mild sunburn,
but this ointment would take care of any discomfort friction with our
clothes or anything else (Ha, ha!) might cause.
	It was after six, so we decided to get something to eat before we went home
to get dressed for Chubby's party.  We stopped at one of the neighborhood
restaurant-bars that are all over New Orleans.  We went into the bar and
ordered beers.  In a little while, I had to take a leak, so I went into the
men's room.  In these kinds of places, the restroom facilities aren't fancy,
usually a toilet stall and a trough urinal.  I stood at the end of the
urinal closest to the door, and pulled out my dick.  Just as I started to
piss, the door opened and these two middle-aged men came in.  They saw my
dick and went crazy.
	"What the hell is that on your dick," one guy asked.
	"Jesus Christ, it's a fuckin' snake," the other one said.  As I was
standing there with my dick hanging out of my jeans, he called to two other
guys at the bar for them to come see this thing.  In a second, four guys,
all blue collar types and all with four or five beers in them, were standing
there watching me pee.
	"Is that a tattoo?"
	"Where'd you get that thing?"
	"That must have hurt like hell."
	"Holy Christ, I bet that turns the girls on."
	These comments, and others like them, let me know that I was going to have
fun with this thing.  I shook off and faced them before I put my stuff away.
I wanted to give them a head-on view.  Then I washed my hands, and walked
out.
	I told Brett and Matt what had happened, and Matt said, "You were right to
get that snake.  Shit, mine is so small, nobody will ever notice it like
that."
	"But like you always say, Bubba, it ain't the size of the tool but how you
use it that counts."
	"Shut up, fuckface," he said, and we laughed.
	We ate our dinner and left the restaurant for home.  I called Chuck when I
got home, and he was still at his office.  I reminded him of the party at
Chubby's, and he said to look for him around ten or eleven.
	"I've got a surprise for you," I said.
	"What is it," he asked.
	"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise.  I'll show you tonight."
	Matt, Brett, and I took a shower together, and, as usual, it ended up in
sex play.  I stuck my dick in Brett's ass, and it burned a little from the
tattoo.  Matt fucked me, but he said his didn't burn.
	We had trouble deciding on what to wear.  Matt wanted to go without a shirt
to show off his new tattoo.  I favored that option myself, but I didn't want
it to look like we were a matched pair.  Brett said he wanted to wear a
shirt, which was also cool.  We finally decided that I would wear a denim
shirt with the sleeves cut out and a jeans jacket that I could take off if I
wanted to.  Matt was going shirtless but with a black leather jacket and
very tight black jeans.  I wore some very light blue jeans.  Brett wore
jeans and a sport shirt.  He also wore a brown leather jacket of mine that
was really nice and that looked great on him.
	Before we went downstairs, Matt decided that we all needed cock rings.
	"Do you assholes know what those are," he asked, in his usual condescending
tone.
	"You mean something like this," Brett said, as he pulled one out of the
pocket of his jacket.
	"All right, dudes.  Strap up."
	We put the cock rings on, and they doubled the size of our baskets.  Matt
checked each of us out and decided we were cool.
	We were ready by 9 o'clock, which was too early to leave.  The early-to-bed
crowd would still be there, and we weren't interested in mingling with them.
  We went downstairs to the den and made drinks.  We watched TV and smoked
cigarettes for the next forty-five minutes, and then it was time to go.
	Chubby's place was only six blocks away, so we decided to walk instead of
having to worry about designated drivers and all that shit.  We didn't talk
much on the way there.  In fact, Matt set a pretty fast pace, and we got
there in, like, five minutes.
	Chubby had gone all out.  There was a DJ, and he had even moved some things
around to make a dance floor.  There was food all over the place, and, of
course, the drinks were free for everybody.
	There were a good many people there, but we decided to shoot pool to give
ourselves a chance to check out the crowd before we moved into it.  We got a
drink and a plate of food, and we took a table in the middle of the room.
It was warm and smoky in the place, so we all took off our jackets.  Several
guys checked out our tattoos--mine and Matt's at least; Brett's couldn't be
seen because of his shirt.
	Chuck came in around 10:30, still dressed for work, which meant a light
blue dress shirt, jeans, a tie, and a sport coat.  He looked cool.  He came
over and joined us.  He had met Matt at the Country Place, so everybody knew
one another.  Chuck got a martini and big plate of food.  The poor bastard
looked tired, which he probably was after working ten hours.
