Date: Sat, 12 May 2001 14:04:14 -0400
From: David Buffet <tightserve@hotmail.com>
Subject: Alpha Male- Chapter 38

Chapter 38: Climax

	"Hi," I began, "I'm Mark."
	Adam stared at me.  I think he had expected me to say anything but
that.
	"I just figure we've never actually been formally introduced.  I'm
Mark and you're Adam."
	"Nice to meet you," he said, dubiously.
	"Nice to meet you, too," I echoed.  "You're Adam, and you're a
remarkably good person."
	He laughed.
	"Took you three weeks to figure that out?"
	"Yes, actually, it did," I answered soberly.  "That was one of the
harder things for me to understand."  Adam was looking more interested in
what I was saying.  I think he was reacting to the seriousness of my tone
more than my words.  "I had something of a breakthrough in the research.  I
think I understand what's going on now.  In fact, I'm pretty sure of it."
	"Yeah?"  He answered with curiosity, but not, to my surprise,
enthusiasm.  "Okay, champ," he said, "tell me about myself."
	"Well, let's see.  I have a bunch of guesses I can make, but I
think they're pretty sound ones."
	"Shoot."
	"You're an only child, or the youngest.  Probably an only, though."
	"True," he said.
	"Only?"
	"Only."
	"You were very popular when you were growing up.  Everyone wanted
to be around you."
	"True," he said, still unimpressed.
	"But you didn't really have any friends.  Lots of acquaintances,
always the center of attention, but no one you felt was a real good
friend."
	The muscles on his jaw flexed.  I had hit a nerve.  "True," he
said, after a beat.
	"People always say that you do things to them or, more exactly,
that you make them want things.  But you don't feel like you do.  That's to
say, you don't feel like you're *doing* anything in particular when you're
around them."
	Adam stared at me intently, lips pursed, eyes slightly narrowed.  I
paused a moment, but when he didn't say anything, I went on.
	"You don't feel like you're doing anything when you're around them
because you've always felt like you were just *reacting* to them.  You feel
like *they* are the ones doing things."
	We stared at each other as the reverberation of the sound of my
voice died away.  There was a light breeze.  The sounds of branches swaying
slightly mixed with the happy indications of frolic from the water.  Adam
was sizing me, looking into my soul again.  I just looked back, waiting for
him to see whatever he needed to see.
	"True," he finally said. "My shrink has never gotten that.  I keep
trying to explain it to him, but he just doesn't get it."
	I nodded.  "It's hard to get," I said.  "It's counterintuitive.
That's one of the reasons it took me so long."
	"Tell me something else," he said.
	"You look incredibly hot in green silk."
	He reached over and punched my chest, which rolled me onto my back.
I grinned and recovered my original position.  "Hell," I said, "it's not
often I get your attention like this!  The least you could do is allow me a
little fun with it!"
	He smiled.
	"So tell you something else," I said.  "Okay.  You're a nice
person.  And you don't have to be.  I don't think I'd be in your position.
Someone taught you early on how to be good.  You said, before, it was a
decision.  I didn't believe you at the time.  Now I do."
	He nodded.
	"A teacher?  A coach?"
	"My dad.  Both parents, actually.  They're great people."
	"I bet they are.  Both very hard working, both devoted to you?"
	He nodded again.
	"And I'll tell you something else.  What you do with people - it
gets different reactions.  And mostly you know what to do by the reaction
you get."
	"That's pretty good, Mark."
	"Can you put it in your words?"
	"Yeah," he said, and paused a moment to collect the thought.  "It's
like when I look at people I'm looking in a mirror, and the way I look
tells me how to act.  Does that make sense?"
	He was unsure.  He was, for a moment, normal.
	"Yeah, Adam, it makes perfect sense.  It does now, at least."
	We looked at each other for a few seconds.  He hadn't shaved that
morning.  The red glow of his cheek that had come out from the sun
dissolved into a dark shadow of roguishness.  His hand went to his stomach,
and he began unconsciously stroking himself.
	"And what do you see in the mirror now?" I asked.
	"Satisfaction," he said.
	I didn't know whether he meant he was satisfied with my work, or
that he felt I was satisfied with myself.
