Date: Mon, 3 Jul 2000 22:44:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Brew Maxwell <brew_drinker23@yahoo.com>
Subject: TwinSpin, Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real
people or events is purely coincidental.  The story contains graphic
descriptions of sex between men, and anyone who is forbidden by law to read
such material must exit the story now.  This story is being posted to the
Nifty Archive for the enjoyment of its readers.  It may not be posted or
distributed by any other media without the written permission of its
author.

My other works in the Nifty Archive include Unusual Christmas and Nick's
Adventures, both in bisexual/high school, First Mate in gay/incest, The
Dancer and Call-Boy Journal in gay/encounters, and From Slave to Houseboy
in gay/authoritarian.

E-mail comments are always welcome.


Twin Spin

Chapter Four

	The sun was bright outside when I woke up.  Mike was already awake
beside me.
	"Mornin'," he said, and grinned at me.
	"You been awake long," I asked.
	"I don't know, maybe twenty minutes."
	"What time is it," I asked.
	"It's about eight."
	"Excuse me, I gotta piss," I said.  I went into the bathroom and
pissed into the shower, as the boys had taught me.  When I went back into
the bedroom, I took a towel with me.
	Mike grinned when he saw it.  "A man after my own heart," he said.
	I got back into bed, and Mike put his arms around me.  He started
kissing me, long and deeply and passionately.  I started getting hard
almost immediately, and he did, too.  When Mike noticed my erection, he
went down on me and started sucking my cock.  He took all of it into his
mouth, and the warmth and wetness were fantastic.  I moved around into the
sixty-nine position, and I took him into my mouth.  We sucked each other
for a long time, and periodically we would shift to the other guy's balls.
Mike started playing with my asshole with his fingers, and I did the same
to him.  He inserted a finger and went right to my magic spot.  I guessed
doctors knew about such things better than us mortals.  I probed his ass,
too, and he shifted position to get better contact.
	Mike's cock was nice, but it was only about five inches long.  It
was thick, but I was still able to get the whole thing into my mouth.  I
gave him the best blow-job I knew how to give, and he moaned contentedly.
In ten minutes or so, we both came.  Neither of us pulled away, and Mike
swallowed all of my cum, and I all of his.
	"I guess we didn't need the towel, after all," I said.  He laughed.
"Apparently, when the kids come, they don't bother with towels and other
niceties.  They said their bed is always full of cum."
	"Little savages," he said.  "I want them."
	"I know what you mean," I said.
	"Well, hell, you're in charge of them.  I mean, what kind of guy
gets a job looking after two horny-ass Olympian gods whose only goal in
life is to fuck and suck as much as possible?  I know people who would pay
to have your job."
	"So do I.  In fact, I'm one of them, but don't tell their dad."
Mike laughed.
	We lit cigarettes and basked in the afterglow of good sex.  In a
little while, we decided we needed to get up and see what was going on in
the rest of that strange house.  Mike said he had decided to take the kids
up on their offer for him to stay with us the rest of the week.
	"Good," I said.  "That makes me happy, and they'll be beside
themselves."
	"Frankly, I'm on a pretty tight budget.  I thought the practice was
going to pay for everything for me, but they're only springing for my plane
ticket.  I've got to pay for the hotel myself, and of course I chose the
most expensive place in town."
	"Well, you'll be well fixed pretty soon," I said.
	"Yeah, except I owe $480,000 in student loans, and my parents need
my financial support."
	"Oh," I said.  "But still . . . ."
	"Oh, I'll be okay.  But I won't exactly be rich for the next ten
years."
	We got dressed and made the bed.  That seemed to be a requirement.
We went downstairs together and into the kitchen to get some coffee.  Chuck
was in there putting away dishes from the dishwasher.
	When we walked in, he recognized me immediately.
	"Well, John, I see you survived the weekend with Dick and Peter,"
he said.
	"Dick and Peter," I asked.
	"That's what I call them.  One's all dick, and the other's all
peter."
	Mike got the joke before I did and doubled over with laughter.
	"I see your friend's quicker on the uptake than you seem to be this
morning," Chuck said.  I was laughing, too, by then, having gotten the
joke.
	"Forgive me, Chuck.  Those are great names for 'em.  Which is
which?"
