THE PAIR
I was at the local pinball arcade, playin with two of the
hottest guys I've seen in a long, long time. Steve was
19, muscular, and the perfect surfer type. A real blonde
beauty. Howie was 18, dark hair, and a tight little ass
that ached to be eaten. It was closing time.
I figured I'd best pack it in before I raped both of them right
there, so I made some noises along those lines, offering to give
the two of them a lift to Howie's first.
That was okay by Howie but Steve cut him off: "Do you have any more
dope?" Howie didn't; I allowed as to how I did but as to how it was
at home, not with me, and--hope against hope!--invited them up to my
place to get REALLY whacked. Steve was all for it; Howie agreed--reluctantly
I thought,but maybe at was just Howie. (Could HE see Steve's basket too?)
If I'd been on my toes I could've suggested there and then that I drop
Howie off and let Steve stay at my place...fortunately, I wasn't on my
toes, or anything else.
I was trembling so hard with pent-up anticipation and horniness and
the need to keep all of that down that I could scarcely hold onto the
wheel on the way home and missed shifting gears twice---I never miss a
shift, NEVER. I could see Steve grinning at me in the rear-view mirror...
maybe that was why....
My trailer was tucked under some trees at the end of a long, winding
driveway with nothing else around but nature. I was shaking so hard when
I finally ggot us there and got out of the car that I had trouble walking
for a moment. The two of them were kinda unsteady too; I surmised they'd
already had a fair amount to smoke.
The three of us staggered to the trailer door; I unlocked it and climbed
in, and they followed. I immediately collapsed into my favorite armchair
and they followed suit onto the front-room couch. Steve still had a hardon,
although he had apparently slipped it back into his shorts.
Howie, although he seemed oblivious to this, seemed to have more than the
usual bulge in his pants too. I got some rock on the stereo and somehow
managed to open the stash box and roll a couple of joints; we smoked another
one without talking. Steve kept looking at me and, stoned as he was, seemed
unable to sit still. Damn, I thought, this dude is really hot to trot!
But what's his game? And how the fuck can we do anything with Howie around,
anyway? I had a hard-on something fierce and had to piss to boot; I
was about to excuse myself to go to the john when Steve asked if I had
anything to drink. I said, "Yeah, sure--in the fridge," beckoning him over
and opening the fridge door for him.
As he walked toward me he winked at me and grinned; when he reached the
fridge he staggered against me and whispered--or croaked; it was hard to
tell--"It's cool, dude." He still hard a hardon; when I opened the refriger-
ator door, thus blocking Howie's view of us, he grabbed my hand and put
it onto his cock while giving mine a squeeze with his other hand.
I slipped his cock out of the leg of his cutoffs again and played with
it, skinning it back almost to the edge of his prickhead and then letting
it slide back forward. He trembled and moaned a bit and I had to brace him
briefly to keep him from falling over.
We bent over to look in the fridge, both of us making audible conversa-
tion for Howie's benefit about what there was to drink and at the same time
carrying on a whispered discussion for ourselves; all the while he kept play-
ing with my dick while I fondled his magnificent little ass. I managed to get
my hand under his shorts and my middlefinger down the crack of his cheeks,
but he whispered, "Wait." I whispered back, "For what? Howie's over there--
what can we do?" Steve humped his ass against my finger and said, "Don't worry
about him, he ain't uptight. He knows I hustle dudes. I never done this around
him, but just get him loaded enough and he'll probably play along. And the
word's out you're a fag; he knows that."
"I don't have any money," I said. "I'm gettin' what I want," he said.
Aloud, I directed Steve to the beer, asked him to open one for each of
us, and staggered toward the john, glowing like a lightning bug. It took me a
long time to piss: my dick was so hard and I was so horny that I had to wait a
while for it to go down enough to leak.
When I got back to the front room I was greeted by one of the most beau-
tiful sights I've ever seen: both Steve AND Howie had taken their cutoffs and
shoes off and were sprawled out naked on the couch with their cocks sticking
straight up into the air, looking at each other. Steve's uncut meat was throb-
bing gently; his dusky brown pubic hairs were matted down with what looked
like a combination of funk and pussy-scum and I could see a bit of precum on
the head of his dick. Howie's cut dick was longer and thinner than Steve's and
he still had his early puppy pubic hairs--long and coarse, looking as though
they'd been forced out of his pubes by some sort of inner explosion. Steve had
a brush of hair between his pecs and a lot of hair on his legs and ass and
under his arms, most of it bleached almost white by sun and surf; Howie had
only a small brush of dark brown hair leading from his pubes toward but not
reach-ing his bellybutton and a somewhat larger patch under each arm. Howie
had tossed his beautiful long hair underneath him; it surrounded his hot
little body like excelsior. Each boy would occasionally reach down and squeeze
his cock. A magnificent sight to be sure...and then I noticed Howie's eyes,
locked onto Steve's with a steady gaze.
