Date: Sat, 06 May 2006 08:05:48 -0500
From: Lance Davids <norskebjorn@hotmail.com>
Subject: Life-of-Lance-8

[Home, Sweet Fucking Home (Late Summer 1990) tells of getting Kirk settled
for his college career, and the consequent round of farewell, reunion, and
greeting, and otherwise recreational rounds among our menagerie.  As with
all the stories in this series, this part is fiction and imagined in its
names and details.]

After our trip to the Sturgis Rally, Marc, Kirk and I returned to Hidden
Lake and enjoyed a couple relaxed days before we prepared to bundle Kirk off
to college.  Mostly we cavorted in the lake, Marc introduced to our freedom
code of minimal dress or clothing optional.  We shared the household chores
and talked things over into the setting sun.  Marc and I occupied Geo's bed
of famed history while Kirk took to his cabin.  I marveled at the privacy
Kirk gave us and at his tranquil acceptance of someone else in my sex life.
What a relief that his attitude contrasted so oppositely from Ben, his
natural father, who was always in a snit over some real or imagined
jealousy.

It took us a couple days to organize the packing.  Kirk had a surprisingly
limited wardrobe and about four dozen books besides his computer, CD player
and radio that fit into my jeep.  To haul the Harley I'd rented and now
purchased for him, we had to buy a trailer.  Marc and I rode our choppers
but traded off with him driving the jeep.  We made the trip in four stages
of about 500 miles each, first to Council Bluffs, Iowa, then Denver, Beaver,
Utah (really!) and finally San Diego.  We stayed in trucker type motels
along the way, more smoky and noisier, but cheaper.


Because we three shared a room, Kirk would say each evening, 'I guess I'll
take a look-see around for a couple hours so you fags can do what you do.'
Once gone, we went at it.  No sooner was Kirk out the door but we stripped,
made out, sucked and/or fucked and generally went wild so that we collapsed
spent and so unconscious that we never heard him come back into the room.
Next morning we'd get in the shower together no matter how tight the stall.
You know us guys always like a tight fit.  I assumed, knowing Kirk for the
horny 18-year old he was, that he jacked himself while we showered.  I
supposed he also whacked off into the breeze whenever on his evening prowls
since he never told of fucking anybody.  He wasn't boastful as to his
exploits, but he was always forthright about his sessions of sexual
discovery.


Marc had arranged for us to stay a few nights with his younger half-brother,
Anton Sjursen, in San Diego.  That's where Marc had stored his personal
effects after his divorce and before he took off for Sturgis.  Anton was the
principal software developer for one of those startup firms, and apparently
paid well.  He lived in a posh neighborhood near the La Jolla campus and his
house looked expensive on the outside.  On the inside only the barest
furnishings of an essential nature occupied the rooms.  'It's an
investment,' he said.  Anton looked like the geeky computer genius he was
reputed to be, a little disheveled and with a constant expression of
puzzlement behind his horn-rimmed glasses.


He was completely nonplussed about three testosterone buzzed bikers moving
in on him and couldn't care less what we did.  He had at least one or two
babes to himself in his room every night, and you could hear them moaning
and screaming at odd hours in orgiastic delight.  I suppose Marc and I made
a little noise, too, since we also did one or the other every night; or
sometimes each other.  Kirk was in an adjoining room where his vigorous
pounding in self-abuse rocked his bed against the wall behind us.  If we
hadn't had one another, that tom-tom of lusty, youthful self-abuse alone
would have turned a guy on.

Finding a place for Kirk to live while in school took a little time.  Thanks
to Geo, he owned too many books back in San Felipe to share a dorm room.
But actually, he wanted his own space; he'd grown up enjoying privacy, and
he coveted solitude for the concentration on heavy study he knew was ahead.
Otherwise he could have rented from Anton.  Places near campus were
expensive and more upscale than he needed.

While Marc and I were out Saturday night cruising the gay clubs in our jeans
and bar vests, we talked to some guys in the Bourbon or Eagle that gave a
lead.  (I can't remember exactly where we were; San Diego has so many hot
spots.)  Some miles off in a converted factory was a 12-plex of efficiency
apartments, owned and operated by two aging queens who lived there.  This
was the place, Kirk decided upon a Sunday visit, and Monday he moved in with
our assistance to a third floor location on the northeast corner.  He
thought it ideal.

I had called Gregor on Sunday to bring up in his pickup the books Kirk had
set aside in his room in San Felipe, and he came at once with it all to the
new location.  I introduced Gregor to Marc and they shook hands before
Gregor gave me one of his power kisses that just about knocked me over.  I
was instantly tumescent and could feel him hard between my legs.  Gregor
broke away and said, 'I brought the furniture I told you about.'  He'd made
a king-size bed frame that he put together, so large it filled the bedroom
in Kirk's apartment so that the matching dresser had to fit outside the room
at the end of the hallway.  He'd also made a desk and desk-chair for Kirk,
and we busied moving the stuff in.