	We fooled around at the pool table until around eleven, and then we started
noticing the other people who had come in.  We decided we'd separate and see
what the night would bring until 12:30; then, we'd get back together to
evaluate what was up.
	I hadn't seen anybody I knew really well or that I was interested in
talking to, so I went up to Chubby to talk to him.  He immediately poured me
a drink, and we made small talk about the party and stuff.  Then I said,
	"Uncle Chubby, I got something to show you."
	"Didn't I tell you to lose the 'uncle' shit.  Even if I was your real
uncle, I wouldn't want you to call me that."
	"Sorry," I said, "old habits die hard.  But my dad considered you his
brother, so that makes you my uncle."
	Chubby grabbed me affectionately by the hair and said,
	"Don't start that fuckin' shit with me, Nick.  I'll be bawling in a
second."  He put our foreheads together, and for a minute I thought he was
going to cry.  I know I was.
	"So what the fuck you want to show me," he asked.
	"Not out here.  Let's step behind the bar."
	We moved behind the bar, and I opened my fly.  I pulled out my cock to show
Chubby my new tattoo.
	"What the fuck!  Where the hell did you get that thing?  What is that, a
fuckin' snake?"
	"Yeah, but don't touch it.  It'll fuckin' bite you," I said.
	We laughed.
	"Don't worry, I won't," he said.  Then, "That's really something.  I ain't
never seen nothin' like that.  Did it hurt?"
	"Fuckin'-aye,  it hurt.  But I'm a stud, man.  I can take it."
	"I wanna hear every reaction you get to that tonight, you hear me?  I wanna
know what everybody you show it to or stick it in says about it, all right?"
	"Matt's got one, too.  Only his is pussy shit compared to this."
	"Let me be the judge of that," he said.  He poured me a second drink, even
though I hadn't really touched the first one, and sent me on my way.  In a
minute, he walked up to Matt, and I knew what they were talking about.
	There were a lot of guys in the place, but before long a squad of five
girls came in.  They all looked Italian, so I figured they must be from
Chubby's family or neighborhood or something.  They got something to eat and
drink, and then they found a table.  I didn't waste any time.  I went over
to the table and introduced myself.
	"Nick, you don't remember me, do you?"  This came from a girl with a huge
head of curly hair, plenty of make up, and enough cleavage to suffocate me.
	"Er, sure I do.  You're . . ."
	"Angela, he doesn't remember you.  You were only in second grade, for
Christ sake.  You've both grown up since then."
	"I was in fourth grade," Angela said.  "I was a late bloomer."  All the
girls laughed.
	I wracked my brain for the seconds it took for the girls to give their few
clues.  Then, miraculously, it occurred to me.  "You're Angela Macerato, and
we were in First Communion class together at St. Catherine of Sienna."
	"Jesus, God," Angela said, "what a memory."
	"Well, you remembered me.  Why shouldn't I remember you?"
	"She remembered you because she had a heavy crush on you and because Chubby
said you'd probably be here tonight.  I'm her sister Marcella.  Why don't
you join us, Nick?"
	"I'd love to," I said.  "Anybody need a drink?"
	Everybody was fine.
	"So, Angela, what are you up to now," I asked.
	"I'm working at my parents' grocery store at the moment, but I'm thinking
about going back to school."
	"College," I asked.
	"Not exactly.  Cosmetology.  I love hair, and I figure I could learn to be
pretty good at it.  What about you?  You workin'?"
	"Naw," I said.  "I'm still in school."
	"So what you going to be?  A doctor?"  All the girls laughed.
	"Angela wants to marry a doctor," one of them said.  "I told her they don't
let blind men become doctors."  They all laughed hard at Angela's expense.
	"Angela, let's dance," I said.  We got on the dance floor, and I could tell
Angela spent a good bit of her time watching MTV.  She could really move.  I
was a pretty good dancer, but not as good as she was.  The next song the DJ
played was a slow one, so we danced to that, too.  I wanted to put my face
between her breasts and just suck in her smell.  She played with my butt a
little bit and put her thumb in my back pocket.  We moved slowed and
seductively, grinding against one another.  I was breathing a little hard by
the time it was over, and my cock, while not hard, was definitely feeling
good.
	I got fresh drinks and brought them back to the table.  By now, two other
guys had joined us.  I figured this much pussy wouldn't go unnoticed for
long.  I had played football against one of the guys when we were in
elementary school.  I had gone to a private boys' school even then, but that
one was Catholic.  We shook hands and made small talk.
