Date: Thu, 30 Dec 1999 18:26:54 GMT
From: Brew Maxwell <dokker22@hotmail.com>
Subject: Unusual Christmas 5

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 5

	We went home and went to bed.  My plan was that all three of us would sleep
in my bed, which was kingsize, but Chuck asked if he could use another room
just for that night.  I knew he was beat, and I knew he wasn't interested in
the fooling around that would inevitably happen if we all slept together.  I
put him in a guest room.
	Brett wasn't all that sleepy, and neither was I, so we talked a while.  I
told him about Angela and about Joe and Matt.  I also told him about talking
to Scott and Tony, and I said I was going down first thing in the morning to
have the snake taken off.
	"Good," he said.  "I really don't like that thing all that much.  I like
your dick the way it was."
	When he said that, he reached down and grabbed it.  It got hard pretty
quick, and Brett started jerking me off.  I took hold of his cock, and
jerked him off, too.  We both came hard, but neither of us produced much
cum.  I got out a towel from my nightstand and wiped us off.  We snuggled
for a little while, and then got into the spoon position.  I wedged my cock
into the crack of his ass, and we settled down for sleep.

	I hadn't set my alarm clock, but I woke up around seven without it.  The
place downtown opened at eight, and I wanted to be there when they opened.
I took a shower, shaved, and put on my usual jeans and sport shirt.  I
grabbed my black leather jacket, and I was off.
	They were already open when I got there.  The guy who had given me the
first tattoo was working that day, since the medical center clinics were
closed for Christmas Eve.  I told him what I wanted, and he said sure.  He
took me into one of the "labs" and told me to undress.  I had decided to
keep the one on my arm, at least for right now, so I wondered why I had to
take off everything.  I did what I was told, though.
	"Wow!  That thing looks mean.  I can see why you want it off.  I would have
advised against that particular design for your cock.  Melissa's a great
artist, but she don't understand that the work has to work."  He chuckled at
his pun.  I assumed Melissa was the girl who had put the snake on.  I hadn't
seen her there, so I figured she was off that day.
	He got two different chemicals.  One was a clear liquid, and he applied
that to my cock with a cotton swab.  It burned a little on the head, but
that was all.  He said we had to let that dry.  I figured he would leave and
go take care of something else, but he stayed right there with me and
watched me.
	"Who were those two guys you were in here with the other day?"
	"They're friends."
	"Friend, eh?  Not buddies?"
	"Yeah, you could say we're buddies."  I didn't want to tell this guy
everything.
	"I mean, like, jerk-off buddies, or fuck-buddies?"  I must have blushed a
little, or something.  "Hey, man, that's cool.  I've got a fuck-buddy.  Most
of the guys I know do."
	"Guilty," I said, and we laughed.
	"So which one of them didn't like the snake?"
	"Well, neither one did, too much.  But that's not why I'm getting it off.
I work at a strip club for women, and the guy in charge said it had to go."
	"So this is just business, not personal."
	"That's right," I said.  I wished the shit on my cock would hurry up and
dry so I could be out of there.
	In a few minutes, the guy--Jim, he said his name was--thought it had dried
enough.
	"Now for the fun part," he said.
	He got a handful of some white cream and started rubbing in on my cock.  It
felt good, of course, just like he was jerking me off.
	"It's okay if you get hard," Jim said.  "Most guys do.  Most of them come,
too."  He laughed.
	Well, Jim rubbed the stuff in for all he was worth.  I did get hard,
naturally, and I did come.  Twice.  I could see that Jim was hard, too.
	"You mind if I join you," he asked.
	"Be my guest," I said.  What could I say?
	He whipped out his cock, which was rather small, and lathered himself up.
He came in about ten strokes, which must be some kind of record.  Anyway, he
finished me up and wiped me off.  And, miracle of miracles, the tattoo was
gone.  Completely gone.  I had expected to see traces of the outline, at
least, but there were none.  I cleaned the white cream off, dressed, paid
him, and was out of there.
	Since I was in the Quarter anyway, I decided to get some coffee and
doughnuts at the Cafe DuMond.  That was my breakfast, and it was always
good.  I got a bag full of doughtnuts and three big cups of coffee to go and
took them home to Chuck and Brett.
	Everybody was still asleep when I got home.  It was only a 9:30, and I
guess I really didn't expect anybody to be up.  It was Christmas Eve,
though, and I was starting to get excited.  I put the coffee in the
refrigerator, and I hid the doughnuts in a cabinet.  I didn't want somebody
to get to them before Chuck and Brett had a shot at them.
	I went upstairs, got undressed, and got back in bed with Brett.  He was
still on his side, so I rejoined us in the spoon position and went to sleep.
  We woke up around eleven.
	I put my arm over him, and he purred.  "I can feel your cock," he said.
"Is it hard?"
	"No," I said.  "Do you want it to be?"
	"Of course," he said.
	I moved up and down for a while until my cock was hard.
	"What now," I asked.
	"Shove it in me, of course."  He chuckled a bit, but I did as he said.  We
rocked back and forth for quite a while, and then he came.  I came when I
felt his ass contract.  Good way to start the day.
	We got up and showered.
	"Where's the snake," he asked.  "Have you been downtown already?"
	"Yep," I said.  "The snake is history."
	We fooled around in the shower, as usual, and we both came a couple of more
times.  We got out, dressed, and went downstairs.  We debated waking up
Chuck but decided he needed the sleep.
	Matt and Joe were in the kitchen.  Apparently Joe had spent the night.
Matt said Scott had gotten up a little earlier and was already off seeing to
last-minute arrangements for tonight.  He had left a list of things to do,
but none of them required much effort.  Matt said he and Joe would take care
of them.  I really didn't have anything to do.
	I suggested to Brett that we go work out, and he said that sounded good.
We went to Alvin's gym and went through the routines he had prescribed for
us.  I was used to power lifting to create bulk, and these new routines took
some getting used to.  I spotted Brett when he needed help.
	There were several other guys in the gym that day.  I guess businesses had
let their people off because it was Christmas Eve.  Anyway, I told Brett to
keep an eye out for how they would watch us when we took our showers.  We
went to our lockers, which were only a few feet apart, and got undressed.
We had forgotten to get towels, so we went up to the attendant in the locker
room and asked him for some.  He had to go get them, so we just stood there
naked for several minutes while he was gone.  Five or six guys came through
that area while we were there, and every single one of them snuck a peek at
my cock.  I was probably as limp as I ever get, but it still attracted
attention.
	"You see what I mean," I asked Brett.
	"Yeah, but I don't find that unusual.  I'd stare at your cock, too, if I'd
never seen it before.  Just think of how much more staring you'd get with
the snake still on it."
	"I know.  That's one reason I'm sad it's gone."  We both laughed.
	The guy finally came back with two towels.  I threw mine over my shoulder,
and we walked to the shower room.  There were three other guys in there.
One guy looked like he was around forty, and the other two were in their
twenties.  The older guy left almost as soon as we got in there, and one of
the younger ones wasn't far behind him.  The third guy, though, seemed to be
taking a long time.  Maybe he had just gotten in there.
	In a minute he asked if we had had a good workout.
	"Yeah," I said.  "Al's got me on a new routine to build definition instead
of bulk, so I'm just getting used to my new exercises.  We're trying to bulk
this guy up some."
	"I think Al's right about you," he said.  "You got all the bulk you need  .
. .and all in the right places."
	Here it comes, I thought.  The pick up.  Pick ups are fascinating to me.
Everybody has his own style.  You always take a chance, whether its with a
girl or a guy, and that's the fun.
	"You like a guy with bulk," I asked.
	"Doesn't everybody," he responded.
	"Sometimes bulk can be a problem, though.  Like with tight-fitting jeans.
Especially if the bulk tends to expand under certain circumstances."  I was
playing with this poor guy, but he seemed to be enjoying it.  Brett was
grinning.
	"I never thought of that problem," the guy said.  Then, "you ever take a
steam bath here?"
	"Yeah.  Sometimes.  He and I took one earlier this week.  It was just the
two of us in there.  I had to give him a rubdown because his muscles were
sore."
	"What do you say we take one now?  All three of us."  This boy's cock had
been swelling slightly since he started talking to me, and by now he was
half hard.
	"Brett," I asked.  He said he thought a steam bath would do him some good.
	We turned off the showers and went next door to the steam room.  It was
empty.  The guy locked the door.
	"By the way, I'm Larry," he said.
	"People call me Snake," I said.  "And this is Hawk.  A hawk will eat a
snake, you know."
	"Then goddamn, Snake, call me Hawk, too."  Larry got down on his knees in
front of me and started sucking my cock.  I got hard pretty fast, and this
guy was pretty good.  I moved over to the seats and sat on the second one.
He had to bend over to keep sucking me.
	"Hawk here is an ass man.  Do you mind if he shows you what he can do?"  I
was the leader of this thing, now.