	Fifteen cold drips on my side broke the mood.  Matt was standing
over me, having run from the water.
	"Heya, amigo."
	Adam rolled onto his stomach, shut his eyes, and resumed tanning.
The moment was over.  He was distant again.
	"Heya, bro."
	"Dan's challenged you and him to a chicken fight with me and Shmu."
	"He has, has he?"
	"Yep."
	"And what's on the line?"  There was always something bet in these
situations.  I may not have understood the intricacies of gay political
dynamics in the team setting, but I did understand that.  The boys liked to
bet on all competitions.
	"You," Matt said, smiling.
	"Huh?"
	"You're the stakes."
	I laughed.  "Oh, *do* explain!"
	"When we win, we get to get you for the night."
	"That's a bad bet," said Adam.  "You guys can't bet that."  He had
opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows at the first mention
of the stakes.  Adam, always to the rescue.
	But I was wrong again.  Adam was arguing the fairness of the bet,
not the fairness of the stakes: "He can't be in it if he's the bet."
	Shmu and Dan had left the water, and were walking up to join us.
	"Adam says it's a bad bet," Matt called to the approaching boys.
	"Why?" Shmu asked, arriving at our little spot on the beach.
	"He says he can't be in it if he's the bet," Matt repeated.
	"Ya don't bet whether or not the mouse is going to eat the cheese,"
Adam said.  "The mouse always eats the cheese."
	Before I had time to be offended, Shmu shot back with, "You do if
you're betting whether or not the mouse is full."
	"Naw," said Adam, "mice eat cheese.  It's what they do.  It
wouldn't be fair.  If you want to bet the mouse, you set the cats against
each other."
	Again, my offense was eclipsed by the thrill of what was shaping
up.
	"You and him?" Shmu asked, meaning Adam and Dan.
	Dan smirked and nodded to Adam.  Adam smirked and turned to Shmu.
"It's a more interesting bet, don't you think?"
	"So if you win?"  Matt asked.
	"No Mark,"Adam said.
	"And when we win?"
	"Me." Adam said.
	I could actually see Matt's pupils dilate.
	"That's a bet," Shmu said.
	"Excuse me, but don't I get anything to say about this?" I asked
indignantly.  I could hear the crickets in the woods.  Either the very
thought that I might be interested in objecting was absurd or I had
spontaneously grown a second head.
	"Okay," Dan said, deciding, evidently, to ignore my silliness,
"it's a bet."
	Adam got up, and the four of them swaggered down to the water's
edge.
	Once in, Mark climbed up onto Shmu's shoulders and Adam onto Dan's.
I had been curious as to which roles Adam and Dan would take, but their
decision made sense.  Dan was taller.
	The battle began.  Matt waged it fiercely, and the four athletes
were evenly matched.  Shmu put his team at an initial disadvantage by
assuming he had to hold onto Matt's legs.  Normally, this is the position
the horse takes in a chicken fight, but the riders in this match were
wizards at balancing.  Both Adam and Matt wrapped their ankles securely
around their steeds, and nothing was going to dislodge them.  There are two
avenues to victory in such a battle: unseat the rider, or trip the horse.
The former was clearly not going to happen.  Shmu soon realized that Matt
was attached for good, and began to use his hands as Dan was.
	A gymnast has the strange ability to move his shoulders and hips
independently.  When an Earth person twists his shoulders, his hips rotate
a bit as well.  But when a gymnast twists his shoulders, his hips stay
perfectly centered.  They have Slinkys for spines.  Adam caught Matt's
right hand in his, and began a series of feints.  He pulled to the right
then suddenly switched the direction of his force.  Matt was not fooled.
His arm gave way without his shoulders being affected.  In a fit of
delirium, once, I attended a mime class.  The instructor was talking about
body isolations.  These boys did it as easily as I exhaled.
	Meanwhile Dan and Shmu were jockeying for position.  They were at
close quarters, each trying to get a hold of the other's shoulders to
topple him.  Shmu got a good hit in, but Dan recovered readily and
counterattacked by side-stepping and trying to use his hip as a fulcrum
over which to lever Shmu to the water.
