Date: Sun, 09 Apr 2006 06:51:26 -0500
From: Lance Davids <norskebjorn@hotmail.com>
Subject: Life-of-Lance-5

[Rock Me, Baby (Summer 1988-February 1989) tells of a pivotal time with my
husman, Geo, and the son of my wish, Kirk.  As are all the stories in the
series, this part is fiction, imagined from life incidents but not actual in
the details and persons.]

Ben and I had split, and not too amicably, but because we had realigned - me
with Geo, Ben with Glenn - our worlds still overlapped.  Furthermore and
chiefly, Geo was not going to part with any past friends or lovers, and Ben
and Glenn continued to be welcome in his home, not matter which place he was
occupied at the time.  Besides, Geo was as fond of and concerned for Kirk as
ever was I, and you couldn't have the boy visiting on a regular basis
without his father.

Because Geo and I had more undisturbed time with one another than ever
before, our conversations grew in depth, and I learned more of Geo's origins
and background beyond the randomness of previous comments, and now his story
made wonderfully consistent sense.  He, as most Armenians, was intensely
influenced by and proud of his ancestry.  Armenians as a people are ancient;
after all, Noah's Ark settled on Mount Ararat, the peak of their territory.
Armenia at its height spread throughout Asia Minor from the Caspian Sea
across Anatolia and from there into the Caucasus and reached the
Mediterranean.  At the dawn of the fourth century, they were the first
nation to adopt Christianity and though fiercely independent in religion for
centuries, numbers of them later aligned with Roman Catholicism.  Their
classical language and its later descendants are highly fricative, that is
frictional, with dramatically concussive consonant sounds.  Its alphabet
requires 36 letters to represent such an explosive language that also
produced a prodigious and long-lived literature.

Due to their Middle East location, Armenia found itself amidst every
invasion, migration, expansion and East-West conflict.  I think it was only
their mountains and rugged determination that saved Armenians from total
extermination, though tens and even hundreds of thousands of them fell to
repeated wars and organized massacres.  Eventually, they lost their own
kings and succumbed to the Ottoman Empire, the Turks.  In the 1880s one such
calamity forced the families of Geo's parents to flee from Persia into
Russia.  And that is how Geo, a generation later came to be born in Tbilisi.

'That is why they named me Georgias, after the old kingdom of Georgia, where
the parents found themselves'.  Tbilisi was another ancient and cosmopolitan
city, filled with expatriates from throughout the Euro-Asian crossroads.
Even his own Armenian parents were diverse, his father, Erivan Noressian, a
highly educated poet and typesetter from the Greco-Persian west of Armenia,
and his completely domestic mother from the Syriac side.  Geo was an only
child, born to them after several miscarriages and stillbirths, and they
doted on him.  So did their landlord, Zachmed Sladek, a bachelor, Jewish
spice merchant who befriended the family.

'I was about eight years old, the first time he put his hands on my
privates,' Geo told.  It was not his fault.  Since I was of a tender age, he
had taught me languages - Hebrew, Yiddish, German, Ladino - and read me
stories as I sat on his lap.  I had seen my father's penis, quite by
accident, that seemed enormous and beautiful to me and I wondered about
other men of Father's age.  Because I was with Zachmed Sladek as no other
and in the right position, seated on him, one day I felt between his legs.
He said nothing, but shifted to accommodate my curiosity and I explored
further.  I found his sizeable manhood and stroked it, full of appreciation
for its handsome beauty and potential power.

'Because Zachmed Sladek obviously liked my attention, I repeated it -
frequently.  Months later, he began touching me.  And that is all he ever
did.  It only lasted a couple years.  Once off his lap, he continued to tend
to my mind, and we conversed about history, literature, and philosophy.  But
I could soon tell from the dance in his eyes and the flush of his face, that
he yearned for me.  When I reached twelve, he paid tutors to school me
further, and when I reached sixteen years provided the scholarship that
allowed me the University.'

At University, Geo busied himself with studies, but one day a Georgian
student, about eighteen, someone Geo had seen before looking at him, became
directly friendly to him.  He invited Geo to his room a few days later when
his parents were at work.  'I knew what was going to happen, and I calmly
went along and let him seduce me,' Geo said.  They undressed without words
and spent about two ours touching and exploring one another.  Then the
sucking.  Then the fucking.  'He was "versatile," as we say, and a good
teacher.  We both did one another.

'Josef, he was named, my first man.  But he never approached me again.
Georgian men are driven to exalt their manliness, and to continue with me
would be too queer.  All right for him; he had prepared me for others, and I
was glad of that.'  Geo was nothing if studious for those three years in
pursuit of his first degree.  Yet whenever opportunity presented itself to
him in the right combination of time and interest, he had sex with other
students, the burly proletariat, and handsome men met on the streets and in
parks who were also looking for some form of man to man abandon.  Geo
laughed every time, he told another story, 'I capped off that part of my
career with an especially handsome professor in the physical sciences.  I
was nineteen and worked my wiles on him; not too difficult, he was willing,
eager I'd say.  He talked abstract theoretical physics all the way through
my fucking him as though I were to convert to his discipline.'

The Soviet control over everyday life was increasing, and opportunely when
Geo completed university in philosophy and comparative literature, Zachmed
Sladek's death and legacy to his family allowed them to leave what had just
become Georgia S.S.R.  They went to Athens where Zachmed Sladek had cleverly
sequestered most of his assets.  'While Papa converted various properties to
more liquid investments, I took another degree, this time in classics.

'Otherwise in my Athens period, 1937-1938, I pursued sailors and dock
workers, going down to Piraeus - in more ways than one - on the weekends.
My parents knew of my proclivities by then, and were distressed about it,
but after one shouting match resigned to my fixation as temporary.  "You
will become a man and find your true self," Papa said.'   While Geo fucked
with the seamen of the world, the parents prepared to immigrate to Brazil.
It was because of this family tension over sexuality, especially with his
mother, who had trouble looking her beloved son in the face, that the
parents parted from him.

Geo, with his share of inherited funding, went on to Paris and the Sorbonne.
  He lived in a single room, ate in cafés, and studied harder than ever
before.  Still men, were everywhere, and they seemed to come on to him.
'Maybe I exuded sex, now mature - twenty when I arrived - and as handsome
and hirsute in the Armenian way as I ever would be.  Lecherous men were
everywhere; they came up to me not just in bars, but libraries, bookstores
and museums.  Even churches.'

Geo completed his doctorate at the Sorbonne, reveling in the intense
intellectual life of the university and the Rive Gauche.  'Yes, I knew Camus
and Sartre, Genet too when he was not in prison, and Cocteau.  Many others,
celebrities and those not so celebrity.'  Simultaneously, I prepared for the
priesthood, a decision that brought my parents more joy than the exploits of
my body.