	"Cool tattoo," he said.  "I got one, too, but I'd have to take my shirt off
for you to see it."
	"Thanks, man," I said.
	"I've thought about getting a tattoo," Angela said, "but I'd want it
someplace private so only special people could see it."
	"As a matter of fact," I said, "I've got one like that, too."
	Angela wanted to dance again, so we got up and went to the dance floor.  It
was another slow one, and she sort of sang it into my ear the whole time.
My ears are really sensitive, and her hot breath was doing a number on me.
That, plus the pressure on my cock from dancing really close, made me pop a
woody.  I was pretty sure she could feel it through her pants.  Then, she
reached around and started playing with it.
	"What's this," she whispered.
	"It's what you think it is," I said.
	"You're not wearing underwear, are you?"
	"No."
	"Will you come if I keep doing this," she asked.
	"Yes.  Yes, I will."
	She giggled and continued applying pressure.  The song ended, and we
separated.  My cock felt like it was sticking out a mile long, but I didn't
care.
	"Let's go outside for some fresh air," I said.
	"Okay.  Let me get my purse."
	She went back to the table and whispered something to her girlfriend, who
giggled.  I met her at the door.  We went outside into the parking lot, and
I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply and wetly.  My tongue slid into her
mouth without any resistence, and in a second we were grinding into each
other, dry-humping against the building.
	In a few minutes, she pulled back.  "This isn't good," she said.  "It's too
common to do it standing up in the parking lot."
	I leaned against the building next to her and took out my smokes.  I
offered her one, and she accepted.  I fired up both of them, and we stood
there smoking for a few minutes.
	"You got a car," she asked.
	"Not here.  We walked.  I should have thought of that.  Goddamn it."
	"I could go back in and ask Laurie for her keys. . . ."
	"No, wait a minute.  I just thought of something."
	The building was two stories, and there were two apartments upstairs.
Chubby kept one of them rented, but he kept the other one empty for friends
to crash in and for him to sneak away to when he had a live one on the line.
  The key was hidden near the door, and I knew where it was.
	"Come with me," I said.  We walked around to the side of the building and
went up an outdoor staircase that served the back door of Chubby's place.  I
found the key in a second, and we were in.
	"I didn't know this was up here," she said.
	"Chubby thinks of everything," I said.  I kissed her again in the kitchen,
and in a second we were undressing each other.  "Hold on," I said.  "I ain't
the only one who knows about this place.  Let's go into one of the bedrooms
in case somebody else comes in."  I led her to the bedroom Chubby uses and
locked the door.  I turned on a very low lamp.  In a minute we were all over
each other, and we were both naked in a heartbeat.
	We got into bed, and I immediately went for those gorgeous tits.  I licked
the spot between them, and I gently kneeded the soft mounds on either side.
I sucked on her nipples like a baby on its mother, and that made her hot.  I
moved down to her stomach, her navel, and finally her crotch.  She had a
really thick black bush, and I nosed around in it, savoring the smells
coming from a little lower.  Then I worked down to her slit.  Her clit was
huge, and it was standing straight up.  I touched it with my finger and
thumb, and she shivered with pleasure.  Then I started rubbing both sides of
it, and that made her even hotter.  I stuck my finger into her pussy, and it
was already dripping wet.  I pressed up on the upper part, where a girl's
g-spot is supposed to be, and I must have found hers.  She started writhing
and moaning so loud I though the DJ would come up and object to all the
noise.
	I worked her clit with my tongue, and then I tongue fucked her.  She came
with a gigantic shudder, and I'd swear she shot cum, or the female
equivalent.  It was hot and musky and tasted fabulous.
	She came a second time, and I moved up to enter her.  My cock met no
resistence, and, in fact, it was a little loose.  I wondered if she had had
a baby, or something.  She had pussy muscles, though, and she knew how to
use them.  I felt her clamp down on my cock like she was milking it, and I
loved it.  I pumped her and pumped her and pumped her.  The hard friction
wasn't constant, and I had already come maybe ten times that day, so I
lasted way longer than usual.  She must have come six or seven times during
all that.  I stopped to rest for a few seconds at one point, and she grabbed
both sides of my face and stuck her tongue down my throat.  I started
thrusting again, and I'm pretty sure she came a couple more times.  Finally,
I was getting tired and wanted to come.  I tightened the muscles inside my
butt and groin, and I came in a few seconds.  It was a really big, hard one,
and I bucked and jerked like I was having a seizure.
	After I recovered enough to pull out and siddle up beside her, I got us
each cigarettes and an ashtray.