	Larry took his mouth off my rod long enough to say he'd love for Hawk to
have a go.  Brett was hard, too, of course, so he got behind Larry and
entered him.  Larry groaned with pleasure as Brett fucked his ass, and the
groaning made my cock vibrate.  It was good.
	Larry came first.  It must have been days for him because he spurted eight
or nine times all over my legs.  That made Brett come, and, when I saw the
look of pleasure on his face, I came, too.  Larry got most of my juice down
his throat.  He collapsed on the seat beside me.
	"That was great, you guys.  I needed that.  My wife's been in Oklahoma for
over a week visiting her parents.  I'm flying out later this afternoon, but
it's been a long dry spell for me.  This took care of it, though.  Thanks."
	I had Larry's cum all over my legs still, so I left the steamroom and went
next door and showered again.  This was number four for the day, and it was
only 2:30.  Brett showered with me, and we talked about what had just
happened.
	"You're incredible," Brett said.
	"I know, but what exactly made you think of that just now?"  We both
laughed.
	"You knew that guy wanted some action.  How did you know that?"
	"Instinct.  And the fact that he kept glancing over at me while we were
showering.  Did you like the fact that he's married?"
	"Yeah.  That's maybe the best part of the whole story."
	"That just goes to show you," I said, "sex is sex, and any guy will do it
with whoever is available, any time."
	"I wouldn't have believed that two weeks ago, but now I think you're
right."
	"By the way, I haven't heard anything about what you've been up to in the
last couple of days.  Tell."
	Brett told me about Mike Sutton's party and about the party at Chubby's the
night before.  He had made it with three girls and a guy, and he had
thoroughly enjoyed every encounter.  He said he no longer felt the least bit
reluctant when it came to sex.
	"That's good, man.  There's no need to.  There's no need to."

	We went back home to find Chuck sitting at the breakfast room table reading
the paper.  He asked about what we had been up to, and we told him.  I
suggested we go skating.  I called Mike Sutton, my neighbor, to see if he
wanted to go, and he was eager to get out of the house.  He said he hadn't
had any exercise in days, and he wanted to sweat.  We went out to the
lakefront, as we had the last weekend, and we skated for a couple of hours.
We stopped at the convenience store where we had fucked that boy, but he
wasn't working that day.  Then we went to Chubby's.
	The place was more crowded than I expected, and Chubby made a big thing
over me and the fight the night before.  He introduced me to a bunch of
guys, some of whom knew my family, and I was the big hero.
	We got a couple of pitchers of beer, and sat at a table.
	"So, Marshall, you were really in a bar fight," Mike asked.
	"Fuckin'-aye I was," I said.
	The whole time I had known this guy, I knew he reminded me of somebody.
Finally it dawned on me; he looked like a young Kevin Bacon.
	"That is so cool," he said.  "I've always wanted to beat the shit out of
some bad guy.  That would feed my fantasies for months."
	"You shoulda been here, dude," I said.  "Although I obviously didn't need
your help."  We all laughed.
	We stayed at Chubby's a good while.  We shot pool, played pinball, and even
threw a few darts.
	"Did you call Karen and her cousin," I asked Mike.
	"Yeah.  They're coming tonight.  I didn't offer to pick them up because I
don't want to have to take them home.  I figure if I get shitface, I can
walk home without killing anybody."  Laughter.
	We were all pretty much in a good mood, but Chuck was still sober enough to
drive.  He drove us home.  It was around 6 o'clock, so I suggested naps.
Chuck went into the den and watched a little TV, but Brett and I conked out.
  Mike went home.

	The party on Christmas Eve had always been a pretty tame affair.  My
parents' friends and business associates dropped in, usually on their way to
or from something else.  This year was going to be different, though, at
least after around eleven.  I put on my tightest white jeans.  They were so
white, they almost glowed.  These were the ones I had worn to the party at
the club, and Ina Mae had probably had to bleach them three times to get the
cum stains out.  I also wore a light blue dress shirt, a pretty red
Christmas tie, and a navy blazer I had had tailored for me at Brooks
Brothers.  I looked cool.
	The old folks started breezing in around eight.  The caterer had done a
terrific job with the food, and the dining room table looked like a feast.
Joe and Frank's decorations were a big hit, and just about everybody
commented on them.  Scott, Matt, and I stayed busy greeting people, kissing
old ladies, and making small talk with	partners and their wives.  There were
two bars set up, one in the den and one on the patio.  Bartenders from the
clubs were there, and there were some waiters, too, to make sure everything
stayed fresh and replenished.
	The old folks were gone by ten, and that's about the time our friends
started showing up.  I guess the three of us must know somewhere close to a
five hundred people.  All of them didn't come, of course, but a mob did.
The DJ was on the patio, and we didn't worry about noise because the people
on both sides of us were away for the holidays.  In fact, our neighborhood
tends to empty out during the holidays.  People go on cruises or to Colorado
or to Europe.  Anyway, it was a cool party.
	Sutton showed up with Karen and her cousin.  Al from the gym came with a
guy who looked like Mr. Olympus.  Al told me he had seen us in the steam
room earlier.  "Way to go, Nick," he said.  Chubby had been there earlier
with the older people, including his mother, but he came back, this time
with a blond that could give the guys on Mt. Rushmore hard-ons.  He told me
to look but not to touch.  Her name was Vanessa, a name that makes my
pre-cum start running.  I did like Chubby said, though.  A bunch of the guys
from the clubs came, and two of them asked me about my snake.  Apparently,
news traveled fast.  Scott must have invited half the customers of the
places, because the women were everywhere.
	"Sutton," I said to Mike, "even you can get laid tonight."
	"Christ, I hope so," he said.  He later confirmed he did--three times.
	"Brett, see anything you like," I asked.
	"A better question would be 'see anything I don't like.'"  He, too, scored
big on the evening, with both men and women.
	Chuck spent time talking to one of the dancers from the clubs.  He was a
big guy, blond and built like a brick hotel.  There was a rumor going
around, I later learned, that he had been approached by "Playgirl Magazine"
to do some modeling.  That's how good looking he was.
	"Chuck, that guy wants you," I said.
	"You think," he asked, when Jeff--that was his name--had gone to take a
leak.
	"I fucking know it, man.  His cock has doubled in size since he started
talking to you."
	"You're too much, Nick.  I've never known a guy like you before."
	"Of course you haven't," I said.  "I'm an original.  But he wants to fuck.
That I'll guarantee."  It turned out I was right, as Chuck later told Brett
and me.
	Scott, the now-serious businessman, played the perfect host all night,
although he told us later he did manage to plug a couple of leaking pussies.
  Matt was like a gigolo working a convention of rich divorcees.  He was
here, and then gone.  He was there, and then gone.  He managed to win the
prize and get laid by six women.  His buddy Joe did okay, but he confined
his attentions to only two women.  Philip was just as conscientious about
making sure the party went well as Scott was; more so, even.  But Philip and
Tom Butterfield, my history teacher that I didn't even know was there,
managed to get it on a time or two.  Who invited that bastard?  It later
turned out that he and Scott had been pretty good friends when Butterfield
was a senior at Colton and Scott was a sophomore.  Had my brother fucked the
man who turned me in for cheating?  I really didn't want to know.
	So what about me?  I got my share, that's for sure.  I fucked Karen--twice;
that is, at eleven and again at around one.  I fucked Angela several times
in succession.  I fucked two girls whose names I didn't know, and I fucked
The Amazon.  That's right, the woman who had jumped on stage with me the
week before was there, and I knew I had to have her.  She turned out to be a
doctoral student in statistics at Tulane, and she was from New York City.
Not that we talked all that much, but we did get a few sentences in between
grunts.
	Mr. Cautious--a.k.a. Scott--called taxis for the people who were still
there and shitface drunk at four in the morning, and the guys who were
staying in the house got together in the den to debrief.  That's when I
learned about all the night's carrying-on.  We drank eggnog and ate a few of
the hundreds of sandwiches that were left over, and we had a nice little
"family" Christmas.  We decided to sleep until noon, get up and open
presents, and then take naps until we didn't need sleep any more.  It was a
great night, and I loved the guys who were there: Scott, Matt, Philip,
Chuck, Brett, and Joe.  With no mamma and daddy, they were my family.  Chuck
and Brett slept with me that night, with me in the middle.  My cock was
wedged in Chuck's crack and Brett's was wedged in mine.  They went to sleep
in about two minutes, and I lay there thinking about everything that had
happened in the last month.  I'm not ashamed to admit it: I started crying,
and I softly cried myself to sleep.

	Matt was the first one up the next day--the same day, really--and went
downstairs to make coffee and to set out pastries for us.  He came parading
through the hall, stark naked, precisely at noon, beating two pot lids
together.  He stuck his head into every room to make sure we were awake.
	"No clothes," he said.  "No clothes."