'Why did I become a priest?  My parents raised me in a religious atmosphere,
and I adored the majesty and mystery of worship.  More telling, I loved the
magnetic intricacies of Biblical literature regardless of the language I in
which I read it.  This book of disparate books spoke to me as one principle,
driven and coherent by a single purpose - the creative love of God.  Mostly,
I had developed a social conscience from all those philosophy and literature
classes.  My family had fled the Turks, and I had fled the Communists, and
now the Nazis were upon us.  I saw that I needed to do something for God and
for humanity.  And Father Justus had become my mentor.

'Brother Juste Fabien, he was then, a Cistercian.  I found him in the
confessional at Saint Gregor the Illuminator where I went periodically to
unburden myself of my whoredom and other wicked ways.  We met later over
coffee, and he convinced me of the Church's need for my talents.  Juste
outlined the life of service I might lead in a way that appealed to me when
I considered my possibilities.  I had made no career choice except that I
would continue to learn from life and study; because I had no fortune, nor
prospect of one, basically I wanted to pursue truth.

'And I was a person without a country.  At my ordination, I swore myself to
celibacy at least in practice if not in thought.  I remained chaste in the
body over the next twenty years while fucking dozens of men in my mind, over
and over again in nightly fantasies of masturbation.  God forgive me.  But
my motivation for keeping my penis to myself was that I did not want to do
anything to jeopardize my chosen vocation and its benefits.  I fancied that
I had the will to do so.  My reward was that I was given a Vatican passport
and important and sensitive assignments where, perhaps, I could do some good
in the world.'

Dok got out of France just in advance of the German invasion.  Basically the
Vatican used him in various hotspots where his knack for learning languages,
virtually overnight suited him for exotic destinations.  Once he had to
learn Swahili in a day when he learned he had to conduct a parley among
various native groups the next morning.  Ostensibly, he was a special
missionary, delegate from the Congregation on the Propagation of the Faith
to tend to the Catholics among Armenians in exile.  His first mission was to
Ethiopia, 1940-1945, just as resistance was mounting to the Italian
stronghold there; then followed Egypt, 1945-1950, as the British were losing
their foothold, and finally Lebanon, 1950-1955, where the French were on the
way out.  In each he served as translator and secretary to whatever diplomat
the Vatican Secretariat sent into the area.

Upon occasion, he did priestly things - confession, mass, catechization,
counseling, marriages, baptisms, and funerals - although he never had a
specific parish.  Being a rover from place to place suited him.  Geo had the
entrepreneurial character of his ethnicity.  'As for me and my interests, I
used every opportunity to discover, read and translate whatever ancient
texts I could find.  In search of them, monasteries, churches, and other
sequestered libraries and archives of these lands were my favored haunts and
homes.'  His passion for all this antiquity equipped him to be one of the
world's premier authorities on primitive Christianity, that is its origins
and development before it became the accepted and state religion of Rome.

Because he had been a good and faithful servant of the Church, in 1955 Geo
asked to be sent to Sao Paulo, Brazil so that he could be near his aging
parents, and the Vatican agreed.  His mother was in her late sixties and his
father ten years older than she was.  From the base of a small church, his
one and only actual parish, he tended to the parents, both of whom died
within the three years he served there.  'I had become used to the poverty
of three continents, but nothing prepared me for the miserable slums of Sao
Paulo.  There children are brought into the world only to be thrown away.  I
had to face down my own depression over it.'

Father Justus rescued him, offering a seminary teaching position in
mid-Minnesota.  And so Geo came to the United States in 1958.  He remained
within holy orders for two more years, but continued to teach after that as
he was when I first knew him.  At forty-two, after 20 years as a priest, Geo
went back to the secular life as the proper fit to his persistent lust.  He
used his inheritance to buy Hidden Lake and began to lead the life of
exercising his perversion.  He became a citizen of the U.S.

'I never cruised my own students.  Instead, I made the grand tour of
Minnesota's sexual underbelly.  I got my palang after spending some days
with a WWII veteran who had brought the device back from Borneo, thrust as
it was through his own glans.  He used the excitement of it to spread the
idea to others of our raunchy persuasion.  I took on the palang because of
its constant sensation of eroticism between my legs and as a constant
declaration of the homo I was, by act of God, and my own flaming desires.

'In the course of my prowls, in August 1962, Glenn Markus and I met in a
men's sauna in Duluth.  "Would you like to come to my hotel room," we both
said at the same time.  It has been a blessed friendship and a generous
sharing.  And so I have come to you, Dear Lance.'

As I came to know Geo all the more completely, I marveled how he had
experienced the gamut of life - the wild side and the most orderly of sides
- and now chose me above all others.  I could hardly believe it.

Two weeks after the breakup that had thrown Geo and me so firmly together,
Ben and Kirk were back at Hidden Lake.  Glenn, having left his school career
for real estate selling, was most occupied on weekends, especially in the
summer and could not make the same schedule with them.  How I wish it could
have been otherwise.

Ben and I were edgy with one another at first, but that mellowed with a few
beers, and while Geo and Ben read Ars Amatoria to one another, Ben suggested
we take a walk.  We'd hardly gone out of sight of the cottage when Ben
pulled down his faded cutoffs and without underwear exposed his stiffening
cock.  'Sorry, Lance; I have to piss,' and he watered the bushes.  Looking
at me dead on, he flexed his lengthy cock and shook the droplets off the
pecker-slit and from the Prince Albert that circled through it.

'You were a great fuck, buddy.  I have to say I miss your front, miss your
back.'

I shrugged.  'Well, Ben, now we're on to other things.'

'Lance-baby, it doesn't have to be that way.  I was always hot for you; I
still am.'

'Jeez, Ben, we've made choices.  Just let me be with Geo now for the few
years we've got together.  He's 70 after all.'

'And I'm 45, not getting any younger either.'

'Well, then, make sure you take care of yourself.'

By this time he'd stroked himself up to his contest-winning ten inches and
moved to press against me.  His hardon ground against my basket through the
thin cotton shorts and jock sock I wore.  He breathed into my mouth, holding
my head, his tongue beginning to part my lips.  I felt I was soon to be a
goner.

I stepped back from him breathing heavily.  'Wait a minute please.  For
God's sake, pull your pants up and give me a cigarette.'  Ben fished one
out, lit it, and passed it to me.  I took a puff and passed it back to him;
he inhaled and passed it back to me.  Yikes!  Even smoking a cigarette with
him was a turn-on.

'Ben, what in the hell am I going to do with you?'

He grinned.  'Suck me, fuck me; I don't care.  I haven't had sex in four
days, and I'm about going crazy.'  Apparently Glenn couldn't put out for him
as regularly as I had.

I shook my head.  'Then it's time to wander into the bushes and beat off.'
He made a sour face.