	The gestalt of the scene was an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.  Four
stunning paragons of youthful masculinity fighting for the pleasure of a
fuck.  Two heads nestled firmly in the grip of four strong thighs, smooth
golden skin dripping sparkling diamonds of fresh lake water under the
bluest of mountain skies.  Hands grabbed, gripped, groped.  Shorts sagged
revealing pale white cheeks.
	I always laughed during a chicken fight.  Not these boys.  They
battled in dead earnestness, stern concentration on their faces.  Matt's
expression was most striking, as, I think, the stakes were highest for him.
He was happy with Shmu, of that I was sure, just as I was happy with Dan.
But to know Adam was to want him, despite one's other satisfactions.  You
couldn't help it.  Adam *made* you want things, not the least of which was
him.
	I wondered whom I wanted to win.  Certainly, it would be lovely if
the knights fighting for my honor prevailed.  Fighting for my honor?  Well,
perhaps not - they seemed perfectly ready to sacrifice it should they lose.
I wonder if it ever occurred to either Adam or Dan that they might lose?
Maybe that was why they were so willing to bet - either they never lost, or
they never thought they'd lose.  On the other hand, I would be delighted
for my new little bro if he and Shmu won.  He should have an opportunity to
be done by Adam.  Everyone should.  A reward for good living.  There, on
your deathbed, you float to the end of the bright light tunnel where you're
greeted by St. Peter.  "Yes," he says, "you've led a good and righteous
life.  Here are the keys to heaven.  Take a left just down that hall and
knock on the second door on the right.  Adam's waiting to fuck you."
	The tide of battle turned and turned again.  Neither side could get
clear advantage.  Then Dan became devious.  Slowly, he began to steer the
combatants deeper into the water.  After each engagement, they were two or
three feet further from shore.  Soon, the water level rose from Dan's solar
plexus to his nipples, which is to say, from Shmu's nipples to his
clavicles.  Dan had an inch or two on Shmu.  If he couldn't beat him, he
could drown him.  On and on they fought, farther and farther Dan lured Shmu
into the deep water.  Was Shmu cognizant of the trap into which he was
being led?  I wasn't sure.  He gave no indications of disengagement, or the
desire to get back toward shore.
	By the time Shmu realized his predicament, the water was about his
lips.  Dan's chin still cleared the surface.  Adam caught Matt's wrists and
held on.  With two good strides, they drew the doomed pair beyond the point
where Shmu could breathe without jumping.  And on the first hop for air,
Dan pushed him over like a defective Weeble.
	When both Matt and Shmu had again broken the surface, the laughter
began.  I *know* Matt was disappointed, and yet his joyous giggles bounced
over the waves.  The delight of a match among friends well-fought - even if
lost - trumped the sense of could-have-beens.  Shmu and Adam traded barbs
about the next time and how much Shmu was going to enjoy sinking his dick
into Adam when he won.
	I walked down to the shore and waded into the water towards them.
Its coolness was exhilarating.  By the time I got to them, they had swum a
little farther from shore, and were treading water.
	"My heroes!"
	"Don't feel too safe," said Shmu.  "Next time, we do it with a
ball.  Then your ass is mine."
	The banter continued, but I didn't pay attention.  Dan had taken my
ankles and was pushing me slowly back and forth, causing the water to rush
over my shoulders.  I had to concentrate on not bending at the waist so
that no water went up my nose.  It was a pleasant feeling, but only if I
remained in the right position, which summed up, relatively well, the
experience of being with Dan in general.
	When we got back to the room, the boys dropped their suits and
grabbed towels to take a shower.
	"Not so fast, gentlemen," I said trying to sound like a displeased
nun.  They turned to look at me in surprise.  How could personalities so
commanding be housed behind faces that could become so adorable?  "I
believe my two knights deserve a reward for protecting my honor!"
	"Protecting your honor?"  Dan asked.
	"Protecting his honor," Adam said to Dan.  "He thinks we were
protecting his honor.  We weren't protecting your honor, champ."
	"Protecting his honor.  That's cute."
	"We were keeping you from throwing the fight."
	"Oh, ye of little faith!"  I protested.
	"I got faith," Dan said.  "I got faith that you would be riding Sam
like a fucking bronco."
	"And that would make you jealous?" I asked.
	"Not particularly," Dan said, smiling and refusing to rise to my
bait, "but it would make you tired.  And I'm gonna be the one that's gonna
tire y'all out tonight."