	"It doesn't matter.  Those are the two horniest boys on planet
earth.  Don't get me wrong.  I was plenty horny at eighteen, but those two
put me and everybody I know to shame.  Y'all want some breakfast?  By the
way, I'm Chuck Higgins," he said, extending his hand to Mike.
	"I'm sorry, guys.  Chuck, this is Mike, er . . . ."
	"Spalding," Mike said.
	"Right, Mike Spalding."  Chuck looked at me and laughed.  I blushed
a little.
	"I could use some coffee," Mike said.
	"Well, of course you could," Chuck said.  "Can you use some lost
bread and bacon, too?"
	"Lost bread," Mike asked.  "What the hell's that?"
	"That's the New Orleans name for French toast.  They make it with
bread that's lost, or slightly stale.  Too stale to eat at a meal.  They
invented it here."  "Yeah, Chuck, I certainly could," I said.
	"Me, too, please," Mike said.
	Chuck handed each of us a cup and pointed with his head to a fresh
pot of coffee on the counter.  "If y'all need cream and sugar, the cream is
in the box, and the sugar's on the table.  Then y'all sit down.  It'll be a
few minutes before your breakfast is ready."
	We got our coffee, sat down, and Mike and I both lit up.
	Chuck got the breakfast going, poured himself a cup of coffee, and
joined us at the table.
	"They told me all about you this morning," Chuck said.  "Both of
you.  They said you're a doctor.  Is that right?"  He meant Mike, of
course.
	"That's right," he said.  "Are you sick?"
	"Do I look sick?  I might be sick and tired, but I'm not sick."
	We both laughed.  I was starting to really like that guy.  His
ironic sense of humor and obviously keen intelligence were most attractive.
I could tell Mike liked him, too.
	"They said you would be spending the week with us?"
	"Well, if it's not too much trouble, I'd really like to," Mike
said.
	"Nothing's too much trouble in this house.  Do y'all's sheets need
to be changed?"
	I'm sure I blushed again.
	"What the fuck you blushing about," Chuck asked.  "They either do
or they don't.  Simple as that."
	"No, they don't," I said.
	"I figured guys your age would have discovered what towels are all
about," he said.
	Mike and I both laughed.
	"By the way, John, if you can figure out a diplomatic way to tell
my boys about how towels can be useful in sex, I'd damn sure appreciate it.
It would save me a whole lot of work."  He grinned.
	Chuck got up to see about breakfast, and in a few minutes, he
brought two heaping plates to the table.  There were six strips of bacon
and three huge pieces of "lost bread" for each of us.  He brought butter
and syrup, and then he got us more coffee.  I had put cream in mind, which
he noticed, and he got the cream carton out of the refrigerator and put it
on the table.  Mike and I dove into the food.
	In a little while, Mike said, "I want to thank you for teaching the
boys how to cook.  They made a meal last night that was first-class
restaurant quality."
	"What'd they give you," he asked, skeptically.
	"Filet mignon, potatoes, asparagus, cake.  What else, John?"
	"Well, wine, brandy, cigars."
	"Oh, so they did it up nice.  Did they serve bernaisse sauce with
the meat?"
	"Yes, and it was excellent," Mike said.
	"Who made it?"
	"I think Brian did," Mike said.
	"Then it was probably runny.  That baby can't make a bernaisse to
save his life."
	"He said it was runny," I remembered.  "But it was sure good."
	"Oh, I don't doubt it was good.  It was my recipe he used.  And
it's good.  But he always wants to pour the butter in too fast.  I have
told him and told him to slow down, but he won't listen to me."
	"What kind of wine did they serve," Chuck asked.
	"It was a Chateau Lafitte-Rothchild," Mike said.
	"Good.  They finally learned that.  I've been working with them for
years on this stuff, and they seem to have finally gotten it.  Did they
give you Havanas with your brandy?"
	"Yeah," Mike said, "and they were superb."
	"I know.  Tom's got boxes of them, but he never smokes them.  I
don't like 'em myself, but a man who knows cigars knows they're good."
	When Mike and I finished eating, all three of us pulled out our
Marlboros and lit up.  Chuck got us more coffee, and we sat at the table,
enjoying the feeling of fullness and contentment for a long time.
	After a while, Chuck said, "John, have they given you a nickname
yet?"
	"Yeah, as a matter of fact.  They call me J."
	"That's not too bad," he said.  "Most of the time they call me
Chunk.  Or mama."
	"They call you 'mama,'" Mike asked.
