Date: Thu, 26 Apr 2001 17:18:06 -0700 (PDT)
From: Evan Bradley <EBradley33@excite.com>
Subject: Ambush, Chapter 5--From Ambush to Ritual Bondage

The author retains all rights.  No reproductions or links to other sites
are allowed without the author's consent.

EBradley33@Excite.com

Chapter 5
		       From Ambush to Ritual Bondage

About a week had passed since that first, glorious, quick ambush.  I was
happier than I had ever been.  Two guys had actually wanted me.  Saw
something attractive in me.  They had gone to great lengths to ensnare me.
I shivered involuntarily at the thought of that word "ensnare."  A
pleasurable trap, it had been.  For two days, I had felt their fucks up my
ass.  But what really warmed me were the thoughtful gestures, the
considerate words, the concern for my feelings.  Utterly amazing.  Every
time I saw little Kenny in class, I loved the growing paternal
sensibilities that he evoked in me.  Oh, I was extremely cautious about
keeping the previous dynamics between us the same.  But a dam of pent-up
feelings about him burst forth.  Only once did I falter.  The class had
been writing a five-minute summary at the end of the class period, a
summary about a short story we had discussed.  I was studying Kenny,
remembering the exciting fullness of his cock up my ass and the weight of
his body on my back.  I was smiling.  He suddenly looked up at me, and a
corresponding smile spread across his face.  Before he looked back down at
his paper, our eyes locked, remembering together.

I no longer walked the halls, looking for Robert and Kenny.  It didn't seem
wise.  I was powerfully attracted to Robert's strength.  He had clearly run
the ambush.  I knew enough not to intrude in that role.  We had created
stances for ourselves, but he was the stage manager.  There was no impulse
in me to change a thing or control the circumstances.  How unlike me.

On Thursday morning, I had found a small white envelope on my desk with my
name appearing on a computer-generated label.  It contained a note that
read simply "Tomorrow night!"

I heard someone entering the room.  It was Susan Connolly, sans Troy
Morgan, with whom she had begun keeping company, or her coterie of girl
friends.  Unusual.  She was also there 15 minutes early.  Something was
afoot.

She sat at her desk, studying me as I was pulling folders for each class
out of my attach‚ and rifling through them to organize their contents
for the day's lessons.

I couldn't stand her scrutiny.  It was making the hair on the back of my
neck tingle.  I liked that, but I was afraid she'd see one of any number of
things I kept hidden away inside me.  Finally, I just looked at her,
asking, "What?"

She smiled warmly.  "You've been on an emotional roller coaster these past
few weeks, first your usual neutral self, then up, then down, and now way
up.  It's been a pleasure to observe you on the upswing, but not during the
neutral times or down swings.  You've spent too long not liking yourself.

Damn!  How could she see so deeply into my soul?  Tears sprang to my eyes,
so I ducked my head.  "What is wrong with you, Evan?  Can't you control
yourself anymore?" I thought.

"You're a tough teacher by nature because you care about us," she
continued.  "It's your way.  Not everyone realizes that some of that
toughness is cover.  You are afraid people won't like you, so you build a
wall of toughness so that you never have to risk finding out that someone
dislikes you.  But we like you, Mr. Halsey.  Some of us even love you.
Ease up on yourself."

I couldn't help it.  Tears were running down my cheeks.  I could count on
the fingers of one hand-with fingers left over-the number of times in my
life that I broke down in tears.  Men did not do that in my family.  I
covered the bottom part of my face with my hand and squeezed my eyes shut
to keep a sob from breaking out.  I had to get out of there if I was going
to hold it together.  I grabbed a note pad and scribbled a message on it,
pulled it off the pad, and reached into my pocket for a nickel.  I handed
them to her and powered out of the room.  I heard laughter bubbling up out
her throat as I headed for the restroom.  I had written "Thank you, Lucy"
on the paper.

I sped into the bathroom and into a stall, clanging the door shut.
Fortunately, only one student was standing at the urinals, so he didn't see
me.  I just bowed my head against the wall of the stall as the tears came.