	We were in an unusual position.  They were nude and I dressed.  I
don't think that had ever happened before.
	"Still," I said, "I'm going to believe that you were fighting for
my honor.
  It's a bottom's prerogative.  We get to paint you with all kinds of deep
emotional motives you big dumb lugs are too stupid to have for yourselves.
It makes us feel better."
	They laughed.
	"D'uuuuuh, jeeze, Danny-Bob," Adam said in a hillbilly-bubba voice,
"I done think the boy's gone an' 'nsulted us!"
	"Day-umn, Adam-Bob, ah think y'all might could be right!  Course I
don' know she-it 'bout such things, bein' such a lug an' all."
	"Sucks bein' a lug, don' it?"
	"That it sho-wa do, brother, that it sho-wa do."
	"...And as such," I went on, ignoring their antics, "I'm going to
reward my big brave knights with a gift."
	They raised their eyebrows and mugged at each other.
	"But I need your cooperation," I went on, dropping my suit to the
floor.
	"He's getting nekkid, Dan."
	"You sure this is a gift for *us*, little man?"
	"Don't make me hurt you."  They giggled.  I think Dan liked it when
I did my impersonation of taking control.  We both recognized it for the
farce that it was, and it made him laugh.
	"Adam, I want you on the floor here in a Russian split," I
directed.
	"I bet you do, champ."
	"Don't be cute.  Just do it."
	Adam walked to the center of the room where I had indicated, got
down on the floor and spread his legs to the sides in an effortless
180-degree split.
	"Your point sucks for shit," Dan said.
	"Yeah.  I always had trouble with that," Adam agreed.  "I used to
kneel down and rock back on the tops of my feet when I was a kid to get
them to stretch.  Never helped much.  Damn genes.  Nothing I can do about
it."
	"You, there, please," I said to Dan, pointing to just in front of
Adam, "also in a Russian split.  Face to face."
	"I'm not into kinky shit," Dan warned soberly.  It took all of my
will power not to burst out into laughter.  The position I was indicating
would bring Dan and Adam crotch to crotch on the floor.  For Dan, beating
the balls of his willing victim wasn't kinky.  Touching Adam's dick with
his was.  It was a very new world I had entered.
	"You'll like this."
	He eyed me suspiciously.
	"Do you trust me?" I asked.
	Dan slowly lowered himself to the floor, brought his legs out into
a split and waddled forward so that he was within inches of Adam.  They
both leaned back on their elbows.  I went to get the bottle of oil from
Dan's dresser.  The boys always had safflower oil on hand.  Rich as it was
in vitamin E, they constantly massaged it into their shoulders, hands, feet
and lateral obliques in an effort to counteract the drying properties of
the resin they used and to prevent stretch marks.  I coated my hands
liberally and joined them in the center of the room.
	"This is for my brave knights."  Dropping to the floor myself, I
took each of their soft dicks in my hands and began to coat them with the
oil.  They responded appropriately, slowly filling and elongating.  It was
a joy to feel them transform in my hands.  Starting with the consistency
and sponginess of risen dough, they soon began to resist bending, feeling
more like putty or wet clay.  While straight now, they were still
squeezable until, shortly, they became rubberized night sticks, then iron,
finally granite.  The boys were at full mast, slicked and steely.
	"Push a little closer together, please."
	Dan didn't move, so Adam nudged up a bit.  This brought their balls
in contact and, as was my plan, made it so that when I lifted each of their
dicks off their stomachs, they joined at the perpendicular, frenum to
frenum to make one massive pole.
	Such a sight they were!  From their pointed toes to their massive,
stretched thighs across their crotches and back out to their toes again was
a perfect line of perfectly toned muscle.  Dan's legs were hairier - his
shins especially - but Adam's crotch was.  Each bush ended in a tantalizing
trail of hair which crossed a newly regenerated tan line onto the broad,
flat plane of stomach.  In this position, leaning back on elbows, thoraxes
horizontal, the boys' six-packs were invisible.  Instead, their skin
creased at irregular intervals up to their more vertical rib cages.  There,
Dan again sprouted a small patch of hair between his pecs, while Adam's was
limited to an almost unnoticeable ring around each areola.  But it was
their shoulders which, after their dicks, were most beautiful.  Their full,
symmetric roundness, their dense power, the way the skin stretched over
them, how they ended in distinct nodes which blended into bone or buried
under other muscles combined to leave the onlooker with an unnatural desire
to touch them, to test their reality, to tactilely marvel at their
existence.