	Chuck, Brett, and I tumbled out of bed, hard-ons blazing.
	"Jesus, I can't go downstairs like this," Chuck said.
	"Oh, yes, you can, Santa Claus," I said, and Brett and I pushed him out of
the room.
	We joined everybody else in the den.  Our hard-ons subsided after we peed,
and we made ourselves comfortable.  Matt served coffee and pastries.
	Scott asked us to think for a minute about our parents.  I started to get
big tears in my eyes, and Brett put his arm around me.  It was over before I
burst into waterworks, and I was glad I had Brett there to take care of me.
	Then the bullshit started.  Scott announced that the custom of this house
was that each person got to be the center of attention as he opened each
present.  And we took turns.  None of that mad scramble to see who could get
into his stuff first.  That used to drive me crazy when I was a little kid,
but in recent years I had come to appreciate it.
	The wild card in the game was Joe.  I knew everyone else would be here, so
I had gifts for them.  When Joe had showed up at Chubby's Thursday night, I
figured he'd be there Christmas morning.  I had slipped out and done some
quick shopping, so there were gifts for him from me, Chuck, and Brett.  I
knew Philip would be there, so I had already gotten stuff from them for him.
  They didn't know it, though.
	Scott passed out the gifts.  He left the ones from our parents under the
tree.  We had decided that we'd rather open those privately.  Everybody had
quite a pile in front of them, and we started the agonizingly slow process
of unwrapping them.  About half-way through, we took a break to pee and to
put on some clothes.  In my room, I told Chuck and Brett that I had taken
care of the presents for Philip and Joe.  Chuck, ever the perfect gentleman,
said we'd settle up later.  I said fuck you.  He said, okay.  We laughed.
	I got the cowboy hat I wanted.  Everybody else liked what they had gotten,
too.   We hung around in the den for a good while, listening to music,
playing with our gifts, and generally having a good time.  Then Matt wanted
to sing Christmas carols, and he dragged me to the piano to play.  I'm
really not a musician, but I guess I have a gift for playing by ear.  The
drinks had started by this time, so everybody was in good voice.  I played
and we sang for close to an hour.  We had planned to go back to bed for the
afternoon, but it was 3 o'clock when we finally had enough singing.  We
turned on the TV, and all seven of us crashed in the den.  We woke up around
five, and we were hungry as bears.
	There was a lot of food left over from the night before, and Philip and
Scott made a buffet for us with it.  Matt made drinks.  After we ate and
drank, I suggested we leave for the Country Place.
	"Er," Matt said, "Joe and I have to catch a plane at 9 o'clock.  Can't
y'all wait until after then?"
	I had forgotten that Matt was leaving, and I didn't know Joe was going with
him.  We farted around until 7:30, when we left for the airport.  They had
already packed their stuff and were ready to go.  We got to the airport at
eight and hugged them both good-bye.  After that, Scott and Philip in one
car, Chuck and Brett and I in another, we drove up to the Country Place.
	The weather was cooler up there than it had been in the city, so we made a
fire in the big fireplace in the pavillion.  Bob, the estate manager, and
his friend Tim came by for some drinks, and pretty soon we were all feeling
pretty merry.  We had turned the heater on in the pool, and, after a couple
of hours, we could see the steam rising from it.  It wasn't that hot, but
the cool air and the humidity made the steam rise.  We went for a late-night
swim--naked, of course.  We swam for a while and then ate some more before
going to bed.
	Chuck, Brett, and I went up to my room around 12:30.  It was chilly in the
house, but we had decided not to turn the heater on because we all agreed we
slept better when it's cool.  The three of us got into bed with the reading
light on the headboard still on.  I was in the middle, with Chuck to my
right and Brett to my left.  We snuggled together to get warm, and, of
course, we all got hard.
	"Let's have a repeat of the other night," Chuck said.
	I knew what he was talking about, and so did Brett because I had told him
about it.
	"Sounds good to me," Brett said.
	"You know I'm game," I said.
	Brett and I lubed up.  I stuck my dick into Chuck first, and he moaned with
pleasure.  Brett entered me next, and I, too, moaned.  I would have loved to
have seen a bird's-eye view of us.  In a few minutes, though, we all went to
sleep.  Partying takes its toll.
	When we woke up the next morning around eight, we were still stuck
together, and all three of us were hard.
	"Brett, you be the engine this time," I said.
	"What?"
	"You fuck me and make me fuck Chuck," I said.  "Chuck'll come just by being
fucked.  He always does."
	Brett started thrusting.  At first it was too weak to do Chuck much good,
so I started moving, too.  Pretty soon we were a fuck-engine.  Even though I
knew Chuck didn't need any help, I played with his left nipple to give him
some extra fun.  In about ten minutes, he came, setting off a chain
reaction.  I felt his ass contract, and that made me come.  My ass
contracting made Brett come.  Great way to start the day.
	I cleaned up and went downstairs without getting dressed.  It was pretty
cold in the house, so I turned on the heater.  I made some coffee and took a
tray with the whole coffee pot, five cups, and cream and sugar up to my
buddies.  I figured Scott and Philip would be up soon, and they'd smell the
coffee aroma coming out of my room.
	We sat up in bed, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.  We talked about
what we wanted to do.
	"How's the fishing on this place," Chuck asked.
	"It's great.  The lake is full of trout and bass, and the river has some
very big and very mean catfish.  I didn't realize you were a fisherman."
	"Hell, yes," Chuck said.  "I love to fish.  How about you guys?"
	"I fish all the time," I said.
	"I've never been fishing," Brett said.  "My dad doesn't like it, and I've
never really had the opportunity."
	"Well, let's fish today," I said.
	They both agreed that was what it would be.
	In a minute there was a knock at the door.
	"Yeah," I said.
	"It's us.  Can we come in," Scott asked.  Matt would have thrown open the
door, run across the room, and jumped on the bed.
	"Sure.  It's unlocked."
	Scott and Philip came in and poured themselves some coffee.
	"Have you guys decided what you're going to do today," Scott asked.
	"We're goin' fishin'," Chuck said.  "Wanna come?"
	"Is anything going to be biting," Philip asked.  "Let's check out the
NOWeather Channel and see what the game and fish report says."
	He turned on the TV and found the station.  It said the prospects were only
fair, but how do guys in New Orleans know what's going on a hundred miles
north of them in Mississippi?  I wanted to fish, and I didn't really care if
I caught anything or not.
	We got dressed and went downstairs for something to eat.  Nobody was
working around the place that day, so we had to fix breakfast for ourselves.
  We fried two pounds of bacon and a dozen eggs.  We cooked a pot of instant
grits and toasted almost a whole loaf of bread.   When we set it out,
everything was still hot, which is almost a miracle.
	It was warmer outside than we thought it would be.  The old house is a
little drafty, and sometimes it's hard to tell what the temperature outside
will be like.  The sun was bright, so I knew it would warm up even more as
the day progressed.
	We took a jeep down to the little place we call the lodge.  It's an old
shack, really, probably a hundred years old, but it's been fixed up with
modern conveniences, like running water and electricity.  It had a great
fireplace, and there was wood on the porch.  There was a little out-building
where we kept fishing tackle, a shovel to dig worms, and other shit that you
need when you're fishing.  We had loaded a cooler of beer in the jeep, but I
noticed Scott had grabbed a big bottle of bourbon on his way out, too.  We
were set.
	We dug some bait and got our hooks wet in no time.  We were on the lake, so
the fish were hungrier than they would have been in the river.  I felt it
was my responsibility to make sure Brett knew what he was doing, so I showed
him how to bait a hook and cast his line.  They say there's such a thing as
beginner's luck, and Brett proved that to be true.  He caught the first
fish, a nice-sized bass.  I showed him how to take it off the hook.
	"Usually, it's catch and release," I said.  "That means we let the fish go
after we catch it.  This is a sport, after all, and if you fish out your
lake, you can't play your sport any more.  But we're needin' something to
eat later on, so we'll keep this dude."
	I strung it on a line and put it back in the water.
	It was only 11 o'clock, but everybody had already popped a beer.  This was
going to be a hell of a day.
	The sun was high in the sky now, and it was starting to get a little warm.
I took off my shirt, and the others followed suit in turn.  The sun felt
good, and my pale skin needed to get some rays so I wouldn't look like a
ghost on stage.  If I got to work at a club, that is.  After a while,
though, I realized I'd be taking off more than my shirt at a club, so I took
off my jeans, too.  Scott and Philip did the same thing, and in a little
while Brett and Chuck decided it looked like fun to be fishing buck naked.
	We hauled in fish at a pretty pace.  Brett had taken to fishing like a baby
takes to a tit, and he was having a ball.  Chuck was a little more
conservative than the rest of us, and he released two or three that I would
have kept.