What was it with that amazing woman?  I heard that interior voice, not
snotty this time, explain, "To bond with people, Evan, you have to open
yourself up.  Susan touches you deeply somewhere inside, and you opened
yourself up to that because, for some reason known only to your
subconscious, you need it.  Trust it.  Go with it.  It's a pure impulse.
You thought only a man who loved her would feel her gifts conferred on him.
But she just conferred a gift on you.  Don't sully her gift by rejecting
it.  You're a stronger person than that."

I was still ashamed of myself for losing it, but she had given me a gift.
For once I was going to be strong enough to accept it.  I left the stall,
stopping at a sink to splash water on my face, hoping that I had covered up
my reaction.  I got back to the classroom several minutes into the period,
but, oddly, my students were visiting quietly among themselves.  I had
ducked my head down when I entered the room and kept it there, but I could
see peripherally that they were all looking at me inquiringly.  I just kept
looking down as I started the lesson.  I knew I couldn't do that all
period, but I also knew that I couldn't look directly at them.  So I kept
moving my eyes along a line on the back wall just inches above their heads
so that it would appear that I was looking at them.

"Oh, hell," I thought.  "I'm probably not fooling them.  When they want to,
they can see the crack in the china.  But maybe they'll go along with it
and we can get through this hour."

As I dismissed the students at the end of the period, I stood with my hands
on either side of a folder full of notes, my head down, as though I were
preparing for the next class.  My relief grew as I heard students moving
out the door.  But suddenly a soft, warm hand covered my left hand.  Susan!

"Just so you know, Evan, I care," she said softly before walking away.  I
raised my head slightly, looking over the tops of my glasses.  I noticed
that Troy Morgan was watching us closely as he waited by the door for
Susan.  There was little Kenny, too, staring intently at me as Jarod Paine,
Jeremy Wilder, LaKeisha Green, and Greg Dunwoodie looked on.

"Oh, no," I thought as I looked back at the folder.

That night I sat in my family room in a mush.  I hadn't even pulled out the
sketches or letter as had become my evening ritual after dinner and grading
papers.  I knew for a fact that I was not going to emerge from this period
in my life unchanged.  It wasn't that I was bothered by that fact.  It was
that circumstances had wrested my carefully constructed controlling
mechanisms away from me.  I was open, vulnerable, afraid.

I had studied authors who constructed a narrative persona like a veil that
hid them from their reading audiences.  They never allowed that veil to be
pulled aside.  So common was this that we had begun to regard the narrator
of literature as a character worthy of every bit as much scrutiny and
analysis as any of the other characters an author created for his short
stories, novels, or poems.  It was exciting, for it added a new dimension
where one could experience and learn vicariously.  Even though I was not an
author, I was lamenting that my veil had been pulled aside.  I was humbled
that someone like Susan could pierce that veil so easily.  I wondered how
many others had done the same.  Damn!  I didn't want to be a walking book
for anyone who cared to do so to read my "text."

One of those Joycean epiphanies flashed into my perceptual field: the
controls I fashioned were really bonds more obdurate than the rope that had
bound my hands during the ambush.  Irony of ironies: I flashed on that
lesson several days ago when I had students examining impressions and their
ability to distort reality.  My bonds had started with impressions of the
way people would react if they really knew me, really saw into me.  But
Susan had seen right through my carefully constructed defenses without
turning off on me.  Could I trust that?

Well, I trusted Susan.  I chuckled ruefully: Susan seemed to see into me so
easily.  Maybe I wasn't the well-constructed persona I had imagined.
Humbling.  Well, when wasn't a little humbling good for the soul.

But that was Susan.  Perhaps she was unique in her acceptance.  She
certainly would not allow her impressions, probably carefully but
skillfully reached, to be distorted by someone else.  Not all people were
Susan.  I could tell that my ruminations had reached a stopping point.

Uncharacteristically, I didn't jerk off before sleep, fantasizing about my
two captors as I had since the sketches, letter, and ambush.  When I turned
in, I imagined them on both sides of me, holding me close, protecting me
and reassuring me.  I was bothered by the fact that they were always
attending me.  I didn't really want to be the center of attention.  I
wanted to give as much as receive.  I needed to do something for them.  How
can one do something for captors, I asked as I drifted off.