Gregor took Kirk in his pickup to buy a box spring and mattress - his treat
- to fit the bed.  Meanwhile, Marc and I went shopping for household
utensils and canned, fresh or frozen foods to fill the cupboards and
refrigerator.  By evening Kirk was all set up and we left him in possession
of his domain to return to Anton's house.  Kirk's trust fund would pay his
rent directly and send him $200 a month expense money.  I gave him $500 up
front for incidentals.  There was nothing from Ben.

At Anton's, Marc excused himself to go to Kirk's former room, bowing out to
Gregor who was obviously going to jump me any minute.   'Thanks, buddy,'
Gregor said to Marc, 'I hoped you'd understand; it's been four months of
wanking and wishing.'  Marc just smiled and nodded before ducking into the
room next door.  We heard him pull the bed in there away from the wall.

We still had our clothes on, but my cock was pressing hard against the pouch
of my jeans.  It looked like Gregor's rod was on the rise, too.  Quickly we
tore off our shirts, pulled off our boots, and shucked our pants and
underwear.  My heart was pounding like I was some kind of virgin.  Ye, gods,
but Malkis looked good.  'Hot damn,' I said.  I couldn't make out what
Gregor said; he was already on his knees with his gulping head bobbing on my
instant boner.

Yikes, but his Zapata mustache felt good as he roistered in my pubes.  My
fingers raked through his curly locks that ran down his back.  I leaned over
his shoulder and reached for his ass crack.  He stood up, raising my arms
with him and planted his thrusting tongue in my mouth.  I tasted and smelled
the heavy spice of my own penis on his breath as he explored within me, and
my tongue dueled back at him.  He lifted me back into bed and we wrapped
arms and legs around one another turning over from side to side, trying to
become one person in our embrace.

'Lance, I've missed you so much.  So much more than I can say.'  We talked
then quietly between kisses and touches.  Gradually I filled him in about
the complexities of going sexual with Kirk, of befriending and tricking with
Marc, about an indefinite future.  Gregor never balked or frowned, but
nodded and signaled affirmations, continuing to draw close to me.  He'd made
a lot of furniture, but had no permission to sell it in Mexico where he'd be
in competition with local labor.  He was solemn when he told me he might
have to relocate to the U.S. and began to apologize.  I kissed, licked and
tongued him into submission and got him so roused he gave me the fucking of
my life.

At the living end of that fuck, he stood at the edge of the bed with my legs
over his shoulders and my ass up in the air as he gave me what for.  Usually
we come simultaneously, but this time, he shot first, turned me over and
licked out his cum and then blew my raging hardon to kingdom come.  We slept
in one another's arms then, zonked till morning, when he nuzzled me awake
and I ass-fucked him back with equal force and he fucked my face, something
I dearly love.

Much to my surprise, when we went to shower down the hallway, Marc and Kirk
in their ever loving altogether headed out of the bathroom.  'What the
freaking fuck?' I gasped.

'All will be explained, Dad,' Kirk said.  'When you and your buddy boy are
cleaned up, come to breakfast at my place.  Marc and I will cycle over and
be ready for you.'

Mystified, I hurried Gregor along, though I would have enjoyed a leisurely
playtime with him amidst the soaping and washing under the hot spray.

Kirk told that in the middle of the night he had the urge for a farewell
engagement with me and came back to the house.  As he approached the room
where he figured I was with Gregor and or Marc, he had second thoughts about
intruding.  Just then Anton came out of Kirk's former room with Marc, both
in naked and headed for obvious action.

'Come on,' Marc invited, 'Anton wants to share pussy with us.'

'I know you bi-guys like it both ways,' Anton said.

'My bro likes to watch,' Marc said.

Anton had a specialty made bed in his master suite, 'emperor-size,' you
might call it.  Two nude, curvaceous and big-breasted blondes were in high
heat, squirming and running their long red-lacquered fingers from their
mouths and nipples to their cunts and asses.   They reminded Kirk of his
fling with the Munier sisters a couple weeks before.

'Follow me,' Anton said, putting his horn rims aside.  He dove in between
them and alternately licked one clit and the other so that they moaned and
gyrated more than ever.  Marc reached over and grabbed Kirk's whanger as
they stood there.

'Okay?' Marc asked.  Kirk responded in kind and they wanked one another for
a few minutes to get hard.

'Go to,' Anton said, getting out of bed and regaining his glasses to stand
watch.  Marc and Kirk crawled in bed and found the honey buckets wet and
wild.  They slipped into the juicy cunts and turning to one another kissed
and tongued each other as they began to pump pussy.  Their homo action drove
the babes to greater frenzy, bucking their hips to fuck back under them.
Then the guys broke off to suck those big-breasted nipples and feel up the
nubile duo.