	One of the problems we've had in the lake is turtles.  They come from God
knows where, and they eat the baby fish as fast as they spawn.  We keep a
.22 in the out building to use on them when we see them.  I spotted one and
went and got the gun.  I shot and missed the first time, but the turtle
surfaced in a second a few feet away from where it had been.  On my second
shot, I killed the motherfucker, and it splashed out of the water, dripping
turtle blood.  I had caught four fish by then, and that had satisfied my
fishing need.  I decided I would hunt turtle.  I walked along the bank, and
I shot five more in just a little while.
	I went back to where the other guys were to get another beer and to smoke a
cigarette.  Scott said he thought we had enough fish for a pretty fine meal,
so we decided to quit for a while and eat.  We had caught maybe thirty fish,
but the turtles had gotten some of them.  There were twenty left when we
decided to clean 'em and cook.  Cleaning fish is about my least favorite
thing to do, but it had to be done.
	We set up an assembly line.  I gutted them and cut the heads off.  The next
two guys--who happened to be Scott and Brett--scaled them and washed them.
Meanwhile, Chuck and Philip got the fire going in the fireplace and found
the wire contraptions we have for roasting fish.  Philip had brought along a
stack of CD's and a portable stereo, a sack of potatoes, three or four
packages of frozen corn on the cob, salt, butter, and some stuff for dessert
left over from the party .  We had the makings of a feast.
	By the time we finished cleaning the fish, Philip and Chuck had the fire
going and the water heating to cook the potatos and corn.  In forty-five
minutes, we had our meal cooked.  We got fresh beers and decided to go out
to a table in the sun to eat.  The meal was great.  I like fish, but only if
it's very fresh.  We had the freshest fish you could get, and it was
delicious.  Philip had even found some coffee in the freezer of the
refrigerator in the lodge, so we had a pot of strong, hot coffee to finish
up with.
	The air was starting to cool off because the sun was sinking, so we went
inside.  We cleaned up the place in no time.  I really wanted to take a
shower because I had a strong odor of fish all over me from cleaning them.
So did Brett and Scott, of course.  I announced my intentions of taking a
shower before I got dressed and ready to go back to the house, and Scott
said he wanted to join me.
	"Come on, Brett.  You come with us.  You smell like fish as much as we do,"
I said.
	So Brett came, too.  Well, you get three horny young guys in a shower
together, and you know what's going to happen.  In no time all three of us
were hard and wanting to come.  I took the lead.  I took both guys' cocks
into my hands and started jerking them.  Brett was a little caught off
guard--he hadn't quite gotten used to Marshall ways at that time--but he
enjoyed it as much as Scott did.  I stood out of the spray of the shower,
and I made them both come on my cock.  That felt terrific.  I grabbed hold
of my own hard-on and started pumping, using their cum as a creamy lube.  I
came in what must have been record time.
	We finished our shower and dried off.  You can always tell when a cock has
just fired by the glossy sheen it has.  That, plus the fact that we hadn't
softened up 100%, let Philip and Chuck know what we had been up to--as
though they couldn't have guessed.  That was okay, though, because we caught
Philip with Chuck's cock in his mouth.  Philip had already come, and Chuck
popped off just as we were coming into the room.  We all laughed, and
Philip, who hadn't swallowed yet, lost some of Chuck's cum down his chin.
	We dressed, packed up the jeep, and headed for the house.  It was around
four when we got there, and the whole evening lay ahead of us.  We went out
to the pavillion and hung out for a while, listening to music, playing
ping-pong or pool, and drinking.  Around five I asked Brett if he wanted to
work out, and he said he did.  I remembered most of the workout Al had given
me, so I did it.  Brett needed help remembering some of his, but fortunately
I had retained enough to get him through it.  We hadn't brought workout
clothes, so we stripped again and did it in the buff.  I kept an eye on
myself in the mirrors that line the workout room of the pavillion, and I
really looked cool.
	About half-way through the workout, Scott, Chuck, and Philip came in to see
what we were doing.  They stood there watching us, especially me, go through
our routines.
	"I don't know if it's my imagination or not," Philip said, "but I think
you're already better cut than you were a week ago, Bubba."  Philip is the
only one who can call us "Bubba" because he's like a brother to us.  We call
him that, too, sometimes.
	"Thanks, Bubba," I said.  "I thought I had noticed the same thing, but I
decided it was just wishful thinking."
	"I think the sun you got today helped with that, too," Chuck said.  "You
look darker to me.  I'm a little red, but you're actually tanned."
	Scott, Philip, and I laughed.
	"This fucker has incredible skin," Scott said.  "He tans in no time.  Not
only that, look at him.  There isn't a mole or a wart or a blemish on his
whole fuckin' body.  Last summer Matt got some morphing software, and he
scanned in pictures of the three of us.  He did that thing where they take
the right side of your body and make it both sides, and then the same with
the left side.  Have you seen those pictures?"
	"Yeah, I know what you're talking about," Brett said.  Chuck nodded, too.
	"Well, usually, the two new pictures don't look anything alike, and neither
picture looks like the person.  With him?  Uh-uh.  He looked the same in all
three.  That means he's perfectly proportional on both sides of his body.
That's very rare, and that accounts for his Greek-god looks," Scott said.
	"Shut up, asshole," I said.  "You're going to give me a hard-on for
myself."
	Everybody laughed at that one.
	I was glad to hear Philip say what he did because I was thinking I looked
more defined, too.  My body is like that, though.  It really responds to
exercise.  I know I'm luckier than most in this respect, but it's true.
	We finished our workouts, and it was time to hit the showers.
	"Wanna watch," I asked.
	They laughed, and Scott, Chuck, and Philip went back into the party room.
Brett and I were alone.
	"Has Christmas been good so far," I asked.
	"Oh, compared to every other Christmas, this one has been heaven.  No
fighting parents.  No guilt that maybe I'd done or said something about a
gift to set them off.  No bullshit.  I've never been around people who had
family, or even close friends, before, and now I know what the hype is all
about.  This has been the best Christmas of my life," he said.
	"Good.  So, do I get a kiss?"
	He laughed, and then he kissed me.
	"I think I'm in love with you," he said.
	"Brett," I said.
	Before I could go any further, he said, "I know, I know.  We're buddies,
not lovers.  I respect that, and I know it means I can't be jealous if you
fuck ten other people a day.  But I can't help how I feel."
	"I thought you were getting into girls," I said.
	"I am," he said, with a kind of resignation.  "I enjoy the sex and all, but
there's a difference."
	"The difference is you haven't known any of them longer than the time it
took you to get your dick out."
	He laughed.  "Maybe that's it.  But you've done so much for me
emotionally."
	"I didn't say I didn't want you to love me.  I do.  And I love you.  But
I'm not _in_ love.  I love you like I do Matt.  Or Scott.  Or Chuck.  Or
Philip.  Or my friend Sean.  I'd cheerfully die to save any one of you guys,
and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.  But we're not _in_ love.  We
can't be.  Or at least I can't be.  Not now."
	I kissed Brett again, deeply and hard.  Our tongues fought with one another
for the space in our mouths, and, of couse, we both became aroused.  I knew
he wanted me right then, and, for different reasons, I wanted him, too.  I
moved down to his chest, and pulled him to the floor with me.  I sucked and
teased and played with his nipples with my mouth, and he writhed in
pleasure.  I raised his legs onto my shoulders, and I entered him.  It was
clean and easy.  I started fucking him, and he moved with a grace and
precision he hadn't achieved before.  We lasted ten minutes or more,
building, building, building to an outrageous climax.  We came at the same
moment, and I slumped on top of him and kissed him again.
	It was very intense for both of us.  In a few minutes, we got up and
showered.  Neither of us spoke, and we didn't touch one another.  We didn't
have to.  We were sealed together by what we had just done.
	After we got dressed, we joined the others in the pavillion.  It was around
seven.  We ate some more party leftovers, more as a snack than a meal.
Around 8 o'clock we decided to drive into Hattiesburg, about thirty minutes
away, for a night on the town.  Hattiesburg is a college town, so there are
some pretty good places to party.  The students were all home for the
holidays, of course, but we found a place that had a pretty good crowd and
some pretty good music.
	I got carded for the first time in a very long time, but I was okay because
I had a fake ID that was perfect.  Brett got carded, too, but they let him
in since he was eighteen.  They stamped his hand with a big NO, meaning he
wasn't supposed to be served anything to drink.  I just ordered drinks two
at a time, and he drank one of those.  He wasn't all that big a drinker
anyway, so it worked out fine.  In fact, he ended up being the only one of
us who was close to sober when we left, so he drove home.
	We found a table, but it wasn't long before I spotted a girl I wanted to
get to know better.  I asked her to dance, and then I went back to her table
with her.  There were two other girls at the table with her.  They had all
grown up in Hattiesburg, and they were home from school at Ole Miss.  I
asked them if they would like some more company, and, when they said yes, I
got Brett and Scott to come over.  Chuck was busy talking to Philip, so they
stayed at our table.
