Date: Tue, 30 Jan 2001 21:14:16
From: Ganymede
Subject: Merry Christmas part  4.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. PART 4. By Ganymede

WARNING

This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual acts
between men and MINOR boys. If the subject of man/boy sex offends
you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or
if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read
further! You have been warned! Read at your own risk!

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede. A
copy has been submitted to this archive for your reading
enjoyment. Placing the story in other archives for monetary gain
violates the copyright. Feel free to post the story to Internet
newsgroups or send it to your friends. If you enjoy my story,
please consider contributing to a charitable organization that
provides services for boys.

Part 4 describes the use of a drug to enhance erections.
This drug should only be used when medically prescribed. In
addition, the story includes the use of artificial devices to
enhance sexual pleasure and capacity. Readers are strongly
cautioned to use such devices very carefully and never to inflict
pain.

The story is fiction. Any resemblance to any individual,
alive or dead, is unfortunate.

DEDICATION:

This is the first Ganymede story to have a dedication.
However, this is more than a simple "thank you". This story would
not have been written but for Teglin, the author of "Three Weeks
to Heaven". To dedicate this story to him would be nothing short
of an understatement of the value of his friendship and support.
It exists only because of him. He challenged me to write a
romance in the same way I once used to write about boys and the
men who love them. Teglin also introduced me to a remarkable
young man who I will always remember as someone who influenced my
life for the better. Above all, I wish that I had been able to do
the same thing for him.

FINAL WARNING:

If you are under the age of 18, if this material is illegal
in your place of residence, or if man-boy relationships aren't
your thing, then exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. PART 4. By Ganymede

December 31, 2000



Even after the video finished, the two boys were still
upstairs for an hour. They had plenty of time to make plans. Boys
will be boys, and boys are, by nature very creative. We would
soon discover that sexually aware boys could be especially
creative. We could hear them moving about, the occasional creak
of the hundred-year-old oak floor boards, the infrequent sounds
of muted voices. A shriek, laughter, more shrieks, followed
immediately by the sudden suspicious silence that every parent
knows and fears for no other reason than it heralds trouble of
some kind or another. Gary and I waited with bated breath. The
half-finished video was left sitting on the coffee table before
us like a book that is half-read, with a plot that was partially
revealed but an outcome that was still barely conceived.

We waited for a long while, enjoyed a couple of beers,
snacked on honey-roasted cashews, and talked about what it was
like to live year-round in the Adirondack Mountains. The year was
drawing to a close, a century was winding down, a millennium
concluding. It was both an end and a beginning. My marriage was
finished. My life had taken a new direction. There was an aura of
excitement knowing that I would start my life over again, or if
not completely afresh, then so radically changed that it might as
well be. Yet, I was also anxious. My decision, rather our
decision, had been made for a couple of days by that point. Grant
and I would live in the cabin. My wife could have the apartment
in New York if she wanted. All I knew was that I never wanted to
see her again. I was happier than I had been in many years.

Needless to say, it was a forgone conclusion that Grant and
I share the same bed whenever we were alone. At night, he came
into my bedroom and took over the left side, my wife's side. That
he had done so without needing an invitation, or having any fear
of rejection by me merely demonstrated our mutual recognition of
the inevitable. He stayed until morning, having spent most of the
night, our naked bodies tightly pressed together not unlike a
husband and wife whose marriage vows were still fresh. Of course,
there would always be a separate bed in the loft for Grant, but
that bed would be cold most nights.

As I sat there, vaguely hearing sounds of the boys upstairs,
sipping my beer from the bottle, I was uncomfortably aware that
the change in my life was both a cause for celebration and
regret. My son had also changed. He was no longer an innocent
little boy, and in that change alone there was implicit a great
step into manhood. I saw my son growing up and becoming even more
sexually aware as he started into puberty. It would not be very
long before the insidious hormonal changes began.

I mused whenever I saw that video cassette sitting on the
coffee table. That video was also part of the change. What I had
seen had changed me. I had watched another man making love to his
son, just as I made love to Grant. The realm of possibilities had
been transformed. My guilt had been diminished. Gary and Brandon
had experienced the same thing, found satisfaction, given each
other pleasure, shared happiness. The video was the common thread
that bound us together. The four of us, two men and two ten year-
old-boys, were united. It was us against a hostile world.
Together, we could be invincible. We would always be together.
Gary and I understood each other. It was more than a simple
appreciation of what it was like to love boys rather than women.
Certainly, that was part of it, but now we had a common purpose,
a single goal.

"So, when did you first know?" Gary said.

My head jerked up, my train of thought interrupted. "Huh?"

"About being interested in boys? When did you know you were
a boy lover?"

"Oh? Oh that!" I smiled. "I don't really know, Gary. I think
I've always known I was different. I could be around boys all day
and never get bored. Just watching them makes me feel good."

"Same here. It's like I'm programmed to B-O-Y. Bastions of
youth," Gary joked. "Strange though, when you stop and think
about it. I mean, here I am, a grown man, a father, and I think
that a boy is the most wonderful thing in the Universe."

I smiled. "Me too. I used to watch movies with Grant, you
know the usual boy-dog-have-an-adventure movie, and I would
salivate over the boy."

"You too? The nice thing is that now I can watch those
movies with Brandon, and we talk about how cute the boy is. We
try to guess how big his dick is, or if he's been cut. We both
have a thing for David Gallagher as well. You know, the boy who's
on Seventh Heaven."

I laughed. "You too? Man, I can't believe this. My wife used
to make fun of us, but Grant and I really love that show. The
only problem is that he isn't as cute as he was. It's a pity they
have to grow up so quickly."

"I have the answer to that," Gary winked. "You live for the
moment. You have to take advantage of every minute of every day.
Speaking of which, that reminds me."

He stood up and walked across the room. He picked up a small
package that was sitting on the table in the hall. He smiled at
me as he came back into the room.

"I forgot about this. It's the main reason why I went into
town this morning. I ordered it on the Internet." He glanced
upwards, towards our unseen but ever-present boys. "Supposed to
be a stocking stuffer for Brandon. I guess getting it late is
better than never."

"What is it?"

Gary smirked. "The ultimate lube for a boy. We've been using
Eros, but it's as expensive as hell, especially when you use as
much as we do."

"So Brandon was telling us on way over here. Is it really
better?"

"Better than what? A boy is a lot better off with Eros, or
something like that, than say Vaseline. We've used K-Y in the
past as well, but Brandon needs something that stays slippery
longer. I tried a few woman's products as well, but they aren't
intended for the back door."

"I can only imagine why," I laughed. "And with more
lubrication?"

"That too," Gary answered seriously. "You have to watch the
ones with Glycerine. Not only does it taste like crap, but if
you're not careful, you can get fungal infections."

"Sounds unpleasant?"

"From what I've heard, it is. I've started buying Bodyglide
Classic in the super size bottles. At a hundred bucks a time,
plus shipping, I'm beginning to think I need a second job."

"It is expensive," I replied, thinking of how much I had
paid for the three tubes of Preparation-H a few days earlier.

Preparation H did the job, but it was not particularly
enjoyable. There was the smell for one thing, the greasy residue
for another. On the plus side, Grant benefited from the mild
analgesic for the soreness afterwards, What Gary was talking
about was the 'real thing', lubricants that were intended for
sexual use. I had seen them on the display shelf in the pharmacy.
I was too embarassed to take it to the check out counter and
stand in line.

"The label on the bottle that Brandon showed me looked
pretty high-tech," I said.

"Eros? If you think that's high-tech you ought to see
Astroglide. They developed it while creating oils for the space
shuttle. Your tax dollars at work," Gary quipped. "We tried it
once or twice. It's as close to pre-cum as you can get, but it
costs even more than the Eros. Luckily you can buy it at Walmart.
Mostly we keep it for special occasions."

"How about K-Y?"

"If you have a problem with vaginal dryness, it's probably
okay."

I laughed. "That's my wife."

"K-Y will do in a pinch, but take my word for it, what you
really need for Grant is not something you'll find at the local
drug store. Preparation H is a hell of a lot better than
Vaseline. It will get the two of you started, but when you're
having regular sex, he needs more lubrication."

"So what's the Christmas present?" I asked as I gestured to
the small package that Gary continued to hold as he extolled the
virtues of Eros.

"Oh, this?" He grinned. "When we started doing it, I got him
some Anal-ese from the Internet. It's got Benzocaine in it so it
desensitizes the anus. It makes for greater comfort during
penetration. It's great for boys, at least until they get
stretched out a bit."

"That sounds like what I need."

"You and me both, at least it was when Brandon and I started
doing it. The nice thing is that it also takes the edge off your
dick. It's not as sensitive so it takes longer to cum, when
you're using it. A couple of times, it's taken me nearly an hour
before I shoot. Those long ones are the best fucks we've ever
had."

I swallowed. "An hour?"

It was hard to believe that a man could last an hour. My
time was measured in minutes. Sometimes it seemed that I was
inside Grant for only a few seconds before my ejaculation. In
that tight, hot, canal my penis was out of control almost as soon
as it was all the way inside. If there was something that could
prolong the pleasure, I was more than ready for it.

"Usually not that long," Gary added. "But without it, I'll
cum very quickly."

"So you ordered some from the Internet?" I pressed.

"Yeah. And you know the best thing? Brandon loves the cherry
flavor."

We laughed together, me imagining some of the ways that a
ten-year-old boy could acquire a taste for it, Gary remembering
how his son slurped over his penis. Oral sex was something that
both boys enjoyed. I was quickly beginning to realize how much
better life could be now that we had friends with similar
interests.

"So,...." Gary said.

He had a long drink, emptying his bottle of beer. He leaned
forward and placed it next to the video, and then smiling, picked
it up again. For a few seconds he looked at the bottle. Could he
actually be thinking what I was thinking? A beer bottle, with its
unique shape, could make a serviceable dildo if a man was so
inclined. I wondered how far it would go in. I suspected that it
would not be long before Grant and I graduated to such toys.

"I really liked that ball-dildo you made for Grant, by the
way," gary said in an off-hand manner.

"Huh? Oh! Oh that!" I knew that I looked sheepish as I tried
to smile.

"Yes, that. It was very creative. You could probably make
some money selling them on the Internet."

"Somehow I doubt that very much," I replied.

"Don't bet on it. Most of what's out there is just plain
boring. They're either pink or black rubber. I've bought a couple
of butt plugs for Brandon. He just graduated to the medium size.
All of two inches in diameter," Gary added proudly. "It was
another stocking stuffer from the Internet. I get hard just
thinking about him wearing it."

I grinned back at him. "He was wearing it when he came in."

"Yeah, I was sure he had one in. So did Grant, if I'm not
mistaken." Gary smirked. "You can tell from the way they were
walking," he explained. " Straight backs, with their little butts
pulled in. It's a sure sign that a boy's either been recently
fucked or he's been plugged."

"I hadn't noticed. Well, that's not quite true. Grant does
walk a bit funny afterwards." I smirked, enjoying my new found
freedom. It was very satisfying to be able to talk about it.

"I would have called it bow-legged, and not from riding
Moonraker," Gary joked. "You must have a big one, Chris. I bet
that dildo you made him helps though, especially if he wears it a
lot."

"He was wearing it when we ran into you on the way to
picking up Brandon from the airport," I admitted. "He kept it in
the whole day, even when he was skiing."

"Wow! So what was it like after you took it out?"

"Man, it was incredible. It was so loose. I mean it was
really loose, Gary. My cock just slid right up him with the
slightest pressure. He must have orgasmed, hell, at least three
or four times. He had one before I even got started."

"I'm impressed. Today's the first time Grant's used a butt
plug, isn't it? Other than the one you made, that is?"

I nodded. "Yes. Brandon loaned it to him before we left to
come here. I was actually a bit surprised. It looked large, but
it went in quite easily. The boys had them in the whole time they
were sledding."

"I'm glad. I usually don't let him wear it outside the
house. You know, in case it pops out. It's only happened once
before, but there's really nothing to hold it in. That cord is
one of the things I really liked about the one you made."

"You've seen it?" I asked uncertainly.

"Sure. Grant brought it with him when he stayed the night.
He's quite the little exhibitionist. He's even less inhibited
than Brandon, if such a thing is possible."

"He showed you?" I asked curiously.

"Oh yeah. He took it out for me. I can still hear those
little balls popping out one after the other. I wouldn't mind
getting one just like it for Brandon. The leather harness was
great. Just the idea of him wearing it in public gives me a big
thrill."

"That's the understatement of the year," I agreed. "It's
wild, walking about town with him wearing it. We know it's there,
but no one else does."

"The sheer naughtiness is awesome."

I nodded. "He's learned to use his muscles to move it around
inside him. We were at the cinema a couple of days ago and he did
it so much he got off on it."

"You mean the little stud had an orgasm? In the cinema?"
Gary asked gleefully.

"Yep," I answered. "It was all I could do to keep him in his
seat he was jerking around so much. Later on after the movie
finished, we went into the can together."

"Yes?" Gary grinned.

"Do you know what he did? He practically took his jeans off
while he was standing at the urinal. One or two of the balls had
managed to get out."

"You're joking?"

"No, really." I chuckled. "It wasn't funny at the time,
though Gary. He was standing next to me and trying to push them
back inside. He should have gone into one of the cubicles to do
it. Instead, he stuck his hand down the seat of his pants.
Anyway, a man came in and stopped a couple of feet away. I swear
he must have seen the leather cord around Grant's waist."

"What happened?"

"Nothing really. I was watching him from the corner of my
eye. I'm sure he saw it. Grant just acted as if he was getting
rid of a wedgie."

"Some wedgie," Gary said with amusement.

"The man was pretending to straighten his shirt but he was
looking right at Grant. I kept smelling him."

For a second Gary looked at me curiously, and then he
grinned. "Oh! That smell!"

I grinned back at him. "Yes, that smell. It has to be the
nicest smell in the whole world."

"Pure boy! Or maybe I should say, impure boy, because
there's only one way you get to smell it."

"It was all over his hands," I added. "Luckily, the man left
before I had to say something."

"Very lucky." Gary smiled, suddenly pensive. "It must feel
good having those balls moving around inside. It'd be just like
having a dick up his butt all day long. Does he sleep with them
in there as well?"

I shook my head. "No. At least not while I'm around."

We both laughed. After a minute we stopped and looked at
each other.

"I can't believe we're talking like this," I said with
relief.

"It's good to have a friend at last. It's a lonely existence
otherwise," Gary added. "Where would I get some balls like the
ones you used?"

"No idea. They came off a toy thingie. We've had it for
ages. I haven't seen them around here."

"Damn, that's a pity. It's ideal. It's far better than those
rubber plugs we've been using. It has a kinky touch to it that's
a real turn on for me."

"Me too. I'm sure Grant will let Brandon borrow it if he
wants. They share just about everything else," I said.

There was another loud laugh from above us. It was followed
by some shouts and the sound of bodies jumping up and down on a
squeaky bed. Gary and I shared a knowing glance even though we
wondered what the two boys were up to.

"It sounds like they're having fun," I observed.

"Our two rambunctious boys are really getting into it by the
sound of it. Will you look at the time?"

It was already dark outside. A quick glance at the
grandfather clock showed it was nearly six o'clock.

"They didn't feed the horses," Gary said as he inclined his
head and stared at the ceiling. He shook his head as if giving
up.

"They probably shouldn't go outside after they've had a
bath."

"Probably not. Well, I guess I had better get my butt up off
the couch and go do it. You want to take a walk down to the barn
with me, Chris?"

We pulled on our coats and boots, called out to the boys
with instructions to behave themselves (whatever that might
mean), and headed off into the snow storm. It was already thick
enough to leave white ridges on the fence rails. The snow was
falling quickly enough that it would obliterate our footsteps in
a matter of minutes. We stomped our way down to the barn.

Inside, it was a long way short of warm, but it was not as
cold as it was outside. Out of the wind and with the lights
turned on, it was nearly comfortable. Gary headed off to do what
farmers do to take care of their animals and I wandered around
the barn looking at the odd assortment of tools and equipment
that seemed to litter ever available inch.

There were, of course, a number of saddles, including two
smaller saddles that belonged to the boys. Brandon's saddle had
that 'lived-in' look, yet it still shone from recently applied
polish. I fingered the tooled leather of the seat, vaguely
fantasizing about the small bottom that fitted ever so neatly
into it. It was almost as if the saddle had been sculpted around
a boy's anatomy, the slight depressions for the two cheeks of a
small firm behind, the polished area immediately behind the
saddle horn that shielded his groin. I smiled, imagining what the
boys were doing together in the house. Were they still naked? It
was very likely. Were they having sex?

It was in that state of mind, partially aroused, engaged in
a silent fantasy of the two boys having oral sex, that I found
the bridle. It was unlike any that I had ever seen.

"Hey, Gary?" I called out.

"Yeah?" He looked up from the feed bin. "What's up?"

"Not me, that's for sure," I joked. "What's this for?"

"It's a bridle," he said loudly from the other side of the
barn.

"Duh, I know that. It's not like any I've seen before."

"I hope not. It's an English style one. It used to belong to
my wife. She always rode English style. She was a god-awful
rider. She had the bridle to go along with it."

"Weird," I said.

I lifted the bridle off the peg and examined it closer. The
harness was nothing out of the ordinary. It was constructed of 5/
8 inch leather straps with edges that had been smoothed and
finished so as not to abrade the horse's head. It had a rope
nose-band for lateral pulling. Over the years the rope had frayed
and it needed to be replaced. On the other hand, the leather was
well oiled and quite flexible. It was black and still shiny.

"The bit is a Kimberwick," Gary explained as he walked up
beside me. "The English sometimes use them for show horses. This
one is a lot longer than most of them. It can put a lot of
pressure on the animal's tongue if you put the reins in the upper
slot."

The bit was made of half-inch diameter stainless steel and
had a tongue-shaped appearance. It seemed as if it would be very
uncomfortable for the horse's mouth. I touched the protrusion
gingerly. It was nearly three inches long and two inches wide at
one end, tapering to a rounded end at the other. It was hinged
between two oval-shaped cheeks that were about three inches in
diameter.

"That's what you call a Cathedral," Gary added. "Most of
them aren't nearly as pronounced or don't have that to begin
with. Usually, they're hinged in the middle."

"Weird," I repeated.

He smiled. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," I answered. "Well, that's not quite true," I
added absently.

I breathed out. My mind raced. The more I thought about it,
the faster my mind consumed the possibilities. Was it possible? I
lifted the bridle up, studying it with more interest.

"Can I have this?" I asked awkwardly.

"Why on earth would you want that damned thing?" Gary
replied with surprise. "You certainly don't need it, Chris. A
Kimberwick is an extremely severe bit. It's for ass-holes like my
ex-wife. It's for people who can't fucking ride and have to
result to that level for simple control."

"Do you still need it?"

"Of course not. I should have thrown it in the trash. It
sounds like you're losing your mind. You know something, I should
have realized what a cruel bitch she was as soon as she bought
the damn thing. Her poor horse could hardly breath with that
thing stuck in his mouth. It practically gagged him."

"I wasn't thinking of using it on a horse," I said vaguely.

"Huh?" Gary continued to stare at me as if I had lost my
mind. "You need some leather for something, Chris?"

"Yes,I do, but I need the bit too."

