Date: Thu, 30 Jun 2016 14:15:48 -0600
From: Colton <coltonaalto@gmail.com>
Subject: Spring Break Happens in Vegas - chapter 8

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SPRING BREAK HAPPENS IN VEGAS

By Colton Aalto

CHAPTER EIGHT – LAID ON THE LAKE – PART ONE

Thursday morning, I was lounging in Jon's bed – after using Jan's bed on
Tuesday, we alternated into Jon's bed on Wednesday – while Jon fetched
coffee and Jan checked texts and emails. Suddenly Jan said, "Damn, that
would be hot!" He glanced at me and, realizing I had no idea what he was
talking about, launched into an explanation.

That was a big difference separating my twin half-brothers and me. They
seldom explained things to each other, because they could practically read
each other's mind.

"Two dudes we modeled with a few times are in Vegas for the casting call
and the model shoot this weekend," Jan said, "and they have a boat for a
couple of nights at Lake Havasu. They invited us down. That would be so
awesome. But Dad will never let us go."

"He let us spend two nights on Lake Mead. What's the difference?" I
wondered.

"Havasu is a giant party on water at spring break," Jan replied, "and
everybody knows it – even Dad. Booze and sex, followed by more booze and
sex, followed by... more sex. Plus, Dad isn't very keen on our modeling
buds. He thinks we'll be corrupted by hanging out with European modeling
types in their 20s," he snickered. "He's right, those guys aren't the best
role models. But the corruption part – I got news for you. It already
happened. And if anyone is doing the corrupting, it's us."

Jon entered carrying two cups of coffee and a cup of tea. The twins had
accepted my dislike of coffee and made sure I got tea whenever they drank
coffee. "You'll never guess who's going to be at Havasu tonight," Jan
announced. "Marcio and Pyotr. They want us to come down and spend the
night. Too bad Dad won't let us."

"But Mom will," Jon said confidently, distributing the coffee and tea
before dropping his basketball shorts and climbing back into bed. Watching
the younger of my two brothers undress and then feeling him drape his leg
over mine in bed gave my cock a little wake up call. I was wondering if the
twins were going to split roast me after they finished their coffee. The
job they did on my ass and mouth yesterday morning left me eager for an
encore performance, although after getting fucked all afternoon in the
Grand Canyon yesterday I wondered why I was still horny. Maybe this was the
way normal 17-year-olds felt when they got actual sex. But normal
17-year-olds didn't have twin brothers with movie star looks and awesome
bodies ready to perform the honors.

Jan gave his brother a puzzled frown. Maybe the twins couldn't always read
each other's mind after all. "Ren and Dad just left for the airport to fly
to San Jose," Jon said. "Dad won't be back until tomorrow night."

"What makes you think Mom will give us a pass?" Jan questioned.

"Because, with what she has planned for tonight, it would be a lot tidier
if the three of us weren't in town," Jon said smugly. "She saw Ren drinking
with three of his pilot buddies last week. It just so happened that they
were at the pool and she was duly impressed by the shirtless beefcake. The
hot scene gave her an idea afterwards.

"She's inviting three of her girlfriends over, and Ren lined up the three
dudes. It's gonna be a wild cougar, pilot-stud mashup. A little
four-on-four action. Flyboys meet the housewives of Las Vegas. She knows
you and I wouldn't be fazed, but there's the problem of inadvertently
scandalizing junior here. So I'm pretty damn sure she'll think that the
three of us spending the night at Havasu is brilliant."

Jan had a big grin on his face but then frowned and asked, "How is this
gonna work out? You said Ren just left for the airport."

"Conveniently, it's cheaper for Ren to fly the plane back to Vegas for the
night rather than pay the overnight fees in San Jose. Dad doesn't give a
shit about the fees, but he's okay with Ren flying back and getting the
extra flight time. So Ren'll be in town tonight, and Mom's planning her
little party."

"Fuck," Jan replied, staring at nothing in particular. I could tell he was
thinking. He took a big swig of coffee and said, "Wait, how do you know all
this?"

Jon gave us a smirk. "When I got coffee, Ren was waiting upstairs for
Dad. Pilot boy didn't get his rocks off last night because Mom was
`indisposed,' and I guess getting two romps in a tight boi ass yesterday in
the Grand Canyon left Ren horny. Extra horny. So I helped myself to a
little banana cream for breakfast. Mouth the banana and it creams like all
fuck."

"Slut!" Jan said.

"You're jealous," Jon replied.

"Damn right," Jan said. He paused for a minute. "You don't suppose Ren is
bringing that helicopter pilot to Mom's party? The dude we saw Ren with at
the lake last summer? If that stud is coming, it might be worth staying
around to get a peek tonight. Especially if we could see him in action."

"Now who's the slut?" Jon smirked.