'Okay.  But instead will you jack me?  That's not really having sex with one
another.'

He still had his cutoffs down and stepped out of them, grabbed my right and
put it on his cock.  He turned around with his ass up against my midsection
and taking my left hand moved it up under his loose tank to his bar-pierced
nipples.  'Make me come, buddy, for old time's sake.  Then I'll be good for
a couple days till I get back home.'

Witless, stupid idiot that I am, I was already moving on him.  He leaned
back against me, grinding his bulbous ass at me and reaching my head to pull
it down, pressing my lips on his neck.  Holy moley, sex maniac that I am, I
was kissing and biting his neck, his ears, pinching his nipples and flinging
his dong.  I panted, getting hard and twisting at his curvaceous buttocks.
I pulled down my shorts and placed my erection at his asshole.  I bucked
against him; he bent forward, and I was in.  Against all my best intentions
I was fucking my ex.

Possessed, I bucked in him, holding Ben from under his armpits back against
me by the shoulders and giving him the royal fucking sendoff from my boiling
balls.  'Oh, Lance, no one fucks me like you do.  Mess me up; fuck me hard,
give me all your jazz.  Shoot me right up the ass.'  Either his voice was
hoarse and raspy from too many cigarettes or I was stimulating his prostate
to produce that sex-crazed bedroom voice.  And that, the sound, not the
words, excited me all the more.

I said, 'Shut up, you conniving bastard.  You're breaking my concentration.'

He put his hands back on my ass cheeks, pulling and spreading them, his
fingers feeling for my crack and hole.  Suddenly, uncontrollably I was in
orgasm, pumping myself into him for all I was worth, then gasping to restore
air to my spent body, leaning over him.  Ben pulled himself forward.  I fell
on my knees, and he stuck his glistening, wet cock in my mouth.  I grabbed
it and gobbled at it sucking with hungry abandon until he came in a rush,
which didn't take long.

He raised me to my feet and kissed, lapping up some of his own spunk as he
washed my face with his hot tongue.  'What a buddy!  I knew you could do
it.'  He paused, grinned and as flatly as discussing the weather said,
'After Geo has fallen asleep tonight, come to my room, and I'll do you.'

'What?' I said.  You bastard, I thought.  'Forget it,' I said.

I pulled myself back together, walked directly back to Geo, who could tell
at a glance from my heightened color and the heavy smell of fornication on
me what had happened.  'We can't have Ben here again without some fetching
prospect to keep him occupied.'

'I understand,' said Geo, the man I loved.

Geo had spent much of the season planning for Glenn's 50th birthday bash and
seeing that all the extraordinary preparations got done in time.  That would
follow in two weeks.  Because Geo's friendship with Glenn reached back 25
years, he went to an expense that mystified me in its proportions.  The
concrete slab behind the cottage that provided a shaded patio area was first
extended and secondly covered with cypress flooring to cushion standing on
it.  At the edge of the deck towards the garage-bunkhouse, he had a
12-person hot tub installed.

And to complete the ensemble, Geo purchased a sound system with well placed
outdoor speakers playing off tapes and disks.  Finally, he bought a cabin,
delivered as a kit on a flat bed truck; this in itself was a $1,000 item.
Ben had been offered to contract on all this work but he thought it too
small an item for Clarke Construction.  Nevertheless, when Ben and Kirk
arrived the weekend before the party, they were expected to join me and
Gregor Masalkis in putting up what was to be Kirk's cabin.  'Kirk is 16,'
Geo said; 'he needs a space of his own.'

Gregor Masalkis was a carpenter, handyman type, resident in Minneapolis,
whom, Geo had located through his network of contacts.  He was possibly in
his thirties, swarthy with thick curly black hair, a drooping Zapata
mustache but otherwise clean shaven, very hairy on his chest, arms, back,
legs, and whatever else could be seen in his skimpy tank, shorts and work
boots.  He was built like the veritable brick shit house and sported a
considerable basket.  I thought Geo had gone overboard to my request for
some way to keep Ben diverted and off of me, but Gregor was perfect for that
job.  We'd have to see what turned out.

Gregor arrived Friday evening with a couple who had hired him in the past
and made the recommendation to Geo.  We had a quiet evening, just getting
acquainted.  Ben and Kirk came Saturday morning.  Ben had a newly styled
fresh haircut, his sandy-colored main considerably cut back to midway down
his neck and falling away from his face, tapered so that it had body instead
of the pulled-back ponytail.  His new do made his face appear wider and more
handsome, noble looking really, and set off his broad white smile.

He wore cutoff denim carpenter overalls and work boots. Shirtless, his
shoulders looked trapezoid, broader than ever.  And he was in the height of
his golden summer tan.  He and Gregor shook hands in one of those hard
handshakes that burly guys do, eyed one another deeply, and set to work.
They had different styles of how a building is put together, but strangely,
Ben let Gregor lead the way.

Floor, walls, windows, door, sleep loft and tin roof on top were all in
place by 2 p.m.  We hadn't stopped for lunch.  Other guests were beginning
to arrive, finding their stations for overnight and joining in the
sandwiches and beer.  Geo furnished Kirk's sleeping loft with a new box
spring, mattress and lots of pillows besides the sedate, masculine tan and
black-striped linens.  Ben and Gregor decided Kirk should really have a rail
on the loft and decided to drive into Baxter in Ben's pickup to get one.
They were gone about an hour and had the rail together in another.  By then,
a number of guests had arrived, about 25 of the 40 expected.

Among the arrivals late that afternoon came Dr. Jamison Jones, political
consultant, resident in St. Paul, and his nephew, Aeson Jones, who was in
from New York City.  I remembered Dr. Jones and his Cadillac Seville at
these doings the previous two years, but young Jones, about 20, was a new
face.  In the gaggle of guests, clearly Aeson, or A-J, and Kirk were the
youngest, and being so they naturally gravitated toward one another, first
in conversation then in activities.  They shed their summer shorts and
sandals and swam in the lake nude.  Afterwards, as people congregated to
picnic on the new deck, Kirk brought A-J to introduce him to me.

Aeson had come to NYC in a second wave immigration from Haiti after his
father's older brother was established in the states.  Aeson as his uncle
looked more Mediterranean than Haitian but spoke in the richly
French-flavored accent of his homeland.  He was tall, thin-waisted and
muscularly built with the most bodacious buttocks and short curly hair
around his boyish-masculine sultry face.  When I learned that he was a
professional chorus dancer, his whole appearance made absolute sense.

Ben had become so preoccupied with Gregor - Kirk and A-J were not the only
ones swimming and cavorting in the water nude - that he was unconscious of
how Kirk spent his time.  Geo played mellow and dreamy romantic music over
the virgin sound system, and the evening went by quietly.  I only kept track
that when Geo and I called it an early night that Ben and Gregor were in the
front bedroom, the Joneses left for a motel in Brainerd, and Kirk went alone
to his new cabin and spacious bed.  Six other guys occupied the back bedroom
according to their own arrangements.