"I don't mind you having it, except,..."

"It's not for a horse," I interrupted. "It's for a boy."

"For Grant?"

Gary looked at me in amazement, his face blank. Slowly, he
nodded. While there were no words of explanation, he grasped my
intention. He scratched behind his ear thoughtfully, looked at
the harness, studied the odd-shaped bit, half-closed his eyes.

"Might work," he offered. "You'd need to replace the nose-
band, though. Grant's skinny, but this thing is nowhere near big
enough to get around his waist the way it is. Besides, it's
pretty well worn out as it is."

"Do you think you could fix it?" I asked.

"Reckon I could. What's he measure around the waist?"

"The last time I measured him, with a full belly he's just
under twenty-five inches," I replied.

"Hm,... so if we put on a leather strap instead, with a
buckle on one end. Let me have a look at it."

I handed over the bridle and Gary carried it across to the
work bench. He pulled out a penknife and carefully cut away the
rope. He turned back and grinned at me before going to work. He
understood what I had in mind. He used two pieces of leather from
a belt that he cut in half and trimmed. One end was a brass
buckle while the other was punched with holes every inch. He
adjusted the length of the straps, trimmed away some more leather
so that it could fit into the ring, and proceeded to sew two new
loops.

"That's better," Gary said as he finished sewing.

I regarded the modified harness, imagining it in place. It
was ideal. I felt a surge of excitement that was immediately
tempered by guilt.

"You don't think it's too big?" I asked with growing
concern. "I don't want to hurt him."

"You've had two fingers up him before, haven't you Chris?"

"Ah, well,... yeah," I admitted.

"How far?"

"Pretty far."

Gary smirked. "Up to the second joint, right?"

I nodded awkwardly. Grant seldom complained with two
fingers, but it was no secret that he was getting uncomfortable
at that point. He understood the need to stretch that part of him
before we had sex. Besides, he enjoyed foreplay as much as I did.

"Then this shouldn't be too much of a problem for him then,"
he added.

He placed two fingers beside the stainless steel tongue,
matching the curvature. As long. Slightly wider at one end.
Slightly narrower at the other end. Two fingers up to the
knuckles was about right in terms of thickness. It would be tight
when it was all the way inside, but not so tight that it would
injure him or cause excessive pain. Gary held the harness up
before him, studying it as if measuring it against a boy of
Grant's stature.

"Won't work," he said flatly.

"Why not?"

"Well look at it. How's he going to put it on for one
thing?"

"I guess you have a point. We could put another buckle
here," I suggested, touching the forehead band. "And put the head
band around his back."

"I think the straps are long enough, but they're easy to
adjust. The big problem I see is with the front one. The buckle
would be right on his chest. It might scratch him, or you for
that matter. How about one of those press and snap things?" Gary
suggested. "It would look a bit like a stud."

"I guess. I think I'd rather stay with the buckle, that way
we can adjust the size if we need to."

"Good point. That solves part of the problem. But look at
this. If you put this behind his neck to hold it in place, what's
to stop it from pulling up or being pushed out," he asked as he
flicked at the strap that normally would have gone around the
horse's neck.

After a moment or two, I nodded. Gary was correct. We both
saw the solution at the same time.

"Put a couple of straps back  under and around his thighs,"
I suggested.

"I have an even better idea." Gary smirked. "How kinky do
you want this to be, Chris?"

I shrugged. Slowly, I nodded. I had not been thinking of it
like that but suddenly I wanted it to be 'kinky'. I wanted it to
be very 'kinky'. In fact, if I was honest with myself, that was
the only reason for using it in the first place.

"I really don't want to hurt him," I repeated quickly.

"Of course not. If I thought that, you and I wouldn't be
standing here in the first place. I've never gone in for any of
that masochist stuff. I'd kill any man who hurt a boy like that.
There's going to be some pain with anal sex, you know there will
be, especially at first. But to deliberately hurt him just to
make yourself feel good, that's wrong. Even bondage turns me
right off, but a boy who's outfitted like,... well, like a hot
little sex-god,... It's wild. Shit, I could easily get off just
thinking about it, Chris."

"So what do you have in mind?" I asked with barely
restrained excitement.

Gary pointed to the short shiny metal chains that were
attached to the sides of the bit. The chains ended with stainless
steel rings that were about an inch in diameter.

"These," he answered ambiguously. For a moment he looked
distant, even angry. "My ex-wife had these fitted to take the
reins. She would snap them back against the poor animal's
cheeks."

"Not nice," I commented dryly.

"She could be awfully cruel at times. At first I used to
give in to whatever she wanted. Then when I stopped, we fought
like two banshees."

"So what do you have in mind?" I asked.

"If the chains go underneath him and come up either side of
his crotch, then these rings ought to end up somewhere on his
belly. And the new straps could go right through the rings to
hold it in place."

"Go for it," I said promptly. "I hope it isn't too
uncomfortable for him."

Gary gave me a surprised look. "After running around with
six balls up his butt, you're worried about this being
uncomfortable?"

I smiled. "You have a point there, I guess. But you did say
it used to gag your wife's horse?"

"It's not like it's going in Grant's mouth, is it?" He
smirked and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "And from what
I've heard, after what that boy of your's has had up there during
the last week, this is nothing to worry about."

All told, it took another ten minutes before he stepped
back from the bench and held up the rebuilt harness. It was an
odd looking thing. No longer was it an artifact of a by-gone era,
yet, remarkably, its equine function was still possible if the
nose-band was appropriately adjusted. Gary handed it to me and I
held it out, musing about what it represented.

For the last week I had worried about dominating Grant,
about subjecting him to a passive role, about ravaging the barely
formed masculinity of a young boy. Now this. This thing was an
instrument of control. If he wore it, it would give me authority
over him. It was impossible not to feel a sense of triumph. I
recognized the inherent privilege. This thing in my hands
contained undeniable power, it contained the ability to exert my
will over that of another person. The mere thought was
titillating. The excitement was overwhelming, an intense arousal
that was not too different to what I had experienced that morning
in the kitchen when I had glued the colored balls onto the
leather cord.

"It looks great. I wonder if it will work," I announced.

"There's only one way to be sure," Gary laughed. "You have
to get him to try it on."

"It looks like it'd come all the way up his chest," I
observed breathily. "It might even be too big for him."

"Maybe, but if it is, you can always shorten the sides. The
good news is that it ought to be big enough for a couple of
years. It looks like you just invented the boy-bridle, Chris. You
could sell this on the Internet too," he added with a smirk.
"It'd sell for three or four times what you'd pay in a tack and
saddle shop, maybe more."

I smiled. 'A boy-bridle'. It was kinky. It was crudely
sexual. It was bizarre, even grotesque--like the Mapplethorpe
photograph of a homosexual with a leather whip inserted in his
anus. It was both ingenious and expertly crafted. It was
everything I had hoped for.

"It's awesome," I acknowledged at last. I was breathless.

I could easily visualize Grant wearing it. He would wear it,
of course. He was like that. Adventurous. Willing to try
anything. Accepting the role that was implied by our
relationship. He wore the ball-dildo every chance he had. I
suspected that this would be no different. The problem was both
obvious and unavoidable.

"He'll love it, I know he will, but what about Brandon?" I
asked uncertainly. "Won't he want one as well?"

"Probably. However, if I know those boys of ours they'll
share it. No, I think I had better make that definitely," Gary
reflected. He smiled. "Brandon is starting to get into this weird
stuff as well. Do you know what he wanted for Christmas?"

"Huh? A bigger dildo!" I joked.

"Well that too. But there were two things he wanted more
than anything else. A ear ring and a pair of leather pants. Talk
about a boy coming out," Gary said. "He's a little faggot, just I
was at that age. Sometimes, it's as much as I can do to keep up
with him."

"I didn't see the ring."

"You will, but not for a couple of days. I haven't gotten
around to taking him to the mall yet. He'll probably wear his
pants tonight, if the boys get dressed for dinner that is."

We both laughed. As I thought about it, holding that strange
looking 'boy-bridle', thinking about the steadily falling snow
outside, there was not a reason in the world for the boys to get
dressed, at least not until the snow was cleared from the road.
We had absolute privacy. The nearest farm was a mile away and
Gary had a reputation of being something of a recluse. In fact,
even the idea of the boys putting clothes for dinner seemed
ridiculous. I looked forward to seeing them naked again, feasting
my eyes on young nubile bodies.

"But you've got a point, Chris," Gary added. "Brandon will
want one. It's a pity there's only the one. A regular bit would
do about as much good as,..."

"So, we fix up something else for him," I offered.

"Any ideas."

I shrugged. "You said the one I made for Grant turned you
on?"

"It did a damned sight more than that. I nearly creamed my
jeans the first time I saw him wearing it."

I slid my hand in my jacket pocket. It was still there. For
no reason I could think of at the time I had placed it there
before we left the cabin. My fingers fondled six little polished
balls and the leather cord. I lifted the dildo out and offered it
to Gary.

"Man, that's the hottest thing I've seen in a long while."
Gary took a deep breath. "Just thinking about Brandon wearing
that makes me horny as hell. Grant too, for that matter. When he
took it out, I nearly came right then."

"I don't suppose you have another bridle lying around?" I
suggested.

"Another bridle? Not one with a solid bit in it. Personally,
I've always thought using a metal bit was a sign of a bad rider.
That's why I encourage the boys to use a halter. They'll end up
much better riders. Anyway, I've gotten so I can't stand the
things. I've got one or two around here somewhere with a chain-
bit."

"Ideal," I said. We just fasten the balls to the middle of
the chain, change the harness like we did with this one, and,..."

"Perfect," Gary interjected jovially.

It took him a few minutes to find a bridle with a chain bit.
Unlike the first one, the leather was newer and tan-brown in
color. Also, it lacked the chain extensions to connect the reins.

"What can we use to hold it down?" I asked. "If we don't tie
the cord properly, we've found that the balls will pop out. The
more he moves around, the more likely it is. It might take a
while but eventually they'l slip out."

It had happened only once. Just one time was enough. We were
lucky. I smiled.

"A couple of leather straps might work," I added.

Gary thought about it. "Maybe. Only the leather straps might
pinch his nuts. If he's hurt by it, it rather defeats the
purpose."

"You're orobably right," I agreed.

"I know. We make our own chains!" Gary exclaimed brightly.
He pointed at the metal cheeks. "Going from here, from where the
reins attach. I've got just the thing somewhere around here."

He reached up to a line of pegs above the work bench. It
took a moment to find what he was looking for. He lifted off a
chain with rings attached to either end. At one time it had been
part of the tack for a team of plough horses. It was made of
steel and had been worn very smooth by years of use.

"If we cut it in half," Gary said thoughtfully, "and close
the links again,..."

He set to work again. This bridle took longer to fabricate
because of the chains, but by the time he had finished, the
modification looked very professional. He grinned at me, held it
up, obviously fantasizing about his son's body strapped into the
leather and steel harness.

"Do you think it's wrong?" he asked awkwardly. "I mean, it's
pretty kinky and all. They're still kids. Maybe it's too weird?"

I nodded thoughtfully. "It is weird, Gary, but it's not like
we're going to force the boys to wear them. It's totally up to
them. Besides, being kinky doesn't have anything to do with
pain."

"True. I know my boy will be into it. In fact, it was
Brandon's idea to get a dildo," Gary mused. "Sure, I showed him
one on the Internet, so I guess I planted the idea in his mind,
but he asked for it. I agreed only because I wanted him to loosen
up. The whole point was for it would stop hurting when we put my
dick in him."

"Same here. When I realized that Grant needed to be loosened
a bit so he could enjoy it, I figured it out. Necessity is the
mother of invention, after all," I added.

Gary laughed. "Boy virgins are like that. Brandon was as
tight as they come for the first week or two. But boys aren't
tight for long, not if they have men like us around. I have to
tell you, Chris, it's even more fun now. It's a nice feeling,
having Brandon stretched out a bit with a dildo before I start.
My cock just slides right on in there. Before you know it, you're
balls-deep and he's hot for some real action."

"So I found out. Do you think they'll go for it?" I asked.

"Probably. They've taken to dildos like a duck to water. I
guess I'm just worried about the weirdness factor with the
leather harnesses and all."

"Me too," I admitted. "Let's just play it by ear and see
what happens."

We trudged through nearly a foot of snow on the way back to
the house. The wind had increased in strength and snow was being
driven nearly parallel to the ground. Drifts had started to form
wherever the velocity decreased slightly. I did not need Gary to
tell me that we were in the middle of a blizzard. With luck, we
would be snowed in for a couple of days. Unless there was some
emergency that provided a reason to fit the snow plow to the
front of his pick-up truck, Grant and I would be house guests of
the Bowmans for the foreseeable future.

Back inside the house, with our snow-crusted boots and
jackets off, Gary and I returned to our places in front of the
fire. A few more logs and a couple of pokes with the iron, and
there was a good blaze going. We settled back into our seats, and
then, without realizing, we both looked at each other. He smiled.
I smiled. And then we started to laugh. We laughed and laughed,
dispersing years of half-formed friendship, bonding afresh.

"Man!" Gary exclaimed. "It's like being a kid and living my
life all over again."

"Yeah," I agreed breathlessly. "I'm glad, Gary. I was so
worried,... you know about being like this. I never thought
anyone else could be same way."

"There are lots of us," he explained. "I'll show you what
I'm talking about later on. There are even help groups for people
like us."

"You mean like Boy-lovers Anonymous?"

"Well, most of them are anonymous, for good reason. I've
found a lot of friends on the Internet. Lucky for me, I guess.
Because before you came along, I was god-awful lonely. I had
feelings for Brandon, and I wanted to do things with him, but I
was really into self-hatred. I tried to hide it from myself but I
always ended up jacking off while I fantasized about him and
Grant."

"I know that feeling," I said awkwardly. "I used to have a
book of drawings from the Nineteenth Century, until my wife found
them."

"Boys?"

"Mostly. There were a few girls in it, not that it made any
difference. She was as pissed as I've ever seen her."

"She didn't buy the line about them being artistic?" Gary
joked.

I would never forget her response, the invective launched
even before I had gotten out a few words of explanation.
'Pervert'. 'Disgusting'. 'Sick'. Words I would never forget. The
look on her face. Was that when I stopped loving her? Had I ever
really loved her?

I shook my head slowly. "I was scared, Gary," I admitted
slowly. "Until I met you. When you started talking about when you
were a boy, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my
shoulders. There was a light at the end of the tunnel."

"Wait until I get you with the help groups," Gary teased.
"Mostly they're men, but there are even a few boys. It's like a
big family."

"Does Brandon?...." I began.

"Sure. I watch him like a hawk when he's on-line, needless
to say. It's good for him to share experiences. Of course, now
with Grant around, he won't feel the need as much to talk with
other boys."

I nodded again. The best thing for the two boys would be for
them to grow up together. There was the problem of school. From
what I had heard, Brandon's school life was not a particularly
enjoyable experience.

"About school?" I started.

"That's my biggest single problem, Chris. It really is. He
hates it there and the ride takes forever. He's not being
challenged, and so far there's nothing I've seen of the middle-
school teachers that makes me think it will change. I've thought
about private school, but the nearest one is too far for him to
travel to everyday. Boarding school is out of the question, for
obvious reasons."

"You said something once,..." I paused. Had he been making
an offer then? Had he known then? "About home-schooling?"

"Sure. It's really the best choice in these parts. A lot of
families are doing it. I already have my certification to teach
Math and Science at high school, so I would have a good start. Of
course, my English leaves a lot to be desired. I could probably
get through the other subjects easily enough, and English too, if
I had to."

"Hm,..."

I looked at my hands consciously. Hands that wrote on a
daily basis. My hands were unlike Gary's work-roughened hands.
Not that I was afraid of physical work, in fact I was beginning
to relish the exercise and satisfaction that would come from
working on the farm. We had different skills and abilities, and
we also had a great deal in common.

Suddenly, I was aware of the noise coming from the floor
above me. It had been there since we had returned from the barn.
Music. The rhythmic sound of feet moving on the floor had become
louder.

"They're dancing?" I asked curiously.

Gary shrugged. "Sure sounds like it. Brandon got a boom-box
from his mother for Christmas. I know she got it for him because
she thought it would drive me crazy."

"You really don't like her very much, do you?"

"Like her? I hate her. She's a bitch, Chris. A cruel mean
bitch. What's worse, I think she's figured Brandon out by now.
That's the reason why she won't intervene when the step-kids make
fun of him. She wants to hurt him."

"You mean that he's gay?"

"Yeah. Not that it's all that hard to figure out. Brandon
goes out of his way to send a message. It's part of the school
problem. He's been in a few fights."

"Shit!"

"You got it. I expect Grant will be guilty by association,
even if he doesn't flaunt it like Brandon has been doing lately."

"Why does it have to be that way?" I asked sadly. "It's
difficult enough being gay. Why do other kids have to torment
them?"

"I don't know. I've heard stories from my Net friends about
boys being suicidal because of it."

"About school,..."

I paused, unsure of myself, of whether I wanted to make a
suggestion, an offer that might be accepted. Did I really want to
do what I was thinking? Individually, home-schooling would be
difficult, but together? Before I could think twice about it, the
words were out of my mouth.

"I have an idea," I blurted out.

"Yes?" Gary prompted.

I sat there with an uncertain look for several seconds. "You
teach the Math and Science, Gary, and I'll do the rest."

There! It was done. Gary regarded me, his eyes questioning
to see if I meant what I said. He knew enough of my background to
realize that it would not only work, but together, we would
provide an education for our sons that was better than any public
school could offer. He nodded slowly, accepting my offer.

"Okay, except we'll have to share the health class,
especially the sex parts," he said agreeably. He grinned. "I've
always thought that hands-on instruction is the best way to learn
that stuff. We might be a tad biased compared to what they'll
learn in a regular school."

I laughed. "Biased? Yes, it guess so. It'd be a waste of
time teaching them about reproduction."

"Not something they'll need to know, that's for sure."

"So, it's a deal." I thought for a moment. "Assuming the
boys think it's a good idea."

"What makes you think they won't? It's a fantastic idea.
It'll be like no school that's ever existed, Chris. We can do
something really special. We could even base it on Ancient
Greece, with lessons outside in good weather, with the boys nude,
and trips whenever we want, and there's the Internet, and,..."

"Okay, enough already," I interrupted.

Gary laughed. "It'll be the best thing that ever happened to
them, Chris. And us too, for that matter," he added happily. "And
with the two farms, we'll have plenty to do when they're not in
school. It'll be like early retirement."

He was excited and his excitement was infectious. We began
to make plans, always with the proviso that the boys agreed. It
was all I could do to stop him from developing a curriculum right
there and then. Instead we talked principles, goals and desired
outcomes, about what a well educated person should know and be
able to do. If ever there was a chance to affect young lives for
the better this was it. We could tailor their education to meet
their needs and interests. We could provide a learning
environment and challenge the boys in ways that school teachers
could not.

The music suddenly became louder. Booming out of a boom-box,
the way it was intended to be used with rich bass notes and
vibrant treble. It was loud enough to make the plaster walls
vibrate. Both Gary and I sat forward and looked towards the hall,
towards the source of the pounding rhythm.