"Come on," Jan protested, "you're the one that said he was so hot you'd
bottom for him!" Jon's face flushed and he glanced at me as if hoping I
hadn't heard his brother's comment. I made a note that my brothers might
not be the dedicated tops they claimed to be. It wasn't information that I
would fine useful, because I wasn't planning on giving up my role as
family's bottom boy anytime soon.

"Ren better be careful," Jon said. "He might just get displaced as the
family gigolo by that bull stud."

"Won't happen for a while," Jan replied. "Because helicopter boy can't fly
Dad's plane yet. But he's in training."

"How do you know that?" Jon asked.

"I talk to Ren, too," Jan replied with a smile, licking his lips.

Jon, feigning annoyance, said, "Okay asshole. Spill the beans. What else
did Ren say about helicopter boy? And I don't even want to know if you
sucked Ren off without telling me."

Jan shrugged. "Helicopter boy is straight. Lives with three other rookie
pilots in a two bedroom apartment, which has gotta put a major crimp in
their sex life. I'm just saying. But where else are baby flyboys gonna
live? Beginning pilots get paid almost enough to see the poverty line from
beneath the surface. They're probably living on food stamps."

"And...," Jon probed.

"And," Jan said with a smile, "Ren's buddy is open minded about sex, like
Ren is. Maybe more open minded than Ren. Maybe even a little bi. One of the
dude's roommates is gay, and whenever Ren's buddy isn't getting it from his
girlfriend, he's happy to use a convenient gay flyboy ass to get
off. Helicopter boy is such a horn dog that sometimes even when his
girlfriend is putting out, he fucks his roommate just to get warmed up."

"Fuck," Jon replied, his eyes a little dazed.

"There's more," Jan said, causing Jon's eyes to bug out in
anticipation. "Eight and three-quarter inches, fat as a beer can. I kid you
not. Ren and the other flyboys got drunk one night and they all compared
dick size. Ren's buddy won, hands down. Or maybe it's dicks up. Took the
gold medal in both the length and girth categories. Those boys even
measured down to a quarter of an inch. How gay is that?"

Jon said, "Holy crap."

"Ren doesn't know for sure," Jan continued, "but he thinks his bud might be
trade. Hustling on the side. Nothing too obvious, but the other flyboys in
the apartment are always hurting for money, and Ren's bud always has a
spare dime. And every so often the dude is gone for several hours, but
isn't spending the time with his girlfriend."

"Which means if he's already earned his gigolo stripes, servicing Mom's
pussy won't be any sort of issue for him. He'll consider it a big promotion
to get paid in a lump sum in advance," Jon added.

"Bingo," Jan said with a satisfied smile.

"But two times a week with Mom won't keep helicopter boy satisfied, not by
a long shot..." Jon mused, his voice trailing off. He stroked his cock a
few times and looked at me and said, "This conversation is giving me a hard
on." I knew the cue.

I rolled over and began to lick Jon's stiffening dick, making sure to
position my ass in a way that Jan wouldn't be able to resist. Sure enough,
I felt Jan's fingers loosing up my pussy and I knew the early morning split
roast was on. I don't know if the twins were visualizing Ren and his
buddy's big dicks when they fucked me, but they fucked like wild men. Not
that I was complaining.

As Jon predicted, once we emerged from the early morning fuckaton, my aunt
was delighted to give us permission to head to Lake Havasu. Jan and Jon
made a compelling case that I wanted to see as many sights as possible, and
the three of us didn't have anything to do at night because we couldn't,
after all, go to the casinos or bars. If Jon was right, my brothers' appeal
mattered little because the decision was a foregone conclusion, but I
suppose sometimes you go through the motions anyway.

       * * * *

Lake Havasu isn't really a lake. Like Lake Mead, it's a reservoir on the
Colorado River, but Havasu is south of Hoover Dam, between Arizona and
California. From what I pieced together as Jan aimed the SUV south from Las
Vegas, hordes of college kids partied at Havasu over spring break. They
rented boats and congregated together until parts of the reservoir were
little more than watery parking lots.

Havasu was two and a half hours from Vegas, and we got a late enough start
that we stopped for lunch along the way. Jan and Jon's modeling friends
were waiting for us when we arrived, having just gotten the boat rental
squared away.

My eyes threated to bug out looking at the male scenery. Marcio and Pyotr
had perfect bodies, although it was fair to say that my brothers did as
well. Marcio in particular caught my eye. He had wavy black hair that
seemed perpetually disheveled. His skin color made it appear that he had a
dark tan, but without any tan lines. He had a light goatee around his
mouth. Not bushy, but slightly more than scruff. On Marcio, the goatee
softened his long, straight jawline and high cheekbones. It made his lips
look incredibly inviting and made him look virile and masculine. The
picture was damn sexy, and I was in lust.

In addition to the foursome of Marcio, Pyotr and my twin brothers, a
boatful of Marcio's and Pyotr's handsome model buddies offered plenty of
ogling opportunities. I paid little attention to the lake or the scenery
along the shore as Marcio nosed the boat into Havasu. I was more fixated on
the onboard scenery.