Surprisingly good spirits accompanied me the next morning, unburdened by
the previous day's emotional events.  I was actually looking forward to the
day.  "Well, of course," I heard the interior voice comment; you're going
to be ambushed again tonight."  Somehow, I didn't think the scenario would
be the same this time.  The tall one had indicated as much in his parting
remarks: "We'll have special plans for you next time, Evan," he had
promised.  I finished breakfast and drove to the school.

I was humming a jiggy rhythm from Beethoven's "Leonore Overture" as I
bounced along the walk to the school building when I spotted Jarod Paine
ahead of me.  As I reached him I put my hand on his shoulder: "Hey, Jarod.
How's it going?"

He jumped at my little ambush, gave me a little smile, and quietly replied,
"Oh, Hi Mr.  H.  Okay, I guess."

"You don't sound okay.  You sound like a Gloomy Gus."  I suddenly realized
what was different.  Jarod was always in the company of Valerie Cunningham,
he looking proud to have such a cute, petite blond hanging onto his arm,
she always smiling, proud to be connected with such a good-looking fellow.
Valerie wasn't in any of my classes, but from the few times I had been
around her, she seemed like a sharp, with-it person.  I always thought it
was a good match.  Come to think of it, I wondered which of the two
initiated the relationship.  Valerie, I suspected.  "Where's Valerie?" I
popped off.

Jarod smiled wanly: "We're kind of on the outs now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.  Why 'on the outs'?" I pressed.

"She doesn't know how to be with a man," he blurted out.

"How to be with a man?" I echoed.

"She doesn't know that a woman is supposed to follow the man's lead!" he
responded with some vinegar.

"Follow the lead of the man?" I echoed again.

"Yeah, the man makes the decisions and the woman follows," he replied.

"Is that the kind of woman you want in a relationship?"

He looked puzzled.  "What do you mean when you say 'the kind of woman'?"

"A trained pet who heels when her master commands.  Or a woman who makes
herself into a doormat, meekly allowing a guy to walk all over her."

"I don't know about the doormat part, but the man makes the decisions."

"The kind of woman you are describing won't be your equal.  For a mutually
rewarding relationship, you want the kind of woman who cares enough about
you to challenge you to be your better self in every aspect of your life
together-even in romance," I grinned wickedly.  "Like everyone else, you
need to grow and develop or you fall into a rut, become two-dimensional,
dull."

"Hey, no woman has called me dull.  Babes are happy with me-especially in
bed."

"I hear they sell a fairly cheap, inflatable version of the kind of woman
you are describing."  He laughed for the first time in our conversation.
"If a relationship is to move beyond that superficial puppy-love stage,
both people need to be challenged in order to move into a deeper
relationship.  That's what a couple's first disagreement signals.  It's not
a bad thing.  It's just life testing a couple to see if they want to commit
to each other enough to resolve the issue and move to a higher level.  And
it happens repeatedly in a healthy relationship with each member
challenging the other.  If you follow your model for a relationship long
enough, Valerie will become bored and go looking for someone better.  And
the next, smarter guy will connect with her in a way that does her justice.

I don't need someone to challenge me.  I'm okay now."

"Even if your are 'okay now,' it's only for now, not the future.  Besides,
you seem to be telling me that Valerie isn't happy with the way things are
going."

Perhaps our conversation had veered too close to what he himself had been
thinking or fearing, for he changed tack.  "What do you know about women?
You ever been married?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"You married now?" he asked.

"No."

"Doesn't sound like you know so much about what works with men and women."

" I learned something about what works with men and women the natural way,
the way we humans learn most things-through failure."

"You telling me my problems with Valerie are my fault?"

"Oh, Jarod, fault isn't the issue here.  I'm not putting you down.  I'm
just offering a different way for you to view your relationship with
Valerie.  You are certainly a strong enough individual to act on it
positively for the benefit of both you and Valerie.  Accept it or reject
it.  It's no skin off my teeth.  But you'll be the loser.  I have always
thought Valerie was a vivacious woman well worth the attentions of a man
wise enough to cultivate a relationship with her.  You two look great
together.  You could make magic together.  Why not jump in and let the
dynamics between you two carry you further than you ever imagined?
Paradise may be just over this little hill you two have reached."