	"Well, I am their mama, bless their hearts.  They've never had
anybody but me and Tom.  They've never had a female influence in their
lives.  And Tom sends them to that damn all-boys school that has nothing
but men as teachers.  He and I fought for weeks over that, let me tell
you."
	"You were against it," I asked.
	"Damn straight, I was.  I didn't care if they went to private
school, which in this city is just about a necessity, but I wanted them to
go to a co-ed school that had some women teachers.  But he said Colton
Academy was the best, and that's where his boys were going.  Bottom line,
I'm not their mama, so he prevailed."
	Mike was taking in everything Chuck said with a great deal of
interest.  Finally he spoke: "Chuck, let me ask you something.  You're
obviously an intelligent, cultivated man.  Why do you do what you do?"
	Chuck didn't answer right away, but, in a few seconds, he said,
"Mike, I can tell you're a northerner from your speech, so what I'm going
to say may not make much sense to you.  Yes, I am intelligent.  I have a
college degree,*summa cum laude*, from Memphis State.  And, yes, I've
developed a certain amount of cultivation over the years.  But being a
black man in the South isn't easy.  And being a queer black man is almost
impossible.  Tom Finch and I grew up together, and we needed each other at
the same time.  About seventeen years ago.  He took me in, gave me a home
and real responsibility, and he gave me love.  Nothing sexual, you
understand.  But real love, nevertheless.  And his poor, motherless babies
gave me love.  He introduced me to Calvin sixteen years ago, and we've been
together ever since.  We spend the night here on Christmas eve and on the
night before Easter, and we're part of that family in every possible way.
On birthdays, we all go to Antoine's together.
	"Tom Finch gave me a life.  A good life.  And I love him and those
two boys more than I can ever say.  When Tom has a party--and he has
plenty, with some very big shots--Calvin and I are always here as guests.
I may have to work my ass off for a week getting ready for it, but I don't
work parties.  Tom introduces me as his 'best friend,' and I am.  And he's
mine.  I've been to parent-teacher conferences when he couldn't be there.
I was a Den Mother when they were in the Cub Scouts.  I've been to every
football game they've ever played in.  Those boys are the closest things
I'll ever have to sons, and I love them."
	"And they love you," I said.  "They made that very clear to me this
weekend."
	"That makes me glad," he said, and tears came into his eyes.
"They're my boys."
	There was a silence that was both awkward and appropriate after
that.
	Then Chuck said, "Enough of this bullshit.  Y'all have things to
do, and so do I."
	He started to clear the table, and Mike and I helped him.
	"Chuck," Mike said, "thanks for sharing all that with us.  You're
right, I am a northerner, and I didn't understand--until this morning.  But
I don't know whose luckier, you or them."  Mike leaned over and kissed
Chuck on his cheek.  It was the right gesture at the right time.  Chuck
smiled broadly and turned away.

	Mike said he wanted to see the house, so I took him on a tour.  I
didn't know much about the stuff we saw, but he was very impressed with the
decor and the quality of the art work.  There were two Gauguin's, a
Matisse, and four Sarat's, as well as many other artists I hadn't heard of.
	"I don't know if these are real," I said, "but they look good
here."
	"They're real.  Trust me.  I know," he said.  "This fucker must
have even more money than I thought he did.  He's got two kings' ransoms on
his walls."
	After the tour, Mike said he had to leave to get ready for his
interviews.
	"What time will you be done," I asked.
	"Not until late.  They're taking me to dinner tonight, where I'm
supposed to meet the wives and significant others.  But I'm coming back.
Don't worry about that."
	"Okay.  I'm going to study this afternoon until Dick and Peter get
home."
	He laughed.  "Don't do anything with them I wouldn't do."  I
laughed.
	Mike got his meager stuff and left.  I went upstairs and got to
work.  I had three French novels to read, albeit short ones, so I holed up
and applied myself.
	Around 12:30, Chuck knocked at my door.  I told him to come in, and
he did.
	"Are you hungry," he asked.  "I've got some pretty good
corn-and-crab bisque down there, and some grilled cheese sandwiches."
	"God, yes," I said.  So we went down to eat.
	"Did you cook all of this this morning," I asked.
	"Yeah.  Nothing else to do.  You like?"
	"It's wonderful.  I'm used to McDonald's and the odd salad at the
student union," I said.
	"Well, get used to eating right.  I cook a lot."
	"Kevin and Brian seem to eat an enormous amount," I said.