The gay part of the lake took a while to find. Havasu was a giant party,
but it was mostly a giant straight party. We got plenty of shrieks and
invitations from drunk college women. Some of the dudes on our boat
whistled back, but I got the feeling most of the passengers on our boat had
cock on their minds rather than pussy. I sure as hell did.

The gay party was obvious once we arrived: a flotilla of boats populated by
hunky gay studs in various stages of undress. The Skin Party from
RevoSunday might as well have relocated to Lake Havasu. If anything, more
skin was showing, and in the bright sunshine it was much easier to gape at
the bodies than it had been in the darkness of the nightclub. Guys in board
shorts were completely overdressed. Speedos were the conservative
attire. G-strings, thongs and string pouches were in ample supply.

My bag still hadn't made an appearance at the penthouse in Vegas, at least
so far as I knew, and for the fifth straight day I was wearing my brothers'
clothes. That hadn't fazed me in the least until Jon tossed me a metallic
white thong – with the by-now-mandatory C-ring for my junk – and
said, "Bottoms up, boy!"

I was embarrassed to be stripping and slithering into the thong in the
midst of the crowd of guys, but Jan and Jon and several other guys were
doing the same thing. I got the impression that models undressing around
one another was even more accepted than athletes in a locker room. Models
might change clothes a dozen times during a runway show, and it wasn't like
they had private dressing rooms. Dropping trou and showing bare asses and
exposed cocks was par for the course. I would have enjoyed the show more if
I hadn't been so distressed that I was part of it.

The thong was painfully miniscule, leaving me wishing for the dorky, baggy
swimsuit I had packed for my spring break trip. It were still missing,
along with the rest of my clothes, and every time I thought about where my
bag might have ended up, one of my brothers would shrug and say "We'll
check," but they never seemed to make any progress. An awkward consequence
of the tiny thong was that the pouch was barely large enough to accommodate
my dick and balls, and didn't cover all of my pubic hairs, not that I had a
forest of those. A few wispy hairs surrounded the pouch, but it could have
been worse.

Jon inspected my thong and announced happily, "Hardly any work to do. You
were born to wear thongs!" He produced a disposable razor and pulled me
behind a tall chair long enough to make short work of the few offending
pubic hairs that wouldn't or couldn't hide behind the pouch. He sighed as
he turned me around and inspected the solitary string running into my ass
crack. "Bro, there is not a better bubble butt in the entire country. I'm
gonna be hard all day looking at it."

I flushed with embarrassment and Jon turned me back around and planted a
big sloppy kiss on my mouth. "So, bro, here's the ground rules," he said,
suddenly businesslike. "Do whoever you want, however you want, wherever you
want, and how often you want. Think of today as one big play day. Play as
in wild, uninhibited sex.

"Jan and I are going make the rounds. There's some mighty nice merchandise
on display, and he and I are gonna pig out. We'll pick out the finest asses
available and use `em. You enjoy yourself, too. If you see a hot stud, jump
on him. Or, let him jump on you. If you end up staying on another boat,
that's cool, but be back here by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, `cuz we gotta leave
early to head back to Vegas. Jan and I have some modeling shoots tomorrow
afternoon." He gave me a happy grin and another fat kiss.

I hadn't anticipated that I would be alone, surrounded by a mass of models
more intimidating to me than a locker room full of high school football
jocks would have been. But that was apparently my fate. I didn't want to
come off as a wimp and whine about being left on my own for the day and,
apparently, the night, so I meekly smiled and nodded.

"By the way," Jon said, draping an arm over my shoulder and giving me a
conspiratorial smile, "if you play your cards right, you might bag
Marcio. He's given you a couple of pretty hungry looks. Trust me, the
Brazilian boys are amazing in the sack. You know, gorgeous Latin lovers. If
he cracks the window open, go for it!"

Jan insisted that we drown our skin in the mandatory sunscreen bath, and
with my pale complexion – shared by my brothers – anything else would
have been idiotic. As soon as I was greased and outfitted, Jon appeared
with a shot of Tequila, a salt shaker, a lime and a pill. The pill looked
like the one I took at RevoSunday, which Jon laughingly referred to a date
rape drug because I would wake up in the morning with a sore ass. My ass
had been sore virtually my entire stay in Vegas, although that wasn't due
to any pills. Not that a little anal tenderness was slowing me down. Before
I could wonder if taking another pill was a good idea, the Tequila and the
pill were swimming in my stomach.

Jan and Jon soon made their way to another boat, leaving me alone with
Marcio and Pyotr. Alone wasn't quite the right word, because the boat was
engulfed with drunk-and-high or getting-drunk-and-high male models that
seemed to come and go constantly. Guys would jump from boat to boat or use
smaller boats to maneuver around.