He laughed, even blushing a little.  Cute.  We had reached the door to the
building.  As he opened the door and stood back for me to enter, I asked,
"What is it with you, Paine?  I just say hello and the next thing I know
were having Life and Sex Education 101 out here on the sidewalk.

Again he laughed, punching me lightly on the shoulder.  "I'm deep, Man.  I
challenged you to grow and develop, Mr. H.  You didn't disappoint me."

I grinned; "Clever, Paine.  You do know what a double-edged sword is.  I
always knew you had it in you.  Get it?  Sword in you?  You lost the duel!"
I chortled.

"Lame, Mr. H." he groaned.

"Well then, remember this: your best instincts are seldom those that serve
only your point of view.  Use your strengths to grow good things.  See you
in class."

As I moved through the foyer to the stairs going up to my second-floor
classroom, I looked back through the glass doors, spotting Susan Connolly
and Troy Morgan coming up the walk together.  H-m-m-m-m.  I smiled.  Love
is in the air, making couples everywhere.  "Not for you, Evan," I heard the
snotty voice observe.

"That snotty interior voice is the price you pay for allowing that
smart-ass side of your personality develop," I thought to myself.
                                                     ...........

After classes, I hung around my room, grading papers.  I realized that I
didn't really know what the script was, so I had better follow my previous
timetable.  After three hours, I called it quits, gathering my things and
flipping off the lights.

I hadn't taken more than five steps down the hall when two people glided up
behind me, each taking an arm.  "Don't turn around, Evan.  You know now
that we're not going to hurt you.  Just let us take you someplace for some
fun."  I did as they requested, looking straight ahead.  While they moved
me rapidly to the stairs, down the stairs and down the hallway leading to
the gymnasium, I wasn't resisting at all.  It was as though my body were
moving faster than theirs.

We veered off into the exercise room I'd seen in my nightmare.  They were
wearing ski masks cut off just below the nose.  They led me to the parallel
bars where they quickly undressed me.  Then they took ropes, which they
bound around my wrists and then tied the ropes to the bar on one side of
the apparatus, leaving some slack so that I could move forward and back a
small distance.  The tall one explained, "We want to be able to talk to you
and have you answer us, and since you didn't cause us trouble last time, we
think you won't be yelling out this time-well, not for help anyway," he
chuckled.  His levity seized the little one.

The short one disrobed and walked over to the bar facing me.  His cock was
already hard, swinging back and forth as he walked in that exciting way it
does with an aroused man.  My cock was hard too.

I was surprised when the tall one took ropes and bound the little fellow to
the bar in a manner like mine.  I liked looking at him.  Only light from
the hallway illuminated the room, but it was enough to see the dark hair in
his pits and around his dick.  His nipples were dark circles on his pale
skin.  His chest wasn't as flat as with some runners, for he had defined
pecs.  Though slim, his thighs curved slightly outward with muscle, and I
had noticed earlier that his ass "pooched" out sexily.  There was that fat
dick I'd seen in the drawing.

"Your are beautiful, erotic, exciting," I told him softly.  "Always
remember that when you get down on yourself."  He smiled.  While the taller
one was taking off his clothes, the shorter one leaned forward and kissed
me softly.  I leaned into him with desire.  He suddenly pulled back,
starting a duel with our erect dicks.  I playfully joined in.  At one point
our crotches touched electrically.  Our cocks were side by side while our
balls touched.  "Is there anything more excitingly warm than one ball sac
touching another?" I asked him.

"Not many," he replied. "I like the feel of yours too."  We held there.

The tall one chuckled yet again: "So the cubs like to play, huh?"  He
walked up facing our sides, studying us, grinning mischievously.  "But the
lion is the head of his pride now.  He must establish his authority."