	"Shit, you can't fill 'em up.  There's not an ounce of fat on
either one, but they eat like goddamn hogs.  If I ate a third of what they
eat, I'd be bloated.  I guess it's all the exercise they take.  They burn
it up."
	We ate in silence for a while, then Chuck said, "They're pieces of
work, aren't they?"
	"I'm telling you," I said.
	"They left here this morning all excited about something.  They
wouldn't tell me.  They said it was a surprise.  Do you know what's going
on?"
	"Well, I'm not sure, but I think they might be getting tattooed
today."
	"What?!!!" he said.
	"Not real ones.  Skin dyes.  Mike told them about a fairly new way
of doing it.  But they come off."
	"Well, thank God for that," he said.
	"There's a place in the Quarter that does them.  They developed
this procedure for cancer patients who need to have the spots marked for
radiation.  They use this procedure for tattooing, now."
	"Jesus Christ in heaven," he said.  "I knew they wanted tattoos,
but I thought they would wait until they got older.  Tom's cool with the
idea, but I have some serious reservations.  Tom's got a tattoo.  On his
ass.  He got it when he was a sophomore at Yale.  But if they can be
removed, I guess it's just a kid thing."
	"That's not all.  I think they're going to get their nipples
pierced."
	"Well, that's not so bad.  In fact, I've heard nipple piercings
feel pretty good."
	"That's what I've heard, too.  They tend to grow out, though.  At
least on some people."
	"Well, I guess those two are going to try it all.  They've been
smoking since they were thirteen."
	"How old were you when you started?"
	"Thirteen," he said with a grin.
	"Me, too."
	"So, we're all bad.  Fuck us," he said.  I cracked up.
	After lunch, I went back upstairs and studied some more.  I was
getting more done at the Finch house than I had gotten done all semester.
	Around three o'clock, Chuck came up to see if I wanted some coffee.
Yes, I did.  I went downstairs with him.  He poured us each a cup, and we
sat at the table in the kitchen drinking it and smoking cigarettes.
	"Chuck," I asked, "do you know anything about comptuers?"
	"That's a loaded question, my friend.  At least around this house.
I can handle most software, but I don't program all that well.  I've got to
have the book right next to me."
	"I don't need programming.  I just want to access the Internet.  Do
you know how to do that?"
	"Shit," he said, "babies know how to access the Net.  I can show
you how in five minutes."
	Each boy had a computer in his room, and Chuck showed me how to
turn them on and how to go online.
	"What are you interested in," he asked.
	"General surfing," I said.  "I've fooled around with it a couple of
times, but I've never really spent much time with it.  It seems Kevin and
Brian know what they're doing on the computer, and I figured I might as
well learn something about it."
	"Kevin and Brian got their first computers when they were seven,"
he said.  "In this house, computers are a way of life.  Those two could
probably break into the CIA if they wanted to."  He chuckled when he said
that.
	I spent the remainder of the afternoon surfing around the Internet.
I got to The Masturbation Home Page, which the boys had mentioned, and I
found quite a few other sites that interested me, too.
	At 5:30 I went back down to the kitchen.
	"What time do the boys get home," I asked.
	"They're usually home long before now, unless they have football or
track practice.  But they don't have that at this time of year.  They told
me this morning they would be late.  Dinner's at six.  You getting hungry?"
	"I'll be ready by then," I said.
	In about ten minutes, we heard a car drive up.  Then, in a few
seconds, the back door burst open.
	They popped in like two frisky puppies, all a-chatter.
	"Hi, guys," I said.
	"Hi, J.  Hi, Chuck."  They spoke in unison again.
	"Something sure smells good," Kevin said.
	"It's fried chicken," Chuck said.
	"Yummmm," Brian said.
	"Y'all get that table set in there," Chuck said.
	"Who's eating," Kevin asked.
	"Y'all and John.  I'm fixin' to leave."
	They got busy getting table settings, and, when they had left the
room, Chuck said, "They been up to something.  They aren't usually that
excited.  You notices the bulges in their jeans?  And those wet spots?
They're both hard as rocks and probably have been for some time."
	"Yeah," I said.  I had noticed, but I ordinarily wouldn't have said
anything.
	When they came back into the kitchen, Chuck said, "Okay.  What's
up?  Where y'all been?"
	They looked at each other sheepishly and grinned.
	"Come on.  Tell mama."