On cue, the boys appeared from either side of the doorway,
stepping into the opening, joining hands, faces beaming with
joyful yet mysterious smiles. I found myself grinning. They were
not naked, not by a long shot, but they might as well have been.
They were dressed outrageously. Grant was wearing a pair of black
jeans that had been borrowed for the occasion while Brandon was
wearing his new leather pants. He wore them to great advantage,
the leather clinging to his slender legs and enhancing his
natural shape. Above, the boys wore white dress shirts with
button-down collars, but dress shirts were never intended to be
worn this way. The sleeves were rolled up. The fronts open, and
had been tied behind to keep them that way. The result was eye-
opening, erotic, sensual.

>From where I sat, I could see Grant's belly from a few
inches above his groin all the way to his neck. His belly rippled
with the firm contour of muscles, his chest defined by the
pronounced lines of his ribs, even his nipples stood out. Erect
and painted. Tiny circles of red. Little black dots in the very
center. Brandon was the same. His navel not as pronounced,
inward, rather than outward. My penis strained into my jeans,
slobbering pre-seminal fluid even as my heart throbbed with the
music.

Simultaneously, the boys stepped forward, still holding
hands, strutting several paces with exaggerated motion before
they stopped, now only a few feet away. With perfect timing, the
music changed to become more dynamic, louder, faster, the beat
more pronounced. Together they started to sway their slim hips,
rotating young pelvises in a way that would have made Elvis
proud.

It was like watching,.... I don't know what. I felt myself
breathing deeply. I was turned on. My heart was pounding. The
boys were into it. So was Gary. His eyes were all but glazed
over. I licked my lips. Hungrily. Each breath increasingly
difficult. Impossible to look away. Such lithe beautiful bodies.
Such muscular control. Such nice bulges in their crotches. Boys,
no wonder we loved them.

The energy was abundant and it was released joyously in that
flagrant display of sexuality. That was what it was. They had
practiced until they had it down perfectly. And the movement of
their hips? Swaying, jerking, thrusting. I tried to focus on
Grant's navel, jumping, jerking, around and around, back and
forth. Arms and legs moving frenetically. Having imitated sex
with himself. With Brandon. Rhythm pulsating, powerful, potent. I
was being carried along, swept into the dance, no longer a
voyeur. Grant's hands extended, beckoning crudely, grinning
lasciviously, inviting me to join him, join with him, copulate
right there on the floor. And then it stopped. They smirked,
exchanged a single glance. Both hands, four little hands moved
down, both boys showing off, arching their bodies, cupping their
crotches, presenting themselves for inspection. Their bulges were
noticeably bigger than when they had started.

"Look at those belly buttons," Gary quipped teasingly. "They
look good enough to nibble on."

"Okay, you take the belly buttons and I'll nibble on those
nipples," I laughed.

The boys giggled.

"What did you use? Did you paint them on, Brandon?" Gary
inquired.

"I used my markers."

"The waterproof ones?" Gary asked. Brandon nodded slightly.
"But they're permanent, you dodo. It doesn't wash off."

"So?" Brandon shrugged. "We don't care, do we Gee-Tee?
Anyway, it'll wear off eventually, Dad, because it does when I
get it on my hands."

"Cool, huh Dad?" Grant asked teasingly.

"Very cool. I almost lost it in my jeans," I laughed.

Brandon smirked. "So did my dad. We aren't finished yet, are
we, Gee-tee?"

With that their hands moved again, from either side of their
little boy-mounds, deliciously rounded places of sensitive flesh,
sliding upward. Little fingers found and tugged at zippers,
dragging them down. The metallic sound filled the room. Then the
fingers parted and exposed. My eyes opened wide. Neither of the
boys was wearing underpants. Bare smooth flesh. Hard flesh poking
out through now opened silver-edged slits. It was time to breath
again. Gary had assured me that they would be creative, but it
was hard to believe that this was really happening. Two
erections. One, short and squat, ending with a little purple-red
acorn, a fire helmet. The other, longer and thinner, ending with
a tapered hose, a penis that swelled slightly as the light-brown
skin passed over a still-hidden head.

"That's what I call a sight for sore eyes," I sighed.

"The Chippendiddy's probably don't do that," Gary laughed.
"But they should."

Not understanding, I glanced at him quickly. It was all I
was prepared to do given what was right before me. I was staring
fixedly, taking in their perfect beauty almost as if I was seeing
their penises for the first time.

Gary smirked. "The Chippys? You have a lot of catching up to
do, Chris. They're a dance group from England. They flash their
bellies just like these two just did. They wear tight pants and
really flaunt the interesting parts without actually showing
anything. It's all very sexy. I can get off just watching them."

"You've seen them?" I asked.

"He downloads videos from the Internet," Brandon interjected
with a playful smirk. "And then he jacks off watching them."

I raised my eyebrows, wide. Gary blushed slightly and
shrugged with pretended nonchalance.

"Now I can watch you and Grant dance instead," Gary laughed.
"This way I get to see real live belly buttons."

The two boys shared a knowing smile. "While you jack off?"
Brandon teased.

"Maybe." Gary winked meaningfully. "It depends on what I get
to see."

"Um,... Like,... what do you want to see?" Grant asked.

"Everything."

Again the boys glanced at each other. All it took was one
brief look to know what was going through their minds. Perhaps it
was all part of their plan. Perhaps is was spontaneous. Brandon
all but skipped out of the room. A moment later the music started
again. This time it was slower, not as loud, a tribal rhythm that
could have been ancient in origin.

They started to sway, wriggling their hips like women in a
mating ritual. My eyes were glued to Grant, disbelieving again,
watching his penis bobbing up and down. He was parodying
intercourse, thrusting into an invisible hole, pumping with his
thighs and buttocks as his pelvis oscillated sensuously. Again,
breathing became a deliberate act. My penis felt like it was
ready to burst, not from ejaculation, but high blood pressure.

They had obviously spent a lot of time practicing. They had
to have done that given their timing, the attention to detail,
the need to synchronize. With nothing to show it was planned who
would go first, Brandon slid behind Grant. They continued to
dance, the boy in front obscuring the boy behind. Then suddenly,
Grant's shirt came loose, untied. For a few seconds it hung from
his shoulders, completely exposing his front. Slowly, as he
writhed and twisted, the shirt slid down his arms and dropped to
the floor. There were no cat-calls, just two men sitting forward,
breathing heavily. Grant smiled gleefully, still moving his body
in time to the music. His hands eased up, following the lean
contour of his lithe torso until his fingertips plucked at his
painted nipples.

"Wow!" I breathed.

No strip-tease artist could have done that and had the same
effect on me. My testicles tightened, overloading with
adrenaline, desperately fighting what was imminent. I was going
to ejaculate and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Well,
there was one thing I could do. I thought about my wife.
Immediate relief. I sighed, wondering if I should close my eyes.
Too much was happening. Somehow, in the few seconds it had taken
to occlude orgasm, the boys had changed position. Now, it was
Grant who was undressing Brandon.

Brandon, bless his heart, couldn't stop giggling, so his
dance was inherently less erotic. It was anything but innocent.
Then,before I was ready, both boys were bare from the waist up,
dancing face to face and barely inches apart. They were
practically rubbing their genitals together. Glistening tiny
beads of perspiration flecked their chests and backs. Grant's
hands dropped down between them and he fumbled for a few seconds
to unfasten the metal button at the top of Brandon's leather
pants. With the zipper already open, and without underpants of
any kind, there was very little to hold the pants onto the
wriggling boy. They dropped a few inches, restrained only by his
buttocks. That was sufficient to create an urgency to finish.
Brandon reciprocated, taking even longer because his hands had to
constantly grab at his pants to stop them from sliding further.

Then, visibly ready for the final act, they turned to face
us. They smiled gleefully, fully aware of the effect they were
having on the two men before them. Open-fronted, hard penises
projecting proudly through an exposed 'V', pale flesh vividly
contrasting with black. They swayed together, reaching their arms
up behind their heads to stretch their bellies and chests into
that taut form of ribs and muscles that is a pre-pubescent boy.
Slowly, their pants descended. A wriggle here, an exaggerated
thrust there, a shake to encourage their pants to drop. Thighs,
knees, legs, until only their ankles were covered. Both of us,
grown men sitting side by side, watching the two of them, their
flat brown bellies quivering, muscles rippling, stubby penises
jumping up and down excitedly as they continued to simulate
sexual ecstasy. The strip show was over but I had an unnerving
premonition that the fun had only just begun.

"Bravo!" I cheered as they stepped out of the bunched up
material at their feet.

"Awesome! Totally awesome! Absolutely fantastic!" Gary added
with unrestrained gusto.

"Next time you guys do something like this, will you do me a
favor and warn me first. Please?" I laughed.

"Why?" Grant asked uncertainly.

"So he can bring some Vaseline and a handful of tissues, of
course," Gary guffawed. "He almost lost there for a minute."

"Dad!"

"It's true," I admitted shamelessly. "It was all I could do
not to cum in my jeans."

"You're gross," Grant giggled.

I laughed. "And you love it."

Grant shrugged, pretending disinterest. After a moment he
smiled, shyly, teasingly, very much a boy. "So, now we're naked?"

"Yeah, it sure looks that way to me," I answered playfully.
"I can see two bald little dicks staring at me."

"Two of the cutest dicks I've ever seen, that's for sure,"
Gary added. "Do you want to show them what we made in the barn?"

"Sure. Who goes first?"

"What are you guys talking about?" Grant asked.

"A surprise. Why don't we give them to the boys at the same
time?"

I nodded and reached behind me. Gary did the same thing. I
proudly held out the bridle. It took a few seconds for the look
on Grant's face to change. I expected to see surprise,
excitement, perhaps even confusion. He could hardly be expected
to understand what the harness of leather and metal was intended
for, not at ten years old. I didn't expect to see anger. He took
it in his hands, looking down, strangely inclining his head. His
eyes fluttered, blinking, hands clenching on the shiny black
leather. I saw rejection and dismay.

"How,... how could you, Dad? It's cruel! I'll never use it.
It's disgusting!"

My mouth dropped open. I gaped at him. What was wrong?

"It's not for Moonraker, you dummy," Brandon interjected. He
grinned. "It isn't what you think it is."

"It's a bridle! It's got one of those bits in it, like your
dad showed us in the barn, the type that makes a horse's mouth
bleed."

"You're right in part. It's kind of a bridle," I said
awkwardly. "But not for a horse."

"Huh?"

"It's for you," Brandon continued. "See, look at mine."

He held the harness up that Gary had given to him. The six
red balls hung down from the chain, clinking against a metal
ring.

"What?" Grant asked curiously. "What is it? Why's my thing
on it?"

I smiled at Gary. "Well, it's kind of like a harness we made
to hold it in place. It's for a boy, not for a horse."

Grant giggled. "It's a dildo harness."

"Yeah, you might call it that," Gary said. "We've taken to
calling it a boy-bridle."

"Can we try them on?" Brandon asked enthusiastically.

"I don't see why not."

I reached out and took Grant's hand. He was still resistant,
yet his reluctance was quickly evaporating. A slight pull was all
that it took to draw him closer, until he stood before my knees.
He was suddenly smiling, somewhat abashed at his outburst.

"Hm,..." I mused.

I stroked his smooth lean thighs. When I stopped to think
about it, their dance had been somewhat awkward, awkward beyond
exhibiting themselves, awkward beyond unfamiliarity with the
gyrations of their dance. I could think of only one explanation.

"Is there anything inside you that we need to get out
first?" I asked.

Grant grinned down at me, his eyes answering instead of
words. Slowly, he turned around and placed his hands on his
rounded cheeks, splitting his buttocks apart. There was a vivid
red hemisphere bulging out where the small dimple of his anus
should have been. Except for the color and smooth surface, what I
saw looked like half a golf-ball, shiny, obviously greasy. For a
moment, I was dumbfounded.

"I thought it was pink," I said at last.

"This is the other one, Dad. The big one," Grant giggled
over his shoulder. "Brandon's got the cone-shaped one."

"I told you they shared everything," Gary announced
gleefully.

"Yeah, so I see. Sharing tooth brushes is one thing," I
chortled. I flipped my finger at the hard object. It sounded both
well cushioned and hollow. "You've got to admit that this is a
bit different to a tooth brush."

"Not at all. I don't see any difference in them swapping
dildos," Gary replied in mock seriousness. "I bet they didn't
even wash them off before they swapped 'em."

The boys looked at each other sheepishly. It was impossible
not to laugh. They probably needed a lecture on personal hygiene
at some point in the near future, but now was not the time. I
doubted that what they had done would hurt them beyond the
obvious. Sooner or later they would have to worry about disease,
but not yet. Privately, I hoped that they would never need to use
condoms.

"I thought not," Gary chuckled when the boys remained
guiltily silent. "Mouths or butts, it makes no difference to our
boys. They're just different holes. They share everything else."

I might have said the same thing. Instead, holding my
laughter to a barely controllable level was all that I could do.
By the time the night was over, the boys would have shared more
than dildos and toothbrushes.

Putting that thought aside, interesting though it was, I
concentrated on removing the dildo from Grant's body. It wasn't
an onerous task. His body smelled clean and fresh. However, it
wasn't easy. First, because it was slippery and hard to get hold
of. Second, because of the dumb-bell shape, it wanted to stay
there. It had been much easier for Brandon to remove it, but
then, he had a lot more experience. He knew how to use his inner
muscles to push it out. It took nearly a minute of me pulling and
Grant pushing with all his might to dislodge it. Finally, it
passed through the tight throat of his anus and dropped into my
hand. I parted his cheeks far enough to see his anus. The rim was
reddened and distended, opening into a dark tube that glistened
with shiny residue. I wondered how the boys had managed to get it
inside in the first place. Sitting down on it was the only
logical explanation. How long my son's anus had been subjected to
the increased dilation? How ever long it had been, the result was
awe-inspiring. His anus was wide open.

"Okay," I said with relief. "Let's try this on for size.
Turn around Grant, so I can see what I'm doing."

I started by holding the harness against his body to check
the length. It was fairly close, but it was larger than it needed
to be to fit over his compact torso. Then, pressing the steel
tongue carefully between his cheeks, making sure it was centered
in the right place, I pressed home. Grant winced in surprise.
Cold hard metal entered him. Not all the way, of course, but far
enough that it pushed into his inner sphincter. It stopped where
his rectum started.

"Does it hurt?" I asked with immediate concern.

"'s cold," he complained.

"Sorry about that," I answered awkwardly. My hand trembled.
Was it hurting him? The metal tongue was unyielding, cold,
inhuman.

"Do you want me to take it out?" I asked nervously.

"No. It's okay, Dad. You can push it in a bit further."

"Are you sure?"

"I said so, didn't I?"

I took a deep breath. My excitement was overpowering. From
the unconscious trembling in the boy standing before me, I
expected that he was feeling the same way. His hands closed,
forming little fists as I pressed gently against the metal bit.
It slid in further, still not all the way, but now breaching that
small portal. He shuddered. His anus was being stretched, pulled
apart by a wedge of half-inch thick steel.

"Okay?" I asked anxiously.

Grant nodded slightly, shifting on his feet, moving
awkwardly as he felt it levering his buttocks apart, reaching
into his innards. I held my hand still. He trembled, trying to
accommodate the rigid thickness. He glanced over his shoulder,
tried to look down.

"Nearly in," I said gently.

I pushed again, pushed harder, realized that the bar was
pressed tightly against his cheeks. It could go no further. His
cheeks swelled slightly where they had been displaced. His anus
was distorted, forced into a flattened oval, two inches across.
The anal lip, red-rimmed, very thin, no longer showing any sign
of a pucker, was stretched tightly, curling inward in the center
as it tried to close the opening. The two metal rings on either
side of the mouth-bit were hinged. They adapted perfectly to
Grant's shape, lying against the smooth roundness of his buttocks
as if they had always been intended to be that way.

"Does it hurt?"

"It's pushing into my thing, Dad," Grant answered huskily.

His thing? He shuddered, pulling away slightly before he
pushed back. Was it that far inside him? Three inches. Just three
inches, but it was far enough to reach his 'special place'. I
swallowed, risked a quick glance towards Gary and Brandon. They
were busily engaged in their own activity, inserting the last two
balls. I heard Brandon gasp when another one entered. I looked
back at Grant, back at the distended hole, seeing inside. It was
not the first time that I had looked into his bowels, yet it
still affected me. I felt a surge, a thrill, raw, intense,
outrageous. This was the place that held me, contained my penis,
made love to me. My son shuddered again.

"You okay?" I asked quickly.

He nodded awkwardly. It was like having sex, having my penis
lodged inside him, feeling the demanding power of it as it
penetrated him, claimed him, owned him. Now, this metal thing
possessed him. I breathed out, ready to harness him.

"How does it feel?"

"Okay. It hurts a little, but it's not bothering me. It
kinda feels good too. It's a bit like when you put two fingers in
me and pull to the sides."

"Put your hand on it to hold it in," I instructed.

He complied. He turned sideways when I guided him, looked
down at me, meeting my eyes with a shy approving smile. That his
penis was erect undoubtedly helped to overcome any reluctance on
my part to finish what I had started. He was into it as much as I
was.

The next thing I had to do was to fit the belt around his
waist. For the first time, without experience, it was really a
job for four hands rather than two. I lifted the two short shiny
chains up from underneath him, placing them on either side of his
penis and scrotum, following the warm furrow of his thigh. I held
them there with one hand while I brought the belt from behind
him. It was difficult to pass the buckle through the metal ring
using one hand, but once that was done the worst would be over.
After two attempts I gave up. The solution was obvious. I lifted
the harness up his chest and buckled the neck-strap behind
Grant's neck so that it could no longer fall down. It was several
inches too long. I could adjust the length later on. Then I
turned my attention to the waist belt again.

It needed a smaller buckle or a bigger ring on the chain,
that much was obvious. After another attempt, I succeeded. A
moment later and I had the belt together and buckled tightly
enough that the mouth-bit was fixed in place. No matter how hard
Grant tried, it could not be pushed or pulled out. I took a deep
breath. By this point my hands were clammy and shaking. The
arousal I had experienced over the last few minutes was enough to
incite orgasm in an ordained minister. Grant was similarly
agitated. His penis was fully erect, achieving a degree of
stiffness that was awe-inspiring. His penis had a dull sheen so
tightly was the skin stretched over the shaft. Even his foreskin
had retracted partially, exposing a reddened tip that was usually
hidden within. I could not remember his penis being so stiff.

I chanced another look to the side. Gary and Brandon were
going through the same exercise that we had just gone through. I
felt another urgent thrill, the renewed pangs of hunger for the
slim boy who stood beside my son.

"How does it feel now?" I asked Grant.

"Good."

Good? Again, overwhelming sensations were reduced to a
single, nearly nondescript word. 'Good'. He was smiling the smile
that I knew so well. We both understood. What he was feeling was
much better than 'good'. I reached up eagerly. It was time to
finish the job. I shortened the side straps on both sides of his
chest by two holes. All but the last strap were tight. The side
straps of the harness passed on either side of his body, going
from buttock to breast. Entirely by accident, the metal rings
were positioned directly over his nipples. Dead center. Black
dot, red circle, silver ring. I swallowed. Even if we had
measured him in advance, the fit could not have been better. With
nervous hands, I completed the last buckle on his chest. I took a
deep long breath and let out a sigh. It was perfect. I swallowed,
slowly looking up to Grant's face. His eyes were closed. He
appeared to be concentrating, summoning all of his energy for
some physical feat, straining internal muscles, fighting an
inevitable, invisible flood.