'Switch around,' Anton urged, so Marc and Kirk pulled out and change places
to plug the other cunt.

Marc said, 'Mostly, it turned me hotter to think I was in the place Kirk had
been.'

'I felt close to him, too,' Kirk said, 'strange as it may seem.'

Just when Anton thought the guys were close to coming, he'd call a 'switch
back' and they'd obligingly change places.  This went on four our five
times.  While Marc and Kirk continued fucking the blond duo, Anton got back
in bed between the humping couples and shouted, 'Orgy time!.'  The babes
turned to him, reaching out and kissing or tonguing him as best they could.
Anton was running both hands over his cock, now at a considerable length
until he shouted.  'I'm going to come!  I'm going to shoot!'  The blondes
with surprising strength turned their fuckers over and went to minister to
Anton licking his dong and then lapping his gizz as he began to flood
himself with the pearlescent spunk.

Marc and Kirk, not to be left behind, turned 69-ways and completed their
orgasm by sucking one another off.  'In seconds the joy juice drowned the
taste of too much pussy,' Marc said.

'Dad, I know now, why you like this guy,' Kirk grinned, before continuing.
'All of us lay there breathing hard; it sounded like the females had enjoyed
orgasm, too.  When they got cozy on each side of Anton, we left for the
other bedroom and were soon zonked.'

'Interesting,' I said, feeling foolish to have said anything so inane.

'Different, I'd say,' Kirk said.  'Just the same, I doubt I'll do that scene
for awhile.  I've got serious work ahead of me.  But, Dad, I still want a
final farewell with you.'

I gulped, but Kirk was determined.

'Gregor and Marc, would you give us a breather for a couple hours so I can
have my way with dear old Dad.'

'We could do three-way,' Marc said, and looked at Gregor, 'or four-way.'

'Maybe later, Marco, but I'm orgied out, and I need my daddy.'

They left, I went to piss and when I got out of the can, Kirk called me from
his bedroom.  'In here, Dad.'  He was sprawled out nude on the sheets,
having closed the blinds over the east and north windows of this corner
room.  It was cool and restful in the semi-light, and Kirk stretched like a
kitten as fetching as any cub could be.  'Come here,' he said holding his
arms open for me.  I wanted to look at him, not just his wonder rod, but
stamp all of him in my mind, but I hurriedly wriggled out of all my clothes
at once and curled in beside him.  'I love you, Dad; you're the best.'

I said, 'My darling boy, you're the best.'

We fondled, kissed and played, growing more and more aroused and passionate.
  I tingled with first-time excitement.  Kirk swung over me, sat across me
just below the navel and bent to lick me, play with my ring-pierced nipples
and drag his cock and balls across my mid section.  I raised my head and he
eased it up with pillows as I opened wide to take as much of his genitals as
I could.  'Mmm,' I heard myself as he hummed too.

'So good, daddy.  Let your boy fuck your face; please, daddy.'  I nodded in
the affirmative, all the while sucking and laving his prod and testes, too
crammed with him to utter a word beyond 'Unhuh.'  He rode up on me as he
started his slow hump, gradually increasing the grind to probe me back to
the tonsils, epiglottis and deep throat.  My hands coursed his rounded ass
cheeks, beginning to probe at his back door.  'Let me flood you, Dad.  Then
you can fuck me proper.  Pack your thick whanger into me; don't give me any
two-finger substitute.'  He held my head by the long hairs at the back with
his left and reached around behind to my cock with his right, yanking and
pinching me as he banged me faster and more insistently.

Then he came in a rush, riding my head in slamming thrusts, holding me hard
with both hands against his writhing most private parts.  Talk about the
intimacy Kirk always wanted.  His fresh-flavored salty-sweet cum gushed into
me and seeped from the corners of my mouth.  He withdrew when his 'nads had
shot their final spasm, and bent to lick the excess and kiss me.  I let flow
as much as possible of Kirk stuff and Lance saliva into his mouth - a lesson
from Gregor - and Kirk used our mixture to lube my cock still mightily
thrust into the air.  Then he eased himself on my horsey prong, positioning
it to his sphincter and into his butt end. I felt Kirk's chute walls tight
on my tube.  He had a beatific look on his face as he began to ride me and
his ass coursed the length of daddy's delight.

I aided Kirk's buck riding by holding and hoisting him under the armpits.
His own thruster was flopping invitingly as he did his happy dance on me,
and his fuzzy boy nuts caressed my lower abdomen.  I tried to make my lips
lap up his cockhead once more, but I couldn't bend enough to reach him.
Seeing how tantalized I was, Kirk got on his knees that changed the angle of
the fuck in order to put his battering ram back in my maw.  'Fuck me, daddy;
fuck me both ways.  I said you were the best.  Fuck me.  Fuck me!'