	They looked at me, waiting to see what I intended to do.  I think
they still both thought I was just going to give them a joint jacking.  But
I had greater plans.  Instead, I got up and straddled them, one foot near
Adam's left hip, the other near Dan's left hip.  As they were facing each
other, this put me diagonal to them with my ass directly over their
crotches.  I began to squat, reaching down under myself to pull their
dicks, again, to vertical.
	"My oh my, Dan." Adam said.  "I think I know what the boy has in
mind."
	"Impossible," said my man.
	"Mind over matter," I replied as Adam's crown made contact with my
pucker.  "Besides: no pain no gain."
	Adam's big head slid in, but only a half inch or so.  Very soon,
and while my sphincter was still expanding from his crown, it met Dan's.
There I was stopped.  I pushed down but made no headway, as it were.  My
hole was full of Adam, and Dan's head pressed on the outside of the ring of
muscle.  I grunted in pain but bore down more heavily.
	"You're not going to be able to do it, little man.  It's okay.  I
appreciate the thought."
	"Just give me time," I said.  "I'm giving this to you.  I want to
do it."
	After three or four minutes of relatively steady pressure, I had
still not made any forward progress.  By gripping both shafts with my oily
hand and stroking them as I tried to lower myself down onto them, I was
able to keep them hard and straight.  But my anal ring was not relaxing,
just getting bruised from the poking.
	I tried a different tack.  Lifting myself off the two of them, I
let go of Dan's dick and placed the second knuckle of my bent forefinger
along Adam's frenum.  This brought the tip of my finger even with the top
of his dick.  I again lowered myself down, taking the assemblage inside me
with only a little more difficulty than I had with Adam alone.  Now I could
use my finger as a lever, stretching myself open for Dan.  With my other
hand, I reached down and brought his dick up to my ass.  I pulled my
knuckle as far away from Adam's dick as I could, using my fingernail as a
fulcrum, but it wasn't enough to slip Dan's dick in.
	I was panting from the strain of the stretch and a drop of sweat
fell from my nose directly into Dan's bellybutton.  He watched me work.
After another few minutes, my thighs gave way.  What started as a tremble
in the legs turned into a Parkinsonian shake as my quadriceps began to
protest the continuous squat.  I abandoned the effort again and stood up,
shaking out my legs as I looked down at their dicks and tried to determine
what my next approach would be.
	"Maybe...maybe if..."  My voice trailed off, and I considered
further what to try.
	"It's okay, Mark," Dan said.  "Look at me."  I looked into his
beautiful ice blue eyes.  "Y'all want to.  That's enough for me."
	"It's not enough, Dan," I said.  "You've already taken me beyond so
many limits I thought I had.  I want to give you one all on my own.  It's
the only gift I have."
	Dan smiled.  "You are so clueless," he said.
	"Huh?"
	"Y'all think you have to do this.  Y'all think you haven't given me
a whole lot of gifts already.  You have, little man.  Plenty."
	"Then one more.  I want it.  I want it for you."
	"Give me a crack at it," Adam said.  "Maybe I could help."
	Adam directed Dan over to his bed, where he lay down on his back.
Next, I was instructed to kneel over him, puppy style.  My knees straddling
his knees, my elbows at his shoulders, we were face to face with my ass in
the air.  Adam climbed onto the bed behind me and kicked my knees apart a
little more, lowering my hips.
	Dan reached up and brought my head down, my lips to his.  His
kisses were, as ever, insistent and demanding.  But there was an element I
had never noticed before.  It was more than desire.  It was more than
mastery.  It was more than control.  It was fondness.  Had it always been
there?
	As I marveled at the complexity of his kiss, a new sensation
assaulted me from behind.  Adam had bent over the back of the bed and was
rimming my ass.
  Voltage shot from my coccyx along my spine to where it arced out the
front of me into Dan's mouth.  Dan responded by ravaging me.