I glanced down. His penis was straining, reddened, as hard
as the metal tongue that pierced his anus. Twisting, tiny blue
veins had swollen, become darker. His testicles had contracted,
shrinking into a barely noticeable lump on the underside of his
penis. When he was cold or sexually excited, like all boys, his
testicles pulled up and his scrotum shrivelled, but this was
different. The only sign that he had anything there at all was a
small swelling formed by dark wrinkled skin.

My hand settled over his penis. Hot to touch. Hard. Harder
than I had ever seen it. Harder than it had ever been. Pulsing.
Erratic breathing. Gasping. Stroking him. Once. Twice. Rigid
within. It was like a little steel spike that was slightly curved
and spongy-soft on the underside.

"N-n-n-g-g-g-g-g-g!"

I took my hand away the instant that he spasmed. His body
arched, became a bow of bone and sinew, muscles pulled back and
ready to release a penis that protruded like a stubby little
arrow. His head jerked wildly, his neck yanking against the
harness. His penis jerked at the same time. He gasped. Shuddered.
Then, shaking, giving powerful lurches that dragged at the
harness around his chest and waist. His penis jerked again,
convulsed, stabbing into the air as he trembled. Five times. Six
times. Ejaculating nothing despite his frenzied movement. He
slumped back, finished. I felt helpless. I felt incredible power.
I had done this.

It was a momentary hiatus. His fingers and toes twitched
unconsciously. His head kept jerking back and forth, pulling on
the straps of the harness. Suddenly, the crescendo came, again.
Bursting out of him. A half-a-dozen more little lurches, yielding
nothing except the awesome joy of knowing he had climaxed again.
His head tossed, threw back, dragged the harness upward, pulled
the tongue deeply into him. Quaking with a final spasm. He
slumped again, dropping down as his control was lost. I reached
out, grasping his hips, clutching at the strap of his harness to
stop him from falling. He sagged down, lapsing into post-orgasmic
paralysis. If I had not held him firmly he would have fallen to
the floor.

I risked a quick look to the side. They were watching, just
as I thought they would be. Brandon was wide-eyed, also
harnessed. Gary was slightly bemused. I smiled back at him,
wondering why Brandon's penis was still limp when Grant had
responded sexually, achieved such a stupendous climax that it
took my breath away.

"Wh-wh-hat happened?" Gary asked groggily.

"Um,... I think you blacked out for a second," Gary said
before I could speak.

"Huh,..."

"I've never saw a boy cum like that," Gary added. "That sure
was one hell of a good one."

Grant regarded Gary uncertainly. He still trembled every few
seconds. His hands were still clenched. He glanced at me blankly,
not understanding. Brandon giggled at his best friend's
discomfiture.

"You came twice, Grant. One right on top of the other. You
must have been really close to it. I barely touched your dick and
you went wild."

He smiled weakly. "I feel strange, Dad. It's like I'm
shaking all over."

"How? Does it hurt?"

"No. I just can't stop shaking."

"That's okay. I'm sure it'll stop in a while."

"I feel weak."

"Maybe you better sit down for a while," I suggested.

I took his hand in mine and gave a slight tug to bring him
forward. He moved awkwardly, still distraught, still uncertain,
very aware of the thing within his body. It took a few moments
before he slowly settled onto the couch.

"Okay?" I asked worriedly.

Grant nodded, lowering his eyes, studying his genitals. His
penis and testicles were framed by the metal chains, the silver
links pressing into his little pink scrotum.

"Weird," he commented in a soft, still shocked voice.

"Huh?"

"It looks weird, Dad."

"Do you like it?" I asked.

"It's awesome." He hesitated. "It makes my dick look,..." He
shrugged, unable to think of the word he needed.

"Kinky?" I suggested.

"Very kinky." Grant turned and smiled at me. "It's cool,
Dad. It makes me look,..."

"Like a fag," Brandon interjected.

"Yeah, that too,..." Grant grinned shamelessly. "Only I was
thinking of more like bizarre. It's really sexy, Dad. It makes me
feel funny all over. Just wearing it gives me goose bumps."

"So I see," I said.

I ran my hand over his arm. Normally it was as smooth as
satin. Grant shivered slightly, wriggled closer, put his hand in
my lap. His fingers cupped over my penis, closed into my scrotum.
He held me tightly, with the same possessive concentration that
followed after we had sex.

"Do you want me to get you off?" he asked quietly.

"Here?"

"Uh huh. Or we could do something else, if you wanted to,
Dad?" he offered secretively.

His voice was lowered but it still loud enough for Gary and
Brandon to hear. Gary smiled at me, cocking an eyebrow upwards to
suggest that we could go upstairs if we needed privacy.

"You little horn-puppy, you," I teased.

"Who me?" Grant giggled.

Gary and I laughed. "Yes, you," I laughed. "If you're not
careful you're going to have a sore butt before the end of the
year."

"Don't you mean century," Grant corrected.

Gary laughed. "How about millennium? But what a way to end
it and start the next one."

Grant smirked at me, then at Gary. "I don't mind."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

Grant shrugged. Sitting there on the couch, naked but for a
black leather harness, nipples exaggerated with permanent marker,
there was really no answer necessary. He smiled at me, knowingly,
acceptingly, and yes, wantonly. That's what we were there for.
Both of us knew it. His eyes flickered, communicating what he
wanted. It was not a matter of simply going upstairs with me. It
did not matter that he had just achieved an orgasm. He was with
three people who he loved. When he was with us, there would
always be an unsatisfied need, a pent-up desire that longed to
find expression. If there was a decsion to be made, then he had
made it.

Brandon coughed and awkwardly shuffled his feet. Suddenly,
he had become the center of attention.

"Brandon?" Gary began. "Do you want to?"

Brandon turned towards his father, his eyes downcast as he
stared at his bare feet. The innocence that should have been in
his face was dispelled by the straps of the brown leather
harness, polished buckles and chains. It was obvious that he knew
what was about to happen, that he had thought about it a lot.

"Brandon, I know this is difficult for you," Gary said a
little louder.

I shrugged, trying to look disinterested, like Grant.
Brandon shifted from one foot to the other. From the look on his
face it was clear that he had a very good idea of what we were
talking about.

"It isn't that, Dad."

"Well, what is it then?" Gary asked gently. "They might as
well leave now if you're not interested, Brandon."

"I'm not going to leave, and neither is my dad, not yet
anyway," Grant replied flatly. "Besides, we can't go. Not with
all the snow."

I studied Grant carefully, suddenly seeing him in a
different light, remembering his question about whether he would
be a lot like Ken Gruen when he grew up. He was growing up even
now. He was taking one big step after another. He was dealing
with issues that should have waited until he was much older. It
was the one thing that I was worried about. His expression was
enough to convince me that I need not worry. He was carefree on
the surface, but underneath his smooth still-tanned skin he was
wise beyond his years. He seemed to have this all figured out.

"I don't want them to leave," Brandon interjected. He took a
deep breath, pursed his lips, stared hard at his bare feet.

"You think that Grant and his dad will be better off if they
go?" Gary asked gently.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brandon demanded.

There was a moment's silence. Grant looked glum and he
sighed loudly. He realized that they were fighting about him,
that he was the center of dispute. Like me, he did not understand
what the problem was.

"I think you know, Brandon. Are you jealous about Grant
being with his Dad?" Gary asked as he watched Grant and me
closely. "You are, aren't you, Brandon. I can see it in your
face."

Brandon shrugged, trying hard to appear as if he was
ambivalent. His reticence was disturbing. I was unsure what the
problem was, but one thing was clear. I needed to say something.

"I know things have changed, lots of things have changed in
the last few days. It's different now. For one thing, you know
that Grant and I love each other, Brandon. I also know that you
and your dad love each other the same way that Grant and I love
each other. That doesn't mean that you can't love Grant the way
you used to."

I glanced at Gary and saw a slight gesture. I took that as
meaning that I should continue into the abyss of explaining
something that I could not explain to myself.

"A while ago, while you and Grant were upstairs in the
bath, I watched a video. I think you know which one," I tried.

>From the corner of my eye I observed my son's immediate
grin. Brandon wavered. He knew what I was talking about. He
licked his lips nervously.

"Yeah. So?"

"So I thought it was the most wonderful thing I had ever
seen."

"So?" Brandon said petulantly.

"I wanted to be in your father's place. I wanted it to be me
instead of him."

"So? He wants to fuck Grant too," Brandon said cruelly.

"Yes, he told me that. I don't mind. If that's what Grant
wants, it's okay by me." I took a deep breath, hoping that I was
saying the right thing. "Your dad and I both agree that people
should only have sex when they love each other. There's no rule
that says you can't love more than one person."

Brandon shrugged, pursed his lips, swallowed. "Maybe," he
offered. He rubbed at his chin pensively.

"The reason why I don't mind them having sex is because I'm
convinced they love each other," I continued.

Gary and Grant looked long and hard at each other. A person
would have to be blind not to see the love they shared.

"The question is what do you want to do?" I asked.

Brandon sniffed, shifted feet again. "I love you. I've
wanted to, you know...." He sighed. "I wanted to last night. I
wanted to so much that it hurt inside."

"That's okay," Gary said. "I want you to do what you want to
do. Remember what I said when we started?"

"I know. I should only do what I want to do," Brandon
parroted.

"That's right," I answered. "And the same goes for Grant
too."

"You really don't mind if he has sex with my dad?"

"Do you mind?" I asked.

"I asked first."

"If he wants to, it's okay by me," I answered honestly.

Grant smiled at me. It felt like a huge weight had been
lifted from my shoulders.

"Like I said, Brandon, he loves your dad, and your dad loves
him back, nearly as much as I do. I don't think of it as having
sex, but showing how much they love each other. Now you?" I
prompted.

Brandon winced uncomfortably. "You mean about us?"

"Us? I mean you and Grant first," I ascertained.

Brandon nodded slightly, still unable to meet my eyes. "I
love him," he said under his breath.

"I know that. I'll never try to stop Grant from loving you,
and you from loving him back. You have an important place in his
life. Why don't you ask Grant yourself?" I suggested.

Grant nodded slowly. "Why can't we all be friends?"

"I need more than a friend," Brandon said slowly. "It isn't
about being friends, and it isn't just about you and your dad, or
me and my dad," Brandon said uncertainly.

"It's about all of us," Gary ended.

I sighed. What was the nature of the attraction that brought
a man to love a boy? If not for all men, at least for most of men
who loved boys, it was something that became very possessive.
Until now, I would never be able to share Grant with some other
man. However, Gary was not 'some other man'. He loved Grant the
same way that I did. In the same way, I hoped that I was not
'some other man' for Brandon. I wanted to be the other special
man in his life. There was love between us, there was no question
of it. I had loved Brandon for a long while, a very long while.
It was not quite the same as the love I had for Grant, but so
similar that the differences were either unimportant or would
disappear when we shared the same easy familiarity that came from
spending ten years together. It was more than finding Brandon
looking at me at the same time as I looked at him. When Brandon
was older, when our relationship was more secure, I had no doubt
that I would love him the same way that I loved Grant.

"We can just be friends with them if you want, Brandon,"
Gary murmured. "That's quite okay with me. And you can still be
with Grant whenever you want. Or we can be more than friends too,
if that's what you want."

"It's just that,..." Brandon muttered. He stopped and
breathed out, slowly shaking his head.

"Is it because I want to have sex with Grant, Brandon, or
are you afraid I won't want you after I do? Is that the problem?"
Gary asked gently.

"No!"

"If you haven't forgotten, we've talked about you doing it
with Chris too. I know you want to."

I glanced quickly at Brandon. He stared at me, his mouth
open with the need to say something. He seemed very embarrassed.
The words would not come. I smiled at Gary.

"He hasn't forgotten," I said carefully. "Maybe he doesn't
want to. He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to do."

"Oh, he wants to all right. I know him. He loves you, Chris.
He wants you. A lot," Gary acknowledged.

Again I glanced at Brandon. His nostrils flared and his
chest rose up. He breathed heavily, trying to control his
emotions. With the slightest push in the wrong direction, even
the wrong words, and he would burst into tears. I sighed,
remembering glimpses of my fleeting boyhood and the pain of being
in love, real love, and being unable to do anything about it. I
had suffered because Adam Render was not interested in boys the
same way that I was. There was an important difference between
Adam and the two boys before me.

"Have you ever told him how much you love him, Chris?" Gary
asked quietly.

"No, I really haven't." I swallowed, thinking, wondering
what was going through Brandon's mind as he struggled in silence.

"Isn't it about time?" Gary chided. "I've always said that
kids need to know they're loved. If they're not loved they make
mistakes."

I smiled. "That's true. I tell Grant on a daily basis how
much I love him."

Gary laughed. "So why don't you tell Brandon, and while
you're at it, Chris, why don't you look him in the eye and tell
him how much you want his beautiful little ass?"

I was lost for words for several seconds. "I do love him,
Gary," I said humbly. There was dead silence. "I love you
Brandon," I said boldly.

"Now the rest of it. Tell him you want to be inside his
beautiful little ass every chance you get."

Brandon grinned like a ten-year-old satyr.

I felt the challenge fading before me. It was right for
him, just as it was right for Grant. Perhaps it was merely  a
boy's need to experiment in order to discover how things worked,
but it was highly unlikely. We were a long way beyond curiosity.
They had the right to make love if they wanted. If I loved
Brandon as much as I believed I did, then it was right that we
expressed that love in physical ways. I proved my love for Grant
that way. Since Christmas Eve I had proved it several times a
day. During the last few minutes, my love for Brandon had become
equally the most important thing in my life. And with love came
responsibility. I would never force him to have sex with me. It
had to be on his terms, or not at all.

I looked at Gary guiltily. "I don't have to have sex with
him to prove I love him."

"I'd expect that from a woman, not from you," Gary chortled.
"You're a boy lover, Chris. God damn it! You're supposed to love
boys, not worship them from a distance. You're supposed to make
them feel good, and for a boy that means getting your,..."

"I know what it means," I said bluntly.

"Now, I know what Grant thinks about you and Brandon getting
it off. He thinks it's cool, and it's no secret that Brandon
wants you, and of course, you want to have sex with Brandon. So
it's really pretty simple, isn't it? When you get right down to
it, does it really matter whose butt your cock is in if you love
both of them the same?"

I shrugged, trying to avoid answering while I watched
Brandon's reaction. He shrugged as well, equally noncommittal.

"Maybe the other question is what Grant thinks about doing
it with me. Have you asked him?"

I glanced at Grant. He looked away quickly and stared down
at his feet. It was time for honesty.

"You know the rule. You don't have to do anything you don't
want to do, Grant," Gary said as he turned to Grant. "With that
said, I'd like it a lot if you had sex with me tonight."

Grant glanced at me again. He was still uncertain, torn
between us. Love implied loyalty. What he wanted, denied
fidelity, at least on the surface and under the rules that he had
grown up with.

"I want both of you to be my friends," he said sadly.

"We need each other, all four of us," Gary said
reassuringly. "I was very lucky when I was growing up. Finding
out you're gay,... well it's a difficult enough stage for a boy
to go through. I was lucky that I had friends to share my love
with."

"And to have sex with too, as well," Grant added without
embarrassment.

Clearly, Gary informed my son about his own sexual exploits
when he was a boy. Brandon smiled shyly. The boys looked at each
other. Gary nodded

"If that's what you want, Grant, I certainly won't stand in
your way. I hope you know that by now," I said agreeably.

"You don't mind?"

"Truthfully? I was jealous for a while. I wasn't ready to
share you. I wanted to keep you all to myself, but not any more."

"I knew you didn't mind about Brandon. You even said it was
nice because I'd have someone to play with when I want to be a
kid. I thought you'd be angry about Gary."

I wondered what caused the change in me. That Grant wanted
to have sex with Brandon's father no longer bothered me. They
were already more than friends. They were as close as I was to
Brandon. In many ways they were already like father and son. In a
sudden insight I began to understand. In order for Grant to love
me, I needed to give him the freedom to make his own decisions.
Perhaps I would lose him to someone else, even to Gary, but, I
could not stand to see Grant hurt because my love imprisoned him.
He needed to be free to make his own choices, just as Gary was
turning Brandon lose to make his own choice concerning me.

Freedom to choose was essential. In a relationship with a
man, a boy was always subordinate. Perhaps it was the result of
his submissive role, ever yielding to a man's greater strength
and physical demands. I was not domineering by nature, yet in my
all-important 'relationship' with Grant I had been dominant.

Despite my words that Grant was an equal partner and he
only did what he wanted to do, the reality of man-boy love was
something else. He had the right to say 'yes' or 'no'. That was
important but the fact remained that he was subservient. For the
last week I had known that the relationship was unbalanced. I
just had not understood what I needed to do to restore balance.
In the ensuing silence, I wondered whether it was any different
for Brandon and his father.

"Why don't you mind?" Grant asked softly.

He was speaking only to me, with words from deep in his
heart. I smiled, knowing the answer came from deep within my
heart.

"Because I know you'll still love me afterwards," I answered
confidently.

"I will always love you more, Dad," Grant confirmed quietly.
He gazed at me, his eyes wide and honest.

"I know that, Grant. It's a different kind of love between
us. Gary can't be your father any more than I can be Brandon's
dad. However that doesn't mean that Gary can't love you as much
as I do."

Brandon grinned. "I'll always love my dad more too, as well.
But I can love other people at the same time. You can love Grant,
and you love me. I can love you differently too."

I sighed. At that instant, I knew that what confronted us
was much more than a simple one-night swap. It would be more than
a single incident, an experiment to see whether another boy was
as enjoyable as my own son. I wondered how many times the boys
had slept over at each other's house and how many times the dawn
had found the two of them in the same bed? That was love too, and
it was different yet again. Nature had a remarkable ability to
create love whenever and wherever it was needed. Life was never
easy, and boy love complicated it beyond comprehension. My eyes
looked towards Gary for help. He smiled and inclined his head. We
both knew what was going to happen. It was the right decision.

I breathed out heavily, feeling my brow become sweaty with
increasing excitement. I glanced at Grant, then at Brandon, then
at Gary. We would be able to share something that few people
shared. Brandon nodded and smiled. Grant nodded, and grinned.
Gary nodded and laughed. I wasn't about to disagree with the
majority.

"Okay, so what are we going to do about it?" I finally
managed to get out.

Gary laughed. "Nothing right now, that's for sure. Not that
I wouldn't like to do something about it becasue I'd love to, but
I need to start getting dinner ready. Why don't you and the boys
watch a video?" he suggested pointedly.

"Not that one again," Brandon complained. "We've watched it
dozens of times already."

The look on my face must have been worth seeing. I thought
of the boys sitting on the same couch that I was sitting on,
watching the video, then afterwards doing God only knew what.
Gary grinned.

"He's exaggerating. He's watched it maybe a dozen times. And
Grant's only seen it a grand total of two times."

"What would you guys rather watch?" I asked.

Part of me was hoping that there was another video, perhaps
even more than one other. At the same time, it was also
disquieting to think that Grant might have a staring role in one
of them.

They grinned as only boys can. "We haven't watched Jungle to
Jungle in a while," Brandon suggested.