	"Wow!" I said.
	"You're telling me?  I feel like a freshly-fucked virgin.  I'm quivvering
all over.  You're more of a man than I ever thought you were.  I was right
in First Communion class."  We both laughed hard.
	"And what the hell have you got down there?  A fucking telephone pole?"
	"Take a look," I said.
	She pulled back the sheet and gasped.
	"Oh, my God, it's so big.  And it's a snake.  Is that a snake on your
dick?"
	"It's a tattoo, Angela.  It's not a real snake."
	"But your dick is as big as a real snake.  You had that thing in me."
	"Yes, Angela, and you loved it."
	"I did.  I loved your snake."  We laughed.  "I want snake.  I crave snake."
  We laughed some more.
	"Do you want to pet the snake?"
	"No.  I want to suck the snake."
	"Well, be my guest."
	Angela went down on me and sucked like she knew what she was doing.  Pretty
soon, the snake spit into Angela's mouth.
	"I love venom," she said.  "I love snakes, especially big snakes."
	"The snake likes you, Angela.  It only spits into certain girls, and you're
one of them.  That's a special honor."
	"Like crowning the statue of the Blessed Virgin?"
	This girl was smarter than I had first thought she was.
	"Not quite, but close."  We both laughed.
	"Do most girls like the snake," she asked.
	"Why do you ask," I said.
	"It's just that I think a lot of girls would find that kind of creepy, you
know.  I mean, snakes aren't exactly most people's favorite animal."
	She had a point.  One I hadn't really thought about, in fact.  This got me
a little worried because the last thing I wanted to do was scare anybody
away.
	In a few moments I said, "Angie, I'm having a party tomorrow night at my
house.  It's in the phone book.  Please come."
	"I don't know, Nick.  You know how the Dagos are.  We've got the whole
fucking family coming to my house.  My grandmother lives with us, so
there'll be a hundred people at my house.  I'll try to get away, but it
might be tough.  I'll probably have to do ten heads of hair before I can
even go down to it.  And the food.  You'd think it was St. Joseph's Day, or
something.  We eat.  And we eat.  And we eat.  I just don't know."
	"My Uncle Chubby is coming," I said, maybe to entice her.
	"Fuckin' Chubby's your uncle?"
	"Not officially.  But he and my dad were like brothers, so what the hell
else is he to me?"
	"Mr. Chubby and my mom went to grammar school together, and we always lived
in the same neighborhood.  He's a cool guy."
	"No argument from me," I said.  Then, "Let's get dressed and rejoin the
party."
	We went downstairs the same way we went up, and Angie's table was full.  I
pulled up two chairs, and we sat down.  Then I went and got us drinks.  I
didn't feel good, all of a sudden.  I wasn't sick, or anything.  I was just
thinking about what Angie said about my snake, and I was worried.  Chubby
had liked it, but what the fuck did he know?  Or had he?  He said he had
never seen anything like it, but he didn't say it was great or anything.
	"Angie, I've got to talk to a guy about something.  I'll be back in a
little while, okay."
	"Sure, Nick.  Gimme a kiss."
	I kissed her and left the table.  I looked around for Chuck and saw him
across the room playing darts with a guy about his age.  I went up to them,
and Chuck introduced the guy as Kevin.  No last name.  We made small talk
for a few minutes, and then I said,
	"Chuck, can I talk to you?  Private?"
	"Sure.  Kevin, I'll be back to finish whipping your ass, okay?"
	I took Chuck up to Chubby's apartment, which he, too, was surprised to
learn about.
	"What is it, Nick?  You look like you just found out you got somebody
pregnant."  He laughed, but I didn't.
	"Chuck, I think I might have done something really stupid this afternoon.
I want your advice.  Promise me you'll be honest."
	"What, for Christ's sake?"
	"I got another tattoo.  Dye tattoo."
	"That doesn't sound like such a big deal.  What are you worried about?"
	"Let me show it to you, and you tell me what you think."  I undid my jeans,
and they dropped to the floor.  Chuck just stared at my cock for a second,
and then he took it into his hand and turned it over.  He looked up at me
without any expression on his face, still holding my cock.  He might have
been a doctor or something.  There was no sexual feeling anywhere around.
	"Why?"
	Jesus, that one word spoke volumes.  No, "neat, Nick" or even "cool."  Just
"why?"
	I felt my heart sink.  I had really screwed up.  What if the guy was full
of bullshit, and this thing wouldn't come off?  What if I had to go through
my life scaring women with my dick?