I heaved into him and felt myself surging out from my balls, down the
spillway and splatting through my prick slit.  'Hugghhah,' I shouted in as
loud a fashion as his gagging schlong would allow me.  Once again I tasted
my boy's stew as he poured his stuff into my mouth and throat.  While still
coming, Kirk turned and swallowed my wasted pizzle in his mouth.  We lay end
to end for several minutes, caressing and licking one another as clean as we
could.  Then we cuddled head to head, kissing and touching.

Kirk began to cry.  'I know this has to be, this coming of age stuff and
growing up responsible, but I'll miss you.  I'll especially miss you because
I know that even if we get together on the holidays and other special times,
it's the beginning of the end.  I dread the day when I'm an old married man
and you are elsewhere.'

I didn't know what to say.  I held him and kissed away his tears.  He heaved
a deep sigh, curled against me and after awhile slept.  I slept, too, until
Gregor and Marc came back and woke us up, sensitive enough not to come in
but calling.  'We're back.'

We had coffee and apple-honey muffins that Kirk had baked the night before.
While out together, sitting at the beach and smoking, Gregor and Marc had
ironed out their differing problems to mutual advantage.  Gregor would set
up shop in Yuma, just north of Mexicali, and Marc would study for the
Arizona bar exams to practice law in that state.  He wanted to have his own
office and specialized in wills, trusts and estates.  This way, they could
remake their lives as they wished; they'd be only a couple hundred
kilometers from me in San Felipe, and one or both of them would be down
frequently.  I suspected that was not all, but that Gregor and Marc expected
to hit on one another.  How could I blame them!

So we parted.  Gregor and Marc with Marc's baggage and Harley in Gregor's
pickup headed for Yuma where they'd prospect for a place to set up.  Gregor
had a few thousand to get them started and I advanced Marc $10,000 to clear
his debts rather then sell off his bike at a depreciated loss.  I towed my
Harley back to the Baja.  Kirk waved us away from the parking lot.

By the following weekend, Kirk's letter told he was enrolled and his status.
  He'd tested out of three units of Latin and one of Greek, was in more
advanced courses of these languages besides starting German - he figured he
already knew enough Spanish - and would begin his philosophy major parallel
to the one in classics.  He'd also tested out of intro to philosophy, so he
was into formal logic and ethics.  He really didn't need to earn his way
with his full scholarship and trust money, but he got a job in
mid-afternoons and on alternate Saturdays in an independent bookstore.  'I
like keeping up with the new books,' he wrote, 'and I get a 40% discount
over list.'  That's where the extra money would go.

Meanwhile, he was getting to know the neighbors in his building, a range of
ages and occupations, he youngest, the only student and most amateur among
them.  He planned to be down to San Felipe at break time, and for the high
holidays.

Getting back to the house I'd inherited from Geo was really like coming
home, a place that was mine, but different than when I left in the previous
April.  I saw it anew and for the first time mine, altered in fact and from
memory, thanks to the work Gregor had done and my time away to break with
the past.  To begin the entry had a double door, and just inside Aguardo's
commissioned painting greeted all comers with no doubt as to who lived here
and what kind of person.  Titled Dionysus, the painting represented me in
the style of that god.  I'd never owned a camera and had no family or school
pictures, and all the years I lived with Wallace, who was blind, pictures
meant nothing.  But there was the Laaksonen portrait of me that Wallace had
him make of me when we were in Finland.  It was hard to believe that time
was only five years before.  Aguardo used that work and the sketches to show
me, somewhat younger than at present, and if that homo-erotic artist had
been asked to portray this particular bacchanalian divinity in his
attributes as though me.

The Dionysian Lance stood tall, the skin in a glow of blush, with a head of
long feathered blond hair that fell to the shoulders.  Little horns sprouted
from the crown of my head poking through the wreath of oak leaves and
acorns.  A minimal chiton hung from one shoulder, translucent so that chest
hair across massive pectorals showed through as did the nipples, pierced
with rings as big as those used to lead a bullock by the nose.  The
irregular folds of the garment angled across my torso, above the left hip to
hardly reach down a quarter of the right thigh thereby showing heavy
genitals.  A black panther came from the right between the legs, its head
turned to nuzzle there, licking the apple-size balls.  The cock went beyond
Tom of Finland's treatment so that he was nearly to the knees, though uncut
so that it ended in a little nipple of foreskin.

Bronze armor covered the forearms and legs below the knees.  Bare feet trod
the fruitful earth, littered with ripe pomegranates.  The right hand carried
the thyrsus of Dionysus, a long staff wound with grape vines in leaf and
fruit and topped by a pine cone, popping out of its husk like the erect
phallus it was meant to represent.  The left hand held a silver wine chalice
extended in greeting to all visitors.  At the feet to the left as viewed was
the figure of Priapos, Dionysus' son by Aphrodite, who though an infant, had
a perpetually erect penis, almost as large as himself and was about ready to
penetrate the rabbit he toyed with in his arms.