After the usual straggling to breakfast Sunday morning, and the eventual
parade to Mass, and return to a modest lunch, the remainder of the guests
began to come in.  Glenn, who was busy selling real estate, didn't arrive
for his own party until 5 p.m.  But at that point the low-key tempo at which
people had been saving themselves abruptly changed.  The crowd at full
strength cheered and applauded his arrival.  Shorts, bikinis, thongs, and
jockstraps, though minimal, were the order of the day and at this point
everyone wore some kind of tank or shirt, though some were ripped and all
those that could be buttoned were open.

Only Glenn was allowed his customary nudity, undressed by a committee of the
younger hunks whom Geo named.  They robed him in a silky new wrap, topped
him with a gilded olive circlet, and adorned the birthday boy with a
Ryker-like extension that lengthened his cock to a magnificent 12 to 14
inches.  Glenn had moved away from high school guys some time after me.
Instead he cruised the outback territory from St. Cloud to Bemidji hunting
up those adventurous and voluptuous studs who appreciated his attention and
bent to his penetration.  Glenn, regaled in his hunger for bringing out
young men, was joyous and good at it.  His boys appreciated his mastery in
their lives and treated him as their rightful king, the king of homosex and
they his sexual vassals.

As the Carmina Burana and then Carmina Catulli played on low volume, Glenn
with his robe open mingled with the crowd out on the deck, being kissed,
squeezed and fondled by nearly everyone present.  Some were more formal,
chiefly Kirk, who kissed and hugged him, and A-J who merely shook his hand.
Liquor flowed more freely, but in deference to Glenn's reform, having
substituted becoming a workaholic for THC addiction, no one smoked any dope.
  Supposedly I had the host duties out on the deck; Ben was otherwise
somewhere off with Gregor.  Geo drafted a few to help set the tables, Kirk
and A-J eagerly assisting among them.

At 7, we were called to dinner.  A tent canopy on the front lawn replaced
the badminton net.  A run of tables was set in a U-shape so that the
buffet-laden tables could be within them, and everyone could sit on the
outside and look across at one another.  A committee of the hunkiest led
Glenn to his enthronement on a little dais at the open end of the U, and
while all the hosts and guests lined up for the buffet, everyone took turns
waiting on Glenn.  Wine and beer flowed and though Kirk was underage, he too
was sipping wine at this extended family occasion, as was A-J next to him.

Glenn had moved on from lambrusco to manhattans and looked quite intoxicated
by the time everyone had had enough to eat and the center spread was cleared
away.  The table that the enthroned Glenn had been eating from was also
taken away.  Geo stood to announce.  'Dear friends and disciples of our
studly lord, now is the time for each of us to pledge our fealty to Chief
Glendon our suzerain.  You will all follow my example.'  Geo went from the
far end of the table along the outside edge to kneel before Glenn.

Stretching out his right hand, Geo placed in on Glenn's genitals and
shouted.  'I, Georgias Noressian, swear eternal love and friendship, support
and devotion to my esteemed lover and comrade, the lordly Glendon Markus,
upon his first half century of spreading the joy of man on man sexual
congress as widely as he possibly can.  We are all in his debt.  So help me,
Creator of the Universe.'

Each of us followed in turn with much the same words, and even those who
could not have known Glenn well, as Gregor and Aeson joined, in the comic
fun of this strangely mock-solemn event.  It took about an hour and darkness
had fallen with the torches about the tent and the few suspended electrics
casting a soft light.  Then rose the shout of 'First time, first time.  Tell
us your first time.'

Glenn held up his hands to bring silence.  'My lovelies.  To answer your
call and tell what you ask, I must intrude on the privacy of one of you
here, and if that person will give me a sign that it is all right, I will
proceed.'  Glenn looked around the assembly, seeming to peer into each
person's face, and then declared, 'Well, all right.'

'It was 1956, and I was a freshman at St. Cloud State, expecting to major in
political science and eventually become an attorney.  Therefore I thought
that I ought to be politically active, and that meant joining the Young
Democrats on campus, Democratic-Farmer-Labor if your prefer.  Well, I really
didn't know the hubbub I was getting into.  President Eisenhower had carried
Minnesota in 1952 by a wide margin, and the DFL in Minnesota had fought over
whether to support Stevenson against him again or Kefauver, who left me cold
when he campaigned and couldn't pronounce the names of Minnesota cities,
Wha-bash-ah instead of Wa-ba-shaw.

'While the DFL leadership, otherwise known as 'the bosses,' Senator Humphrey
and Governor Freeman at the head, had wanted Stevenson, Kefauver had won the
primary.  In the District that I was from, the 9th, Coya Knutson, the only
woman ever elected to Congress from Minnesota and very popular, was a
Kefauver backer.  After Stevenson got the nomination, the problem was to get
as many Democrats elected or re-elected as possible: Knutson, Freeman,
Stevenson.

'So one thing Young Democrats could do is campaign for this slate of
candidates on the weekends, usually filling the car of whomever had one with
four to six of us.  The weekend in question when it was Homecoming at SCS,
only two of us met up to go, me the freshman and Jay the senior.  Jay was
not the president of our club, but he was the leader in the activist sense.
I have to say that my teenage hormones were stirring, and the reason I gave
up a football game and party weekend to go campaigning for dull old
Stevenson, for God's sake, was Jay.

'I felt myself to be gawky, small town and not too sure of peculiarity.  Jay
was sophisticated, exotic, handsome, and exuded confidence and experience.
Just being with him made you feel better.  Jay was friendly and outgoing,
always smiling with a few welcoming and cheerful words for everyone, but I
didn't really know him.  If he even knew my name I'd be surprised.

'Jay had borrowed a car and we drove early Saturday morning to Fergus Falls
and went door knocking up and down the streets.  Driving up and back, Jay
and I got acquainted and I found he was interested in me.  His subtle way of
learning about me helped me to converse in such a way that I learned about
him, too.  By the time we were on the way back, I felt relaxed and easy with
him.

''You know,' Jay said, 'it's going to be wild and noisy on campus when we
get back.  The dorms will be bleary mad houses.'  We looked at one another,
and I understood what he meant beneath what he was saying.  'Let's find a
quiet place to say the night before we go back.  Okay, Glenn?'

'Okay, Jay.'  We got a small cabin somewhere between the little burg of
Lincoln and Lake Alexander.  Jay went out for burgers and beer - remember I
was eighteen then -and came back with two young reservists from Camp Ripley.
  They were hanging outside the liquor store and asked him to buy for them,
too, but Jay determined what they really wanted was a place to get it on, so
he invited them along.