His expression was something to behold: a Madonna-like smile that coveyed
both love and lust with an intensity that cannot be believed. I have NEVER,
before or since, witnessed such a thing. I stood there for a minute or so,
stunned, drinking it in; even now, writing this, I've a hardon and I'm leaking
precum and having trouble typing.
It was Steve who finally noticed me watching them; with a move of his
head he beckoned me over. When he did, Howie broke eye contact with him--and
gave ME that same look of exalted lust! GodDAMN!! I peeled my clothes off
instantly and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them.
Strangely, it was Howie who spoke first. "Steve says you wanta suck his cock.
Can I watch? I never done nothin' like this before. Steve said, "Sure, dude,
it's cool--like I told you, he'll suck yours too." He glanced at me again,
as if to say, "See?"
Howie shivered a bit and gave me The Look again. "Yeah?" His cock
throbbed a couple of times and a couple of drops of precum spurted out of it
onto his belly. He didn't move to touch it with his hand, only laid there,
trembling.
"Shore, dude," I said, "and it looks like I'd better take care of you
first; you're pretty far along."
Howie smiled sheepishly and said, "Yeah, I guess I"--and, with a sudden
sharp gasp, he shot a stream of jizz that hit him in the face. (Fleeting
glimpse of The Look, with his cum dripping from his moustache...I can still
get off on that....) He let out another cry and another spurt that went over
his left shoulder and I moved for him fast, afraid that he'd shoot the whole
wad before I could get there and that I'd miss the taste of his fresh
puppyload. I got my mouth on his pud and a thumb and forefinger around the
base of it and my other hand under his ass before he could shoot again and
began to gently milk him up and down while caressing his tight little buns
with my other hand--and he kept cuming...and cuming...and cuming...all the
while gasping and moaning and writhing and tossing that beautiful little bod
around in total ecstasy, while I held on to him as best I could and drank him
down.
He had cum that tasted like none other: almost like butter cake frosting,
sweet and unbelievably rich and plentiful. It may have taken him a couple of
minutes to stop shooting; I don't know for sure and don't give a shit. When he
finally finished I took my fingers away from the base of his cock and swal-
lowed it all the way down and just held on for an exquisite time, while he lay
there, panting and moaning softly while I held his still
hard cock in my mouth and gently fondled one of his buns with one hand and,
with the other, sneaking my fingers in and out of his asscrack and playing
with his asshole and the base of his cock and balls.
I was so stoned and carried away with this puppy's orgasmic joy that the
world seemed to swim around me; but in addition to that there was a certain
unsteadiness and shaking that I couldn't figure out---wait a minute, I COULD
figure it out: Steve wasjacking off with long, slow, earnest strokes and,
apparently, about ready to pop his nut 4oo--gasping and panting and beginning
to make little animalistic grunts and whimpers. Howie looked over at his buddy
and his expression of contentment and utter fulfillment changed to one of
wonder and--what, joy?--lust?--as I moved for Steve's dick, grabbed the shaft
of it with one hand and, without breaking his rhythm, substituted my mouth for
his hand. His pud was already slippery with precum juice and I had only to
skin him down and swallow his beautiful meat before he shot his nut too. I
milked him gently up and down as I had with Howie, but I could not resist
those beautiful muscular pects: I put one hand on each tit and gently massaged
his hard little nipples as he gradually came down from his orgasm.
I woke up an eternity later (an hour or so, according to the clock) with
Steve's half-hard dick still in my mouth and my head on his belly. Somehow I
had managed to get onto the couch before I nodded off--damned if I can
remember how. Howie had fallen asleep with his head on my side; one of his
hands held gently onto my dick. Both of them were asleep. I had to piss again
and wondered how I could get up without waking somebody up.
Getting off Steve was easy; all I had to do was gently raise my head off
him. But Howie was another matter--by now I had a full piss-hard and he held
onto it with almost a death-grip. I noticed that his dick was getting hard,
too, and as I noticed that he lifted his head from my side and again gave me
The Look. I took his head in my hands, brushing his beautiful long hair aisde,
and kissed him, first tentatively on the lips and then, as his mouth opened
wide, fully and enthusiastically, with my tongue down his throat. My dick was
as hard as it ever gets, but it hurt, too; I really had to piss. I gently
disengaged Howie's mouth from mine, smiled sheepishly and said quietly, "Hey,
dude...I gotta get up; I gotta piss somethin' fierce and I don't wanta get the
couch wet." Without taking his hand off my cock, Howie made as to get up from
the couch. His hardon led; I followed. He led me to the bathroom by the dick,
positioned it over the john, and waited. I said, "You'll have to wait pretty
long--I don't think I can piss while you're holding me; it feels too good." He
dropped my dick but snuggled up to me and put his arm around my waist; I put
mine around his shoulder and tried to relax (he sure as hell couldn't: I could
feel his heart racing and he was almost panting with excitement) ... finally
managed to relax ... finally began to piss.