In the distant background two attendant groups carried on their attributed
rituals.  On the left, a score of orgiastic satyrs sported in various stages
of fucking a heard of goats.  On the right, a dancing ring of crazed
Manaed's proceeded to tear apart a sacrificial bull.  Though it was night,
suggested by the full moon bearing the face of Semele, Dionysus' mother, the
picture teamed with luminescence and vivid color.

I declare that I'm not narcissistic, but I couldn't help wishing that
Dionysus would step down from the portrait right then and there and fuck me.
  If so, I'd be fucking myself, like a wrote in my novel, The Youth Finder,
where Professor Alexander time travels back to seduce himself when a high
school graduate.  Had I made my own history repeat that story?

Inside, against the wall that screened the stairs going to the bedrooms
above, was the other work commissioned of Aguardo - three panels depicting
separate feats of Heracles, that hero who became a god.  We didn't know the
model Aguardo had used for the naked Hercules, but in every pose he was
muscular, hairy, in need of a shave, and exceptionally hung.  The three
labors the triptych portrayed from left to right began with the killing of
the Nemean Lion.  Hercules stands above the downed beast, even shaggier than
Hercules, stretching its jaws apart so as to crack open its skull.  His
genitals hang pendulously over the animals gaping maw as though to be bitten
off should Hercules fail and the jaws snap shut.

Though artists usually represent in other pictures Hercules wearing the skin
of the lion he has bested, Aguardo shows Hercules with a choker of lion
claws and claws also piercing his nipples.  In the middle picture, Hercules
wrestles with Antaeus and lifts him from the earth that gives him strength.
With Hercules holding Antaeus out in front of him, he is obviously prepared
to fuck him since his cock is tumescing towards the loser's ass.  The
picture of Hercules and the Cretan Bull mirrors the one with the Nemean Lion
in that Hercules is holding the bull by the horns, his bare heels dug into
the ground and is twisting the bulls neck to break it.  His cock hangs below
the slavering mouth of the bull.

On the seaside of the living and dining rooms, Gregor greatly expanded the
views by installing French doors opening up onto the patio.  And he made new
furniture for the long living room so that two four-passenger couches faced
one another at the center with room behind them for additional chairs, a
game table, and, of course, the bookshelves that had become display spaces
for indigenous art.

I wondered how Marianna and Iago would take to all this emphasis on male
eroticism, but they were as unbothered as ever.  The two stalwart caretakers
carried memories for me of yesteryears, but they, too, acted as though with
a new lease on life.  Gregor had fixed so many things from the water supply
to the steady hum of electricity that life was easier for both of them.  She
had an electric vacuum cleaner for the first time and a microwave she though
magical, besides a toaster and broiler.  And the fuses didn't blow out.
Gregor had also installed an automatic watering system that appreciably cut
down on the care of the garden.  The house's two old-faithful retainers now
had no sense of retiring.  They were already half retired the way it was
thanks to 'Senor G.'

I puttered for a few days before realizing how absolutely at loose ends I
was.  I did a little reading and rode my Harley out a ways in the evenings.
Then I began to think about and fantasize over a black leather gay vampire
and what it would mean if he was in love with the men from whom he sucked
blood.  I started making notes and spinning plot lines.  By the end of the
week I was into chapter one when Gregor and Marc called that they were on
their way.  Just then by happenstance, Hans Grudner dropped in; he'd heard
from Glenn that I'd just returned and so he thought he'd stop by to welcome
me back.

After complimenting the house, he said, 'Perhaps, you'd like to come over to
my place.'

'Hans, come to dinner yourself.  Two of my buddies are expected for the
weekend, and you'd be most welcome to eat with us.'  Hans was not my
favorite acquaintance, and he'd never really been friendly though we'd
missed hooking up the previous October at Hal's Guy Fawkes event.  But I
really didn't feel like facing the Yuma twosome right now and all alone.

'José Aguardo's with me right now and his nino, not a boy really but his
"cub," I think you say it.'

'Okay, bring them, too.  The more the merrier.'  His bearded face lighted up
at that in the biggest grin.  'Bring beer,' I suggested.

'Ja, voll!'  And he was off.

When Gregor and Marc arrived we were in the throes of getting ready for a
party on the back veranda and pool area.  'Stow your stuff upstairs.'  I
left it to them what rooms they'd take.  'It turns out Hans and some guests
are coming over.  I owe them for last Christmas.  Gregor, José will be one
of them; he has a friend.'

'Six of us,' Marc said; 'how convenient.'  Gregor and Marc looked at one
another, shrugged, and said in tandem, 'Later.'  They bustled to settle
their stuff and quickly joined in the preparations.