I had no intention of following through on Jon's suggestion about slutting
around. For four and a half days, my ass had been in more-or-less constant
use by my brothers' dicks, with a cameo appearance by Ren's fat cock, and I
rationalized that resting my raw hole was the smart thing to do. If I had
been honest, I would have admitted to myself that the real reason I wasn't
going to have sex was my complete lack of confidence in social settings. It
would have been bad even if everyone partying away on the flotilla had been
teen-aged dorks like me, but everyone around me was hotter and more
confident than I was and, as near as I could tell, older, too. I would sit
this one out to avoid having to embarrass myself and with a crowd that was
out of my league.

Marcio was nothing but nice, smiling and pulling me into conversations,
making introductions and generally being the perfect host. As the afternoon
wore on, he found excuses to touch me more and more often. I liked whatever
he was doing. His hands made my skin tingle, and he was so beautiful and
masculine. He lived in Rio, but spent much of the year travelling for
modeling stints, particularly in Europe, where `Made in Brazil' was
electric.

Halfway through the afternoon, Marcio put his arm around my shoulder,
staring into my eyes with a seductive smile and said, "This constant
yammering about modeling is too much shop talk for me." He had a faint
accent, but I found it sexy and beguiling. "Let's take a break and get away
from here."

My heart skipped a beat and I hoped the Brazilian stud really wanted to get
me alone someplace and fuck my brains out. But no, I wasn't going to stand
for that. I had decided early on that I was just a spectator, not a
participant today. No way was I going to reveal my lack of sexual
sophistication to Marcio.

"I'll introduce you to some friends that are recruiting for a web app,"
Marcio said with a smile. "They know how to throw a party, and at least it
will be a break from runway talk."

My annoyance at Marcio wanting to fuck me turned into an even bigger
annoyance at Marcio not wanting to fuck me. Hard to blame him, however. I
had been with a grand total of three guys, all in the last five days. I was
a small town boy out of place in an exotic international lake party.

Marcio took a small paddle boat and we made our way through the narrow
lanes separating the party boats. We stopped at a big boat with a huge
outdoor TV flashing provocative pictures of guys in various stages of
undress.

"I'll introduce you to Benny and Austin. Benny's family owns the boat; it's
impressive," Marcio said. "When Benny and Austin were college roommates at
Harvard, they developed a web app that's sort of like Grindr meets
Rentboy. But better. The app makes sure the rent boys look like their
pictures, screens the johns against arrest databases, and handles all
payments through a secure, offshore bank. The app is excellent, top
notch. Benny and Austin started enlisting rent boys at Harvard, branched
out to other college campuses in the States and now are in every major city
and plenty of smaller ones in the US. They're expanding to Europe, Asia and
South America, so they're here to recruit foreign models to be rent
boys. Although I doubt they are turning down any American boys,
particularly not a pretty boy like you, if you're interested."

I understood rent boys existed, but never thought I would get anywhere
close to one. "Why would a model need to, uh, do that?" I asked. `Rent boy'
wasn't a word in my vocabulary, at least not yet.

Marcio laughed. "Allow me to burden you with some facts, my beautiful
friend," he said. "Maybe ten male models make enough money to be considered
rich. Maybe a hundred make enough money to live comfortably. I'm fortunate
to be in that category and this year I have enough going on that I might
even make the rich category. But every other model you see on these boats
is lucky to make enough money to buy food. Modeling pays crap. You do it
because you dream of breaking into the big time, hope to get into acting,
or maybe meet a rich husband or wife. But you have better odds of winning
an Oscar than making it to the top of the modeling profession.

"So," he said matter-of-factly, "the male models partying around you today
have all – with precious few exceptions – taken a dollar here and
there for sex. Some more often than others. Indeed, some boys model only to
help their escorting career. If you're hustling, having professional shots
from a sexy fashion editorial really helps lure rich johns. If every model
who took something in exchange for sex disappeared, you and your brothers
would find it very quiet here and would be partying alone. That's one
reason so many models are gay. Gay boys don't mind the necessary
moonlighting activity as much as straight boys, not that there aren't
plenty of straight models who are gay-for-pay when the opportunity presents
itself."

Marcio's revelation was sobering.

We climbed on board the big boat and Marcio introduced a trio of men. They
were each in their early 20's. Benny had a masculine, chiseled face. His
body was more muscular than virtually any of the models partying in the
sun, who tended toward slender, something Marcio revealed earlier was the
preference for much modeling work. Marcio told me his own chest and arms
were big enough to be at the fringe of what was acceptable, but I couldn't
imagine anyone thinking his body wasn't perfect.

Austin looked like he might be closer to what the advertisers wanted their
models to look like. He had a tight little body and a shock of
reddish-blond hair, along with alluring light blue eyes. If anything, he
might be too slim. He probably weighted less than 125 pounds.