	"It's that bad, huh?"
	"Well, it's a pretty tattoo.  The colors are great.  But. . .remember, you
made me promise to be honest?"
	"Yeah.  What?"
	"It doesn't exactly make me want to give you a blow-job."
	"Jesus, that's what I was afraid of."
	"Have Matt and Scott seen it?"
	"Matt has.  He was with me and got one, too.  Only his is a little cartoon
guy on the top of his shaft.  Scott hasn't seen it yet."
	"Well, show it to Scott.  He might think it's cool.  Didn't you tell me he
wants you to work some at the clubs during the holidays?  He might think
women will go for it."  Chuck's tone was still serious.
	I had forgotten all about working at the clubs.  I had seen so little of
Scott and Matt in the last week, that I had even forgotten until then that
Matt was going to Europe for two weeks the day after Christmas.  I pulled my
jeans back on, and Chuck and I went back downstairs.  Scott wasn't there
yet, but I knew he would be before long.  I kept losing drinks before I
finished them, so I'd get another one.  I went to look for Brett, and I
couldn't find him in the crowd.  I went back to Angela's table, but she was
gone, too.  In fact, the whole table had cleared out.  People were coming in
and out of the place pretty fast, and some guys must have left with them.
	I sat down and smoked a cigarette, still nervous.
	Finally, around midnight Scott and Philip came in.  There were a couple of
guys with them that work at the clubs.  They either closed early that night
or these guys weren't working.  They got drinks and sat at a table.  Chubby
came up and said hello, and then he moved off.  I was nervous as I walked
across the room.
	"Hi," I said.
	"Hi, Nick.  How's it going?  Nick, I want you to meet these guys.  This is
Tony Clemons and Dirk Van Teal.  They work at the clubs.  Tony, here, is the
choreographer and more or less in charge of the shows."
	I shook hands all around, saying hi to Philip and hello to the new guys.
	Scott said, "Pull up a chair.  And cheer up, for Christ sake.  You look
like Santa Claus isn't coming this year."  They all laughed, and I managed a
weak smile.
	"Scott, can I talk to you for a few minutes?  In private?"
	I took Scott up to the apartment, which he certainly knew about, and showed
him my new tattoo.  He reacted about like Chuck had reacted.  Then he said
he had some real reservations about the snake.
	"Let me go get Philip and the other guys, and we'll see what they think."
	I pulled my jeans up and waited nervously for Scott and the others to get
back.  Scott had already told them what was up.
	"Let's see it," Tony said.
	I lowered my jeans to my thighs for them to look at my cock.
	"Take everything off," Tony said.
	I looked at Scott, quizzically.
	"It's all right, man.  That's the first thing he tells all the new dancers.
  And wannabees."
	I got naked in front of Philip, Tony, Dirk, and Scott.  I'm never
uncomfortable being naked, but somehow this time was different.
	"It'll never work," Tony said.  "In fact, we have a rule against tattoos.
Some guys have them, of course, but they have to cover them with makeup for
shows.  Tattoos scare too many women, and a fuckin' snake on his fuckin'
cock will close the clubs."
	"You heard him," Scott said.  "This guy's got the experience.  He knows."
	"I'll get it taken off," I said.  "In fact, I'll get both of them taken
off.  Tomorrow."
	Dirk and Tony laughed.
	"No, really.  They're just dye.  No needles."
	"Where'd you have it done?  That place on Decature Street?"
	"You know about that?  They can really take them off, can't they?"
	"Yeah," Tony said.  "My little brother got one, and my mother made him have
it taken off.  It costs, though.  Something like a hundred bucks."
	That was a real load off my shoulders.  I would go back to the place
tomorrow and get these things taken off me.
	"Keep the one on your arm, if you want to.  It's small, and we can cover
that up real easy," Tony said.
	"I might," I said.  "I really like having that one."
	"Come by the club tomorrow and show me after it's gone.  Okay," Tony asked.
	"Sure thing," I said.
	We all went back downstairs and rejoined the party.
	Matt came up to me with a guy I didn't know.  "Nick, this is Joe Taranto, a
friend of mine.  I was telling him about your new tattoo, and he wants to
see it.  Do you mind?"
	I told Matt what Scott and Tony had said.  "I don't fuckin' believe it," he
said.  "I just got the fuckin' thing.  I don't want to lose mine."
	"Well, if you want to dance, you'll have to."