While the boys shuffled through the stack of videos next to
the television, I followed Gary into the kitchen. He took two
beers out of the refrigerator and pulled the top on one of them
after he had passed me the other. I followed suit and we drank
together.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it was going to be," I
said with relief.

"Brandon's wanted to have sex with you for a while now,
Chris. I was surprised out there." He looked over his shoulder.
"I guess he got cold feet after what happened two nights ago."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Grant didn't tell you? No, I guess he wouldn't." Gary
grimaced. "It was a bit awkward. "He came onto me,... wanted to
do it, you know."

"You mean he wanted to go all the way?"

"Yeah. I was a bit taken aback. I knew he was interested.
Man, I wanted to as well."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story. The boys had been acting strange for a
while. Grant was,... I guess you'd say 'quiet', at least for him
and Brandon was sulky. I thought he was jealous because we had
spent a lot of time in the barn so Grant could ride Moonraker.
Anyway, we were watching the video."

"The video," I repeated pointedly.

Gary nodded. "Yeah. Well, we were naked and all. It got a
bit excited towards the end. Grant was rubbing himself all over
me and I was drooling pre-cum all over him. The next thing I
know, he's crouched on top of me and he's trying to put my penis
inside him."

The image was startling and one that I knew very well.

"Grant, the boy-blanket," I mused.

"Huh?"

"Nothing. It's just a game we play sometimes. So what
happened? Did you?"

"No."

"How far have you and Grant?..." I asked.

"I already told you we haven't gone all the way, Chris. I
managed to stop myself that time too. Luckily," Gary sighed. He
smiled weakly. "I wanted to Chris. I wanted to do it with him so
badly. I made him get off. He wasn't happy about it and neither
was I. Brandon was really upset."

"That's all?"

"Truthfully, we've only done what you did with Brandon last
night. He's got a good hand, that boy of yours. And Grant's
sucked me off once or twice." He paused for effect. "Well, that's
not quite true. I did stick my thumb up him the last time he was
doing Brandon."

I spluttered into my beer. "You what?"

"I thumbed him for a couple of minutes right at the end. He
had one hell of an orgasm, but it was nothing compared to what
you just gave him. I've never seen a boy do that. Or anyone else
for that matter."

"You mean black out?"

"I've had Brandon so exhausted he's been ready to faint, but
he's never actually lost it completely. Two in a row must have
been too much even for Grant."

"There's only one thing I don't understand," I began.

"What's that?"

"I know he was excited from wearing the harness," I
explained. "But he was so,..."

"Turned-on?" Gary suggested. "I think it was from the
harness pulling the bit inside him. I told you my ex-wife used to
practically strangle her horse with it. You saw what he was
doing? Jerking his head back and forth?"

"Yes?"

"I think he was levering the bit upward so it was forced
into his prostate."

"He gave himself an orgasm?" I remarked.

"Two, if you remember." Gary winked playfully. "I think it
was everything combined. Having the dildo in him earlier, doing
the dance, putting the harness on the first time, then getting
his dick played with in front of us."

"But not Brandon?" I asked curiously.

"He's always been the passive one of the two," Gary
explained. "He gets off on different things."

"Such as?" I prompted.

"You'll find out soon enough, Chris. Let me just say that
boy of mine has a thing for semen. He'll will suck you dry if you
give him a chance."

"No wonder he has big balls," I chuckled.

"Brandon takes after me in that respect. He might have a
short dick, but his balls more than make up for it. Just give him
a few more years and he'll put out a load that will need a towel
to clean up upwards."

A few more years. It was not long enough. It was never long
enough, not by a long shot. Puberty happened too quickly, much
too quickly. Just when a boy could really enjoy being a boy, he
was transformed into a man, or at least a gangling, acne-spotted
adolescent. The key, the lesson that every boy lover learned
sooner or later, was that every second was precious.

"So, how is it going with him?" Gary asked.

"Huh? With Grant?" I asked.

Gary did not need to answer. I smiled and nodded
thoughtfully, remembering. Most of the time I was happy in a way
that I had never been. I lived to ensure Grant's happiness. That
was my purpose in life. A few times, a very few times, there had
been difficulties. Only one time there was blood. Not a lot of
it, just enough to make me sick with shame that I had hurt him.
It was hard to control the passion. Each time I was overwhelmed,
swept along on a current that stopped only with orgasm, and then
it was temporary relief. I sighed.

"Good," I answered.

Again, a single word to reduce the pleasure, the joy, the
wonder of being in love with a boy. I looked up, meeting Gary's
eyes. 'Good' was enough to convey everything that I needed to
say.

"Sometimes,... I still hurt him, Gary. I try not to, of
course, but I can feel it. He winces. I know he's gritting his
teeth so he doesn't cry."

"I know the feeling," Gary sympathized. "You try so hard not
to hurt him and you still do. It's a bit like putting a square
peg in a round hole sometimes, especially when you first start.
He'll get used to it, and so will you, Chris. It's only been a
week since you guys began. In a few more weeks, he'll be ready to
go at it full bore."

"I don't know. It scares me, Gary. Just the thought I might
be hurting him. The last few times," I began. I sighed. "It
happens so fast. Almost as soon as I get it in, I cum. He's not
ready to stop. Neither am I for that matter, but I lose it in a
matter of a few seconds. I barely start moving and it's over."

"Ah, the dreaded premature ejaculation," Gary laughed. "You
too, huh?" He straightened up and put down the knife that he had
been using to dissect a bunch of broccoli. "I'm like that
sometimes too. I put it down to too much excitement. You get
turned on because you know how good it is to love him."

"I guess you could say that. It feels so incredibly good. As
soon as my dick touches him there, not going in, but just at the
rim, he looks up at me, and I can see that he's happy, and he
wants me to do it. I know he does."

I swallowed. I took a deep breath. I tried to find the words
to describe the look in his eyes. It was nothing short of
mystical. It created a surge within me, a feeling of raw
excitement that went far beyond anything I had ever experienced
with my wife. There was no fantasy with her, just straight sex,
boring. Grant would never be boring. The only problem was that it
did not last long enough.

"Viagra!"

"Huh?"

"Viagra. That's what you need, Chris."

"You're joking." I laughed as I picked up one of the carrots
from a bowl on the kitchen counter. "Getting it up isn't my
problem. Well that's not quite true."

"The limp dick problem too?" Gary teased. "So you've done it
while he's asleep?"

I choked on the carrot I was eating. "Uh!... Yeah," I
admitted. "A few times. I wake up and I feel horny. He lies right
up against me at night. He feels so warm. I get the urge to, but
nearly every time I can't finish."

"That'll teach you not to try to take advantage of a
sleeping boy," Gary joked. "I used to do that a lot with Brandon.
A couple of times he woke up and we really got into it. Then I
figured that the best way was not to take it out. It solves the
problem of getting it back in when he's asleep."

"You leave it inside him all night?" I asked. I licked my
lips.

Gary winked. "Sometimes. Usually it pulls out during the
night. If I was an inch or two longer, it wouldn't be a problem."

"So tell me about Viagra," I suggested. "Does it really
work?"

"Absolutely!" Gary replied confidently. "I pop a pill an
hour beforehand. Most men take it to improve the hardness. It
does that, but that isn't why I use it. Mine is,... well it's
always hard enough that's for sure, but it gets even harder. The
nice thing is, it stays hard longer."

"You mean after you cum?"

"Usually. My personal best is nearly an hour."

"An hour?" I repeated in disbelief.

"An hour,... and that's after I came the first time. Have
you ever seen a boy wobble when he tries to stand up afterwards?
That was Brandon," Gary laughed. "I had get out of bed and carry
him into the bathroom. I don't often put a towel under him, but I
was glad I did that time."

"Messy huh?"

"Yeah. It wasn't his fault. You know how it is. I pretty
much churned him up inside, doing it for that long. He had no
muscle control left by the time I finished. It just poured out of
him like water coming out the end of a hose. He was embarassed
about it needless to say."

"I guess so."

"Anyway, we have a rule now," Gary stated. "If we're going
to bed for a marathon session, he has to have an enema
beforehand."

I nodded. It was a good rule. I remembered one afternoon. It
was only three days ago. Grant had barely made it into the
bathroom before his bowels emptied. I cleaned up the mess from
the floor. It was not a pleasant job and not one that I wanted to
repeat, yet I accepted it as part of the love we enjoyed
together. There would always be accidents.

I lifted my hand, placed it on the counter, rubbed against
the smooth plastic top. Grant's body was probably smoother, I
mused. Although I had never received one, or for that matter
given one, knowing what lay ahead, an enema seemed to be a very
good idea.

"Shouldn't the boys?..." I suggested.

Gary smirked. "It's already taken care off. I told them to
do each other before they got into the bath. I thought you might
have noticed something when you were putting the harness on
Grant."

I nodded, smiling with a new appreciation. "He smelled
clean, that's for certain."

"That's good. Well, I had better get busy with dinner. Are
you interested?"

"In what?" I asked.

"Taking some Viagra?"

"I don't know." I shrugged.

The idea excited me. It was not like I was going to take an
illegal drug. It was FDA approved. I nodded. Gary walked over to
the refrigerator and picked up a small brown glass jar. It took a
few seconds for him to remove the child-proof cap. Out spilled a
couple of grey, triangular tablets.

"These are twenty-five milligrams, Chris. Usually I take
just one. Two should be enough to last an hour or more."

I took both of the tablets. "About an hour from now?" I
queried.

Gary nodded. I put them in my mouth, lifted the can of beer
and drank a large draft. I swallowed them. In an hour. An hour
from now. As soon as we finished dinner. It seemed as if I could
feel them in my stomach, the exotic chemicals dissolving,
spreading through my body.

"If you want, you can take the boys a beer, Chris. They
might as well get into the mood for celebrating the New Year."

I nodded and accepted the can of beer he held out to me. I
was starting back towards the living room when Gary spoke again.

"Just let it happen, Chris. Don't be uptight. The boys will
be okay with anything we want to do, trust me on this. I know
them, at least how they are with the idea. When it comes to sex,
they aren't in the fourth grade any more."

I smiled at him, not particularly confident, yet hoping he
was correct in his assessment of the situation. When I turned
again, took a few more steps into the hall, I saw the boys spring
apart. It was obvious what they had been doing. They were too
close to be doing anything else. Their arms had been around each
other's shoulders. They had been kissing, taking advantage of the
time during the 'trailers' before the feature presentation. Grant
licked his lips, still tasting his best friend, savoring the
moist warmth than lingered. He smiled at me shyly.

It was strange, watching our two sons together, one boy
shamelessly sitting on the couch in his black leather harness,
the other boy lying partially underneath him. He was the passive
one, always yielding, eagerly accepting. I came up to the couch
and Grant squirmed away to make room for me between them. I sat
down, placed my left arm around his back, pulled him closer. For
a moment I was unsure what to do about Brandon. He lay there with
his back against the armrest, his legs apart, his tiny penis
cradled in the soft pale 'v' where his thigh joined to his belly.
Unlike my son, Brandon was limp, yet the look in his eyes
conveyed his inner joy. I was beginning to enjoy the differences
between them. My right hand moved instinctively. Brandon smiled
as my fingers stroked his flank. His skin was silky soft,
deliciously warm, tingling my fingertips. He wriggled closer,
placing his hand on my wrist. I panicked.

"Do you guys want to share a can of beer?" I asked.

"Sure," they both replied together.

I passed the chilled can to Grant, watched him pull back the
metal tab, lift back his arm to raise it. In slow motion, smiling
as the top of the can came ever closer to his mouth, his pink
tongue licking his lips, wrinkling his nose slightly as he
pretended to relish the cold bitter brew. It was not his first
time. It was his first time with a full can of twelve ounces,
even if he had to share. If he was lucky he would get half of the
can. Like his virginity, his previous innocence all but
forgotten, he had begun to acquire a taste for adult things. Even
if it was an artificial affirmation of his manhood, and not
something that he enjoyed, he was proud that he swallowed that
mouthful. He grinned at me and passed the can in front of me into
Brandon's eagerly outstretched hand.

"We're going to get drunk for New Year," he announced.

"Not on a half of a can of beer, you won't," I replied.

I could have sex with a boy, even thrust my penis inside his
body until he was close to exhaustion, but I would not allow him
to smoke a cigarette or consume enough alcohol that he became
drunk? Was it a double standard, or the standard of a man who
loved boys?

I took a deep breath. I felt Brandon's hand pulling gently,
guiding my hand downward, closer. I half-closed my eyes. My hand
was going where I wanted it to go, where Brandon wanted it to go.
I heard the opening sounds of the movie, the drama as the boy
climbed the cliff, came to the precipice, looked out over the
jungle far below. It was symbolic of a giant step in the unknown,
the ritualized passage of initiation, of coming to understand the
self. I heard Grant giggle softly. He sounded a long way away,
rather than right next to me. My fingers touched Brandon's
scrotum. That precious part of him was so much larger than
Grant's. It was like a little swollen, wrinkled ball, a precursor
of the increased size to follow. I massaged him, using the same
technique that I used with Grant. He did not like his testicles
to be squeezed. Caressed gently, yes, but never pressured, never
hurt.

Brandon sighed, curled his fingers around my wrist, lifted
his upper leg and placed it over my legs. His hand pulled firmly,
holding my hand steady, pushing my fingers into the resilient
hemisphere. Like that, I could feel the unmistakable egg-shapes
within his bulge. His testicles were definitely much bigger than
Grant's tiny orbs, yet he was still several years away from
puberty.

"Harder," Brandon said urgently.

It was somewhere between a whisper and a moan, but it left
no doubt of what he wanted. I pressed harder, compressing the
sensitive innards. He sighed, his fingers covering mine, pushing
harder. By that point, Grant would have squealed and I would have
yanked my hand away. That was not to be the case. He was a long
way from being man-sized, but the painful pleasure he demanded
was manly. I fondled him, carefully locating his testicles
between my fingers, holding the silken skin so that they could
not escape, squeezing slightly, increasingly hard, rubbing the
tightly stretched skin, aware that he was quivering, breathing
faster.

"Dad, he really likes it when you rub his balls hard," Grant
said with a broad grin.

I nodded, swallowed, kept my hand there, playing in the
sweaty heat of Brandon's compact crotch. Every few seconds, his
pelvis lifted against my hand, a sign that he wanted, needed
more. I glanced sideways, saw his face, the expression of
rapture, contented bliss. Like Grant, he was watching the movie
despite the distraction that my grasping hand was providing.

"Do you think he's sexy, Dad?" Grant asked.

'He' was the nearly naked boy, Mimi-Siku, played by Sam
Huntington. He wore only a loin cloth. With his long dark-blond
mane and a golden tan, he was the quintessential wild boy. He was
'drop-dead' gorgeous, even by my exacting standards. He was sexy.
I nodded slightly.

"My dad thinks he's really hot," Brandon remarked
shamelessly. "He has a great tan, doesn't he?"

"I bet he hasn't got a tanned dick," Grant added gleefully.
"I'm going to get tanned all over next summer."

"I hope you do, but don't get Junior sun-burned in the
process," I said.

Both boys giggled. They had been naked occasionally during
the previous summer, but not long enough to get their middle
sections as darkly tanned as the rest of their bodies. We all
realized that the next summer would be very different.

"When Mimi-Siku says he's a man now, why do you think that
it?" Grant asked curiously. "Is it because he climbed the cliff?"

"Ah,... well, partly because of that...." I began.

"Dad says it's because he's mature," Brandon interjected.

"You mean he has hair around his dick?"

"Probably. I think he's supposed to be twelve or thirteen,"
I replied. "It usually happens about then."

"It's because he can shoot. You know, his balls are making
sperms," Brandon cut in. He smirked. "My dad says being able to
cum properly is what separates the men from the boys."

Grant grinned. "Man, I think I know why he was interested in
that girl," he said. "If I lived in that hut with all those guys
farting, I'd probably like girls too."

"You know why they fart, don't you?" Brandon asked
gleefully.

"I don't know. I guess because of what they eat. All that
fruit and stuff?"

"I bet it's the same reason why you and I do it sometimes.
It's from having a dick in your butt. At least I fart a lot if we
use something with oil in it." Brandon smirked at me knowingly.

I tried not to laugh, really I did. Grant reddened slightly.
Brandon continued to smirk. Not only was he more aware of the one
of the less-than-pleasant side effects of sex, but he was also
experienced enough to be more open about it.

"Oh!" Grant commented.

"Sure. Dad says that's what happens in a lot of primitive
tribes. Men do it with boys until they leave to get married.
That's why they all live in the same hut."

"You think Mimi-Siku does that? With one of those native
dudes?"

"One? How about lots of them? Maybe they take turns with him
at night."

"Even that fat guy?"

"Maybe."

"Gross."

"Hey, watch this next part," Brandon laughed. "This is so
impossible."

At that moment, Mimi-Siku was escorted down the aisle of the
plane. He carried his bow and arrows. Supposedly, he had urinated
in the plane.

"What is?" I asked curiously.

"That they'd let him onto the plane with his bow and arrow.
It'd never happen," Grant explained.

"Yeah. That and what are the chances of being allowed onto a
plane dressed like that in the first place. There's no way! Even
in the jungle," Brandon added adamantly.

I smiled. They were best friends, but the boys thought so
alike at times that it was startling. Of course, there were other
times when Grant and Brandon were so different that one wondered
what they shared in common.

"So, would you do it with him if you had the chance?"
Brandon teased.

I laughed. "What do you think?"

"Probably," Grant answered with a broad grin. "You're a
pervert just like Brandon's dad. But you had better watch out for
that spider. If you started grunting when you were getting close,
it might bite you on the dick."

And so it went, playful teasing mixed with innocent and
sometimes not so innocent eroticism, gently stroking their young
slender bodies, watching the movie, hearing Gary preparing dinner
in the kitchen, thinking about what would happen later on. My
inhibitions had all but disappeared. Perhaps that was Gary's
intention in leaving me alone with two all-but-naked boys. They
were shameless and uninhibited, but at the same time they seemed
calmly detached from the continual sexual overtones that haunted
me. My erection came and went, and I wondered whether the Viagra
had any effect what so ever.

An hour later, the empty can of beer long since discarded,
we turned off the television and went into the dining room ready
for dinner. Gary was not only a better cook than my wife, he was
also better at it than I was. He had prepared a culinary
extravaganza, a feast of smoked ham that been coated with far
more honey and brown sugar than was healthy. Black-eyed peas,
creamy mashed potato, broccoli and cheese sauce, glazed carrots
with none of them larger than a well-endowed ten-year-old boy's
'weenie' and freshly baked bread. Lots and lots of hot bread with
a crisp golden crust. The meal could have been served at many of
the restaurants in town, but it was special because Gary had
cooked for us. This was a celebration dinner. I looked at Gary,
uncertain of what to say. He had gone to a lot of trouble, far
more than I had gone to for Christmas dinner.

"Dad, are we going to say Grace?" Brandon asked.

"I don't see why not. We all have a lot to be thankful for."
Gary paused for a moment, marshalling his thoughts. "Lord, we
stand before you, thankful for the food you have provided today.
This day, this last day of the year, is also the last day of a
millennium. It is the ending to a period of time, but it also
marks a beginning for all of us. All four of us are thankful for
that beginning. We stand before you, two men and two boys, four
people who have discovered the true meaning of love. As fathers,
we share our sons, coming together in fellowship and joining in
love. They are the most special people to enter our lives. We are
thankful for their love, and the opportunity that you have given
to us to love them."