Everyone arrived dressed in a very relaxed fashion - short shorts or
cutoffs, unbuttoned opened shirts or cropped tanks in the cases of José and
Eduardo, whom I'm sure I recognized as the model for winged Mercury that was
in my bedroom.  We had a few beers and smoked cigarettes or Hans puffed on a
cigar while the natives, thanks to my backyard seclusion, shed their threads
and swam naked in the pool.  José was powerfully built, a self-portrait
model for Vulcan in the guestroom, though trimly tapered in the waist, and
Eduardo excelled him only in the majesty of his genitalia - bull balls and
arching butt-buster out of exaggerated erotica pics.

Hans liked seeing their display of Latino flesh and hoisted his own balls
into place from time to time with his hand inside his shorts; otherwise he
teased his big ring-pierced nipples in the midst of his thickly hirsute
chest.  He was certainly of greater girth than any of the rest of us, but
not so chubby as to lose my interest in this very bearish guy, whether he
recognized that in himself or not.

We ate stew, bread, cranberry-rhubarb chutney and brandy-apple compote as
sides and flan for desert with coffee and more brandy.  People started to
take out their cigarettes, but Hans passed a silver case of cigarillos
around.  Very aromatic they were and tasted of sweet liqueur, Benedictine
maybe.  We'd conversed in English for the benefit of all, but Eduardo had
along his guitar and favored us in his mellow tenor with three wonderful
Spanish ballads, one of his own composition, and a more classical piece by
Albanez.

Gregor put some slow dance music on the sound system, and the pairing off
began in earnest.  José offered his hand to Gregor and Eduardo wanted
Marcus.  That arrangement made Hans and me the leftovers.  'Give me another
cigar,' I said.  We smoked awhile in silence.

'Lance, I'm sorry we haven't really gotten together before.  We only live a
kilometer apart.'

'Yes,' I answered evenly; 'why is that?'

'Probably my laziness; though, I did go to Munich to see my old mother for
the holidays.  I was gone six weeks.  You ever been to Munich?'

'Zurich, I guess would be the closest,' I said.

'Ah, Zurich; very nice too.  Munich, you would enjoy.  It has everything
from high culture to indigenous crafts and food to the most outrageous of
gay sexuality.  I'd love to show it to you.'

'Really.  That's quite an offer.'

'To tell the truth, Lance, I've wanted you since the Guy Fawkes party at
Hal's last fall.  I wanted to hook up with you that night.  As it was I
don't remember who among the group I had, my thoughts were so full of you.'

'But now, here you are,' I said tonelessly, the irony lost on him.  I leaned
towards him and blew smoke in his face.

'Now, here I am,' Hans said.  'Shall we dance?'

'Sure.  And later you can come to my room.'  Obviously, he wanted to jump
me, and I still wasn't sure how I could relate to Gregor and Marcus with my
mind so often on Kirk.

We joined in the mating ritual as the CD player went through its program.
The others were changing off, but we two continued to sway around solidly
together.  Then, though it was not a big pool, we all got in.  Hans, who had
been groping my buttocks while we danced took the new opportunity to blow me
under water.

Gregor paddled over to me and said, 'Lance, you better excuse yourself
before this gets any more disgraceful.  We'll talk in the morning.'

'Okay,' I said and raised the head of the drooling, grinning putzmeister.

'Guten nacht,' Hans said to all.  I just waved as we left our clothes behind
and padded from the pool into the house and upstairs.  Hans flopped back in
the bed, raising his hands to lace fingers behind his baldhead.  I noted he
still had his watch on, that and barbelled rings through his nipples.  I
thought of Geo then and his palanged glans.  I decided to ignore the fold of
flesh across Hans' middle and just crawled in between his legs and started
to lave saliva on his tubesteak.  Quite a schlotsky it was, thick as mine
and up to the ten inches of yours truly.

'Mein Gott,' he exhaled and put his hands on my back, starting to massage my
shoulders and neck as I twisted my suck on his Mannheit.

I could tell Hans enjoyed my worship of his primary asset.  He had his hands
in my hair, coursing my head and keeping me from leaving him.  He was
started to moan and hump himself into me.  But I guess he knew better of the
deal and all of a sudden turned me over and was doing me as I had been
attending to him.  You never know first time with a guy just what you are
getting into, or maybe anytime.

With Hans it was no holds barred for he was soon up to my pubes and pulling
on my whole length while twisting at my balls with one hand and poking at my
ass pucker with the other.  'Do we toss for which of us fucks the other
first?' Hans asked.

'I have a better idea,' I said, going to a the bureau and taking out an old
double-headed dildo of Geo's and some high-grade lube.  Hans eyed the foot
and a half rubber dildo, certainly as thick and round as we were in
actuality.  He grinned as per usual, knowing that he had not come back from
the fist fucks of Munich leather bars for nothing.