Suddenly, he playfully but sharply smacked the small one on his ass.  The
little one groaned appreciatively.  Just as suddenly he smacked my ass.  I
gasped, not out of pain but out of surprise.  A smack back to the little
one.  Then to me.  These were not light slaps.  They were gestures of
authority.  After eight of these, he leaned over and kissed the smaller one
passionately, reaching around to run his hand gently over his warmed ass.
"The lion displays his power to his pride to demonstrate his esteem for
them," he explained.  I was holding my breath, telling myself that he
wouldn't replicate that behavior with me because, after all, they were
boyfriends.  Wrong!  He turned to me and planted his warm lips on mine,
sucking my lips slightly inside his, pulling back ever so slightly to stab
his tongue into my mouth, all the while rubbing his hand over my warmed
ass.

He smiled.  "My cubs are hot tonight."  The little one smiled at me,
swinging his legs up and around my waist, sliding his dick up my stomach.
His precum gave it a slick glide path, prompting a moan from him with my
moan right behind his.  The big one stuck his middle finger in my mouth.
Without needing an order, I laved it with my tongue, getting it good and
wet.  He pulled it out and moved it into my crack to my pucker.  He slid
the long, hard finger gently into me, eliciting a long "Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h"
of pleasure from me.  Then he stuck the middle finger of his other hand
into the small one's mouth, moving that hand under his ass and up his hole.
His moan mirrored mine.  While the little one continued to slide his cock
up and down my hairy stomach, the tall one finger fucked us slowly, sliding
his finger over our prostates every once in a while.  Occasionally, he
would take a nip at the little one's shoulder, then at mine.  Then his
nipple, then mine, always treating us equally.

"The cubs love the master of the pride," I couldn't help exclaiming.  "The
lion rampant," I chuckled, glancing at his long, hard dick, thinking of the
gold lions on the flag of England, but with erect cocks sticking out (with
due apologies to the Brits).

"Oh, yes," the little one joined.  "How much longer will the lion withhold
his 'rampant' dick?"

The tall one laughed.  "The cubs have his cock rampant all right.  The lion
bares his fangs not to hurt or punish but to show the power in which he
enfolds his cubs," he explained.  "Your hot, tight pussies make me feel
like the king of the jungle because I own those pussies.  Right?" he asked.

The little one responded, "Always and forever."

"Right?" he asked me.  I paused, old Evan, the teacher, the authority
figure, the great controller suddenly and frustratingly asserting himself.
The tall one sensed my holding back.  "Evan, it's not a matter of age.
It's a matter of desire, commitment, strength, and role.  Though I am
younger than you, you want a master, a protector.  I can happily fill that
role.  We have chosen you to join us.  We shall never harm you.  I shall
honor you as I do my little bud.  I shall protect you as I do him, for when
you give your assent, you are mine, equal to my little bud.  In the
classroom, you are the lion.  But when we are together, you are my cub.  He
and I have already discussed this.  He agrees, don't you little bud?"

"I suggested it, I chose it, I want it, Evan" the little one replied.

I was struck by the ritualism of our interaction.  The mythologist, Joseph
Campbell, would observe that we had reached a primal moment.  We didn't
need shelves of ancient texts to tell us about that moment.  Our blood,
masculinity, need, and desire pointed us at the moment.  The darkened room,
the ski masks, our bodies bound to the bars made it seem even more so.

Damn!  This was hot!  I could feel my precum anointing the small of the
little one's back, making me shudder from time to time.  He smiled,
reacting to my anointing.  I could feel tears moving down my cheeks.  Had I
ever thrown off the traces!

"Right?" the lion asked again.

"Right by conquest," I replied.  His smile was quick; he was pleased by my
reply.

"I have enough cock and cum to keep both my pussy cubs happy."  I know I
blushed again.  He licked up the tears on the side of my face closest to
him.

Suddenly, he popped his fingers out of our holes.  Then he knelt behind the
little one, sliding his hands gently up the sides of his ass up to his
ribs, licking his ass, nibbling at his ass cheeks, and licking his hole.
The tall one moaned: "Baby, your man smell turns me on.  Always has.  I am
one of the luckiest men alive."  The little one chuckled proudly.

