Date: Tue, 4 Sep 2012 18:08:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dj Montgomery <djmontgomery99@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Kye," Part 4

This is a work of fiction although some scenes may have been modeled after
events that are real and possibly autobiographical.  Any resemblance to
real or actual events, and/or persons, living or deceased, is purely
coincidental and not intentional.

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				   "Kye"
     Part 4

     I hadn't eaten all day, so when Trey suggested we stop for some food,
I readily agreed.  I wanted Chinese, but he suggested we just drive through
a burger place and keep moving.  He seemed to be in a great hurry, and that
bothered me a little.  I still wasn't sure exactly what was waiting for me.

     He looked good behind the wheel of my Jeep.  I briefly wondered how he
had gotten to my house, since he didn't indicate leaving a vehicle there.
Did Kye drop him off?

     "Penny for your thoughts," Trey said quietly as he munched his fries.

     "Why does Kye want to see me?"

     "Well, I never said Kye wanted to see you, exactly.  We're kinda
throwing a party for him.  Well, actually, the party is more about him than
for him.  He's...well, he's the entertainment."

     "What the fuck?"

     "Mitch will explain it all in about 20 minutes."

     "You keep saying that Mitch will explain it to me.  Who the hell is
Mitch?"

     "Mitch Dawson.  I met him in the Marines when we both ended up at
special ops training."

     "Wait a minute.  Your last name is Dawson.  Are you guys related, like
maybe brothers or cousins?"

     Trey broke out in loud laughter.  I thought he might drive off the
road.

     "Nobody has ever accused us of being related before.  He is as white
as I am black.  But we do have a lot in common.  We both ended up as
trainers for the Marines.  They realized that we were both too smart to
risk overseas, and two of the senior officers were mustering out, so they
kept us stateside.  We ended up as roommates, workout buddies, even fuck
buddies.  He's built like a brick shithouse, and he's a size queen to boot.
That's why he likes this," Trey said proudly as he smiled and squeezed his
crotch.  "Just can't get enough of me.

     "Are you lovers?"  When I realized what I had asked, I blushed, then
added, "If it's too personal, you don't have to answer."

     "That's okay.  He's like by best buddy, brother, counselor, and sex
fiend all rolled up into one.  Lover?  Maybe.  Could he be my lifetime
partner?  I don't know.  Love is such a complex emotion.  Sometimes it's
just easier to deal with the wild, lustful sex!"  Trey laughed out loud
again.  I slugged him in the arm.  It was like hitting concrete.

     "Come on.  Is that the best you can do?"

     I hauled back and slugged him as hard as I could.  All I succeeded in
doing was hurting my hand.  His arm never moved.  His body began to
convulse in laughter.  He reached over, put his strong arm around my neck,
and pulled me into his chest.  His vest was flapping in the breeze since we
had the top down on the Jeep, so my cheek ended up laying on his right pec,
with his nip almost going up my nose.  I could easily have reached out with
my tongue and sucked it into my mouth, but visions of a car wreck flashed
through my brain, so I resisted.

     "Hey buddy, I really like how you're holding me, but I still have my
lap belt on, and it is cutting off the circulation in my legs."

     "All three of them?" he asked, and he began to laugh all over again as
he let me go.  I wondered if Trey was ever serious.

     I thought it was time for me to get to know more about Trey, so that I
would know if I could trust him once I was face to face with Kye again.
"Did you always have this much fun as a kid?  You know, before you joined
the Marines?"

     Now it was Trey's turn to remain quiet.

     "Penny for your thoughts?"  I tried his line, hoping that it might
open him up.

     "No."

     "No, not this much fun?  No, not any fun at all?  Or somewhere in
between."

     Trey was slow to answer.  "I was raised in foster homes.  Never knew
either of my parents.  Just went from house to house, placement to
placement.  I never, ever felt like I was ever home.  Never had anyone ever
say they loved me.  Maybe that's why I'm a little leery of what people call
love.  Hell, I'm scared of it.  I'm not sure if I'd recognize it if it
smacked me upside my head.  What I've got with Mitch is as good as I've
ever had it.  In the Marines, I would have taken a bullet for him, and him
for me, I know it.  I think we still would.  I don't think its love; more
like a once-in-a-lifetime friendship.  I have so much fun being around him.
It's like I get to finally have a happy childhood, only as a grownup."
With that last comment, he turned away, focusing only on where he was
driving.  I could see a tear rolling down his cheek.

     We drove for a few more minutes, then drove just outside of the city
and turned into what appeared to be a long driveway snaking up a rise.  As
we topped the rise, I could see an older ranch-style house, surrounded by
mature trees and a well manicured lawn.  Nothing frilly.  Actually, very
masculine.  As Trey pulled my Jeep up to an open spot in front of the
detached garage, he quietly stated, "Home.  Finally."  Then he turned to
look at me.  "Mitch is going to be anxious to meet you."