'Bring it on,' he said.

I rimmed him, just for fun, and started inserting globs of lube up his
innards.  So he did the same for me.  We creamed the device and inserted the
pseudo cockheads into each of our assholes, scooting together in the middle
of the bed.  We had our right legs over the left of the other guy and
started gyrating our butts clashing together.  With our left hands, we held
Dumbo's dildo between us, and with our rights we stroked one another's hefty
cocks.  Glory be, manipulative old Hans was starting to look good to me.
This was turning into great fun.

In good sex, the best comes when you have the temper of the other guy and
feel you can control his cum as he controls yours.  This is the true
mutualism and joy of gay sex, of not using the other guy, but of total
sharing in the most generous and loving sense.  I had let Hans think he was
seducing me because I felt alienated and had to be really treacherous to
myself and others to break away from Kirk, whom I now realized I had come to
love in the fullest of gay ways, and must of necessity accept my loss.

I didn't know how I stood with the Yuma twosome; I could not imagine what
that relationship might be, and I didn't want to face it because it put the
cap on my lost love for Kirk.  I was a fully acknowledged homo of long
standing, yet I wanted to live as a born again Bible-belt het, that is,
monogamously.  Though that desire in me, even when actual, had never been
possible for the length of life I wanted.

Hans' eyes were starting to roll back in his head.  He was quivering and his
ass was really humping.  I had all I could do to stop the monster phallus
between us from being forced up to the danger zone within me.  Hans reached
for more lube and his coated hand slipped deliciously on my joystick.  I
favored him with the same treatment and he was starting to stammer, in
German, of course.  I thought I needed Kirk here to translate for me but
suppressed that.  The buzz was in me and I began to feel that deep down in
my gonads the juice was beginning to boil over.  Krakatowa, here we come.

Hot spunk erupted from both our dickheads, great clots of spermy jetsam,
that sticky, silvery gunk that in the sex act glues two or more gay guys
together.  Cum.  Come on, cum.  We convulsed and thrashed our bodies
involuntarily in honor and commemoration of the god that hovered on the wall
above us, winged Mercury, der Merkur, Mercure, Mercurio, the fleet-footed
messenger.  As cunning in eloquence as inventive in music, trickster and
prankster, Hermes, by his Greek name, brings lovers together.  He is
ultimately the god of lucky finds, of flocks and shepherds, and the guide of
wayfarers in this world.  'Mein Gott,' Hans said as he had at the beginning
of our fuck.  Now thank we all, our God, I thought.

The dildo cast on the floor, we were overwhelmed with gemutlichkeit and
nestled together cupping one another's balls and smearing the love juice
over our abdomens, thighs, and lats.  'I never want to leave this place,'
Hans said.  'I never knew what I was missing without you.'  Oh my God, I
thought, what now?

Marc found me early next morning as I sipped coffee on the front porch,
catching the first sun's rays.  I'd pulled on a jock strap, taken laps in
the pool, and was huddling now over my java, an oversize sweatshirt
shielding me.  'Gregor and I love you,' he said, 'we want you to know that.'

'Thank you; that's good to hear.  I think I want to and can love you, too.'

'We want what you want, first and foremost.'

'I want us all to be happy and to find a way to keep that happiness.'

'Gregor and I have had sex together.'

'Of course, you have; why would I think otherwise?'

'We think we can share fully with one another, the three of us.  What do you
think?'

'I think we should try to be both committed and free, a gay ideal we should
make possible.'

'And what about Kirk?' Marc asked.

'Kirk will come and go, whether for a long time or not.  And then he'll just
go.'  I could say no more and cried while Marc rocked me in his arms.

Marc led me to the guestroom where he and Gregor had parked, and the three
of us nestled together below the portrait of the mighty smithy, Vulcan, not
so ugly as in the myths, but burly and bulging beneath his leather apron.
Gregor and Marc did their best to sooth me with kisses and caressing
strokes, and I reconciled myself to how understanding we all were of one
another.

They'd found a building a few blocks off from other prosperous business
streets, a bit run down itself, but for sweat equity, and a two thousand
deposit they got a five-year lease.  Gregor was already remodeling it for an
law office up front, a workshop in back and apartment above.  'We want you
to see it as soon as you can,' Gregor said, ever the energetic and excited
carpenter.  Marc spent his days studying for the bar in the county law
library.

When I'd gained calm that we were all okay and had good things to do, I left
to deal with Hans, an obvious late sleeper.  He was prowling the house nude
looking for me.  'Lance,' he said on first sight, 'you disappeared; I
thought we'd have another go at it.'

'I'm an early riser, Hans.  Besides, I had to get squared away with my
buddies.'

'Buddies?'