"No wonder Kenny seems so happy," I thought.  I couldn't help my
reaction-again precum squirted out of my dick onto his back.  The tall one
wasn't even talking to me, but he could cause that kind of reaction.  Total
amazement on my part.  Clearly, there was much I had to learn about the
kind of power another man, even one younger than I, could have over me.  I
wasn't going to allow the point to intrude now, but I could tell that I
would later think a lot about the pleasure that came with giving up power
to the right man.  No, to the right men, for little Kenny was clearly
intending to occasionally assume a masterly role over me, and I was amazed
that I welcomed it.  Even better, I felt no jealousy, just happiness for
Robert and Kenny.

The tall one came around behind me, putting his hands on my hips below the
little one's legs, still clasped tightly around my waist.  He leaned in and
nipped my right ear lobe.  I quickly drew in my breath.  He chuckled.
"You're easy to turn on, Evan.  You have never had a real man's attention.
Makes you a push-over.  You're lucky we claimed you as our own.  The wrong
kind of guy could have hurt you 60 different ways."

"Wow!" I thought.  He was right.  I hadn't been wise closing myself off,
insisting on control.  I could put up all the barriers I wanted, but in a
flash of intuition, I realized that barriers didn't automatically lessen my
vulnerability or my need.  How could I have been so foolish?

Suddenly, a scene from my undergraduate days flashed into my mind.  One
spring night a panty raid was staged on one of the women's dorms (dorms
were like convents in those days: no men allowed!).  The housemothers and
RA's were barricading the front doors, protecting the virgins' virtue by
keeping the men out while the virgins were hanging out four stories of
windows flinging their panties down to the men.  I chuckled about
humankind's ageless sex drive.

The tall one asked, "What?"

I responded, "You're right and I've been so wrong."

He ran the back of his hand gently over my cheek.  "But we find you a
turn-on too, little Evan."  The little one squeezed me tighter in his legs
as though to underscore what the tall one had said.  The tall one dropped
behind me, licking up the inside of my thighs, nibbling on the bottoms of
my ass cheeks while he caressed the upper cheeks with his gentle hands.  I
couldn't help it; I moaned again.  Then he plunged his tongue into my crack
right on my hole, earning a startled squeek from me.  Pulling back, he
said, "Always spicy, Cub.  Makes my dick hard."

"But how can you love two of us equally?" I asked, feeling stupid and out
of step with my question.

"My love is great.  If you weren't worthy, I couldn't love you both
equally."

"I can understand your loving the little one.  He's beautiful, precious.
If he gives his love to anyone, they will be enriched and empowered with
that love."

He walked back to our sides.  "Oh, I see-Evan, the Unworthy.  Look into my
eyes and heart, Evan.  Do you doubt my feelings for you?  For my little
bud?"

I looked long and hard.  We had been playing metaphorically and sexually,
but I knew that this moment was the crux of our future together.  It would
either cement the ritualistic chemistry that had occurred or shatter it
forever.  How amazingly clear it all seemed.  I remembered my exhortation
to Beth Walker days earlier that she could leave the trenches where she
felt my homework placed her to scale Halsey's battlements if she but
changed her perspective.  Ironies again.  I was at that same point. They
waited patiently.  "No," I replied.

"Remember this moment, Evan.  You chose us just as we chose you.  Never
revisit your doubt and misgivings again, for you will not only weaken the
bond among the three of us, you will weaken yourself."  I couldn't help it;
I shuddered with the power of his insight, his wisdom, his protective hold
over me."  Again tears rolled down my cheeks.

"He accepts, Little Bud," the tall one spoke.  He kissed me; then the
little one strained forward to do the same.

"The bond is sealed," he said.

He walked around behind the little one.  "Evan, I'm going to fuck my Little
Love here.  I need your help.  Like you, he has thought he was not worth
much.  So like cubs.  But you recognized the good in him.  He trusts you.
We're going to make love to him because we both care for him very much.
Right, Evan?"

"Absolutely," I replied, ignoring the implicit message that I knew who they
were.  "He's the mythical Golden Child; he just doesn't recognize it."