'We got acquainted over our supper and then shed our suits and their
uniforms to go for an evening dip in our skivvies that when wet clung form
fitting to buttocks and cockups.  Chill water has a shrinking effect, but
four hunks, 18 to 21, when splashing around can get you plenty roused.  Back
at the cabin, no one was shy as the four of us got naked and crawled into
the creaky bed to warm up.  We cranked the springs that night.

'Yes this was my first time, and maybe the same, too, for Jim and John, but
Jay was a pro.  He sucked us each in turn, and in no time we caught on to
what a good thing going that was and started to blow one another, then the
three of us turned on Jay's dusky tool - Jim and John licking shaft and
balls and me the business end.  Inevitably, we met in the middle and kissed
one another all round in one wet and wild four-way.  We were already hot and
proceeded to the volcanic.  While Jim and John 69ed, slavering Jay started
to prepare my ass.  The way he was going at it I thought I must really be
luscious.  I knew Jay of the slamming hammer was about to jam into me, and
although I was tight virgin territory, he had me squirming and man did I
want him to bust my cherry.

'Jay hoisted me up placing the wells behind my knees over his shoulders and
positioning himself above, he slid into my shit chute as I exhaled in
ecstatic relief.  Jay fucked me in majestic self-control for fifteen to
twenty minutes.  I caught sight of Jim and John turned from their mutual
cock gorging to ogle the master and his slave.  As Jay started to groan in
pre-orgasmic frenzy, they joined him with Jim stuffing his dong down my
throat to mouth-fuck me and Jim eagerly swallowing my cock while jacking
himself.  That was my first time and the first triple wing-wang committed on
my body.  We all exploded at once, rocking, bolting and shooting buckets of
hot, pent-up 50s all-American-boy gizz.  We were pretty sloppy when it was
all over, and the bed was a mess.

'The four of us took a hot shower, crowding into the stall together like it
was a telephone booth and we were out to set a Guinness record.  The water
could hardly get around us.  Afterwards, we didn't towel off; we licked one
another dry.  Try it some time.  We were pretty well spent and flopped into
bed, the four of us cozy together.  During the night, sleeping and waking,
as Morpheus moved us or the jouncing squeaky springs woke us, we traded off.
  Everyone got to fuck everyone else at one time or another.

The next morning, back in our suits and uniforms, we went for breakfast
together, powerfully hungry.  Everyone ordered two breakfasts.  I hated to
say good-bye, but I thought 'This is only October, and I have four years of
college left.  Oh, boy!'

'So that was my first time, not really to be equaled until I got out on my
own.  Many of you know what I mean; I love every one of you in my lusty,
perverted way.  But I owe it all to Jay, Dr. Jamison Jones.  Thanks a lot
Jay; you may want to take a bow.  If I'm the father of this fucking bunch,
you're the godfather.'

The gang burst into applause, some startled that they had not figured who
Jay was and that he was in their midst.  Dr. Jones, a beaming cross between
Harry Belafonte and Rosano Brazzi, stood and waved.  In his floral shirt and
hot pink French thong, his basket bulging, he was still a turn-on, and I
wondered then at the offers he would have that night.

'Let the party continue!' Geo called, and the Committee of Studs rose as a
body grabbed Glenn and bore him to the end of the dock.  They stripped his
robe and wreath, threw him in the lake, and shucking whatever little they
wore, dove in after.  At least half an hour of cavorting followed, the guys
nipping at Glenn's erogenous zones from underwater like a school of inflamed
guppies.

Meanwhile others mobbed the new deck become a dance floor or the hot tub.
I'd never been in a gay bathhouse or at a designated gay beach, but I
assumed the birthday party scene was as close to that as possible.  About
half the gang wore little, the other half nothing.  I don't know where Geo
got the tunes but they ran from 'Bad to the Bone,' 'Born to be Wild,' and
Blondie's 'One Way or Another,' to Aretha's 'Think,' 'Higher Ground,' and
'Funkytown.'  Those who wanted to bump and grind one another sure had the
soundtrack for it.  I never before or since in my life saw so much bouncing
anatomy.

Geo didn't dance, but I did straddle his lap for a while and made out
publicly with him something he definitely enjoyed.  Being a dance freak
myself, I had to eventually get up and give a go.  What started as a solo,
turned into a hot pas de deux when Jamison of all people danced opposite me.
  He had such moves that for a while I thought I was going to cream in my
jock, which was all I was wearing at the time.  I looked for Geo's reaction,
and he was jiving to the music and to the loosed libidos discoing in front
of him, and that included me.  He nodded, winked and gave me the okay sign
with his closed fingers.

For a while I was so self-absorbed fixed on Dr. J, who could have gone pro
as a class stripper, that I didn't connect the group had come in from the
lake until the floor was a lot more crowded with extra naked bodies.  I
looked for Kirk and he and A.J. were pogoing together.  All this went on for
some time with people on an off the floor, stuffing the hot tub, cooling in
the lake, heading for the bushes or finding something with more cushion
elsewhere.  Ben and Gregor were not to be seen, doubtless somewhere screwing
one another blind.  After midnight, Geo called, 'You know what this means,'
and the sound system played Donna Summer's 'Last Dance.'  People protested
with groans, but everyone joined in, those that couldn't get on the floor,
boogied in the grass.

Nakedness now prevailed.  Jamison motioned an offer to slide down his bit of
modesty and that I do the same, but I shook my head no.  I did want to rip
off my jock; both our dong covers were soaked with pre-cum sap, but I didn't
want to give Jamison the wrong idea in deference to Geo.  Geo stood and
slipped out of his jock, the red and gold tie-dyed one Kirk had given him at
Xmas two years before, now become his preferred tattered style that every
day use and a hundred washings necessarily produced.  With his thick dark
lusciously thick cock and thatched balls jingling, he bounced in place.  I
left Jamison and went to join him, getting nekid on the way.  I noticed even
Kirk and A.J. were down to their skin.

A.J. showed an elegantly slender cock arching between his thighs, the
foreskin pulling back from the head, topped with the slightest black bush,
the balls fully rounded and smooth.  I was astounded what a big boy Kirk had
become, only sixteen, but equal to his father in Ben's cock size, a red
brush spreading up the sternum pathway and starting to field on his chest.
It must be all those vitamins.

Everyone held close and clinging at the end, despite the tempo of the music,
swaying together, hugging and hot to frott, trying to get closer than
physically possible.  As far as I could tell everyone had a partner, or two
or three.  At least four guys determined to have their way with Glenn.  If
someone wasn't paired up it was their own damn fault.  I caught sight of
three 3-ways already going at in the hot tub.  That would be a cleanup job.