There was a long silence.

"Nicely put," I said awkwardly. "I couldn't agree more. I
know I have a lot to be thankful for."

I glanced at Grant. He fidgeted slightly the way he usually
did when he was hungry. He smiled shyly at me, acknowledging that
he also agreed. We sat down and ate heartily. Home made apple pie
with vanilla ice-cream followed the main course. We pushed our
plates aside, moved our chairs back, and relaxed. We were full to
overflowing, at least for the moment.

"I'm stuffed," I announced. "That may be the best meal I've
had in a year. It's a nice way to end," I added.

I looked at the two boys sitting adjacent to me. The
incongruence was obvious. Sitting up in one-hundred-year-old
chairs that had been recently upholstered in brocaded satin,
around a highly polished table made of inlaid walnut, wiping the
last of the ice-cream from their beautiful faces. They were
content and obviously very happy. Yet, both the traditional table
setting and their endearing boyish innocence conflicted with what
they wore. It was a startling contrast. They were naked and
harnessed like the slaves of a thousand years earlier, exposed
before two pairs of lust-filled eyes. I rubbed my fingers
together gleefully. The possibilities were awesome. It was
exciting just imagining the boys wearing their harnesses outdoors
when the weather became warmer. They could wear them into town
under their clothes, perhaps skiing, or even skating on the pond
off Denton Road. No one would know except the four of us. Every
time they moved, they would be subjected to an exquisite
pleasure, and Gary and I would know it. We would see it in their
smiles or from the way they walked.

"I think we all are feeling the same way."

I looked up, suddenly aware that I had been staring at
Grant's bare thigh, at that small triangle of bare smooth skin
that was framed by the shiny chain links, a black leather strap,
and the grey-green seat. Lower, I could see the flattened shape
of his 'bottom', an interesting word that suggested more than
being underneath and lowest. The word had connotations of being
fundamental and primal, in a way essential. Certainly, his
'bottom' was primary to my love, and now to Gary's love as well.

I smiled, aware that both boys were grinning.

"They're both checking out your butt, Travers," Brandon
chortled. "You'd better be careful or you're going to be real
sore."

I blushed. So did Gary. My attraction was shared, a mutual
interest that needed to be recognized.

"Why not?" I asked. "I think he has a very cute butt."

"Indeed he does. But you're right about one thing, Brandon.
It's going to be a very sore little butt too before long," Gary
added.

Grant giggled, both aware and proud that he was the center
of attention. "Don't you think we ought to clear the table
first?" he said.

"Clean up?" Gary pretended to ponder the question. "Not me.
I cooked. How about you, Chris?"

"Me? I'd like to, I really would. But I'm so full right now,
I don't think I could manage it."

"So that leaves you two," Gary teased.

"Us?" Grant asked with a voice that was filled with feigned
innocence. "We don't do menial tasks, do we Brandon?"

Brandon smirked and shook his head to indicate that he was
keen to play along. The Viagra was working, had been working for
the last ten minutes. My penis was lying alongside my thigh, hot
and hard. I tried to stem my anticipation of what was about to
occur, not wanting to appear overly eager.

"Just what do you do?" Gary asked.

His voice crackled with excitement. He shifted in his seat,
rearranging his jeans. He winked at me conspiratorially. He was
as ready as I was.

Grant smirked, his eyes flickering with increasing interest.
He licked his lips, breathing deeply, responding to the sudden
surge within him. At ten years old, it was impossible for him to
control his lust. He fiddled with his napkin ring, turning the
antique silver ring over and over. Then slowly, ever so slowly,
watching Gary's reaction, occasionally glancing to see my
response, he inserted the middle finger of his right hand through
the ring. After a moment he moved it back, then repeated the
motion, back and forth. My eyes bulged. My penis bulged. My heart
jumped and went into overdrive.

"Um,..." Grant said softly.

He glanced at Brandon and was met by a giggle. The ball was
in his court.

"Well?" I prompted.

"What I,... we do,... is,... um,..."

I smiled. He was nervous, but what ten-year-old boy would
not be nervous in the same situation.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," I
said, repeating the time-honored rule just in case either boy was
having last minute qualms.

"And if we want to do something?" Brandon interjected.

"Then you go ahead and do it because it's what you want to
do," Gary finished.

It was impossible not to smile. We were dancing around the
issue like a virgin before the first time. There was only one
first time and neither of the boys could claim to be a virgin,
but this was our first time together. Grant pushed his finger
through the napkin ring until it was against his knuckles.He
licked his bottom lip quickly, then again, chewing on it slightly
with his upper teeth.

"I guess," Grant wavered.

He breathed out, turning slightly to look at me, lowering
his eyes, then meeting my eyes deliberately. Telling someone that
you wanted to have sex with them was not easy.

I nodded reassuringly. "If you want to."

He breathed out again, sighing, deliberating. I could see
the unasked question in his eyes, the question that did not need
an answer because I had already told him it was all right.

"I do, if you want to," he murmured.

He glanced quickly at Gary, then at Brandon. Gary smiled at
him. It was a father's smile. Understanding. Knowing. Supportive.
The silence lasted a long while.

"Maybe we ought to go upstairs," Gary suggested.

He said it seriously. There were no giggles, just the
shuffling sound of four people getting up from the table, the
scrape of chairs on the polished oak floors. For a few seconds we
stood there, looking at each other.

"How do you,... um how should we do this?" I asked.

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious," Gary quipped
as he grinned at the boys.

"I mean,...."

"I know what you mean, Chris. If you want to take Brandon to
his bedroom that's up to you. Or you can stay down here with him
too, if you want. It's cool either way."

I shrugged. The mere thought of being alone with Brandon was
enough to make my heart pound. Did it really matter whether it
was in his bedroom or in the living room?

"Or you could come with us," Gary added softly.

"All of us?" I asked. "Together?"

I looked at Grant awkwardly. I had not expected this. For
me, sex was a private act. It was a time when people shared their
most intimate selves. He looked at me with his large no-longer-
innocent eyes. I wondered what thoughts were running through his
mind. Did he want to be with Gary in private? It seemed to be the
natural thing to expect. There was no reason why he would want
his father watching him have sex with another man. It was a
complication that I had not counted on.

And yet, with logic telling me that separate rooms were in
order, I remembered the previous night and what the boys had done
in front of me. It was bold, intentional, calculated. It was
because of tonight. Because they wanted us to be together. All of
us. I took a long slow breath.

"Your room," I said nervously.

Gary smiled and turned, leading the way, away from the
dining room. Brandon followed him, then Grant. Then me. They were
sandwiched between us, two naked boys bracketed by clothed men,
going to a rendezvous with destiny. It was easy to climb the
stairs, watching Grant's small bottom, his crack distorted by
what was inside his rectum, his cheeks compressed by the oval-
shaped sides of the bit, the black leather harness tight around
his back.

We left the bedroom door open. There was no reason to close
it. The boys stood there, grinning, eyes exchanging knowing
looks, our feasting on their nearly bare bodies. It was like a
hunger, this love for boys. Urgent, demanding, all-conquering.
Impossible to stop. Gary unfastened his shirt buttons before his
hands fumbled at his waist. I watched, curious and strangely
excited, as he unfastened his belt and the metal button at the
top of his loosely fitting jeans. With his zipper opened, he
shucked his jeans and bright-red briefs at the same time. A
single push was all that was needed. They dropped all the way to
his knees before they slowed. They came to a halt at his ankles
and he stepped out of them.

Seeing another man undress was very different to anything I
had ever seen. I looked at Grant and saw his eyes dancing over
the man's partial nudity, taking in the details that would
interest a boy his age. The firm belly, the line of dark hair
from his navel to his crotch, the hair-matted chest, the powerful
muscles from working part-time on the farm. However, it was
Gary's genitals that captured my son's attention. His eyes were
riveted on that most interesting part, his lips parting slightly
in a half-formed smile. From his perspective, it was worth
seeing.

Like me, like Brandon, Gary was also circumcised. His glans
was fat and plum-colored. However, his penis was much shorter
than mine, probably less than six inches long. Despite that, it
appeared to be much thicker, at least in the middle. Where my
penis reached its maximum girth at the flared head, Gary's penis
continued to thicken until half-way down the shaft. Without a
tape measure, it was impossible to be accurate, but it looked to
be well over two inches across. It tapered slightly until it
reached his pubis where it disappeared in a thick cushion of dark
curling hair. Underneath that vein-gnarled stake, his darkened
scrotum was huge. From where I stood, his testicles seemed to be
as large as chicken eggs, although logic said otherwise. I made
the obvious if perfunctory comparison to Brandon's pink plump
hemisphere. Would the son eventually be as well-hung as the
father?

And the effect on Grant of seeing Gary's manhood so proudly
displayed? He became erect. Swiftly stiffening until it stood out
from his lean body, pointing towards the man would soon possess
both it and the rest of him.

"I think your son likes what he sees," Gary teased as he
glanced at Grant's middle. He moved slightly and his shirt
dropped to the floor behind him.

"What's there not to like?" I asked.

"Now you, Mr. Travers," Brandon giggled.

"If Grant's going to call your dad, 'Gary', then you're
going to have to call me 'Chris', from now on," I said as I
smiled.

"Okay," Brandon said cheerfully. "You have to strip too,
Chris. Otherwise it isn't fair."

He had a good point. Other than the harnesses that did
little to cover their naked bodies, I was the only person who
retained any sense of modesty. I undressed slowly, thinking how
far I had come in such a short period of time. It was only a
matter of a week since Christmas Eve. The image of Grant stepping
over me as he got into the bath tub with me filled my mind. I
discovered what it meant to love a boy. He gave himself to me,
his virgin body accepting my penis, yielding to my thrusting
member, finally taking my fluids deep within him when I erupted.
I filled him with my love. He made me happier than I had ever
been. That afternoon was only the first of many, but it was an
afternoon that I would never forget. Now this.

My shirt came off first. Brandon watched, his eyes eager,
visibly fascinated. To the side, Grant was also watching,
although he had seen me naked so often that he was no longer
magnetized. However, Brandon was enraptured. His eyes were wide
as my jeans and underpants slowly descended. There was something
enchanting about seeing another person's aroused penis for the
first time. Yet, he had seen me just a night before. He had held
my penis in his hand, masturbating me, finally putting it in his
mouth at the very end. He had seen it, but not in the light, not
clearly, not like this. It was swollen and very hard and it
throbbed mercilessly. It bobbed up and down enticingly. Brandon
smiled, his eyes bewitched, giving in to his irresistible urge.
He started to walk forward. I wiggled it from side to side,
attracting the already beguiled boy. He breathed suddenly,
sucking in air. He was still a couple of feet away. He licked his
lips.

"He's huge."

I heard awe and respect in the soft voice of a child.
Brandon's eyes were wide as he stared. He kept a safe respectable
distance away from me.

"It's not that big," I said awkwardly. "Some men have dicks
that are not much smaller than Moonraker's," I added.

"I s'pose. Yours is way longer than my dad's," Brandon added
quietly. "Grant said your dick was shaped just like his, only
bigger."

I smiled, glanced quickly at Gary. Grant was close to him
now, kneeling down, submissive. I felt my heart lurch. I was
intrigued, drawn along into the sacred ritual of joining, loving
for the first time. I felt Brandon's cool soft hand brush against
my penis. I had not heard him move. Grant was going to kiss
Gary's penis, perhaps even suck it. My organ pulsed. Brandon's
fingers squeezed. Another pulse. Adrenaline surging, causing the
urgent tightening of my inner muscles. So hard. So incredibly
hard that it seemed impossible that it was still human flesh.

Then, Brandon took over, leading me by the penis towards the
bed. Another sideways glance. My heart pounding frantically. Gary
was lifting Grant back up again, his hands under the boy's
armpits. Grant's mouth was still open slightly, his lips were
wet. Then they came together. Kissing. Hard, full mouth, tongue,
kissing.

And Brandon, beautiful Brandon, still constrained by his
harness, standing on tip toes, reaching up, his arms dropping
around my neck, his eyes closed. His lips were soft, as soft as
Grant's. Moving gently, firmly, parting, sucking back, pulling my
tongue into him, not acquiescent, but accepting willingly,
eagerly. We shared our saliva. His tongue was pliable, soft,
compressible, ever active. A better kisser than my son? Was such
a thing even possible? Then apart, both breathing urgently.
Trembling from the rush of emotions that had exploded within us
from just one kiss. I needed him, needed to be inside him. It was
a mutual need. I felt his hands, one of them around my penis,
clutching it in his small fist.

I sensed movement on the bed behind me. Turning, I looked
over my shoulder. Gary was lying on his back and Grant was
kneeling above him, straddling his legs. They were both grinning.
Then Grant leaned forward, putting his hands on Gary's shoulders,
eyes meeting, sharing a lover's look as they took deep, long
breaths.

"There's plenty of room down here," Gary said with a smirk.
"I reckon the best thing I ever did was to buy this king-sized
bed."

I took a step back, holding Brandon tightly against me,
touched my legs against the mattress, slowly say down as I
scooped him up and cradled him, hugged him, smooched his cheek,
forehead, the bridge of his nose, kissed his eyelids, returned
once more to his mouth. It was a peculiar feeling. I was kissing
Gary's son and he was kissing my son. It seemed entirely natural!

I remembered what I had witnessed only two or three days
earlier in the living room. It happened while I was in the
kitchen and Grant was outside in the barn, brushing Moonraker for
the umpteenth time. Gary had kissed Brandon and his son had
kissed him back. It was more than a father-son kiss. It was a
tongue-kiss. A very long, very wet French kiss. He kissed Grant
in the same way, using his lips and tongue and absorbing him in
the same consuming way that I had just kissed Brandon.

I knew what came next, and I was ready. For the first time,
at least as far as I knew, Gary was going to take the love he
shared with my son even further. I would make love to Brandon. We
would share them in a very special way. After this, there would
be no secrets between us. There would be no forbidden pleasures.
Gary's smile, his words, were directed to encouraging me to do
what I wanted with Brandon. The possibility excited me. Watching
him gently fondling the boy I loved, reassured me that I was free
to do the same with Brandon. I had no doubts that Grant was doing
what he wanted. I felt Brandon twisting around, leaning up, his
hands touching my cheeks, the moist heat of his lips. We kissed
again, holding each other tightly.

Like me, Gary would never hold his son back from discovering
who and what made him happy. He winked when I finally caught his
attention.

"He's a great kisser, isn't he?" Gary joked.

"Who?"

"Grant is. I think 'Hot-Lips' over there has been giving him
lessons."

Hot-Lips? It was Brandon, of course. I had noticed the
change in Grant only a day after Brandon had returned. I had
taught him a lot, but Brandon had also played a role. Brandon
smiled shyly up at me, licked his lips with the tip of his pink
tongue. He kissed me again, this time without any restraint,
putting everything he had into it. He used his tongue the same
way that Grant had started doing, moving it back and forth as if
thrusting into my mouth, curling his tongue behind my lips and
licking against my teeth.

"Sure is," I agreed when Brandon finally relaxed his limpet-
grip on me.

I smiled and casually tested the harness that remained in
place with my finger by pulling on the straps. It did not offer
the same physical stimulation to the wearer that Grant's
provided, but with its highly polished hand-tooled leather and
brightly shining chains and metal studs, it was more erotic. It
was not difficult to imagine Brandon dancing at an exotic night
club, his slender perfect body illuminated by colored lights and
flashing strobes. He would strip, removing his clothes until only
the harness was left. I imagined music pounding in relentless
rhythm, his body thrusting, gyrating, driving his hips forward as
if ramming his extended penis.

"How are we going to do this?" I asked uncertainly.

"How? I would have thought it was pretty obvious," Gary
joked.

"Not to me it isn't," I responded.

"I think the general idea goes something like you fuck
Brandon and I fuck Grant. You can pretty much skip the foreplay
this time, given what they've been wearing for the last hour or
so."

"I've got that much figured out already," I replied.

The first and only time that Grant and I had intercourse
without any preparation was when we returned from skiing, and it
was the best sex that I could remember. There was no need for
foreplay when a boy's anus was already fully dilated.

"I was thinking of whether we should get under the covers?"
I asked awkwardly.

"You can if you want. I've already turned the heat on higher
so the boys wouldn't get cold. I was kind of looking forward to
watching you and Brandon get it off. It is his first time with
another man and all."

"I guess,..."

I regarded Brandon. He looked down at me, quietly, perhaps
thinking what I was thinking. I wanted to see Grant as well. I
wanted to see his father make love to my son, to see the proof
that they had joined. He shrugged ambiguously.

"How then?" I asked uncertainly.

"I thought you and Grant were old hands at this by now."
Gary smirked at Grant. "He doesn't just do it to you in the
missionary position, does he Grant?"

"The what position?"

"Don't worry about it," Gary laughed. "Let's get these
harnesses off."

He reached up and began to unbuckle the straps. He began at
Grant's chest, then reached around behind his neck. The last
buckle was the one close to his waist. He pulled the leather
straps through the metal rings. He reached behind my son, taking
hold of the steel bit. An expression of relief fleeted across
Grant's face as the stainless steel tongue was carefully plucked
from his rectum. It was my turn.

Brandon grinned at me. With one hand I unfastened the buckle
behind his head. Then two behind his back. Placing my hand on his
buttocks, I gently pulled on the metal chain. The first, or the
last, red ball came into view. I tugged gently, pulling it up
into the narrow tube of his sphincter. he winced slightly,
strained down to help push it through. It popped out. The second
followed quickly, then the third. Each 'pop' reminded me of the
first time that I had removed the balls from Grant's body. The
sound of suction, giving up the colorful jewels that had been
hidden from sight. Six of them. One-inch orbs, sliding freely on
a now-greasy leather cord. With the last one, Brandon gasped, his
buttocks clenching instinctively but to no avail to keep it
inside him. The balls were hot and covered with a slippery wet
sheen.

I was surprised. In the past, when I had extracted the home-
made dildo from Grant's rectum, there were always a few flecks of
feces, often a brown streak or two on the last couple of balls. A
few times there were tiny lumps clinging to the cord. This time,
the balls were clean, as clean as if they had been washed. They
even smelled fresh, or rather, they smelled musky, redolent with
the same primal odor that came from Grant's body when we had sex.

I placed the harness and the balls on the floor beside the
bed where they would be easy to find later on, should the need
arise. As I straightened up again, I met Gary's eyes. He winked.

"Now I can understand why you were saying that an enema was
a good idea," I admitted.

He nodded. "It's nicer when it's clean."

"How often does he do it?" I asked curiously.

"Usually about once a week, and always before our marathon
sessions, otherwise there's a tendency for it to get a bit on the
messy side. The other thing is, it helps to stop him from getting
constipated."

"Oh?"

"Sure. From the sound of your voice, I assume that you
haven't had that problem yet?" Gary asked. I shook my head. "You
will. It's just a matter of time."

I grinned. "I expect so. Okay, so what position do you
recommend, expert?"