The third man was a stunner. Marcio introduced him as Dillinger, and the
man gave me a bemused look that instantly made me feel like a dweeby high
school boy from downstate Illinois. Of course, that was exactly what I was,
despite my brief deliverance for spring break in Vegas. I felt like a
commoner in the presence of royalty. The man was at least 6'5," taller than
most models, and for some bizarre reason I fixated on his huge feet. They
were long and slender and seemed to go on forever. I had never considered
guys' feet attractive before, but Dillinger's were amazing. As was the rest
of his body.

What set Dillinger apart, however, were his long black dreadlocks. They
tumbled down his shoulders and back. As black men went, Dillinger's skin
was very light, and he had haunting greenish-brown eyes that made me think
he could look through my soul. Dillinger conveyed an addicting sense of
power and confidence.

"Very promising, Marcio," Benny said as Marcio introduced me. "But if you
are planning to him sign up, he's clearly too young. We have strict
requirements about being 18." Of course, I was only 17, but I was annoyed
that Benny thought it was so apparent that I wasn't 18.

Marcio laughed and replied, "You Americans are so fixated on numbers. No
wine until you're 21. Imagine! No sex until you're 18. Ridiculous. Every
boy needs a man to train him sexually, like the ancient Greeks did. And
once a boy is adept, I say turn him loose! You should test sexual skills,
not age!" He glanced at me with a smile and said, "I can tell merely by
looking at this one that he can wrap a man around his little finger. Isn't
that what you're looking for?"

As if I could wrap anyone around a finger! Marcio was totally wrong about
me. Yeah I had been on a sexual tear since arriving in Vegas, but I was
only five days removed from being a virgin. It seemed a long time
ago. Wrapping a man around my finger? What crap!

"Marcio, we're breaking enough laws as it is," Benny said. "Underage
escorts would be our kiss of death."

Marcio scoffed but gave Benny a cheek-to-cheek air kiss, which I had seen
often enough over the course of the afternoon to understand as standard
European fare. But that was followed by Marcio giving Benny a
more-than-just-friendly smack on the lips, and I was almost certain Marcio
slipped the American hunk his tongue, although I couldn't be sure. Their
greeting was the sort that immediately suggested to me they had fucked. I
had little doubt Marcio was a top and Benny looked the part, too, so I
wondered what they would have done in bed.

I felt a quick pang of jealousy at the thought of Marcio fucking someone
else, but it was washed away a moment later when Marcio said, "Sorry this
one isn't to your liking. For my part, I don't enforce such rigid age
criteria as you do, particularly when it comes to a beautiful boy like
Jen. So hands off. He's all mine today." He draped his arm across my
shoulder, giving me a warm, fuzzy feeling, although my head was fuzzy
already from the booze and drugs I had already sampled.

"How are enlistments?" Marcio asked as he gave Austin the standard air kiss
and a hug that seemed to linger and linger. I felt another pang of
jealousy. What was with the roller coaster emotions today? It was
silly. Despite how nice Marcio had been to me all day long, I was not going
to have sex with him. If Marcio wanted to play with Benny or Austin, or
both of them, who was I to stand in his way?

"Better than we hoped," Austin replied. "European boys are not as hung up
about getting paid for sex as Americans are. Plus, when they see that their
friends and co-workers are signing up, they get more comfortable. We owe
you for being the first to sign up. You broke the ice for us."

Marcio was a rent boy on the app?? Was that possible? Marcio told me that
virtually every model on Lake Havasu took money for sex, but it hadn't
occurred to me that he was including himself in that category. Plus he had
all but admitted that he didn't need the money.

"My pleasure gentlemen," Marcio replied.

"We're ready to take your app listing live," Benny said. "Do you want to
take a look at the final photos? We can have your listing up as soon as you
sign off. With a weekend in Vegas coming up, the timing couldn't be
better."

"Great, let's take a look," Marcio said.

Benny and Austin took us below the deck to a small room where a laptop
computer was plugged into an enormous monitor. I was disappointed that
Dillinger didn't follow us. Austin's fingers flew across the laptop's
keyboard and soon a series of pictures of Marcio filled the screen. Some
were modeling shots. Some were more informal, catching Marcio with a
seductive smile. And some were erotic, stopping just short of being hard
core. All were flipping hot.

We were standing around the monitor and Marcio moved behind me as the
pictures began appearing, folding his arms across my bare chest and
tickling my nipples just a tiny bit. He licked the bottom of my ear lobe
and murmured, "So, Jen, would these pictures make you want to spend a night
making love to me?" Marcio asked. "Which of these photos would cause you to
lose all restraint and hunger for sex with me? I want the ones that cause a
man to lose control. And want to pay, of course."

Fuck, all of them would. Although the live version of Marcio, snuggling
behind me and pressing himself against my back, was even better. "I like
them all," I replied. "They're perfect."

I wondered if Marcio was only showing me the pictures to get me interested
in having sex with him. Get me so horny that I would lose control, as he
said. But I had made my mind up that I was taking a break. No sex for me
today.