'Good night, all,' Geo called.  'Stay for breakfast.'  So we drifted our
various ways, hand in hand.  Geo was insatiable that night.  I had to fuck
him three times before the sun came up; he got up to cook, but let me sleep
to noon.

When I came to lunch, the crowd had cleared.  Glenn, already asleep in the
passenger seat of Ben's pickup when they left for home, was long departed.
Kirk was staying for the time being, and would drive Glenn's car back later.
  Geo handed me coffee with a little brandy in it.  'Kirk has to talk,' he
whispered.  I looked at Kirk, who seemed his old teenage self, as he came to
the table from outside cleanup work.  Geo produced a small hamper.  'I've
packed a picnic for you two.  You go out and sit on the edge of the dock.'
That's where we parked and had our lunch.

'I slept with A.J. last night,' Kirk said, launching right into it.  'I
think I knew what I was doing, but I'm not gay.'

'Okay,' I said, already kicking myself that I should have been more
attentive to him.  I wondered if consenting sex between a 16 and 20 year old
was legal.  Lost for words, I said, 'You want to talk about it, I'll
listen.'

'A.J. and I just drifted together, you know.  I liked him right away; it
just all seemed natural.'

He paused, and I asked, 'Something bothering you?'

'Well, Lance, if it had been the day before, I would have said, 'no way.'
But when we danced, and kept getting closer, and he took my hand, I couldn't
say no.  He'd become my friend, and I didn't want to disappoint him.  And I
kind of wanted to know what it was like.  I trusted him already, and I liked
his looks; I even liked his cock.'

Lance heaved a sigh.  'I thought I knew where this was going.'

'So what are you wondering?'  I tried to sound helpful, not investigative.

'When I say, I'm not gay, I suppose I mean I'm not gay like you and Dad.  I
don't want to fuck every good looking guy I see the way Dad does; I don't
want a steady fuck-buddy the way you do.'

'I'm following you.  So, what is next?'  Do not prod, I said to myself.

'So, can I like the things I did with A.J., all those gay-things, and not be
gay?'

'It's not bad being gay,' I protested, suddenly defensive.

'Good-bad is horse hockey; I'm not saying that.  I'm saying being gay is not
what I want.'

'Okay,' I recovered.  'Let's go back to square one.  You fooled around with
boys before you ever came to live with Ben and me.  You said that; that
wasn't just bravado?'

Kirk grinned.  'Well jerking a couple times with Timsey at the movies or
with Paulley in the woods hardly constitutes being queer.  Those guys came
on to me; we only did it reaching inside one another's pants for God's sake.
  I already knew guys did this, just for fun.  It was okay, just fooling
around.'

I nodded as affirmatively as I could.  'Then let's use the word intimate
instead of sex.  You had intimate contact with these other boys, and it felt
good; you thought it was fun.  Now, you're a few years older and you share
other intimacies with another guy; you like him, you appreciate one
another's bodies, you feel stimulated, and you want to join your flesh for
mutual pleasure.  That happens, too.  It happens in some cultures more than
others.  Just because you fucked once with A.J. doesn't mean your gay;
doesn't mean he's gay.'

'Lance, understand me, we didn't fuck.  Okay?'

I coughed, wishing I had a cigarette, and wondered what this was all about,
so I said,
'Then, what did you do?'

'Jesus, Lance.'  And for the first time I saw him blush.

'Come on, Kirk, nothing you did is going to shock me.  I'm not into all the
kink in the world, but I'm sure accepting of anything you've done.'

'Holy Mother of God, Lance; you can yawn all you want, but it's new to me.'

'I'm not yawning; in fact I'm all ears, and I won't judge you.'  Striking a
communication balance was hard stuff.

'Okay,' Kirk said.  'At the end of last evening, I had the definite hots for
A.J.  Why not?  He got a rise out of me, and I got a rise out of him.  When
we nestled together during 'Last Dance,' I knew we were going to spend the
night together.  He took my hand, and we meandered towards my cabin.  Dr.
Jamison and some guy met up with us, and when A.J. said he was staying the
night with me, Jamison said, 'Good, I'll come back for you in the morning,'
and headed for his Caddy.

'Then the only problem I had was kicking Dad and Gregor out of my bed; they
were entwined but asleep.  That was a mood breaker: A.J. and I just looked
at one another, feeling foolish till they parted.  Dad must have been in a
fog because he didn't even seem to notice A.J.; we'd put our shorts back on
by that time.  They left.  I locked the world out, and we mounted to my bed.
  A.J. lit a candle, and in its flicker we undressed, kissed, and caressed
one another.

'I'd never frenched a guy before.  "Have you...," I asked A.J.'

'They don't call where I come from the Big Apple for nothing,' he said.

'Sprawled in bed, our bodies sort of crossed over one another.  The air had
cooled, but our skin was warm.  I felt really mellow, peaceful and relaxed.
We talked softly, and stroked one another's shoulders, arms, chest and
thighs from time to time.  We seemed to be getting acquainted more than
anything else - our life as kids, our families, our schools, our friends,
our ambitions.  When A.J. felt around my ass and I moved so that he could
stick his cock inside me, I thought it was the most wonderful thing in the
world.

'I don't think he went in very far, and he didn't hump me except to swivel
his hips from time to time to keep himself hard and in me.  We talked and
deep kissed, our fingers intertwined.  And so we fell asleep.  We slept
until his uncle came to get him, banging on the cabin door.'

'Beautiful,' I said.  'What a great experience!  I trust you enjoyed it.'
Kirk grimaced.

'Everything but the parting.  Dr. J was anxious to go, and A.J. and I never
had a decent farewell.  Suddenly he was gone, and I realized I'd never see
him again.  So this is the gay life, I thought.  Hit and run; here today,
gone tomorrow.'

I frowned. 'Hit and run, you say; well I suppose there is a lot of that.
But you and Aeson seemed more bonded that run over.  You don't know right
now how the contact will continue.'

'For crying out loud; it was my raging hormones.  What in the world chance
does a high school punk like me in Middleburg U.S.A. have with a
twenty-year-old New Yorker.  We can't date, for Chris'sake.  How would I
introduce him?  'Hey, everyone, this is my boyfriend, Aeson; he's a
dancer.''

I took a deep breath.  Where was that cigarette?  'Kirk, what is bothering
you?  Is it that you were physically and psychologically intimate with
another guy?  Or is it that you want to be romantic about it and you doubt
that you can be?  Was it the same-sex aspect or was it the attraction?'

Kirk squirmed and pursed his lips.  'Lance, I'd say fuck you, Lance, but you
might take it the wrong way.  But fuck you anyway!  I thought you'd make me
feel better, that you'd get me over this funk I'm in.'

'Okay, fuck you, too.  You can stew about this till you starve, or you can
decide what you're going to do about it.  You can let go, or you can pursue
it.  Either way, some kind of decision is the path to feeling better.  You
need time.  That's what it boils down to.  Time and choices about how you
see and accept yourself.'