"We've found two ways work the best for us, haven't we
Brandon?" Gary said. Brandon nodded. "One position is for Brandon
to lie on his back and I lie on my side. He puts one of his legs
over my hips and the other leg is bent so his foot is on my
chest. I can get in nice and deep without hurting him and he can
control how fast it happens."

"And the other?" I prompted.

"Is my personal favorite, especially for long ones. He lies
on his side with me behind him. He pulls his bottom leg up to his
belly, and I put his other leg back behind my knees. He doesn't
have anywhere near the same the control, of course, but it's the
most comfortable for him. I can get the full length of my cock
into him without hurting him."

"It sounds good to me," I laughed. "It's also the position
that we use most of the time as well."

"Good, because I have an interesting variation for you."

"Which is?"

Gary smirked. "Well, I really want to watch you do it, okay.
I want to see it up close, Chris. I want to see your dick
actually going into Brandon. If you don't feel the same way, then
tell me. It won't bother me."

If my penis was not already as hard as forged steel, it
would have been by then. The idea was both ludicrous and
phenomenal. Watching another man's penis going into, then all the
way inside my son. Watching Grant's anus open, stretch tightly,
become a thin lip around Gary's thick shaft. I could be seeing it
up close. I breathed out.

"Yes!"

Gary smirked again. "I thought so. Phew! I was worried for a
moment. Okay, here's what I have in mind. I think it'll be fun
for the boys as well."

He paused for effect. The boys were attentive, ears pricked,
listening.

"We do it the way we usually do, only the boys sixty-nine at
the same time."

"Huh? I don't get it."

Gary laughed. "Well think about it, Chris. They sixty-nine!"

"I still don't get it."

"Geez. Okay, let's get the boys in position. It'll be easier
that way."

Grant scrambled off Gary and onto the middle of the bed. He
grinned at Brandon, obviously excited. He was greeted by an
equally salacious smile. The boys were ready and they were making
no secret about it. Gary leaned to the side, opened the drawer of
the night-stand, reached into it. He handed me an opened box.
This was the 'miracle' lubricant.

"Anal-ese," I read aloud.

If there was any question about the area of application the
picture on the front of the box quickly dispelled it. I read the
directions from the back of the box, the two boys interrupting me
with peals of laughter.

"Apply a small amount of ANAL-ESE to rectal area prior to
penetration. Wait a few minutes for desensitization before
attempting penetration. Proper amount and waiting time will be
determined after several uses."

"What is de-sensa-whatever mean?" Grant asked. Apparently he
understood what was being penetrated.

Brandon giggled. "It numbs your butt, you dummy."

"Numbs? How?"

"I think it's got a chemical in it that makes you less
sensitive," I explained. "Benzocaine or something like that. It's
a mild anesthetic. It's like the stuff I put on you when you
scrape your knees. It deadens the nerves so it doesn't ache."

"It tastes a bit like cough medicine," Brandon added
gleefully.

"Just don't ask him how he knows what it tastes like," Gary
quipped.

Grant guffawed. "I know exactly how he knows. He sucks your
dick after you're finished, doesn't he?"

"Right on, Grant," I chortled. "You and me, both huh Gary?"

"Okay, so what do we do?" Brandon asked as he turned to his
father.

"You two lie down on your sides. Face to face, just like you
do when you're going to suck each other's dicks," Gary explained.

The boys grinned at each other and moved into position,
shifting down in the bed until they were lying head to 'tail',
but with their mouths still far enough away from the other boy's
genitals that the next move was uncertain.

"Now what," Grant asked.

"Now you pull your bottom legs up, but not all the way to
your chests. That's right, you use Grant's leg as a pillow. You
too, Grant. Now, Chris and I lie down behind you," Gary
continued.

I followed his example and settled down on the bed behind
Brandon. As soon as I did so, the result was obvious. My heart
surged and my penis jumped in anticipation. With my head lying
behind and higher than Brandon's I could see over the top of his
head. However even as I noticed my son's hard little penis and
flattened scrotum, Gary's hand lifted Grant's upper leg, placing
the small foot behind his knees. My son's leg was both at an
angle to his body and pulled slightly behind him. The result was
to split his buttocks apart. The sight was remarkably revealing.
His anus was still fully dilated, a crimson aperture that opened
beyond his sphincter. I looked into the tube of his rectum, down
into the darkness of his bowels. I licked my lips, thinking of
the many times that my penis had pierced that hole and pushed
into him. I had always wanted to watch my penis entering that
special place. Instead it would be Gary's penis that I watched.
It hovered between Grant's thighs, proudly dominant, aggressively
masculine, thick, hard, and throbbing. That it would soon be
inside my son's slim body was mind-boggling. Such a possibility
before today would have left me cold. Now, it excited me beyond
my wildest dreams.

Gary's leg was next to my head. It was thick, muscular,
hair-covered, the very opposite of my son's smooth slender limb.
Awkwardly, reluctant to make contact with another man's body, I
propped my head up on my elbow.

"Hey, Chris, you can put a pillow under your head if you
want. Or you can rest your head on my leg," Gary offered. "You
don't mind if I use your leg for a head rest, do you?"

I swallowed and breathed out. "I guess,..."

I opened the box and removed the small tube. "How much do I
use?" I asked as I examined the small tube.

"Don't worry about what it says about using a small amount,
just give it to Brandon," Gary said. "He knows how much."

"If you use too much, you can't feel anything," Brandon said
expertly. "So the idea is to put some on his butt-hole and just
inside where it's tight."

He squeezed a small bead of Anal-ese onto his forefinger and
then collected a somewhat larger gob on the fingertip. With the
fingers of his other hand, he fondled Grant's testicles,
playfully rubbing them as he began to apply the gel. His finger
slowly circled my son's anus, making him quiver slightly. The rim
and some of the surrounding area was dark with residual bruising,
the unfortunate result of being impaled by a man's penis. Then
slowly, Brandon's finger pressed inward, pushing into the gaping
hole, rotating. Grant sighed and twisted, turning his head to
look. He could see nothing, but I could. Brandon's finger pushed
steadily forward, sliding on the film of lotion. It was not
particularly slippery but there was enough lubricant inside him
to ease the way. Brandon's finger pulled out, still rotating from
side to side. His finger glistened wetly, momentarily before he
smeared it against his father's engorged penis. He added more of
the lotion, just as I knew he would. It was barely enough to
cover the broad oval-shaped stake.

Gary's penis flexed and jerked hungrily, eager and ready to
do its job.

"Hey, put some more on," he insisted. "I want this to last."

Brandon giggled. "Okay. But don't you want to feel how tight
he is, Dad?"

"You little,..." Gary laughed. "You're right, except he's
not that tight anymore, and certainly not after having that thing
inside him for the last hour. Put on some more will you?"

Brandon complied, adding more of the cherry-scented lotion
to his father's erection, rubbing it into the skin until there
was only a dull sheen.

"How long does it take?" Grant asked.

His bottom tensed, closing his anus until it was barely big
enough for a pencil to pass through. He relaxed the muscle again,
then exerted more control, drawing his testicles up closer to the
underside of his penis.

"A few minutes," Gary explained. "How does it feel?"

"The same, at least I think so. I can't tell."

"It's starting to work then. Hey Brandon, pass that tube up
here and I'll get you ready."

"Don't we need something to make it slippery?" I asked with
growing concern.

The mere thought of Gary's hardened, swollen penis
penetrating Grant's body with only a thin film of Anal-ese to
dull the pain made me squeamish. It might not hurt him, at least
not hurt as much as it would have hurt him without the Anal-ese,
but it would certainly damage the sensitive tissue inside his
anus.

"Sure. We've got some Astroglide for that," Gary answered.
"It's far and away the best lube I've ever used."

"I thought you said it was expensive," I commented.

"It is. I also said we kept it for special occasions--which
this is. Tonight, my friend, you are going to have the best sex
of your entire life."

I laughed, then suddenly stopped when I felt a hand, a large
hand, a man's hand sliding slowly along my penis. I felt
uncomfortable, very uncomfortable. No man had ever touched my
penis, at least not since my father had changed my diaper. The
hand went up and down slowly. I heard Grant's giggle, high-
pitched, excited, wanton. He was watching. I took a deep breath,
tried to relax, tried to convince myself that it did not matter.
What did it matter if Gary touched my penis, or any other part of
my body for that matter?

"Now the Astro, Brandon. I want him nice and slippery,
okay?" Gary said. "So use plenty of it inside him."

"Okay," Brandon squeaked gleefully.

I don't know where the bottle of Astroglide came from. It
literally appeared out of thin air. Perhaps it had been lying
under the pillow. His son unscrewed the cap and squeezed some of
the crystalline fluid out onto two fingers. It even looked like
pre-seminal fluid.

"Usually, you don't need more than a few drops to get past
the back-door," Gary explained. "It's incredibly slippery. But I
want the boys to really enjoy this. It'll last for hours if we
start off with plenty."

I nodded and then realized that no one could see me. That
was another advantage of the position we were in. I smiled,
relishing my own private world, the view before me sufficient to
take my breath away. Brandon knew exactly what he had to do. His
fingers squirmed around in the softened opening that was Grant's
anus. He massaged the rim, spreading the slick fluid along the
dividing crevice and over the sides of my son's cheeks. His
fingers pulled back, then playfully probed at the orifice. Two
fingers surged through, penetrating beyond the second joint
before he stopped. The only reaction was Grant's muted sigh and a
slight squeezing of the rim when it adjusted to the sudden
ingress. If there was any sensation left, it was barely
noticeable.

No longer needing direction, Brandon added more, much more.
He worked the glistening lubricant into the small hole, using two
fingers to spread it around, covering the anal walls thoroughly
before he stopped. Then, never stopping, he began to smear the
lubricant over his father's penis. He used a lot, coating it with
a layer of shiny high-tech gel. From base to tip, the shaft
gleamed with a sheen of shimmering wetness. The bottle of
Astroglide was passed from son to father.

"Okay Grant," Gary chuckled. "Now it's your turn. Do you
want to get your Dad ready for the fuck of his life?"

Grant giggled. "What do I do?"

"Just what you always do," I laughed. "Get my dick ready and
put some up Brando's butt."

"You're already hard."

"Of course I'm already hard. Just get it slippery," I
replied.

It was a relief to feel a small hand for a change. Perhaps,
after we had done this a few more times, I would be comfortable
with another man touching my penis. Grant giggled again and went
about his assigned task with more fervor than I would have liked.
Up and down that little hand moved, slipping easily on my slick
penis. It felt very good, but it also felt different. Not numbed,
but less sensitive, vaguely detached from the rest of my body, as
if Grant was generating interesting yet remote sensations.

"Okay," Grant giggled. "Who goes first?"

It was an interesting predicament. We could of course take
turns, but that defeated the purpose of being there together.
Although no one said anything, it was obvious that we needed to
do it at the same time.

"You go first, Chris," Gary directed firmly. "I've waited
for months to see this."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Just go slow. I want to remember this forever.
Once you get about halfway in, stop and I'll do Grant."

"Okay," I answered uncertainly.

It was up to me to take that first irrevocable step. Until
that moment, it had seemed fantastic, the strangest fantasy that
any man could have. Now, it was real. I took a deep breath,
waiting, hoping it was just a dream, that I could wake up and
pull back from the looming precipice, that my life could return
to normal.

"Go on, Dad," Grant said encouragingly. "Do him."

"Do what?"

"Do it to him! You don't want me saying 'fuck', now do you,
Dad?"

I laughed. It was absurd. The whole thing was crazy. I was
ready to have sex with another man's son while he watched. While
my son watched. And he was nervous about saying 'fuck'? Instead,
I should 'do' him? Do him! DO him! DO HIM! FUCK HIM! Fuck the
beautiful naked boy lying before me! Fuck him while his father
and my son watched!

I prodded my penis into the firmness of his cheeks, felt it
sliding along his crevice, felt a hand, perhaps two hands, take
hold, guiding it, positioning it. Soft, loose, hot, oozing,
opening into him, the juices easing the way, sliding, sealing us
together.

"God!" I groaned.

I pushed. Not too hard, but hard enough. Brandon pushed back
at me, using his strength, forcefully joining with me. His anus
slipped over the flared head before I had a chance for second
thoughts. Not that I would have had any, not then, not later, not
ever. He was fabulously hot, looser than Grant had been during
any of the many times I had taken him. It felt rather like he was
pulling my penis into him. It felt strange, not nearly as over-
powering as it had been, even relaxing in a way. His flesh felt
reassuring. No gasps, no cries, barely a tremor. More heat and a
wonderful firm, pressure that was very, very alive. I realized
that I was inside him!

"Jesus!" I sighed. "It's in, isn't it! I can feel him."

"Of course it's in," Gary laughed. "What did you expect?
Fucking incredible isn't it? You ought to see his ass, Chris. It
practically sucked you in."

"It feels strange. It's like he's not tight at all."

"Oh, he's tight all right. His ass ring is stretched so taut
you can barely see it."

"You ought to see it, Dad. It's like a little mouth," Grant
added gleefully. "Only the lips are real thin and kinda pale."

I smiled. It felt different to being inside Grant, although
exactly how it was different was hard to put my finger on. It
stood to reason that one 'boy-ass' should feel much like any
other. The anatomy was identical, after all. Muscle, tissue,
texture, was the same. The only difference had to be in
sensitivity. The sensations on my penis were not acute, not at
all like I experienced with Grant. However, the pleasure of being
inside, contained within that hot, slick tube, was certainly no
less. Indeed, the sheer debauchery of what we were doing, made it
memorable and intensified the emotions.

"Now you, Gary," I said breathlessly. "And I want you to do
it slowly too."

"Sure! Are you ready it, Grant?" Gary teased. "I'm going to
get it up your boy-pussy if you are."

Grant giggled and nodded eagerly. Brandon did what I could
not do. He held his father's penis, placed it where it needed to
be, wiggled it around until the tip burrowed into Grant's anus.
It looked like a big plum. My eyes were wide. Impossible? It
could never fit through Grant's tiny anus. I swallowed, steeled
myself for the cry of pain as it forced into him. I saw Gary
press forward, slowly, deliberately, pushing. And Grant pushed
back!

I was quickly getting used to breathing with my mouth wide
open. It was a shock. I would be lying if I said otherwise. He
pushed himself back onto it. Not too hard, but hard enough that
there was no question in my mind that he wanted to be impaled.
The rounded knob of Gary's penis bulged into his anus. It stopped
there, half in, half out, looking slightly comical, yet at the
same time, very threatening. Grant's anus was nearly white. It
was stretched tightly, but probably no tighter than when my penis
breached his opening. However, seeing it there, massive, dark-
purple, all-conquering, I was dumbfounded.

"How's the view down there?" Gary asked.

"Cool," Brandon replied.

"Very cool," I added after a moment. "Go on! Put it in
further, Gary," I prompted.

"You said go slow, Chris" Gary jested. "I'm just doing what
you said."

"Very funny."

I flexed my partially buried penis and Brandon responded
with a playful squeeze. It felt good. I wanted Gary to feel good.
His hand slipped around Grant's hip, his fingers gripping the
bony mound to restrain him. Then he pushed upward and inward. I
heard Grant's familiar gasp, that sound he made when my penis
began to penetrate. He trembled noticeably, then calmed as he
forced his body to relax before the onslaught.

"Go on, Dad," Brandon said gleefully. "Do him!"

Gary's thighs stiffened as the tendons and muscles came
alive. The stake that was poised between Grant's buttocks lurched
forward and promptly evoked another gasp. My son shuddered,
struggling to accommodate the suddenly increased thickness. The
swollen head was no longer visible. I licked my lips, staring in
disbelief. It had happened so quickly. One moment Gary's glans
was bulging into Grant's anus, the flared edge nudging into the
rim of my son's anus, the next instant his gnarled penis was
embedded as far as the circumcision scar. More than two inches.
It looked as if it should hurt, but there was no sound of pain.
Grant's buttocks clenched slightly, closing around the solid stub
to hold it in place.

"Phew," I said in relief.

And it was relieving. Reassuring, too, that his body could
open up and 'swallow' a man's penis without hurting. I often
worried that I was hurting Grant, but seeing it up close, seeing
the apparent ease, my confidence increased.

"You and me both," Gary joked. "What do you think, Gee-Tee?
You like it?"

"'sokay," Grant hissed.

"It's just okay?" I teased.

"sgood," he added with a soft moan.

"Do me now," Brandon demanded. "I want all of your dick,
Chris."

I choked. When I finally got my breath back, I did what he
asked. First, I pulled back a little bit. I felt Brandon tense
up. He knew what was coming. Hard and fast, or slow and gentle?
That was the question that all boy lovers grapple with. Reason
argued for the latter, while lust demanded the former. With
Grant, I tended towards careful patient probing until he was
loosened up and ready for action. However, watching Gary had
given me an alternative. Brandon's anus was already weakened,
already dilated, already ready. With the greatest width of my
penis well beyond his anus, the rest was easy. I jabbed forward,
thrusting my penis deeply before I stopped. Brandon bucked,
jerked forward, lunged back to drive my penis even deeper. Before
I knew it, Brandon repeated the motion.

"Fucking that boy of mine feels a bit like you're riding a
pony, doesn't it?" Gary laughed.

"Oh God," I groaned.

Brandon's soft wet heat melted around my penis. Scorching
hot, boiling hot, searing hot. Making me part of him. Absorbing
my flesh into his encompassing cavity. Belonging to each other. I
did not know how far my penis had gone into him, but it certainly
felt like a long way. We stopped there, joined together. Now
inseparable, each trying to understand what came next. I wanted
to thrust, harder, further, back and forth. I resisted my
inclination. There was plenty of time for that. For the moment it
was important to be together and realize the bonds between two
lovers.

"Sweet," Grant whispered.

I smirked. 'Sweet'. "You have got to expand your vocab," I
said. "Having my cock up Brnadon's ass is a lot of things, but
sweet isn't one of them."

"Cool, then."

"Cool? Not cool either. You might say 'hot', because it is,
but it would still be a gross understatement."

"What then?" Grant demanded petulantly.

"You're watching your best friend and your father have sex
for the first time," Gary interjected. "Think of some words to
express how you feel about it."

"Hm,... I don't know. I think it's pretty cool! Awesome?
Uh,... I don't know."

"Just don't say radical," Brandon laughed.

"So how do you feel about it, Grant?" I asked cautiously.

"Me? I,... I don't know, Dad. It's okay, I guess. I was
jealous for a moment when you first started putting him in, until
I realized it was silly. Then I was kinda embarassed with you
watching Gary do it to me. And then, I don't know. I wanted to
see you do it to him some more. I guess it's nice."

I nodded, wondering whether we were doing the right thing. I
had always believed that sex was supposed the intimate physical
expression of two lovers. However, my son wanted to watch me make
love to his best friend. It was confusing.

"Oh?" Gary said softly. "Like this?"

This time he did not need encouragement. He pushed
resolutely and Grant squirmed as his young body stretched and
tried to accommodate the demands being placed upon it. Delicate
tissue was compressed against the roughness of the onrushing
penis. He made a sound that was more like a grunt than a groan as
he struggled to accept it into his rectum.

The shape of Gary's penis, wider in the middle than at
either end, meant that there was a point that had to be reached
before Grant experienced relief from the pressure inside him. The
pressure increased as Gary forced his penis in. He used a jack-
hammer motion when Grant's body began to resist. Quick short
thrusts, pumping into the taut band, pausing, waiting for the
nerves to respond, for the muscle to relax, then slowly sinking
through it.