'Gregor and Marc; we're a trio.'  Hans grinned recognizing and liking the
kinkiness of it.

'Three-way, four-way, no matter.  I thought we had a thing going.'

'I'm grateful to you for last night.  Still, I've got a lot going on in my
life.'

'I hope then, that we'll have other times together.'  Once started, Hans
seemed never to give up.

'I expect so as long as you can show me that you are safe and healthy.'

Hans grinned again.  'Then I live in hope,' he said.

I offered him a shower or a swim, and he chose the pool as long as I would
do laps with him.  By the time we'd done half an hour's worth, Gregor and
Marc set up breakfast on the patio and brought towels so Hans and I wouldn't
scrape our buttocks on the benches.  Hans had gained aplomb and conversed
sociably with the guys.  He talked up going to Munich again, and asked me
once more to come with him.

'I expect Kirk home for every holiday,' I said.

'Kirk?'  Hans was mystified.

'You must have seen him around over the years.  He's 18 now and at
university in La Jolla.'

'But, who is he?'

I looked Hans straight in the eye and said, 'My son.'

Hans lost his perpetual grin as his mouth fell open.

'Lance helped raise him,' Gregor filled in.  'His biological father is Ben
Clarke, you might remember, a guy not as attentive to the boy as Lance is.
Take that for a fact.'

Well, thanks, Gregor, I thought.

I thought it best to escort Hans on his way out.  Up in my room before he
got his shorts and shirt on, he embraced me, kissed me deeply and we rubbed
our cocks together.  Man-loving queer that I am, I almost went overboard in
30 seconds from frott to fuck with him, but managed to restrain myself.  He
said he would check with Hal if there would be a repeat on the Guy Fawkes
gathering, made a date with me for the following Wednesday, and urged that I
think about a time to make the Munich trip.  I agreed, and he left for home,
down the road, finally out of my hair, so to speak.

The rest of the weekend was moderately quiet.  Gregor gave Marc a top to
bottom tour of the house and grounds, and when I told them I was working on
a new novel, they made up a picnic, took the jeep and toured around San
Felipe and the hills.  With those two back late afternoon, we swam nude, had
happy hour, and grilled steaks.  As evening wore on, we retreated inside to
lounge in the living room the three of us on one of the couches and
naturally moved into fooling around.

'I guess we're ready for our first three-way,' Gregor said.

'Amen to that,' chimed Marc.  And we climbed the stairs to the biggest bed
in Geo's old room, now mine.

I thought of the threesomes in my life.  When a teenager, Gordo, whom I
dearly loved, fucked me while Glenn, who'd introduced both of us to the
life, fucked him.  A couple years later, Gordo and I simultaneously fucked
Glenn, the birthday boy, when he stood all comers.  After Wallace died, Ben
and I frequently shared Geo's bed with him, my most pleasant memories.  Then
the previous fall, I mouth fucked the Amharic Ronald (great head!) while his
partner, Kenneth, fucked him up the ass.  Now I was about to have my first
three-way with two guys I felt I really knew and especially liked, thanks to
all our history of some meaningful duration.

Gregor and Marc were especially good to me between them.  We kissed and felt
one another languorously for a long time and the guys licked my thunder
stick together, trying to kiss one another around its thickening
circumference.   Alternately, they presented both their super dubers to me
so I could clutch them both and suck them together at one blow.  Then Marc
sucked my aching cock while Gregor rimmed me, starting to tongue fuck me up
the ass.  They repositioned to each take a D-ring and nipple into their
mouths.  I thought I would have cardiac arrest from the wild frenzy in my
body while one hand fingered my mouth, one pumped my jackstick, one
stretched and cupped my balls, and one fingered its way into my shit chute
while they still plied my nipples.

Gregor moved around and swallowed my cock as I gobbled up his.  Marc was
behind me and I felt his considerable poker start to pork me.  At that
moment, I felt I was having an out of body experience, as though I could
look down from above at the three of us sex-crazed studs doing hunky monkey
with one another.  The vision of the intense action I felt all over my body
made the excitement all the more intense.  I didn't know if I was going to
explode into bits or implode in flames.  Few things excited me more than the
feel of Gregor's wiry pubic hair up my nostrils, the bush of his mustache
over my cock and balls and the thick brush of Marc's new beard over his
square chin on the back of my neck.  These outside strokes escalated the
pistoning throb of their awe-inspiring members within me.

We three came together in convulsive bursts that wracked the sturdy bed
Gregor had made.  We shook and shouted our various kowa-bunga cries as we
shot our hot swelling loads, gasping and holding on to one another for dear
life.  'I think I'm ready to die,' I moaned as we clutched and nestled into
a closer harmony.

'You can't die,' Gregor said.  'There's a lot more to come.'

'Welcome home,' Marc said.

'Home, sweet fucking home,' I sighed, drifting into never-never land.