Kirk was silent for a long time.  Then he said, 'Two years of high school
left.  I guess I'm getting myself a girlfriend.'

So much for trying to be helpful.  I sure didn't handle that very well.
This business of being a father figure was no easy or automatic thing.  No
wonder Ben rebelled from it.

>From time to time, Geo talked up going to the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally.
He'd gone a few times in the late 60s and early 70s when he was only in his
fifties.  Now he was into his seventies, and he didn't ride anymore.  I had
his last Harley since the one Ben gave to me, he took back for Glenn, though
Glenn didn't ride either and Kirk had appropriated it.  Fine with me.  But
Geo, talked fondly of the wild times back then and was strangely nostalgic
for them, however hetero and dangerous they must have been.

Glenn, Ben, and I patronizingly went along with him.  Maybe we would all go
to the 50th anniversary rally in 1990.  Kirk would be graduated from high
school then, and it could be a coming of age celebration for him.  We'd all
be macho macho men together.

In September 1988, Kirk entered his junior year in high school.  His year at
the Dominican prep school in the Baja put him in good stead for all his
academic subjects just as Geo predicted it would.  Kirk tested out of second
year Spanish, went right into third year, and signed up for a heavy
pre-college load.  He was back in band on percussion, made jazz band, and
went out for soccer, cross-country and relay, wrestling in the winter
besides storytelling and one-act play.  Also he worked weekdays for a couple
hours after school at the public library, mostly shelving books, and
Saturdays at a video rental.  In his spare time, he repaired bicycles.

The great Zeus knows how he got it all done.  None of this stopped him from
making a lot of friends and on top of it, he got very good grades.  It was
amazing that scholastically he'd advanced seven years in two.  There is no
substitute for proper foundations, making up your mind to a challenge and
trying as hard as you could.

Also, he seemed to be over his first time in the sack with Aeson and
unbothered about his sexuality, whatever it was.  True to his word, he
pursued getting a girl friend.  First he dated Melissa, called Lisa, the
cousin of his regular friend, Nick.  They were a couple for a few months.
Then he doubled with Nick and Nick's steady's friend, Alison, known as Ali.
Ali was the youngest of three daughters of a prominent physician and very
social and sure of herself.

Kirk did his homework with such earnest routine that he was always on top of
things and managed a lot of time for reading what interested him.  Geo kept
him supplied with classic Latin authors throughout the fall and winter,
given in small pieces-mostly Virgil, Ovid, Horace, Juvenal.  At Christmas,
Geo gave him the Aeneid and the Metamorphoses for his birthday in February.

After Geo and I went to San Felipe in early November, Kirk wrote us weekly.
He talked about a lot of older stuff-Stranger in a Strange Land, The Left
Hand of Darkness and The Dispossed-or really old stuff like The Enchiridion
of Epictetus, Locke On Human Understanding, or The Autobiography of Benjamin
Franklin.  Then he fell under the spell of Thus Spake Zararthustra, and like
most bright teenagers who discover that old crazy radical, Nietzsche, was a
goner for him.

Kirk seemed suspicious of current books that hadn't proven themselves by
lasting over time, but he did read Lukas' Common Ground, Terkel's The Good
War, Kidder's House, Lopez's Arctic Dreams, Dinesen's Out of Africa, thanks
to the movie, reissued with Shadows in the Grass, Woodward's Veil, Rhodes'
The Making of the Atomic Bomb, and Shilts' And the Band Played On. He didn't
seem much interested in current fiction except science fiction, but he did
read Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale; Jhabvala, Out of India; and Stegner,
Crossing to Safety.  I credited all this to what Kirk was finding while
handling hundreds of books a week in the library and picking from them the
crème de la crème.

I tied to read some of the things that Kirk was reading, but could not keep
up.  Geo said, impressed, 'Perhaps there is hope for the world,' and had me
take him to San Diego so he could hunt up what the old Dok called 'decent
translations' of Nietzsche.  Mostly, though, that winter I was busy on my
second lite porn, gay novel, The Youth Finder, a case of professor bear and
post-pubescent cub meet time travel.

Ben came down for his usual winter layover, Thanksgiving to Valentines Day;
and this time he brought that hunk of all hunks, Gregor Masalkis, with him.
Geo and I didn't know that Gregor was along for the ride till they showed
up.  But it was all right; thanks to his buddy being along, Ben would be off
my backside.  At least that had been our experience; you never knew when Ben
would take a turn, that horny toad bastard.  Gregor, though I'd had an
head-to-toe eye full of in the summer, I never really got to know before; he
and Ben were off most of the time making the beast with two backs.  Now in
our slower-paced world, Gregor showed his inner self.

Gregor was the dominant one in the relationship with Ben, younger and more
energetic than him, and very thoughtful and polite.  I admired how courteous
he was to Geo, and how he took on odd jobs.  He wired the place for electric
lights off of Geo's generator, something Geo hadn't done in the forty or so
years he'd occupied the place.  He inspected the tiled roof, replaced the
cracked and broken ones, cleared the gutters and washed the windows.  He
tightened up the plumbing and even had the septic tank pumped out and
rejuvenated.  He needed to be busy, and I suppose he could fuck with Ben all
the time except that with Gregor's staying power, even Ben needed a breather
now and then.  When he ran out of everything else to do, he helped Iago and
me in the garden.  We really got to know one another.

Ben had towed down his and Glenn's (Kirk's) Harleys, and the three of us
went for rides a few times.  We went one long weekend down the Sur Baja,
staying one night in Rosarito on the way down and one in La Paz, and another
in Rosarito on the way back.  I'd finished my novel, and Geo suggested the
trip as my reward for work well done.  He approved the manuscript and sent
it off.  Geo said he needed to stay at home and finish some articles where
the deadline loomed.

La Paz for all its remoteness was quite the largest place I'd ever been
outside of my other travels abroad.  I was astounded at the number of
retired geezers living there on what I suppose was once the cheap.  There
was a lot to look at, but I preferred the small places.  I stayed in a room
separate from Ben and Gregor; that had always been part of the deal.  But on
the way back, after lights out, a knock on my door called me out of bed.  It
was midnight, I slept nude, and opened the door a crack.  And there was
Gregor in his boxers and flip-flops.  'Ben has the flu, and I'm bunking with
you,' he announced.  'I won't get any sleep otherwise.'

'I'm not sure this is a good idea,' I said.  He laughed and smiled, a really
gorgeous smile.

'Look, Lance, I'm not going to rape you.'

'That's not what I'm afraid of, Gregor.  My experience is that gay proximity
leads to gay proclivity.'