     We both hopped out of the Jeep and headed up to what appeared to be
the front door.  Not bothering to knock, Trey stuck his head in the door
and hollered, "Hey, dumbfuck, I'm home!

     "You asshole!  What took you so long?"  Trey was tackled by a man best
described just as he had told me—a brick shithouse.  The man had
muscles, and his muscles had muscles.  Clad in only a jockstrap, he writhed
about on top of Trey, grinding his crotch into Trey's hip.  Then he jumped
up, offered a hand to help Trey up, and then jumped into his arms, wrapping
his legs around Trey's narrow waist.  Trey twirled him around and around,
and they came to a stop with Trey facing me, smirking at me over the
shoulder of the young man, whose spread cheeks revealed a delicate pink
rosebud which seemed to be quivering with delight.  That rosebud was framed
by two of the most beautiful round ass cheeks I'd ever seen, even counting
ones on the Internet.  The whole package was framed by that well-worn
jockstrap.

     Trey turned about half way around, and I was treated to a scene of
this young man alternating between burrowing his tongue into Trey's ear and
then biting and sucking his neck.  "I fuckin' missed you so much!  How long
has it been?  12 hours?  How do you expect me to live without that big ol'
cock of yours feeding me protein by injection?"

     "Mitch, we've got company."

     "They can wait."

     "Mitch, this is Dom.  Dominic Bartolo.  Dom, this horny bastard is
Mitch."

     "Glad to finally meet you," Mitch said as he jumped down from his
perch on Trey, and he pulled me in for what I thought would be a big hug.
But he pushed his lips up against mine, and his tongue pushed between my
lips to force open my mouth.  He proceeded to suck my tongue into his
mouth, like he was making love to my tongue.  He finally broke the kiss,
stepped back, and stated, "Yep, really glad to see you."

     Trey was doubled over with laughter.  "Dom, you should have seen your
face!  I thought your eyes were going to fall out."

     "Hey, did you guys stop for burgers and fries?"

     "How could you tell, Mitch?"

     "I can taste it on both of you.  Did you bring me any?"

     "Is that all you think about, food and fuckin'?"  Trey looked at him
with his best fake frown.

     "What did the Marines teach us?  If you can't eat it or fuck it, then
piss on it and keep moving!"  And Mitch broke out in a 24-carat smile.  I
thought I was going to need sun glasses.

     "We don't have time for any watersports right now," Trey said with a
grin.  "How's the party going?"

     Mitch grinned back, then turned to lead us into the house.  Good thing
that they didn't have any neighbors close by.  Mitch didn't seem a bit
fazed that he'd just been out on the front lawn in a jock that didn't hide
much.  He probably gave Trey a run for his money in the manhood department.
And that ass, that beautiful ass!

     We walked down a narrow hallway, past closed doors.  I guess I wasn't
going to get the tour of the house till later.  Mitch and Trey were headed
for a door at the end of the hall.

     "Family room," Trey said to me as he pointed to the door.  Mitch
opened it up, and we were blasted by the sounds and smells of sex.  We
walked in, and I immediately realized there were no windows.  Must have
been rebuilt, and soundproofed.  All the walls were painted black, and
black lights shown alongside several dim overhead lights, which provided
just enough light to see around the room.  There were a few small tables,
but no chairs.  I poked Trey.  "Not like any family room I've ever been in
before," I said loudly, to be heard above the noise.

     "Wait till you see the centerpiece on the workbench."

     "Workbench?"

     Just then, one of the dozen or so naked guys gathered in the center of
the room began to groan wildly, screaming, "I'm gonna breed your ass.  Here
it comes, fucker.  All for you, motherfucker, every last inch!
Aaaaaauughhhh!"

     Mitch put his hand on the shoulder of one of the guys, and pushed him
to the right.  Now we could see the guy who was pulling out of one sorry
looking ass.  He skinned the condom off his softening cock, held it up in
the air, and shouted, "Yee-haw!"

     He dropped the condom filled with manseed onto a table, and said,
"Anyone still have to nut?  Or was I the last one?"

     I looked at Trey.  "Last one?"

     Trey smiled one of his sly smiles, put his hand on my shoulder, and
guided me to follow Mitch through the crowd.  There was a big guy, trussed
up and tied to a low workbench, a blindfold covering his eyes and a mouth
gag in place.  His ears had earplugs in them.  Both arms and legs were
shackled to the table, with his torso being held off the table by a frame
of pipes.  His balls were tied and secured to the table, and his cock was
jammed into a chastity cage.  Down his legs ran a mixture of lube and
blood.  And on his back, someone had used duct tape to secure a plastic
flower.

     Mitch turned to me, smiled, and said, "Centerpiece."

     Even with all the additions, I could tell that this man was no
centerpiece.  It was Kye.

.....to be continued.....