	The girl I had danced with was named Jennifer, but everybody called her
Jenna.  The others were Susan and Denise.  We talked about the usual
things--school, the holidays, the Ole Miss football season (they were
playing in the Sugar Bowl for the first time in a whole lot of years)--and
we danced.  The DJ was playing a lot of rap and hip-hop music, and I wanted
to dance slow.  I payed him ten bucks to slow it down a little.
	"I've got to get up close to that girl over there, and you ain't helping
me, man," I said.
	He laughed.  "I hear you, bro.  It'll be so slow you can fuck her on the
dance floor."
	I laughed and said thanks.
	He did as he promised, and Jenna and I danced the next dance real close
together.  I rubbed her ass, and she rubbed mine.  Then I kissed her,
feeding my whole tongue into her mouth.  That must have really turned her
on, because she put her hand on my neck and started playing with the back of
my hair.  Then she moved over to my ear.
	"Are you trying to get me hot," I asked, jokingly.
	"Damn right, I am," she said.
	The song ended and another one started right away.  We didn't sit down.  I
ground my pelvis into her, and she responded with a grind of her own.
Pretty soon, we were dry humping on the dance floor.  I looked over at the
DJ, who I knew was watching us, and he grinned from ear to ear.  I gave him
the okay sign, and he laughed.  I kissed her right after that, and it lasted
halfway through the song.
	"Let's go somewhere," I said.
	"Okay," she breathed hoarsely.
	We left the dance floor.  We stopped at our table, and I whispered to
Scott, "I might not be back.  Go home without me when you're ready to
leave."  He said okay, and Jenna and I were out of there.
	Once outside, I asked, "Where can we go?  Do you know some place?"
	"We can go to my house," she said.  "My parents left for Los Angeles today,
and they won't be back for a week."
	We got into her car.  I offered to drive, and she was only too glad to let
me.  I didn't ask about the other girls and how they would get home because
I knew Scott and Brett would take care of them.  It was a Mitsubishi Galant
with all the trimmings, and we hauled ass out of the parking lot in a cloud
of dust.  Her house was a large two-story in a really nice neighborhood.
Her father was a dentist, and apparently he filled a lot of teeth.  We went
straight to her room, and she locked the door.
	I was standing right behind her when she turned from the door, and I
planted a deep, hot kiss on her mouth, with plenty of tongue.  She responded
in kind, and in a minute we were tearing clothes off each other.
	"Let's slow down and make this nice and easy and sweet," I said.
	"God, I can't believe it.  A boy who actually wants to make sex nice.  Most
of them want to get it in as quickly as possible and be gone."
	"Well, not me.  I want to be here as long as you'll have me," I said, not
really meaning a word of it.
	We took our time, enjoying each other as we stripped each other.  She had a
fabulous body.
	"Are you into exercise," I asked.
	"Yeah.  Can you really tell?"
	"Your body looks like a carefully wrought sculpture," I said, recalling a
line I'd read somewhere.  "Only the hardest work could produce lines like
this."  Matt's not the only bullshit artist in my family.
	She moved me toward her bed, and I went with ease.  She pulled the spread
off completely, and she moved me around to the foot.  She got on her stomach
and took my cock into her mouth.  She caressed it with her tongue, moving up
and down the underside as she gently sucked the head.  I was hard before she
started, but this made me even more aroused.  After a few minutes, she
squeezed the head gently with her hand, and pre-cum came to the surface.
	"I love the taste of that stuff," she said, and licked it sensuously,
burying her tongue in the slit.
	After a few minutes of that, I wanted some of her.  "It's my turn," I said.
  I turned her over and had her move head to foot.  I bent down to her pussy
and ate a full meal.  She was already dripping wet, and the odor and taste
almost sent me over the edge.  I started small: only the rim of her pussy,
at first.  She liked it when I touched the sides of her clit with my tongue.
  She started involuntary rhythmical movements, and I plunged ahead with my
tongue.  Her pubic hair was thick and coarse, and it tickled my nose as I
tongued her.  In a few minutes I licked my finger.  Instead of sticking it
into her pussy, though, I found her rosebud ass and sent it home.  She came
when I did that.  She bucked and moved and threw herself onto my finger.  I
shifted positions to her asshole and rubbed my tongue all around it before I
stuck it into her.
	She went crazy on me at that point.  She was all over the bed, in orgasm
after orgasm.  I had to grab both of her thighs to keep her in tongue range,
and she moaned and cried out like a woman possessed.  I didn't let up, and
she came two or three more times.
	In the meantime, my cock was screaming for relief.  It was covered with
pre-cum, and I could feel the veins and arteries pulsating with blood.  I
needed pussy.
	Without any warning, I pulled my mouth away, stood up, and plunged into
her.  She screamed with exhaltation.  She sat up with me inside her and
slapped her lips on mine.  We were a perfect fucking machine.  I thrust
forward at the same instant she did, and I pulled back to match her backward
hump.  We kept this up for five minutes or more, and then I knew I had to
come.
	"I'm ready to explode," I said.
	"Do it, dude.  I've already come about a dozen times.  You get to, too."
	I tightened the muscles in my ass and groin because that usually makes me
come harder.  I came within a few seconds, and the orgasm almost knocked me
out.  She came at the exact moment I did, and her contractions matched mine.
  It left us both breathless and exhausted.
	I climbed into bed with her, and we rested for a little while.  We both
wanted to smoke, so I got cigarettes for us.
	"God, that was good, Nick.  I think I'm in love."
	"I know I am," I said, and we both laughed.
	She looked at me for a long time, and I was starting to get a little
uncomfortable.
	"How old are you," she asked.
	"How old do you think I am," I asked caggily.
	"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were no more than eighteen."
	"Well, thank God you know better," I said.  "What eighteen-year-old could
have done what I just did?"
	"You're right.  You just look young right now, that's all.  That'll be a
real plus in ten years when you're thirty-five, trying to look thirty."
	Wow!  I though.  She thinks I'm really twenty-five.
	After we rested, we did it again, this time with her on top.  We did it
three more times, and then we finally fell asleep in each other's arms.
	We woke up the next morning around ten.  I panicked a little, thinking I
had let my buddies down.  Then I remembered they had each other, and they
both needed to learn what being a buddy really meant.  We took a shower
together, and I fucked her again.  Twice, actually.  Then we got dressed,
went downstairs, and made some coffee.
	"Can I make you some breakfast," I asked.
	"God, I don't believe you.  _You_ want to make _me_ breakfast?  Isn't that
the woman's job?"
	"Not if the man is the hungry one," I said.
	"Just some toast for me," she said, "but you make whatever you want."
	I made her some toast, and I cooked four eggs and six strips of bacon for
myself.  I made some toast for me, too.  After we ate, I cleaned up the
kitchen.
	"Where have you been all my life," she asked.
	"In New Orleans," I said.  "For most of it, anyway."
	She giggled.  We drank more coffee, and I smoked a cigarette.  I offered
one to her, but she said she only smokes after sex.  I started to say that
could be arranged, but that was a pretty corney come-on line.  Besides, I
was starting to feel a little guilty about being gone from home.
	"I better be going," I said.
	"I wish I could go with you," she said.
	"As a matter of fact, you can.  I don't have a car, remember?  Why don't
you come down to my place and spend the day?"
	"You don't mind?"
	"What?  Do you mean don't I mind not hitchhiking thirty miles, or do you
mean your spending the day with me?  I don't mind either one."
	She laughed.  "I really didn't think what the alternative might be.
Where's your car?"
	"Those guys I was with last night took it home, I guess, when you and I
left them.  It was the only car they had, so they either left it at the bar
and walked home or they took it.  I really don't know where it is, but I
suspect it's at my house."
	"Well, where do you live?"
	"The Country Place.  It's an old plantation about thirty miles south of
Hattiesburg."
	"Really?  I've passed that place all my life going to New Orleans, and I've
always wanted to see it."
	"I really don't live there.  It's our country place.  Our second home.  I
live in New Orleans."
	"God, yes, I'll take you home.  Are you kidding?  I've wanted to see that
place all my life."
	"Well, today's your chance."
	We locked up her house and got in her car.  The drive down didn't take
long, especially with me driving, and we were there in less than a half
hour.  Jenna was as impressed with the place as most people are, maybe even
more so.  I showed her around the downstairs rooms, but there wasn't anybody
stirring.  My car was on the front drive, so I knew they were home.  I
guessed they were still asleep.  It was 11 o'clock, and that wasn't late by
vacation standards.
	"Let me go find out where everybody is," I said.
	"Who's here?"
	"I don't know.  At the least, somebody who drove my car home last night.
Did you and your friends go to the bar in your car?"
	"No.  We met up there.  We each drove."
	Oh, shit, I thought.
	I went upstairs to my room, but it was empty.  Then I want to Scott's room,
but it was empty, too.  Then I went to Matt's room, and, when I opened the
door, I found Chuck and Philip in bed.  Philip stirred when I opened the
door.