He moved in towards me, pushing the door more open.  'Let me in, Lance, I
don't want to stand out in the hall in my underwear arguing with a guy in
his what?  B-d suit?'  He pushed more.  'Let me in for the ever loving
sake!'  And he was in, or standing in the open door way looking me up and
down.  'My, oh, mighty.'  He whistled.  'Are you needing to piss, or are you
just glad to see me?'

'Don't tell me you've never seen a nocturnal erection before?'  But the
sight of him pushed me, witlessly, over the edge.  'Oh, what the fuck!  I
give up.  Come in before a crowd gathers.'  And I pulled him the rest of the
way into the room.

No doubt I found Gregor attractive, always had.  Whatever my commitments,
burly, hairy and smiling, bright-eyed guys always proved to be just my type.
  Seldom did I every hook up with any of them, but I gazed as long as I
could.  Only, Gregor was younger than my usual chap, considering I went for
older guys, and he was around 30.  I was going to be 39 in another couple
months.  Well, by my hardening cock , he knew the game, score, and likely
outcome.

He dropped his drawers, kicked himself barefoot and advanced to me, holding
out his hand.  'Excuse me, your name is...'

'Just call me Lance,' I said.

Man could he kiss!  No sooner was he parting my lips, but his whole body
engulfed me, one hand massaging the back of my head, his arm pressed against
my back, holding me to his chest, his other hand rounding my butt and
feeling along the inside of the ass crack, one leg behind me holding my
whang against his, and his tongue roving in my mouth, his firm lips
puckering around mine.  I could hardly breath; I didn't want to breathe.  I
wanted him to eat me or I'd eat him.  But, courtesy his forte, he did allow
me to breathe when he reversed positions and in that moment when I'd had a
saving exhalation, he started over with the mirror of his first hold on me.

'How about a cigarette?  Turn out the lights, and we'll step out on the
terrace.'  He'd brought a pack and lighter, and I followed along, taking a
Marlboro from him.  There was little moon; it was warm but with a wavering
breeze.  Public, even partial, nudity is much frowned upon in Mexico, but
our area was quite private, it was dark, and there were no signs of life,
except the two of us with our  too tumescent tools.  We smoked, standing
side by side, randomly stroking one another here and there and kissing
between puffs.

It had been a long time since I'd smoked, and the nicotine was making me a
little dizzy.  Or Gregor was.  He dropped the butt and having regained his
footwear, ground it out.  I dropped mine and he stomped that too.  Then,
still outside, he gave me that one of a kind kiss all over again.

'Shall we do what we need to do out here?' Gregor asked.

'Not tonight,' I said.  'My bed awaits.  That's why you came here isn't it?
You want a bed to sleep in.'

He fished for another cigarette, but didn't light it.  'To tell the truth,
I've had you on my mind for a long time.  Ben says you're a great lay.'

'And we know how choosey Ben is,' I said.  We laughed, and he kissed me
again.  If, I'd gone flaccid, I was back up.

We cuddled in the bed.  Gregor's hands seemed to be everywhere at once; his
whole body was tactile, hard muscled and soothingly warm.  Even his bushy
mustache worked for him, the bristles as stimulating as his lips, tongue and
teeth.  He kissed, sucked and pulled at my nipples and the rings through
them.  I writhed as he worked his way down, wetting my navel, his tongue
sliding the length of my hardon.

'Umm,' he mumbled, starting to suck off the oozing lubricant on my slit and
pushing the foreskin back from the glans with his tongue.  'Man honey,' he
said and began to suck, slowly taking back into his throat my whole shaft to
the pubes and then stuffing my enraged nuts in with it.  He swung his head
around my package, rotating around the genitals and now I had his cockhead
in my face.

I turned to swallow him as he moved to his side and reaching round plied my
ass.  His hand found the spot and he soon had a finger or two inside,
starting to fuck me with his hands as he welcomed my fuck of his mouth.  He
turned on the floodgates of his mouth, and wow did old Tommy Toolhead feel
good.  Gregor sat up and pulled me to him, holding me up as he continued to
finger fuck my ass.  I swung into his mouth, his head bobbing, sucking and
bathing my plunger.  No one had ever given me head like this before, and
however much I wanted more, I felt in a minute or two what was going to
happen.  'I'm going to come,' I gasped.

Gregor nodded his head in eager agreement and, despite his mouth full of my
equipment, managed to get out, 'Uh huh.'

I shot, and he took my hot jizz till it drooled from the corners of his
mouth.  Then he sat me down, and without first noticing the change, I
realized I was riding him cowboy style.  He scooted down a little in the bed
and I with him beginning to do my part, pulsing on his shaft up my ass and
hitting my hot spot.  I bent and licked my cum from his face, neck and
chest, continuing to ride the wave that was cresting in both of us.
Amazingly, I was going to come again.  I began to gallop, and Gregor twisted
and bucked, hefting his hips and mighty tube of a schlong up and into me.
He was groaning, his head jerking from side to side, going mad.  He let out
a cry of intense, agonized relief and bucked his mightiest, bucked and
bucked until he could do no more.  He sighed as though in deep relief,
pleasure and exhaustion.

I got off and we lay side by side, panting for a long time before either of
us could speak or wanted to.  'I didn't know what I'd been missing,' Gregor
said.

'Neither did I,' I had to confess.

'Were you this good with Ben?' he asked.

I shrugged.  'It takes two to tango, you know,' was my complimentary answer.

'How true,' he agreed.  We held hands for a long while until Gregor said,
'Shower?'

'You go first,' I said, 'I'll check the damages.'  He headed for the
bathroom and I pulled the bottom sheet, flipped the mattress pad over and
covered it with the top sheet and blanket.  Then I joined him in the shower
while the hot water lasted.

We pulled on a couple of my oversize t-shirts so they almost covered to meet
the modesty code, and went out to the terrace for a couple cigarettes and a
warm beer.  Again inside, we pulled of the shirts and nestled into bed,
kissing goodnight with light sweet kisses.  'What do we say to Ben in the
morning?' I asked.

'We say I needed a bed, and you took me in.  It really doesn't make any
difference.  You know Ben; whatever we say, he'll be suspicious.  Good
night, Lance.'

'Goodnight, Gregor.'

As far as I could tell, Ben was never sick, and Gregor had come to my room
after Ben had fallen asleep.  Presumably, he'd done him before he came in to
do me.  What a fucker!  Ben was still asleep when Gregor went back to get
dressed, and we all resumed normal behavior.  Except that afterwards I told
Geo what had happened.

'Did you think I wouldn't know?'  Geo smiled.  'Who do you think suggested
you needed a little diversion?'  I was mildly surprised.  Then he said with
his usual philosophical joy, 'We must learn to appreciate all gifts,
especially when we need them.'

'Geo,' I said, 'your are incorrigible; utterly and delightfully
incorrigible.'

'You're not so bad yourself.'