	Dan liked to chew when he kissed.  His jaw dropped and raised again
in an undulating motion as if he were switching back and forth between
singing the vowels *ah* and *oo*. As he did this, his tongue swept forward
and back, fucking my mouth ferociously.  Dan's tongue felt enormous.  It
was everywhere in me at once - my teeth, my alveolar ridge, my cheek, my
soft palate.
	Meanwhile, Adam's tongue was doing tricks a number of my friends
would pay big money to learn.  From laving my crack with the elixir of his
spit, he slowly focused his attention on my pucker.  It gaped in response
to his lingual prodding, welcoming him in.  He fluttered, he chewed, he
inserted and began a muscular vibrato that sent shivers up my spine.  Soon
his two index fingers were in to the first knuckle, sandwiching his tongue.
He pulled his fingers apart, diving deeper with his mouth.  Then it was two
fingers from each hand.  Then it was up to the second knuckle.  With each
new stretch, his tongue covered the affected muscles with spit and tingles.
I found myself moaning into Dan's mouth.
	He kept up his ministrations for a good ten minutes.  By the end,
it was I who could take no more, not he who could give no more.  After a
particularly intense stretch, I lifted myself off of them and, in a voice
so thick with desire and need I hardly recognized it as my own, told them
that I was ready.  I got up and reached for the oil.
	The boys took their position again, crotch to crotch.  This time
Dan's skepticism was gone and he readily inched forward until the insides
of their thighs touched.  This was as intimate as he had ever been with
Adam.  This was probably as intimate as he ever would be with him.  *That*
was the gift I was giving them.  The double fuck joined them inside me as
partners, as equals.
	I poured the oil over them and rubbed it in.  Stepping over the
assemblage of crotches, I took my position.  Dan was in front of me and to
my right, Adam behind and to the left.  I squatted down.
	Lifting their two large clubs together, I inched into position,
making sure they were pointed firmly at my hole.  Again, Adam's made first
contact, but rather than slipping it in until I felt Dan's, I pushed out as
if I were taking a son-of-a-bitch crap and plunged downward with force and
speed.  Adam's head popped in, as did, shortly thereafter, Dan's.
	The pain was just shy of unbearable and I froze as soon as Dan's
crown cleared my ass ring.  Five seconds later, some neuron deep in my
limbic system reminded me to breathe.  I began to push air out of my pursed
lips, like a diver about to go deep without tanks.  The wave of pain did
not readily subside.  I continued to bear down from the inside, willing
myself to relax and accept the stretch.  I switched to panting in shallow
Lamazian breaths.  Sweat began appearing on my brow.
	Dan looked on with concern.  I made eye contact with him,
determined to lose myself in the blue rings of ice.  It helped.  There was
a story to read in them that helped to take my mind off the fire below.
The concern was caring.  The concern was a desire that I not try to go
further than I could safely go.  I was his, and he didn't want me damaged.
I grinned as the initial wave of pain finally ebbed.
	He nodded slightly at me, seeing that I was okay.  *Go on, little
man,* he was saying with his eyes.  *If you think you can do this, you
may.* I sank an inch.  New stretch, new pain.  New pain, but different.
The worst of it was over - having expanded my anal ring, the rest was,
comparatively, the creamy filling of the cake.
	Another inch.  I was panting again, pushing the air out through
tight lips to try to force more oxygen into my lungs.  I had a hand below
me on each of the boys' hips now, helping me stay up so that the pressure
was not entirely on my thighs as I squatted.  Another inch.  I found if I
bobbed a little, it helped.  Up three-quarters of an inch, down an inch
more.  Up three-quarters, down one.  In this manner, slowly, painfully,
inexorably, I made my way along their two slick, giant poles.
	When I got beyond half way, the curve in Adam's dick made his head
want to pull away from Dan's deep within me.  A new pain to deal with.
This was a stretch I had never encountered before.  I was okay with the
forced relaxation of voluntary muscle.  That was what getting fucked was
all about, and I was, to say the least, well-practiced at it.  But this was
a stretch of the smooth muscle deep within my gut - the ones responsible
for peristaltic motion.  I had no control over them, and the pain at their
stretching was something new and difficult to describe.