	"What the fuck time is it," he asked.
	"It's 11:30.  Lunch is in an hour, and I expect the two of you to be there
and to be presentable.  There's a lady here."
	"Okay, Bubba," he said. very sleepily.
	I went downstairs and got busy in the kitchen.  There was still a lot of
food left from Christmas, so I put together several plates of sandwiches, a
hot crab dip, chips, cheeses of various descriptions, and a vegetable tray.
It didn't take that long, and it was ready when Chuck and Philip came
downstairs.  They wanted coffee, so Jenna and I drank a cup with them.  Then
we started nibbling on lunch.
	I heard a car drive up and the voices of Scott, Brett, and two girls.  They
must have spent the night with them at one of their houses.  They came in
and ate some lunch.  After we cleaned up, Jenna and I went for a walk.  I
showed her the pavillion and the pool area, and then we went down to the
garden.  The camellias were in full bloom, and so were some really
sweet-smelling white flowers.  I took her over to the row of old slave
quarters that had been converted into guest houses, and we went inside the
first one.  She really liked what my mother and her decorator friend had
done there.  I found out Jenna was an interior design major at Ole Miss, so
she really enjoyed all the antiques and other shit that was there.
	I wanted to get laid, so I took her up to one of the bedrooms.  I kissed
her when we got in the room, and she sort of melted in my arms.  I moved her
over toward the bed, and we undressed each other.  I loved her tits, and I
kissed and licked both of them while we were still standing up.  I pulled
back the top dressing on the bed and moved her gently into it.  We hugged
and dry humped each other a while, and then I moved down to pay dirt.  I
gave her pussy a cursory tonguing, and then I went to work on her ass.  Just
like the night before, this really turned her on.  She came twice while I
was doing that.
	I started to move into her pussy with my cock, but she stopped me.
	"Nick," she said, "have you ever done it in the, you know?"
	I stuck a finger in her ass.  "Here?"  She nodded.  "Do you want to," I
asked.  She nodded again.
	I got up and found some vaseline lip medicine to lube up with, and I slowly
and cautiously entered her dirt track.  She was a little tense at first, but
she quickly relaxed and took all I had.  Then she went fuckin' wild on me.
She came really hard three times, and I could feel the juice from her pussy
drip onto my cock as I stuffed her ass.  After ten minutes and almost as
many orgasms by Jenna, I came.  She screamed with passion as her own most
violent orgasm erupted.
	"Nobody's ever done that to me before," she said, after we had recoverd.
"That's the best sex I've ever had.  Of course, I've only ever been with
boys, not a man like you.  There really is a difference."
	I grinned appreciatively but wasn't about to tell her the truth.  In a
little while, we did it again, first conventionally and then in the ass.
Again, she was in ecstasy.
	After an hour and a half of this, we got up and went back outside.
Everybody else was in the pavillion playing pool and ping-pong.  Philip and
Scott pulled me aside.
	"We're going to have to leave," Scott said.  "I talked to Tony a little
while ago, and he wants you to come in to the club on Harrison Avenue
tonight.  You won't be dancing, but he wants to familiarize you with the
routine and teach you some steps.  What do you say?"
	"I say fan-fucking-tastic!  Are you going to use me?"
	"Probably tomorrow night," Philip said.  "We've got enough guys working
tonight, but several of them want to be off for a few days.  We'll
definitely need some back-up."
	"What time should I be there," I asked.
	"Eight's a good time," Philip said.  "And bring Chuck and Brett.  If they
want to come, that is."
	Scott said good-bye to his girl, and Philip said good-bye to Chuck.  I
wondered if something was developing between those two.  They left for the
city.
	I pulled Chuck aside and told him what they had said.
	"That's cool with me," he said.  Why don't we send the girls on their way
and leave?  I'd like to spend some time with you and Brett."
	We did as Chuck suggested.  We got our stuff and were on the road by four.
We went straight to Chuck's apartment.  We got beers and sat in the living
room.
	Chuck was the first to speak.
	"This has been the best Christmas in as long as I can remember," he said.
"Here's to Nick for making it happen."  He raised his beer bottle in a toast
to me.
	"Here, here," Brett said.
	"Thanks, guys.  It's been pretty special for me, too."
	"I wish I didn't have to go back to work tomorrow," Chuck said.  "The place
is going to be overrun with the after-Christmas rush.  It won't be nearly as
bad, but it'll be hectic."
	We drank and smoked in silence for a while.  Then Chuck said,
	"Philip's a hell of a nice guy, isn't he?"
	"There are none better," I said.  Then, after a pause, "Are y'all getting
on okay?"
	"Yeah," Chuck said.  "I want to talk about that, in fact."
	"Let's hear it," I said.
	"You guys are great, and I love the both of you.  But we don't have the
same kind of lifestyle.  I mean, I work, and you guys don't.  I'm
twenty-eight, and you guys are almost young enough to be my sons."
	We laughed.
	"Almost, I said, smart asses.  Well, look, here's the thing.  The sex we've
had has been un-fucking-believable, but you guys are just as interested in
pussy as you are in cock.  Maybe more so.  Philip and I are interested in
the same thing.  We're not interested in women right now, and maybe I'll
never be again."  He paused, as though looking for what to say next.  I knew
what was coming.  "Well, hell, boys, I want a steady relationship with
somebody who's like me.  And I think Philip's the man to give it to me."
	We paused for a long time.  Chuck got up and fixed us all scotches, and we
sat and kind of looked away from one another.
	I looked at Brett, and he didn't show any signs of real disappointment or
sorrow.  I was really kind of glad that Chuck had found somebody, especially
if it was my "brother" Philip.  Somebody had to say something, and I figured
it was up to me.
	"Here's a toast to Chuck and Philip," I said.  "Chuck, you came into my
life when I needed someone in the worst way and when I think you needed
someone, too.  Philip is like my third brother, so it makes me happy to know
he's found someone like you to make him happy.  I'd thought about the fact
that the three of us wouldn't be able to keep up our relationship forever,
so it doesn't surprise me it's probably time for us to kiss good-bye.
You're right about me and the girls.  I like sex with guys a lot, as you
know, but I like it with girls a whole lot, too.  All I can say is, I'm just
happy we had the time together we did.  The three of us."
	Chuck started crying, and I teared up, too.  Brett joined us in a minute.
We all got up and hugged one another in a three-part circle, and we bawled.
	It was around six, and we decided to go eat befoe we went to the club.  We
ate at one of those neighborhood restaurants, and then we went to Male Call
III.
	The first show started at 9:30, and it was only a little before eight.
There were a few tables in action, but the bulk of the crowd would be coming
in in a little while.  The guy at the door didn't recognize me--why should
he, after all--so I had to explain what we wanted.  He suggested we go
around to the "talent entrance" on the side of the building.  The door was
unlocked, so we just walked in.  There was a kind of small foyer or
something, with a Coke machine and a machine that had snacks.  There was
also a pay phone.  To the right was the gym, showers, and tanning booth.  I
later learned from Tony that the guys were expected to get there by eight,
pump iron for forty-five minutes to an hour, shower, and get greased down.
They used the stuff bodybuilders put on to make their skin shine without
being greasy.  That helped highlight muscles, which were really big with
some of the clientele.  Straight ahead was the dressing room where the guys
put on their costumes.
	I wasn't sure where anybody would be, so we tried the gym first.  There
were two guys in there working out, both stark naked.  They were both hung
okay, but I definitely had them beat.
	"Hi," I said.
	One guy looked at me and didn't say anything.  The other asked me what he
could do for us.
	"You seen Tony around here,"  I asked.  "Or Philip?"
	"Check the dressing room.  They were both here a little while ago.  They're
probably still here."
	They were both in the dressing room.
	"Hi," I said.
	"Hey, Nick," Philip said.  "Chuck.  Brett.  You guys come on in.  Nick, you
remember Tony?"
	"Sure," I said, extending my hand.  "Er, Tony, this is Chuck, and this is
Brett."  They shook hands.
	"So, Nick," Tony said, "whata ya say you and I get down to some business?"
	"I'll take care of these guys," Philip said.  He took Chuck and Brett off
with him.
	"Did you get the snake off your cock?"
	"Yeah," I said.  "It worked great.  Just like you said it would."
	"Lemme see."
	I opened my fly and started to haul out my dick, but Tony wanted everything
off me.  I was naked in a second.
	"I see you decided to keep the shamrock," he said, referring to the tattoo
on my arm.
	"For a while.  Yeah."
	"That's cool."  He got a tube of flesh-colored paste and rubbed some on the
tattoo.  It covered it completely.  "Yeah, that'll work.  No problem."
	He reached down and took hold of my dick.  He looked at it rather closely.
"There ain't even a shadow, of the tattoo, I mean."
	"No," I said.