The tall one retreated to their piles of clothing, returning with condoms
and lube.  He covered his dick with a condom and then lube.  As he slid in
the little one's ass, pushing him against me, Kenny-who was I
kidding-joined his lips to mine.  I pushed my tongue into little Kenny's
mouth.  He jerked with pleasure.  I moved back.  "Notice, Little One," I
said, "how surrounded by love you are.  You have to already have been good
and true to excite the lust and love of men like us.  Feel our love filling
you," and I slid my tongue into his mouth as I rubbed our slippery cocks
and balls together.

"Mercy, I thought; does it get any better than this?"

Robert leaned around Kenny and nipped his ear lobe.  Then Robert and I
moved our lips together.  Oddly, with all our thrusting, no awkwardness
existed.  It was like a magical ballet.  "No, primal dance," I thought.  I
noticed Robert began his Monster Pump; little Kenny moaned.  I whispered in
his ear, knowing Robert could hear me, "Kenny, so gifted that you can catch
in just a few strokes the surface of life, someday your sketches will
capture the inner realities of your subjects.  The magic of your eye and
heart.  Let our master's power fill you."  I felt Kenny's cum spurt on my
stomach.  He turned his head back for Robert's kiss.  I was shivering with
the bliss of it all.  Kenny hung there, his breathing slowly returning to
normal.

"You nearly drained me, Little One.  But I promise you, Evan," said Robert,
"that I have enough cum for you too," he stated as he slowly pulled out of
Kenny's ass.  Kenny slowly dropped his legs, wobbling a little as he stood.
After a moment, he moved forward, pushing himself into his cum on my chest
and stomach, plastering us together, while Robert changed condoms and lubed
himself again.

As he walked around behind me, I tensed up.  "Evan, put your legs around
the Little One's waist as he did you.  I grabbed the bars with my hands,
swinging my legs up and around Kenny's waist.  The heat and hardness of his
body against my legs made me shoot out a little precum.  "Evan, your
shooting precum always tells me that you are enjoying yourself," Robert
chuckled.  I could feel his still hard cock nudge up against my hole.
Gently but insistently, he slid into me.  I shivered.  Then he pulled
nearly all the way out and slid back in again.  I hadn't realized how the
muscle around my hole derived pleasure from his cock sliding in and out and
from his frenum pulling up against it.  I could tell that he was moving
toward his Monster Pump.

"Evan, I couldn't believe it when you started pointing out what was special
in my writing in English last year," Kenny explained quietly.  "That's why
I fought to get your class this year.  I couldn't get enough of your
insights into me.  I knew you wouldn't lie to me.  You encouraged me to
believe in myself.  That's how I gained the courage to come onto Robert."

"You should have seen it, Evan," Robert continued pumping away.  "The
little cub just came up to me after a football game while I was walking
back to the locker room, grabbed my helmet, and started singing my praises
for my moves on the field that night.  When he mentioned my strong body for
the second time, I knew I was hearing from more than a fan.  I took his
cherry that night.  Now I have added you to my harem.  You both make me
proud."

I was moaning, for the pleasure was near the breaking point.  While Robert
was talking, Kenny was kissing my eyes, my ears, my throat, my lips.
Suddenly, it was like all the feelings coalesced into cum shooting out of
me onto Kenny.  As my ass clutched Robert's cock, he grunted, cumming too,
biting my shoulder.  I had never had an orgasm that powerful.  I wasn't
certain I could ever move again.

Robert pulled out, and released Kenny from his bonds.  They moved to their
clothes, dressing quickly.  I waited patiently.  When they were dressed and
had gathered up their things, they returned to me, both standing so that
our bodies touched.  They began unbinding my wrists.  "Our love-making has
been intense, Evan.  Soon your feelings will cycle down," Robert said
softly. "They have to.  Because of where you are now personally and because
of the necessary circumstances, doubt and fear will set upon you.  Just
remember that we love you, you are ours, you are joined to us, you belong
to us."  He kissed me passionately on the lips.  Kenny followed.  "You
okay?" Kenny asked.

"Oh, yes," I mumbled.

"Until next time," Robert promised.

(To be continued.)