	But that pain paled in comparison to what was happening at my
asshole as I inched down the final third of their dicks.  This was where
they became thickest, and the combined girth was breathtakingly difficult
to manage.  I was grunting now, making involuntary vocalizations as my
short, sharp pants pushed through my lips.  Women dealt with this process,
but in reverse.  They had lives come out of them.  I was putting life in.
	Finally - how long had it been?  I had no idea - the reward.  I
could feel the scratchiness of their bushes against my ass cheeks.  I had
taken Dan and Adam to the hilt - together and as one, as they belonged.
	It took me another minute just to relax my quadriceps as I came to
rest on them.  I was finding that I had to concentrate completely on each
muscle before it would respond.  I was tense from head to toe in the effort
to relax.
	"Whoa," said Dan.  "You feel that?"
	"Yeah," said Adam.  "Pretty intense, huh?"
	By the third grunting pant, I was able to vocalize the syllable,
"What?"
	"I can feel your heart beating."
	"Me too," said Adam.  "From the inside.  Can feel it thumping."
	I put a hand on my abdomen, sure that I could feel the knobs of
their dicks if I pressed my lower belly.  But I couldn't.  They were
pointed up me, not through me.  I smiled at the idea that I should rather
have stuck my fingers in my mouth just past my uvula to catch hold of them.
	"Check this out," Adam said, and I was soon treated to a new trick.
Adam clenched the muscles he used to bob his dick.  This forced a
thimbleful more of blood into his already tremendous erection.  Both Dan
and I felt the flex as his girth swelled by the least perceptible amount.
	"Whoa," Dan said, as I grunted.  "What are you doing?"
	"Clamp down like you really have to pee bad but can't," Adam said.
Adam's dick returned to its normal enormity while Dan's twitched.
	"There ya go," Adam said while I grunted again.  They were pressed
so closely together inside me, they could feel the most minor of movements
in each other.  They took turns flexing and releasing in alternating
rhythm.
	"That's pretty cool," Dan said.
	"Yeah," Adam agreed.
	"I think we can actually fuck him like this," Adam said, rotating
his hips just a little to test the range of motion he had in that position.
	"Just be careful with him," Dan said.
	I loved that they were talking to each other while they explored
this position which was, clearly, new to both of them.  I loved that the
first truly new experience they shared as equals, as fellow explorers, was
made possible by my willingness to help and ability to do so.  I loved that
Dan was concerned for me, and had the presence of mind to warn Adam.  My
safety came before his fellow Alpha's pleasure.  That was one of Dan's
gifts to me.
	"Lift up a little, little man."  Both boys brought their hands to
my cheeks, Dan's from the front, Adam's from the back, and helped hoist me
about two inches from the bases of their cocks.  I still had to concentrate
on my breathing.  Without their support, I don't think I could have lifted
myself.  Using muscles I couldn't even point to on a chart, Adam found a
way, in that position, to rotate his hips up off the ground enough to slide
in the remaining inches.  I think what he was doing was something like a
stomach crunch.  What I know for sure was that he was filling me again, and
that his head had passed Dan's inside me, finding a new depth to explore.
Slowly, he rotated out and Dan copied the maneuver, pushing deep.
	This became the pattern.  In and of itself, it was a gentle fuck -
the strokes were no more than three inches from nadir to zenith.  But for
each of us, to characterize it that way was absurd.  For my part, even that
much motion was more, almost, than I could bear.  How many times had I
cringed at hearing the word 'episiotomy'?  And each time, the woman had
rolled her eyes and said, "You don't feel it.  It ends up being a relief."
I finally understood.  As one of them retracted, the other pushed in.
Their heads met so deep within me that if you had asked me to point where
they were, I would have indicated somewhere around my left nipple.  And
when they met, the stretch was unreal.  Were it not for Adam's tingle
permeating me, calming me, I don't think I could have done it.
	For their parts, their dicks were in a tighter tunnel than they had
ever before experienced: warm, wet and pulsating with my heartbeat.  They
were squeezed together with such force that movement - even the slight back
and forth motion they had engineered - generated heat from friction.  Their
foreskins fully retracted, their frena, packed so closely together,
massaged each other to new heights of sensitivity.  Soon they were
breathing as shallowly as I was, though for different reasons.