	He bounced it up and down a few times, and I was beginning to wonder where
this was going.  There was something about this guy that was a little
off-putting, and I definitely wasn't interested in fucking him, if that's
what he wanted.
	"You got the biggest, bro.  This'll earn you some bucks," he said,
admiringly.
	"Thanks," I said.  What else was there to say?
	He let my cock go.  "I see you've been working on your tan.  That's very
important.  No tan lines.  There's a tanning booth in the other room, and we
expect the guys to put in at least three hours a week in there.  There's a
gym setup like that at all three clubs, so you don't always have to come
here to tan."
	"There's a booth at the gym where I work out.  Is it okay to use that one?"
	"Hell, yeah.  We don't take roll.  Just stay tanned.  It don't matter where
you do it."
	He looked me over some more, and I was starting to feel like an object at
an auction.  Finally he said,
	"What do you think about soldier?"
	"What," I asked.
	"For your costume.  What do you think about being a soldier?"
	"I don't care," I said.  "Whatever you think'll work for me."
	"Yeah.  I think a soldier."
	He got an olive green T-shirt, some combat boots, and a pair of camoflage
pants for me.  He also got a helmet.
	"Put these on so I can see what you look like."
	I did as he said.
	"I think an olive tanktop instead of the T-shirt."
	I changed into the tanktop.
	"Yeah.  That's better.  You won't take your boots off in the show.  See,
these pants have velcro on the sides, so you can pull them off without
having to take your boots off.  You'll be wearing a pair of boxers under
them, but they'll be pull-aways, too.  You'll have to take the tanktop off
over your head, but that won't be a problem."
	This guy was a real technician.  He was interested in details.  I wasn't.
	"Did Scott explain the job to you completely," he asked.
	"I'm not sure.  Why don't you do it?"
	"He probably didn't.  He's a nice guy, but he's new at all this.  One day
he's a dancer, and then, all of a sudden, I'm told he's the new fuckin'
owner.  Where the fuck he got the money to buy these places, I'll never
know.  He must be fucking some banker.  Jesus, I forgot, he's a friend of
yours, ain't he?"
	I had to be careful.  Apparently, Tony didn't know Scott and I were
brothers--he must be blind, as well as dumb--and I didn't know how much
Scott wanted him to know.
	"Well, Philip. . ."
	"Oh, you're a friend of Philip.  Okay.  That makes sense.  Anyway, it works
like this.  We do two shows a night.  One at 9:30 and one at 11:00.  On
Fridays and Saturdays, we do three--another one at 12:30.  Eight guys
perform.  Four in the first show and four in the second one.  On weekends,
everybody performs twice.  Different routines, but I'll get to that.  If
you're in the first show--and that's something Philip decides--you get here
by eight so you can pump up and get ready to go on.  Second show, 9:30.  You
dance for ten minutes, and you strip to a g-string.  Ever worn one?"
	"No," I said.
	"Here.  You might as well put this on."
	He handed me a sequined g-string that wasn't much bigger than a saltine
cracker.  It was made out of lycra, so it stretched to fit my bulge.  But
just barely.
	"Try the next size up," he said.
	He handed me another one that was a little bigger.  I managed to get
everything inside, but I popped out pretty far.
	"You look really hot in that thing," he said.  "And I ain't queer.  Not all
the way, anyway."  He laughed, and I did, too.
	"Anyways, where was I?"
	"I strip to the g-string."
	"Yeah.  You strip to the g-string and the boots.  You look really good in
them boots.  I think I'll make you a cowboy for the second show on weekends.
  How does that sound?"
	"Sounds good," I said.
	"Good.  Anyway, the dancing ain't much.  You just pretend you're humping
some chick, and that makes 'em wet.  And that's important.  Women come here
to get turned on, and it's up to you to do it.  What I do is pick out some
chick in the audience I'd really like to fuck and pretend I'm givin' it to
her while I'm up there.  They'll probably want to give you tips by stuffin'
'em in your crotch.  You can let 'em if you want to.  Most guys do.  Some of
'em are more modest and put the money in the leg of your string.  You keep
all but twenty percent of that money.  The twenty percent goes to the house.
  When your set is done, you go out and mingle with the customers.  In just
the string.  You'll pick up more tips then.  Encourage them to buy you
drinks, and always order the most expensive scotch.  You don't have to drink
it.  In fact, you shouldn't stay at any one table more than ten or fifteen
minutes.  The waiters will know what you order and will have it there in
less than thirty seconds.  Somebody at the table will drink it.  Don't worry
about that.  It won't go to waste.
	"Now here's the good part.  Some of the ladies will want a private show.
We got eight private rooms where you can take 'em.  What that really means
is they want to get laid.  They pay a hundred bucks for a half hour.  You
keep forty, the house keeps sixty.  Since you're new, you'll probably be on
first in every show.  When you're done dancing, you go mingle until the
show's finished.  Then you get the private-room time.  If a lady wants to
have a private show while the real show is going on, tell her to make
arrangements with the guy working the reservations desk.  We don't take
reservations for the club.  Only for the private rooms.  At the end of the
show, you check with him to find out what he's lined up for you and which
room you'll be in.  It's a scheduling nightmare, but they got it all worked
out.  You go to the room and wait for the ladies."
	"So what happens in the rooms?"
	"Good question.  We got that worked out, too.  You tell the lady that this
private show involves complete nudity, and she should leave if she would be
offended.  That's legal crap we gotta say.  Then you tell her you are
willing to engage in sex if she wants to, but she's got to let you know by
touching your penis.  Make sure you say 'penis' and not 'cock' or 'dick' or
something like that.  Okay?  It's penis.  That's legal bullshit, too.  Most
of the time they're all over you by then because they've been here before
and know the routine better than you do.  If she touches you with the string
still on, that counts.  It ain't gotta be skin on skin.  We got the whole
thing on videotape anyways, so if there's ever a rape charge or anything,
you're protected."
	That hadn't occurred to me.  I guessed it mattered, though.
	"Then you're on your own to do what you know how to do."
	"This sounds like the perfect job to me," I said.
	He laughed.  "If you only knew.  Which you will."  He laughed some more.
	By now other guys were coming into the dressing room to get dressed for the
show.  All of them were naked when they came in, and all of them were really
pumped.  I had met one or two of them already, but Tony walked me around and
introduced me to eveybody again.
	"Since we rotate around the clubs, you maybe won't see some of these guys
for a while.  Plus, you're basically a fill-in, aren't you," Tony asked.
	"Yeah.  I'll only work when somebody needs to be off."
	"That'll be pretty often, probably.  There's another guy, somebody named
Matt, who's going to be a fill-in, too.  He ain't in town right now, though.
  He'll be back in a week or two.  He's supposed to be the first fill-in,
and you're the second.  He might work more often than you, but you'll work
at least one night a week, I can almost guarantee.  Usually on a weekend."
	"That sound's good to me," I said.  "About how much do you think I'll
make?"
	"With your body and your cock. . . I'd say, probably, four hundred a night.
  Assuming you can use 'em."
	"I can use 'em," I said.
	"I figured you could," he said.  He smiled.  Then: "I'll take you up to the
light booth so you can watch the shows.  You'll pick up a lot just watching.
  Be here tomorrow at one, and I'll teach you some dance steps."
	"Cool," I said.  Then he took me up to the light booth.
	He told a waiter along the way to get me anything I wanted, and I ordered a
scotch.  I had no idea where Chuck and Brett were, but I had business to
attend to.  Tony introduced me to the light guy, whose name was Cliff, and I
sat down to watch the show.  In a second, Brett came in with a drink.
	"Hey," I said.  "Where's Chuck?"
	"He and Philip went off somewhere.  I'm glad to see a face I recognize."
	The waiter brought me two drinks instead of one, and the show started in a
few minutes.  I figured out after about two minutes that I could do that
shit blindfolded, and it got boring after a while.  Brett and I made
wisecracks about the dancers and the women, and pretty soon Cliff joined in,
too.  He was a student at the University of New Orleans in the daytime, and
he did this to earn his way through school.  Between the second and third
dancer, I went down and ordered more drinks, including Cliff in the bounty
this time.
	When the first show ended, I had had enough for the evening.  Brett was
already bored, so we went back downstairs.  We found Tony, and I reconfirmed
our meeting at one o'clock the next day.
	"Any reason for me to hang around," I asked him.
	"Well, not unless you want to watch one of the private shows.  In fact, I
think you probably ought to, so you have a feel for how it works.  Let's go
into the video control room and see what's happening."
	The video control room was a small space with eight monitors and VCR's and
a bunch of other electronic shit.  He sat us down in front of a monitor and
turned it on.
	"There usually isn't anybody watching," he said, "but, like I said before,
we tape all the private sessions so there won't be any legal shit later on.
We don't even watch them unless a guy wants pointers on technique or
something.  Nobody but us knows about this, so, er, Brett, keep this to
yourself, okay?"