No sex for me today?

What the fuck was I thinking? If Marcio gave any hint of making a move, I
would kick myself for not giving him the green light. He was a Latin
Adonis, and I would be crazy not to have sex with him. If he wanted.

But that was a pipe dream. Marcio was only being friendly. He had been
incredibly nice all day, keeping me by his side constantly, but that was
because he was taking care of me in my brothers' absence. The man could
have any of the hot men partying under the relentless sun on Havasu. All he
needed to do was give the word, and guys would line up for him. I was a
dork high school kid from Illinois. Exactly what would a Brazilian mega
model want with the likes of me?

Back on the deck, Austin fetched us some drinks. In less than a week, Jack
was becoming my go-to choice for intoxication, although I was about to find
out that mixing Jack and Tequila under a hot sun was not necessarily the
wisest choice of mind-altering substances. The pill Jon had given me was
making me horny and euphoric, a deadly combination.

Marcio sat on a big chaise lounge and I wedged into his lap, happy that his
muscular brown arms were holding me. On the big outdoor screen, we watched
the slide show Austin and Benny compiled of some of the rent boys on their
web app.

Soon Marcio's pictures would join them. Marcio implied he had already
tricked for money, too. He said that if every model that had taken money
for sex disappeared, Jan, Jon and I would be partying alone. Did I care?
No. If two guys wanted to have sex and one guy was okay paying, why not? It
wasn't like I had any moral reason to object. My ability to make moral
objections was severely compromised given that I had been firmly engaged in
repeated incest since setting foot in Vegas. Repeated incest that I loved
and had no intention of stopping.

"You are a very beautiful boy," Marcio whispered to me, nuzzling my
neck. His hands began to slowly knead my abs and chest. I might as well
have been a zombie, resting against Marcio's muscular chest and feeling
unable to move as the intense sun beat down on us.

"A very beautiful boy," Marcio repeated. No way was this happening, I
thought. A week ago I had been a dorky high school dweeb in southern
Illinois, a fucking virgin on top of it. I lived in fear that a high school
jock would discover I was gay and beat the crap out of me. I lived in
mortal fear that my father would find out I was gay. There was no way that
I was in the arms of a famous Brazilian model, a man that would turn heads
from women and men alike, a man that had graced the covers of magazines
across the globe, a man that oozed sex appeal effortlessly.

"I want you, my little catamite," Marcio purred in my ear. "I want to
ravish you, to make love to you, to bring you to the heights of sexual
pleasure."

What the hell was a catamite? I didn't really know. It was an old Latin or
Greek term that had homosexual connotations, but that was all I knew. It
hardly mattered. As adamant as I had been earlier in the day that I wasn't
going to have sex, now I wanted Marcio so badly that I would have been
happy if he had ripped my thong off and fucked me on the deck of Benny's
boat in front of a cheering audience betting on how long it would take me
to cum after Marcio's cock filled my ass. I rolled around and let him take
possession of my mouth. His tongue slowly but forcefully controlled
me. Marcio's hand slipped down to my exposed glutes, kneading them softly.

"Can I offer you boys a little privacy?" a deep voice said.

I turned around and stared directly into the sun. Dillinger's long
dreadlocks were highlighted, making them look almost reddish brown rather
than black.

"Ah, my friend," Marcio said, "Yes, thanks. We were that obvious?"

"Um, yes," Dillinger smiled, "you can be charmingly subtle when you want
Marcio, but this is not one of those times. Charming, yes. Subtle, uh, not
so much." His perfect white teeth stood out in his caramel face.

"Perhaps you would care to join us?" Marcio said as he began to extricate
himself from the tangled heap he and I had become.

"Twinks are not my thing," Dillinger replied with a dismissive look at
me. Damn, I thought.

"Yeah, but sloppy used holes are," Austin said with a smirk as he passed
by, carrying a tray of drinks to a group of models listening to Benny's
pitch.

"True," Dillinger laughed. "I'm at a disadvantage when my modus operandi is
such an open secret. But my fondness for sloppy holes usually requires an
ass with at least a couple of loads in it."

"Well, then," Marcio said with a bright smile. "Of all the problems of the
world, that one is easily solved."

Marcio yelled, "Katsumi" to a group of models standing nearby, and an Asian
man turned, giving Marcio a smile and nodding. He was striking, with thick
black hair that fell over his forehead down to his heavy, bedroom eyes.

Marcio talked to Katsumi in some Asian language. Obviously Marcio knew the
language, but the dude probably knew a dozen languages. After a brief
conversation, Katsumi detached himself from his group and joined us,
exchanging some more words with Marcio and giving me a long look that sent
chills through me. I felt suddenly exposed, although given that I was
wearing a thong, that wasn't a stretch.

"My Japanese friend has a great fondness for tight twink ass," Marcio said
to Dillinger. "He noticed my beautiful boy from the beginning. We'll follow
you."