	And Dan got an added advantage.  I watched him watch me intently,
seeing my look of pain and determination reflected in the bliss of his
expression.  He was mouthing words, but I couldn't make out whether he was
trying to say something, or just taken as fully with the intensity of the
moment as I was.
	All too quickly, the boys began to increase the pace of their
see-saw fuck.
  Marshaling whatever reserves of strength I had left, I added a new
effect: I began to bounce in my squat, lifting an inch before letting go
and plummeting back down.  It was nothing in terms of absolute motion, but
given the circumstances, it was quite enough.  The two boys began moaning,
oblivious to what they sounded like, or the impression they would make each
on the other.
	I had finally been able to return Dan's and Adam's favor.  Together
they had worked me to the point where I could lose myself in them.  What
emerged was, paradoxically, not less of a person but more.  And there,
fucking them together, taking each of their impossibly large dicks up my
ass in a maneuver so impossible the Kama Sutra had not even devoted a page
to it, I had brought them to that same point of senselessness to which they
had brought me.  In front of me, Dan's eyes were rolled back and his head
hung backward from his shoulders slack-jawed as a steady growl emanated
from deep within.  His stomach was tense now, washboard protruding, as his
hips jerked his dick in and out of me in a rhythm beyond his control.
Behind me, Adam had a series of expletives pouring out of him like water
from Aquarius' jug.
  He, too, was jabbing without reason, thrilling at the completeness of the
sensuality of the experience.
	I raised up as far as I could one last time - farther than I had
ever before - and fell on them heavily with a grunting scream.  As my legs
gave out from exhaustion, one of them began to shoot.  His bucking brought
the other over the edge, and within seconds of my falling on them, my two
men were joining me in howls of release.  They each, quite involuntarily,
I'm prone to believe, rotated in to bury themselves as deeply as they could
for their orgasms.  I was lifted off the ground as they ground into me.
Dan's stomach muscles spasmed and twitched below me.  Adam finally found
his point.  Wave after wave of their cum washed into me and in an act of
transubstantiation no priest could sanctify, their flesh became mine.
	When it was over, I could not move.  Gently, tenderly, Dan rotated
out of me then drew me forward in his arms as Adam withdrew with a plop.
Dan lifted me up onto the bed and, joining me, held me in his arms while
Adam, exhausted, retreated to his own bed.
	It was a half-hour before any of us spoke.  It was finally me who
did.
	"How could I have been so wrong about you at the beginning?" I
asked of Adam.  "How could I have been so wrong about me?"
	Adam shrugged his shoulders without opening his eyes.
	"It's easy to misread people when we're too sure of ourselves," he
said.
	"What?" I asked, stunned.
	"I said it's easy to misread people when we're too sure of
ourselves," Adam repeated lazily.
	I broke free of Dan and sat up on my elbows.
	"What, little man?"  Dan asked, concern in his voice.
	He didn't have to tell me - I could feel myself having gone white.
	"Adam," I said, mouth dry and voice trembling, "how did I come to
be here?"
	"I told you. I convinced Johnston to get you."
	"Yeah, I know.  But why me?"
	"I had heard you were doing some research that could help me.  You
know, help me find some answers."
	"You'd heard?"
	Adam had opened his eyes and was looking at me guardedly.  Dan,
too, was sitting up now, trying to understand what had so upset me.
	"Yeah," Adam said, "I'd heard."
	"And how did you know I was gay?  And submissive, to boot?"
	"I can tell that just by looking at you.  You know that," he said
warily.
	"Yeah, Adam, I do know that," I said.  "But you told Matt that I
was gay *on the bus here*.  He said you told everyone before you even got
to camp.  And you were working to fix me up with Dan from the second I
arrived.  How did you know before we even met?"
	He looked at me in silence.  His jaw flexed.  A beat passed.
	"Adam," I said, "when a grad student does research, what do you
think he does with it?"
	He shrugged.  "I dunno," he said.  "Turns it in and gets an A?"
	"No, Adam," I said.  "He publishes it.  He publishes it for the
world to see.  And you know who gets the credit for it?"
	He stared at me in silence.
	"Mostly his advisor," I said.  "His advisor gets most of the
credit."
	Adam frowned.