	"No problem," Brett said.
	Tony turned on a monitor.  The tape was already recording, but it turned
out nothing had happened yet, and the guy wasn't even in the room.  In a few
seconds, he came in.
	"Hi," he said.  "My name's Lyle."
	"Hi, Lyle.  I'm Stefanie."
	"So, Stefanie, have you seen a private show here before?"
	"No."  Giggle.  "This is a Christmas present from two of the girls I work
with."
	"Well, I hope it gets the Yule Log burning."
	She laughed, and he did, too.
	"Here's how it works, Stefanie.  I do a dance that involves full nudity.
Will that offend you?"
	Giggles.  "No.  Not at all."
	"Usually, with a girl who looks like you, I get an erection.  Will that
bother you?"
	She shook her head no.
	"If you want me to do something with that erection, like have sex with you,
I'll be happy to.  But you've got to let me know by touching my penis.
Otherwise, I'll just dance.  Okay?"
	"Okay."
	Lyle put on some of the kind of music they use in porno flicks, but we
could still hear them clearly over it.  He started moving to the music, and
in a second he had his g-string off.  He moved real close to Stefanie
without touching her and stayed there, gently bumping and grinding.  Her
hand darted out like a frog's tongue catching a fly, and she took hold of
his cock.  He was only slightly hard.
	"Do you want to get comfortable," he asked.
	"Yeah," she said.
	He started undressing her seductively, and his cock started getting harder
as he did it.  He kissed her when he had her outer clothes off, and then he
started working on her bra.  He paid attention to her tits, which were
really very nice, sucking her nipples and kneeding the mounds.  She moaned a
little.  Then he got her panties off.  He reached down and played with her
pussy for a few seconds, and then he helped her lie down on the daybed.  He
went down on her and lapped her pussy.  She looked like she came after a
minute or so of that.
	"Are you ready," he asked.
	"If you are," she said.
	"Do you want me on top, or do your prefer some other position?"
	"Let's start with you on top," she said.
	"You're a girl after my own heart, Stefanie," he said.  This guy was
smooth.
	He entered her, and a look of panicked pleasure came over her face.  He
moved slowly at first, still kissing her neck and breasts.  She was loving
it.
	"You tell me what you want me to do, okay," he said.
	"You're doing just fine."  She was breathing hard.  He continued his slow,
gentle fuck, and Stefanie must have come at least three times.  There was a
clock on the wall behind Stefanie's head, and twenty minutes had already
elapsed.
	"Do you want me to come," he asked.
	"Oh, yes.  I want you to remember this, too," she said.  Tony laughed at
that remark.
	"Great," he said.  He started pumping a little harder and faster, and
Stefanie stiffened and came with the big one.  He came just at that moment,
and they collapsed onto each other.  He didn't pull out right away.
Instead, he kissed her again and nuzzled her breasts some more before he got
up.
	"You might want to clean up in there," he said, pointing to a restroom just
off the room.
	"This has been fantastic," she said.  "It's the best Christmas present I've
ever had."
	"Thanks.  I'm glad you enjoyed it.  It was terrific for me, too."
	"That fucker's nose is growin'," Tony said, laughing.
	Stefanie got up and went into the restroom.  The guy wiped his cock off
with a Handiwipe out of a container in the drawer of the end table, threw
the Handiwipe away, and put his g-string back on.  She came out in a couple
of minutes, he kissed her again and said he hoped she'd be back soon.  He
showed her out.
	"Well, that's it," Tony said.  "He made forty bucks, the house made sixty,
and she had a great time.  Can't beat it."
	"It looks easy enough," I said.
	"It is," Tony said.  "She was about average, or maybe a little shyer than
most.  The ones who have done this before grab your package before you can
say your name.  The secret is to be gentle and nice.  That's all they want.
You're a cowboy or a cop or a soldier on stage, but in there you're Romeo."
	"Okay, Tony.  I'll be here at one tomorrow, and then at eight tomorrow
night.  Anything else?"
	"Not that I can think of.  I got to go see what else is going on right now.
  Can you guys find your way out?"
	"Yeah.  Good night.  And thanks."
	We left the video control room, Tony going one way, us going another.  We
left the club by the "talent entrance" and got in my car.
	"Well, what did you think," I asked Brett.
	"This is every guy's wet dream.  I can't fuckin' believe you're going to
fuck for a living."
	"Dance, man.  'Dance' is the word you're looking for," I said.  We both
laughed.
"I thought I was going to come when old Lyle did.  What about you?"
	"Fuck, yeah.  I'm still hard as a rock."
	"Me, too.  Let's go take care of that."
	I drove a couple of blocks to a dark street, and Brett and I got in the
back seat.  We decided blow jobs would create the least mess, so we got into
the sixty-nine position on the seat and went at each other.  We pulled our
jeans down but otherwise stayed dressed.  It was good, as it always was with
Brett.  Afterward, we sat close to each other, smoking cigarettes, with our
jeans still down around our ankles.  He took my cock in his hand, and I
thought he wanted more.  But he just wanted to talk.
	"How do you feel about that shit with Chuck tonight," he asked.
	"I saw it coming.  Hell, Chuck's twenty-eight.  He's not interested in
chasing pussy or cock, and I know he's not interested in roller-blading and
shooting pool for whole afternoons at a stretch.  He's a smart guy, and so
is Philip.  Philip's got a degree in accounting, and he and Scott are going
to run the business end of these clubs.  He'll work during the day, and
occasionally at night for special deals, but he and Chuck can go home to
each other, read books, fool with their computers, clean their aquariums, go
out to eat.  Do old people stuff.  They'll be more than buddies.  They'll be
lovers."
	"Are they both gay?"
	"I guess so, at least in the usual meaning of that word.  Philip's been
with women, I know, and so has Chuck.  I guess they just aren't interested
in pursuing them.  They could change and each be married in five years.
Right now, though, they're going to live the 'queer life.'"
	"Are you sad?  I am," Brett said.
	"Yes and no.  I love Philip like a brother.  Hell, I've known him all my
damn life.  I'm glad he found a guy like Chuck.  In fact, I'm glad he found
Chuck.  I love Chuck, too, don't get me wrong, and I'm glad he found Philip.
  Can I ask you something?"
	"Sure," he said.
	"Why are you holding my cock?"
	We both laughed.  Brett had forgotten he had it in his hand.  We pulled up
our jeans, got back into the front seats, and took off.
	"What do you want to do," I asked.
	"I don't know.  What do you want to do?"
	"I don't want to go home, I know that much.  I know a club that might be
fun.  Plenty of pussy.  You up for it?"
	"Take me there," he said.  And I did.

	We had a great time that night, and the next day we worked out in the
morning.  I worked out nude, but Brett was more modest because there were
three or four other guys in the place.  A couple of them were nude, too, but
he still wasn't ready to show it all.  I went for my training from Tony that
afternoon, and that night I made my debut on stage at Male Call III.  Brett
stayed at my house the rest of the holidays, and every night I worked he
went with me.  We'd usually go out afterwards and stay out till three or
later, and we'd both usually get laid again.  The cum stains on the back
seat of my car were starting to be obvious, but what the hell.
	School started again on January 8th, and my action at the clubs tapered
off.  I usually put in one weekend night, which were the best, and sometimes
I would just go to one of them to see if they needed anybody to give private
shows.  A few times they did.  Track practice started in late January, and
that took up a lot of my free time.
	Brett and I stayed friends.  He and I were faithful to our pledge to work
out together, me naked, him clothed.  By Spring Break, he had added a lot of
muscle, and my definition was getting better and better.  He started dating
one of the girls he had met at one of the parties I had dragged him to
during the holidays, and I think she was meeting his needs.  We'd get
together now and then to jerk off or fuck, but it was almost for old times'
sake.
	I got roped into standing in for an escort at one of the debutante deals,
but otherwise I was pretty well out of that scene.  Mardi Gras was something
else, though, and that may take a book of its own.
	Brett's parents split up in May, just after graduation.  Neither one had
custody of him because he was already nineteen by then.  His mother moved
into a great place in one of the Pontalbo Buildings that we happened to own,
but she never knew we owned it.  His father remarried almost right away and
kept the house they used to live in.  Brett didn't like either arrangement
for himself, so they rented him an apartment in a place close to where Chuck
lived.  His girlfriend's parents moved to Montana, so she moved in with
Brett so she could stay in the city.  He was still going to Harvard, and she
was still going to Tulane, so they weren't destined to last.
	What started out for me as a very unusual afternoon in early December,
ended in a very unusual Christmas and a rather unusual year.  I still saw
Chuck all the time because of Philip, and Brett and I would get together now
and then.  Basically, though, our buddy links were over.  I had the shamrock
tattoo removed that summer and didn't replace it.  Maybe someday another one
will take its place.  Maybe someday I'll meet another Chuck and another
Brett, and I'll start it all over again.  Maybe not.

The End