Dillinger laughed and said, "Right this way."

I sluggishly got to my feet and followed Dillinger below the decks. Marcio
walked behind me, kissing my neck and saying, "You're so beautiful."
Katsumi trailed behind us.

As much as I wanted to have sex with Marcio, I wasn't certain about
Dillinger and Katsumi. On one hand, I had exchanged only a handful of words
with Dillinger and none with Katsumi. There would be no pretense that we
were engaged in anything more than impersonal sex. On the other hand,
Dillinger and Katsumi were spectacular. Both were tall and slender. Katsumi
had amazing eyes, and Dillinger matched his eyes and countered with his
fluid café-au-lait muscles and overpowering presence.

I didn't have much time to debate the issue, because as soon as we entered
a small stateroom, Marcio threw me on the bed and made quick work of my
thong. He crawled on top of me and began French kissing me, forcing his
tongue into my mouth and making it clear who was in charge. Not that I had
any doubt. From the first moment I thought about having sex with Marcio, I
knew he would run things. Given my lack of sexual experience and
confidence, I was more than happy with that arrangement.

Marcio's mouth traced a line down my neck to my chest and nipples,
continuing to my abs and bellybutton before teasing my cock and balls. He
didn't stop there, hoisting my legs in the air and licking below my balls
until he found my asshole and plunged his tongue inside, making me
gasp. Marcio's big hands encircled my cock and balls at the same time, and
with a few minutes of work, he reduced me to a moaning, quivering boy
desperate to get his ass fucked.

I glanced at Dillinger and Katsumi. Both were naked, and the Japanese man
was on his knees with Dillinger's cock buried in his mouth. Dillinger had
both of his big hands on Katsumi's head and was guiding the Asian back and
forth in a steady motion.

With my asshole wet and prepared, Marcio crawled on top of me and fed me
his semi-hard cock. I felt slutty going down on him and eagerly slurping on
his rod in front of an audience. But slutty was the mood I was in, and I
relished the feeling. Jon's pills, coupled with Jack and Tequila, had
reduced me to a teenaged sex fiend.

Marcio's fuck pole stiffened to a rock hard state in my mouth before he
pulled his cock from my throat and bent down one more time to kiss me,
licking my neck before clamping his mouth on mine, his tongue once again
demanding entrance.

"Ah, my beautiful boy, do you want me inside you?" Marcio purred. "Do you
want me to take possession of you, to use you for my pleasure?"

"Oh, yes!" I groaned. "Use me. Fuck my ass!"

"You were made to take a man's cock, my little veado," Marcio
whispered. "Where have your brothers been hiding you?" Southern Illinois
was about the most obscure hiding place imaginable, I told myself. "Have
they been keeping you to themselves?" Marcio continued.

Oh fuck, I thought with a sudden chill. Could Marcio somehow have figured
out what I had been doing with Jan and Jon for the last few days?

To my relief, Marcio didn't press the point, instead positioning himself on
top me, my knees pressed all the way to my head and my ass high in the
sky. My dick was resting on my chest and practically in my mouth. If Marcio
tilted me up a bit more, I could suck myself. I didn't know if I wanted
Marcio to know I had that talent.

Marcio squirted some lube in my crack and I felt his fuck rod pressing
against my hole, demanding entrance. He breached my sphincter and I moaned,
grabbing his muscular ass cheeks and pulling him farther into me. His
progression into my hole continued until his rigid cock was buried inside
me. Damn. I couldn't believe the gorgeous Brazilian was inside me.

The Latin stud bent forward to kiss me and began to move in and out, slowly
at first but picking up speed until he was ramming my ass, pulling his cock
almost all the way out of me before slamming back in. Drunk and high, I
reveled in the sex, wanting Marcio to pound me into submission. Fuck. How
many guys got their asses fucked by an awesome Latin Adonis who graced the
covers of magazine after magazine?

In my frenzied, sex crazed state, I had forgotten about Dillinger and
Katsumi. Marcio stopped kissing me to focus on pounding my boy butt, and
that gave the duo an opening to join the fuckfest. Katsumi straddled my
chest and aimed a stiff cock at my mouth.

In no time I had a throat full of Asian dick. Katsumi was murmuring in
Japanese, so I had no idea what he was saying, but he seemed to be enjoying
my mouth. I had a Latin American cock buried in my ass and an Asian dick
down my throat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Dillinger watching the action, slowly
stroking the most massive dick I had ever seen. Including, I thought, even
in internet porn. I had two immediate reactions: `Oh my god,' and `that
thing can't be real'. Dillinger was uncut, and as his fist slid into his
pubes, the head of his cock emerged from its sheath, glistening and
shining. It looked like an assault weapon. I halfway wanted to stop and
watch, but Katsumi wasn't having any of that.

As Marcio railed on my ass, it was becoming apparent that he liked to fuck,
and liked to fuck relentlessly. He built up to a climax and then backed
down, repeating the process time and time again. He knew how to make love,
not just to have sex.