As I began to piss Howie let out a little gasp and a moan; after a few
seconds he put his free hand on my cock and began to stroke it gently. Somehow
I managed to keep pissing. His hand wandered to the head of my dick--and
straight into my piss! As it touched him he let out another moan. I said, "You
like that, huh?" He said nothing but dropped to his knees, keeping his hand in
the stream. "What the hell?" I thought to myself, and turned slowly toward him
... he kept his hand in my piss as the stream slowly left the edge of the bowl
and arced over his thigh into his lap, resting at the base of his hardon--at
which point he let out another moan ... I slowly directed it up and down his
body and he moaned again ( ... his hair was bunched up behind him and was
beginning to get wet ... ) I moved it upward into his face and his mouth
eagerly opened; without hesitation he drank the last few seconds of the
flow....
I forget whether I brought it up first or he did (and it doesn't matter
anyway as far as I'm concerned): we ended up laying together on my bed,
smoking another joint and holding each other. I had towled him off but he
still smelled of a wonderful combination of his own sweet odor and my funk. We
lay there in a haze; the joint was soon forgotten as we shared each other's
presence. I began to run my fingernails gently up and down his back; he gasped
a little and held me tighter ... my fingers wandered down to the curve of his
butt and I made a quick, teasing pass at his asscrack ... his body shook at my
touch and he moaned again and he began to hump my hand; after a couple of
strokes he reached down, grabbed my dick (which was fully hard) and stuck it
in between his legs, clamped down on it and continued humping.
"Turn over," I said. He began to almost before I finished speaking; I
didn't have to ask him to spread his legs--just stuck my cock between them and
he clamped down and began to hump immediately and with vigor, all the while
squealing and moaning softly. I held onto him as tightly as I could, my nose
buried in the midst of the most extraordinary combination of sweet and sour,
and just lay there in ecstasy. It wasn't long before I was getting very close
to shooting my rocks--he seemed to sense this and suddenly stopped, laying
there vibrating with passion but otherwise still.
I backed away from him and said, "Get up on your knees," and when he did
so (we had to fight his hair for a minute ... sometimes in the heat of passion
one can run across a situation that threatens to break the whole flow because
among other things it's hard to quit laughing!) I moved around to his butt,
got behind him on my knees, and began stroking my fingernails gently up and
down his back again. He moved with the strokes....
The sight of his buns in front of me mesmerized me; I was hypnotized by
their slim perfection. My hands began to stroke further down on his back; as
they moved his moves answered me less and less; as I got to the small of his
back he spread his legs a little. I very gently stroked the inside of his
thighs and cheeks, gradually teasing around the base of his balls and making
little passes at his asshole. Each time I touched the pucker of his hole he
gasped and moaned and it clamped down tight ... he'd rock forward and back a
time or two and then his hole seemed to open wide; it looked like I could get
my little finger into it without touching the edge! This drove me out of my
mind; I was so excited I could barely keep track of what I was doing. Finally
I couldn't handle any more at all: without warning, I spread his cheeks wide
with both hands and did my best to stick my tongue all the way up his ass.
He almost screamed with pleasure--it was enough that I felt around in
front of his cock to see if he'd shot--he hadn't. His asscrack squeezed
tightly and I had to stop until he relaxed; I decided to take a less gonzo
approach and began to gently lick around the perimeter of his asshole, all the
while stroking the inside of one thigh gently with the fingers of one hand.
After a short while I was able to lick around his hole without difficulty, and
he encouraged me: after a few moments of this he reached around and spread his
buns wider than I had and gave himself to me.... For the first time in my life
I was able to find the mineral oil without breaking the flow....
My dick slid all the way up his ass the first time ... and he screamed
and did come....
... darkness and warmth and content ...
... shaking bed ...
... more warmth behind me ...
... and a stereofucking morning ...
EPILOGUE
The next few hours are a bit of a blur. I do know I fucked him precisely
three times--he'll brag about this on occasion ("Hey, this old fart can
really hump!"---little smartass!) and cite that number specifically--but
there are only random flashes of the rest of that night--and, for that
matter, most of the next day....
I found later that the two had been fucking each other for about six months
(although the balance was about 80/20 Steve fucking Howie), and that it was
Steve's spur-of-the-moment desire to get high (and equally-sudden desire to
get his rocks off) that started what has turned out to be a four-year affair.
The boys still live in the canyon and Steve still hangs out at the shopping
center ... and Howie is in college--aimtobe a pofessional oboist; it turns
out most of his family are symphony orchestra musicians and he has
quite a knack for it; plays well enough now to join some other student
friends; nice to be able to hear live music free. I see a lot more of Howie;
Steve has gone off into his own trip with little girlies and seems less
interested in guys of late--either Howie or me ... I think he still hustles,
but I'm not sure. Whatever, it's been something like four or five months
since we had a three-way ....
But there's scarcely a weekend Howie's not with me.