	"We'll see," Matt said.  He and Joe and I went back upstairs to the
apartment.  Matt took us into the bedroom and locked the door.  I took off
my jeans and showed my snake.
	"In-fuckin'-credible!" Joe said.  "That is too fuckin' much.  I love it.  I
can't believe he wants you to take it off."
	"Yeah, but you don't want it down your throat, either," I said, trying to
make Tony's point.
	"Who says?"  Joe grinned devilishly.  "Come here."
	I walked over to him, and he squatted in front of me.  In a second he took
my cock into his mouth and started sucking.  I wasn't the least bit hard at
first, but he knew what he was doing.  I got hard in a few seconds, and in
another few seconds Joe was playing with my balls.  He stroked my sack
gently and evenly, and it felt really good.  Matt unbuttoned my shirt and
started rubbing my nipples.
	Matt got down next to Joe and said, "Let me have some of that, too."  Matt
and Joe alternated on my cock, and in a few minutes I was ready to come.  I
came in Joe's mouth, and some of my cum leaked out.  Matt licked it off his
face.  Then he and Joe went at it.  They both got undressed and onto the
bed.  They got in the 69 position and sucked each other off.  I got in bed
with them, and we all smoked cigarettes when they were finished.  Joe wanted
to play with the snake some more, this time with his hand.  He got me hard
again pretty quickly, and he wanted me to fuck him.  I stood up, with him on
his back on the edge of the bed.  I like that position because I like to
watch guys come.  While I was fucking Joe, Matt got behind me, fingered my
ass, and stuck his cock in.  We fucked in tandem.  Joe came first, causing
spasms in his ass.  This set me off, I came, and then Matt came.
	We were all pretty spent after that.  Another cigarette, and then we got
dressed to go back to the party.
	We were just turning the corner of the building toward the door, when
Chubby and three kind of tough looking guys came out.  Chubby was trying to
explain that the place was closed for a private party and that they would
have to leave.  Two of the guys were cooperative, but the third one was
belligerent.  He pushed Chubby and called him a son of a bitch.  Chubby said
he didn't want any trouble, but the guy pushed him again.  Then the asshole
grabbed Chubby's shirt and drove him up against the building.  He was just
about to punch Chubby when Matt and I ran over and pulled the guy off
Chubby.  Matt slung the guy to the ground and kicked him.  One of the
cooperative ones grabbed Matt from behind, and the one on the ground got up
to wallop Matt.  I grabbed his arm before he could hit him, and I hit the
guy in his face.  The third one came into it, and Chubby, Matt, and I
squared off against these three.  Matt told Joe to go get Scott, so he did.
Bad mistake, I thought.  He should have stayed here to help us with these
guys.
	The guy I had was pretty drunk and didn't offer much resistence.  I punched
him in his stomach, and he puked.  He was pretty much out of it and ran over
to their car.  Chubby's guy knocked him down and then turned on me.  I
kicked the fucker in his balls, and he doubled over with pain.  The third
guy was telling Matt he had had enough.  Matt turned him loose, and he
helped the one up off the ground.  The guy in the car drove over, they got
in, and, in a second, they were gone, with a lot of loud screaching of
tires.  Chubby was breathing hard (they don't call him Chubby for nothing),
but otherwise he was all right.  Matt and I helped him up.  He put his arms
around us, and we walked back into the place.  Scott was at the door getting
ready to come outside to help us.
	"Those sons of bitches are out of here," I said.
	"We beat the shit out of those motherfuckers," Chubby said, "and your
brothers came through like champs."
	"Way to go, Bubbas," Scott said.  The people near the door were listening
to all of this, and they cheered.
	"Come on, boys, let's get some drinks," Chubby said.
	Chubby took over the microphone and said that there had been some trouble
outside with three punks but that he and the Marshall brothers had
everything under control.  Then he made the DJ play the theme from "Rocky,"
and he made Matt and me come up on the stage.  Everybody in the place
cheered and applauded us, and I felt great.
	I went over to Chuck and Brett, who were shooting pool.  Chuck was yawning,
so I knew he probably wanted to leave pretty soon.
	"Well, killer, it looks like you handled that pretty well," Chuck said.
	"Thanks.  I guess so."
	"Was that your first bar fight?"
	"Hell, yeah.  I'm only eighteen, remember?"
	"You know, Nick, sometimes it's hard to remember that," Chuck said,
seriously.  Then he laughed and hugged me.
	We left shortly after that.  I was tired, and Chuck was exhausted.  We
drove home in Chuck's car.