I had a feeling Marcio could have fucked my ass for hours, but he was
keeping two studs waiting, so he drilled me with a series of quick staccato
bursts and I felt his seed shoot into me, breeding me with hot Brazilian
jizz. By the time his load was deep in my guts, I was sad that I wasn't
going to see his cock spurt and get the chance to eat his cum, although I
wouldn't have traded getting my ass fucked for anything.

Marcio pulled out, and Katsumi rolled me over until I was on my knees and
slid his spit soaked cock into my boi pussy. My ass offered no resistance
to Katsumi's Japanese invasion, and the empty feeling I had briefly felt
when Marcio withdrew was replaced by a warm fullness. Katsumi wasted no
time in beginning to pound my ass with deep thrusts.

I looked up to see Dillinger's monster dong in my face. It didn't seem
possible that his cock was as big as it was. The black python was easily as
fat as Ren's, but longer. I gurgled and gagged as Dillinger fed the first
couple of inches into my mouth.

I told myself that I had to do a lot better than that or I was going to
choke to death with Dillinger's big black cock buried in my throat and
Katsumi's Asian fuck stick buried in my ass. I remembered to breathe
through my nose, but I couldn't recall why I knew to do that. Had Jan or
Jon told me that? Was it something I read on the internet? It didn't
matter. I practiced with relish and it seemed to be working, as inch after
inch of Dillinger's cock sank into my throat, his kinky pubes getting
closer and closer to my nose until finally I was breathing through them. No
way was Dillinger's massive black pole all the way down my throat. But
then, it had to be.

Dillinger gripped my head with his long, slender fingers and began to use
my mouth as a fuck chute. No other way to describe it. He was completely in
control and I loved it. The dude's huge black eggs were slapping against my
chin each time his cock sank into my throat.

The split roast was in full swing, my second of the day after Jan and Jon
had done the honors in Vegas this morning. That seemed ages ago. I began to
hear sloshing sounds as Katsumi attacked my ass, gasping short Japanese
words. I had no idea what he was saying, but whatever he was doing to my
ass was making it sing.

Katsumi didn't spend as long in my ass as Marcio had, and when he climaxed
he let out a loud groan and shouted several things in Japanese that I was
certain could be heard by everyone on the boat, if not across all the
nearby ships. He was panting heavily as his cock slipped from my hole.

Dillinger pulled his dick from my mouth and I had the bizarre sense that it
would never end.  He spun me around, and suddenly Katsumi's cum-coated dick
was in my face and Dillinger was wasting no time in powering his bull cock
into my stretched, sloppy boy hole. Dillinger said he liked used assholes,
and that's what he was getting. His cock was entering an asshole
masquerading as a cum reservoir.

I was amazed Dillinger's big black cock didn't hurt. Or at least it didn't
hurt like I feared it would. I felt so full that I was convinced my ass was
going to explode. Through a mirror, I peered at Dillinger's cock sinking
into me, and I couldn't believe that entire monster was inside my boi hole.

Katsumi took the opportunity to put my unused mouth into service, feeding
me his spent cock. I worked on his cut Asian tool, cleaning it and digging
the last bit of Japanese nut juice from Katsumi's piss slit.

Marcio rejoined the action, French kissing Katsumi, and soon he pressed his
cock to my lips. Katsumi's Japanese pole was replaced with Marcio's
Brazilian fuck stick. Before long Marcio was hard again and pumping my
mouth in time to Dillinger's thrusts into my hole. From the side, I
probably looked like I was being skewered by a long dark pole extending
between Dillinger's and Marcio's groins. I suppose, technically, I was
undergoing my third split roast of the day. My cock was leaking pre-cum
like a faucet and I desperately wanted to cum, but I also liked the
sensation of being controlled by two studs. Two amazing men would decide
when and if I got to bust a load.

Dillinger climaxed first, ramming his cock inside me so far that I was
convinced the big python was going to meet Marcio's cock as the Brazilian
stud skull fucked me. Marcio let me work on his prick for several minutes
after Dillinger withdrew his cock, but then he pulled out just as he was
cumming and shot his second load all over my face. I got my wish of seeing
his cock spurt and also got to taste his ball juice. After the last rocket
of Brazilian cream shot from Marcio's cock, I scrambled around to suck the
last couple of drops of cum from Dillinger's hooded black monster.

The three studs hadn't forgotten about me. They flipped me on my back and
Marcio closed his hand around my cock as Katsumi nuzzled into my balls and
did something with his tongue that drove me crazy. Dillinger bent down and
drove his tongue into my mouth, his long dreadlocks covering my head like a
blanket. I doubt I lasted more than five strokes before I shot my load
across my abs and chest. Panting and stunned, I passively let Marcio and
Katsumi lick up my cum, kissing me and feeding me my own spunk.

TO BE CONTINUED...


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