"Okay?" Gary asked.

Grant nodded slightly. "Is it in?"

"Kind of," Brandon replied. "It's more than half way. But
getting it in that far is the worst part. "

"Does it hurt?" Gary asked.

"Not really. A little bit. It just feels so big,... It's way
bigger than Dad's."

"It's a lot thicker in the middle than mine is," I said with
a tinge of envy.

There was something incredibly arousing about seeing that
thick engorged penis penetrating my son's slender body. It was
thicker than mine, at least in the middle region. Suddenly, I was
very glad that Grant had been wearing the first harness we had
fabricated. While the six balls exercised his rectal muscles, he
needed the extra width of the metal tongue far more. He would
never be quite the same boy after this night, but the same was
also true of Brandon.

Awkwardly, my fingers reached out, sliding along Grant's
smooth hairless thigh. As my hand neared his groin I felt
increasingly uncomfortable, yet I could not stop. I needed to do
this, I needed to convince myself that I accepted what was
happening. Lovingly I brushed the compact wrinkled lump of
Grant's scrotum. So tiny. His testicles were barely discernible.
Just a little larger than baked beans. His penis was straight and
thin, smooth skinned like a small pink sausage. And lower? I
swallowed uncertainly. The thing that extended into my son was
thick and angry-red. My son belonged to it. It owned him. I was
merely an onlooker, a witness, an accomplice who was guilty by
association. I winced. Dare I touch it?

Again, I fondled Grant's boy-sized testicles. Like his penis
they were impotent, yet potent, a harbinger of the future
manhood, a sign of the male within him despite the penis that
possessed him. This man had staked a claim inside my son. From
this moment forth, my son would not belong to me alone. Finally,
I summoned my will to do it. My fingers crept forward, following
nature's line between his small firm cheeks. I touched the
junction of their bodies, fingered that curiously exaggerated
line of Grant's anus, almost non-existence, but paler than the
surrounding circle of purple-brown bruises. I could feel the heat
emanating from Gary's penis. I was shocked by the contrast. It
was both brutal and beautiful, seeing a man and boy joined in
this way. In that region, Grant was pale and submissive. Gary's
complementing part was dark and dominant. Large and small. Erect
and soft. Smooth and hairy. Man and boy. Yet, they fit together
very naturally.

It was my turn. Pushing with my thighs, clenching my
buttocks, driving inwards, sliding on that slick film until I was
deep inside him. So easy! It required much less effort than
penetrating Grant. Not all the way of course, but far enough that
my penis emerged into the spongy-soft region. Brandon's anus was
constricted and the pressure was noticeable, but it was only to
the point of not being loose. It felt a little like my wife's
vagina, yet the canal beyond was boring and far different to the
supple yielding passage of a boy. It was all I could do not to
ram in further and take him completely.

"Sweet," Grant murmured. "You ought to see it, Brando. His
dick is right up you."

"Uh huh. I can feel it, you know."

I felt a hand beside my thigh, fingers touching, extending
to the junction, tickling the shaft of my penis. Small fingers.
It had to be Grant.

"Cool," Brandon purred. "It's nearly in all the way."

I smirked, proud of an achievement that most men would
consider shameful. I flexed my penis and Brandon squeezed back.
Again. Another squeeze.

"How's it feel?" Grant asked.

"Like yours, only a whole lot bigger."

"Very funny."

"You ready?" Gary asked.

"Huh?" Grant answered. He gasped as he felt  Gary thrust
forward.

I don't think I will ever forget. Watching with unblinking
eyes, feeling with the tips of my fingers as the huge spike of
man-flesh sank deeper and deeper. It went in slowly and smoothly,
an uninterrupted advance. When Gary stopped pushing, his pubic
hair was crushed against Grant's cheeks. My son shuddered
uncomfortably, aware of what was now deep inside him and unable
to do anything about it except lie very still and wait until he
became used to it.

"Wow!" Brandon chirped. "It's way up there, Grant. You gotta
see this."

"I can't, can I?" Grant grumbled. "It sure feels like it's
all the way inside me."

"It is," Brandon said gayly. "How's it feel?"

"Like a huge dick is stuffed all the way up my butt," Grant
fussed. "geez. How do you think it feels?"

"I know how it feels," Brandon replied confidently. "Just be
patient, okay? It's pretty thick so it takes a while to get used
to it."

Gary eased back a fraction of an inch as Grant's buttocks
clenched around the thick organ. His cheeks pinched, then bulged
outward in order to accommodate the thickness of Gary's penis. He
tensed, trembling. His body was trying to eject it and he had a
fight on his hands to stop himself from pushing it out. I wanted
him to resist as well. Silently I offered my support. That slight
withdrawal gave Grant relief. I sighed as he relaxed again.

"Does that feel better?" Gary asked softly.

"Uh huh!" Grant answered distantly. "It hurt a bit, but it's
okay now."

"Sorry about that, Grant. I knew I was in too far. Just take
it easy and get your breath back," Gary instructed.

"Don't take it out!"

"I won't," Gary said reassuringly. "I guess I forgot what it
was like with a boy who wasn't all that used to it."

Brandon used those wonderful inner muscles of his to
compress my penis again. He was certainly used to it. He had more
than four months of experience compared to Grant's one week. It
was how a boy was able to make love to a man and it was a skill
that Grant was only beginning to learn. Wearing the ball-dildo
had helped to strengthen his muscles a lot, but practice was
needed as well.

Looking over the side of Brandon's head, I could see a wet
ring of pubic hair around Gary's penis. I realized where it had
come from. Gary's penis had been so far inside my son's bowels
that his pubis had been pressed up against Grant's anus. The
wetness was excess lubrication, Astroglide that had been pushed
back along the shaft as it had progressed through the small
opening. Was my son's anus so tight that it acted as a seal?

What followed was the most incredible experience of my
entire life. It was not the most enjoyable--that was reserved for
when Grant and I had returned from skiing. Nearly an hour of
taking turns to thrust, sometimes hard, sometimes gently,
sometimes fast, sometimes slowly. We explored a million
variations, prodding tiny immature prostates, withdrawing
throbbing penises through sleek-walled canals, pulling free and
hearing the little truncated gasps of surprise, the urgent groans
as penis and rectum were reunited. Sometimes so content that we
were lay still and unmoving, pulsing alive within the boys we
loved. It was a time of discovering what turned boys on,
appreciating the remarkable yet often barely noticeable between
them. There was no comparison between my son and his best friend.
Grant and Brandon were the same and different. It was not a
matter of one being better than the other.

And always watching. Finally I was able to overcome my
inhibitions, those inner qualms that prevented me from touching
another man's penis. I relished its rhythmic motion, those
thrusts that took my son into another realm. Occasionally, his
penis responded and he became erect. That was the sure-fire sign
that he was close to orgasm. I watched him twitch, shudder
uncontrollably, groan in ecstasy. Was it possible for a boy to
experience sexual climax almost continuously? Both boys reached
that delirious peak so often that I wondered whether they were
pretending. At first they became agitated, gasping and writhing
as sensations overpowered their bodies. Then, no longer frenzied,
lying quietly, abandoned to the intoxicating euphoria, panting
for air as waves of pleasure swept over them.

We tired, yet our penises stayed hard. Rock hard! Harder
than I could remember being in my entire life. Relentlessly
erect! Making love to our sons with unflinching unappeased need.
It was ruthless, in a way. A person had to be determined to last
the distance. To stave off exhaustion for the sole purpose of
making love to a boy for as long as humanly possible.

The boys talked on and off, whispering, sharing, exchanging
feelings. I learned more about my son than I expected. Had I once
wondered whether Grant was gay, or merely going through a pre-
pubescent phase? That uncertain time seemed so far away. That
night, he embraced the lifestyle and made it an undisputable part
of who he was. There were no questions. Brandon too, showing that
side of him that I had frequently glimpsed and later fantasized
about. I heard him begging for it harder, deeper, faster. I
listened to him squealing in shameless joy as my penis pounded
through his bowels. He was offering his body to me in sacrifice,
giving me the gift of his emerging sexuality and without any
restraint beyond that I satisfy his urge. We made love, had sex,
and fucked. We fucked like two wild animals.

Interestingly, we started with different styles. What do
they say about form following function? Instead, function
followed form. Gary's penis, short, broad, thicker in the middle,
stayed deep. Once inserted, it seldom came back past the halfway
point. Fully six inches reduced to three inches of movement, back
and forth in endless pistoning. Only two inches when it was used
in short, fast jabs, but it occurred in the immediate vicinity of
Grant's prostate gland. No wonder he was constantly subjected to
orgasm fervor.

My penis was longer, not as wide, equally thick from head to
base. Eight inches of length was necessarily reduced to six
inches. However, I could withdraw until only my glans remained
within Brandon. This had the result that five inches of my penis
moved freely within his rectum. I used long strokes. I used slow
strokes, always deep strokes. Pulling back until Brandon's anus
locked behind my glans in a desperate attempt to prevent removal,
holding me inside his body. Then, sliding back inside him in a
single thrust. I belonged there, buried within the pulpy cavern,
seduced by his squelchy softness.

Part of the joy was watching Grant and Gary going at it. For
the first time I truly realized what it was like for Grant. He
held nothing back. He was seduced by sybaritic pleasure as much
as I was. He may have been on the receiving end, but if the state
of his penis was any indication, he was just as happy as I was.

Grant's penis was largely untouched by Brandon or me.
Despite that lack of attention, it stayed half-erect, languishing
as a graceful slender arc that flopped on his slim thigh. At
best, it was a little over three inches long from tip to base, of
that a half an inch was prepuce. Occasionally it stiffened
further, reaching outward to its full length as he reached the
peak of ecstasy. Barely seconds would pass before it diminished
in size again, temporarily satisfied. Again and again he achieved
that sublime state of anal orgasm, counting each time he climaxed
with increasing curiosity and pride. Five times!

With my penis buried deep within Brandon, the count was
certainly no less. I depended upon that sudden frenzied spasm of
tightening inner muscles that young boys experience to tell me
what was going on inside him. More than once, I felt between his
legs. Not hard! If anything, his penis was shrivelled to a tiny
knob. Sometimes, I tried to get him excited there, rubbing his
exposed glans between my fingertips until he wriggled
uncomfortably. However, there was no increase in stiffness. His
penis stayed dormant the entire time. I focused my efforts on his
testicles, cupped them in my hand, fondled them, stroked them,
rolled them between my fingers. After a few minutes, he clenched
my penis inside him, squeezing valiantly.

"You like that?" I asked softly.

Brandon nodded slightly. He enjoyed that and was more than
capable of letting me know. I kept my hand there, rubbing over
his gonads, caressing the silky skin of his rounded pouch. So
different to Grant. Brandon's testicles felt much larger. They
were much larger. They felt as if they were big enough that I
could not hurt them no matter how hard I squeezed. Grant squealed
whenever I played too hard. 'Tiny nuts', I teased him, were
'delicate nuts'. Like peanuts, they were 'nuts to be savored and
treated carefully'. I felt Brandon's testicles between my
fingers. Firm, bigger than marbles, nearly as big as bird's eggs.

As time passed, we began to move in unison, thrusting
simultaneously, instinctively seeking to give the boys identical
sensations. Unified. Unity. All parts integrated into a whole.
Four bodies, one 'being'. I began to think I would never climax.
I would do this for the rest of my life. I would die doing this.

"Getting tired?" Gary asked between pants.

"Who me?" I gasped.

I settled down slowly, leaving my penis comfortably
ensconced. I breathed deeply. It was hard to imagine that a boy's
small body could become so loose.

"I'm getting tired," I admitted. "I didn't realize it would
be such hard work."

"Yo, Dad," Grant teased weakly.

"You be quiet," I admonished with a laugh. "We're the ones
doing all the work."

Playfully I fingered Grant's anus. It was relaxed, no longer
tight. However, every time that Gary pushed in, my son's anus
disappeared. When he withdrew, his penis dragged a fold of skin
outward. It was like a mouth, a hungry little mouth. Back and
forth. In and out. Rotating his hips when he was all the way
inside, working his rigid member around and around until Grant
was twisting and turning with him, working his small bony pelvis
in erratic circles.

"Look at that boy go," Gary gushed between breaths. "Yeah,
go for it, Gee-Tee. You're so close. Just let build for a while.
You'll get it eventually."

"I,... I can't," Grant whined. "I want to,... I'm
trying,...."

I gripped his hips with my hands, held him tightly, held him
so that he could not be pushed away as Gary's penis punched into
him. Each time he pulled away, I felt the tug on Grant's body. At
the same time, Gary restrained Brandon's movement. It felt
strange, mutually offering and taking our sons to a higher place.
I could hear one of the boys whimpering, another groaning softly
as we pumped with all our strength. Building to the inevitable,
reaching one plateau, only to be confronted by something that
always seemed just out of reach.

"Does it hurt?"

"No,... 'sokay. I want to,... only I can't stop shaking,"
Grant moaned.

"He's getting worn out, Gary," I observed. "So's Brandon for
that matter."

"Don't stop," Grant groaned.

"I warned you it was going to be a marathon session, didn't
I Chris?" Gary huffed.

If I still had the strength, I would have laughed. "Yeah,
you warned me."

"Man, my dick is ready to break off, but you get a boy all
worked up and mushy like the way these two are and it's darned
near impossible to stop."

"It feels like I've been close for a long while," I gushed.

"It's like that sometimes. You can't cum because you're too
wound up," Gary explained.

"Faster, Chris," Brandon encouraged.

"Go in all the way. Then do it as hard as you can."

"Don't want to hurt him," I gasped.

"Don't worry about it. You won't. He needs it deep and fast.
It'll bring him off too."

"God, I,.... I don't think I can do this much longer," I
groaned.

My penis was insensate, throbbing mercilessly, distended
with prominent swollen veins, bigger than seemed humanly
possible. I existed for a single purpose. To fuck. To fuck the
beautiful young boy before me. I tried. I watched Gary's penis,
like mine pulling completely out of Grant's slackened anus before
punching back inside. Each thrust, each powerful lunge brought us
closer to the edge. Grunting loudly, feeling the boys shudder as
we bore down and rammed our man-parts into their bodies, almost
beyond caring, still desperate to show our love.

The sounds grew louder. The sound of wet suction, squishing
from within, churning the juices into a foamy sloppy mess that
oozed between us, escaped, dribbled down across Grant's almost
non-existent scrotum. Could his anus take much more? Could it get
any bigger? Faster. Jabbing my man-sex into that weakened place.
Taking him higher. Both straining. Wanting to cry out. Wanting to
let out the pent-up pressure in my aching groin. Struggling to
keep it in on the outward stroke. Listening to him gasp and
gurgle. Hearing the sound of Gary's penis. Seeing flecks of foam
gathering at Grant's anus. Knowing it was impossible.

Grant started to shake. His knees trembled, began to jerk
uncontrollably. Was it possible? Gary slammed harder, faster,
deeper. Grant shuddered. Quaked. I grasped his hips, held him
rigid, realized that Gary was doing the same for Brandon. It had
become a race to see who could finish first. I pumped with all my
remaining strength, summoning everything I had left. The
crescendo came, went, came again. My penis was as hot and hard as
forged iron, plunging into a seething furnace, no longer melting
in that lush softness. I was no longer giving, but taking.

"Faster," Brandon hissed.

"Harder," Grant gasped.

'Faster', 'harder', straining to get all the way inside,
pushing beyond nature's limit. Another crescendo. Still not
enough. My pubis was against Brandon's flesh, my penis was all
the way inside his body. Back out again. In again. One of the
boys was sobbing. Grant? Brandon? Did it matter? Love became
selfish. Love was demanding. Men won and boys lost. Lost what? It
wasn't a game. It was coming. Rising up. Tightening. Grunting
names, 'Grant', Brandon', 'Grant'. Enough? Not yet! It had never
been so difficult. It had never been so hard. Yes! Yes!

"YES!"

"Oh God!"

"Fuck me!"

"Dad, do it."

Looking down, I witnessed the miracle. Gary's penis was
embedded all the way inside Grant's bowels. The ring of my son's
distended anus was clamped around the very base of the man's
shaft, glistening pale flesh pressed up against a dark, wet hairy
mound. The junction between penis and scrotum was barely visible.
Yet it was enough. That thick tube within Gary's penis expanded,
growing before my eyes. It pulsed, again and again, and the bulge
increased in size. His ejaculation was momentarily held back by a
boy's anus. Then pressure increased enough for the flood gate to
open. Another pulse, stronger than all the others that had
preceded it. Bursting free. Exploding. No bulge, not any more. A
sound that my brain told me was the sound of semen squirting into
my son.

Grant was lying very still. Brandon was shaking. Both of us
were still moving. Relentlessly moving. Slowing down. Pumping it
out. Still pulsing. Again and again. Very slowly. Barely able to
breath. Had I climaxed as well? He felt looser. Wetter. Sloppy.
Semen slippery. Fluids squirting along the length of my penis.
Flowing between us.

"God!"

"Hot damn!"

"Sweet!"

"Dad!" Grant grinned even as he huffed. "Can't you think,...
of a better word?"

I collapsed. There was no better word. 'Sweet' said it all.
It was 'sweet'. Wonderfully sweet. That was what loving a boy was
all about. And it was 'awesome', and 'cool', and just about
everything else I could think of. I would never be the same
again. Grant realized it, and so did Brandon. And Gary knew it,
too. He had known it all along. We were in this together. I
breathed deeply. I tried to think it through, but it was
impossible with a thousand different thoughts jockeying for
position in my head.

"Are you okay?" I asked awkwardly.

"Uh huh."

"Yeah. I'm just really, really tired."

"I bet you are." Gary said. "Take it easy for a few minutes,
Grant. You're okay. It takes a while to get over it."

"Are you going to take him out?"

There was a pleading note in Grant's voice. It was
impossible to determine what he wanted. Leave it in? Take it out?
He had to be feeling sore after almost an hour of constant
pummeling.

"Does it hurt?" Brandon asked softly. His voice was little
more than a murmur.

"Sort of. It feels so big,... and gooey. My insides feel
kinda like mushed up jelly."

'Mashed up jelly'! I winced. His bowels had been pulverized.
It was my fault. No matter that Grant was often very capable of
mature thoughts, he was still a boy. He was a very young boy. We
had done too much, too soon, and it was my fault. I should have
exercised better judgement. I should not have allowed myself to
be seduced. If anyone should have known better, I should have.
And now, it was too late to stop, too late to turn back, too late
to change direction.

I breathed out, thinking aloud of the line by Shakespeare's
Lady Macbeth, "What's done cannot be undone."

"And all's spent, Where our desire is got without content."

Grant smiled gleefully, ever his father's son. I was proud
of him. There were not many ten-year-old boys who could quote
Shakespeare.

I laughed. "So said Lady Macbeth, Grant, but it was in a
different context, I think. She wasn't talking about a boy with
an ass full of a man's sperm."

He giggled. "I don't know. You're certainly spent, Dad. And
Brandon and I are not going to be content until,..."

He let the words hang. I understood. He wanted more. He
wanted me. He would always want more from me.

End Part 4.


Will there be a Part 5? Maybe in the next Millennium.