	"We got tattoos," Kevin said.
	"And nipple rings," Brian added.
	"Sweet Jesus!  Let's see the damage."
	They rolled back their left sleeve--they had apparently worn
tee-shirts under their school shirts, and that's all they had on--and there
on their biceps were two fresh tattoos.  They were identical, of course,
black celtic designs about an inch wide.  I had seen ones like them and had
admired them.  They showed them off proudly.
	"Well, I've seen worse," Chuck said.  "At least they're not naked
women.  Or people fucking."
	"You like 'em, Chuck," Brian asked.
	"Well, I wouldn't have one, but they are pretty."
	"They're not real tattoos," Kevin said.  "They're skin dyes.
They'll come off, but the doctor has to do it."
	"Well, that's a relief," Chuck said.  He winked at me.  Then, "What
else y'all got?  Nipple rings, did you say?"
	"Yeah," they said together.  They both pulled off their shirts at
that point to show their nipple rings off.  They had identical rings, each
in their left nipple.
	Chuck reached over and started flipping the rings up and down.
After a few seconds, they both pulled back.
	"What's the matter?  Does that hurt," Chuck asked.
	"No.  It feels good, but . . . ," Brian started to say.
	"But it's gonna make you come, isn't it," Chuck said.  I was
surprised at his frankness.  "I saw those two rods of yours come into the
house ten seconds before you two.  I know what's going on around here."
	They laughed, a little embarrassed, perhaps.
	"Is the table set," Chuck asked.
	"Yeah," they said.
	"Well, here.  Put the food out, and y'all eat.  Bye, babies.  I'll
see y'all in the morning."  With that, Chuck took off his apron and left.
	We went into the dining room and sat down to eat.  It was fried
chicken, mashed potatoes, green peas, corn bread, and tomatoe salad.  Kevin
and Brian didn't bother to put their shirts back on, so I had a chance to
admire their new body decorations.  I had to admit, the tattoos looked good
against their tanned skin, and they added a look of wildness to them.
	They didn't say much as we ate, as though they were in a hurry to
get through.  They didn't have dessert but offered me a piece of the cake
we had eaten the night before.  I declined.  We all smoked cigarettes, and
then they hurriedly got up and cleared the table.  I could hear them
putting things away in the kitchen and loading the dishwasher.  They passed
through the dining room and told me they would see me in a little while.
Their cocks were still erect, so I figured they were going to take care of
them.  I couldn't blame them, I suppose.
	I drank a cup of coffee and smoked another cigarette before I went
up to my room.  The door to Kevin's room was open about half way, and I
could hear them in there.  I snuck down the hall to see what was going on,
and, just as I had expected, they were busy jerking each other off.
	"God, Kevin, that feels good," Brian said.
	"I know, man.  I've been wanting to do this since she first
squeezed my tit to make it hard.  Mike was right about the feeling.  We'll
probably both stay at least half-hard all the time now.
	Kevin, I think, put Brian's cock up to his face and jerked him with
his hand and his cheek.  Kevin started to put Brian in his mouth to suck
him off, but Brian said for him to wait and just jerk him off.  Kevin
continued jerking Brian.  In a few minutes, they both reach climax, and cum
spurted everywhere.
	In a matter of seconds, Brian had Kevin on his back and entered his
ass.  Kevin's face had a look of exquisite pleasure on it, and he reached
up and tweaked Brian's nipples, especially the one with the nipple ring.
	"I won't hold out long, if you do that," Brian said.
	"Do you want me to," Kevin asked.
	"It feels so fuckin' good, Kevin, I want you to do that for the
rest of my life."  Kevin continued, and Brian came inside him with lungeing
jerks and bucks that made him look like someone having a seizure.
	Kevin wasted no time.  He eased Brian out of him, got on the floor
behind Brian, and took him from the back.  Then, without removing his cock,
he flipped Brian onto his back, and Brian did to Kevin what Kevin had done
to him.  Like his twin, Kevin spasmed and bucked mightily as he shot his
load into his brother.  Kevin flopped onto Brian, and they entwined legs
and arms and tongues and bodies.  They played with each other's nipple
rings for a while, and, pretty soon, they were hard again.
	"You know what," Brian asked.
	"Me, too," Kevin said.
	"Where do you think he is," Brian said.
	"In your room, I guess.  He's been studying pretty hard."
	I suddenly realized they were talking about me.  Apparently they
both wished I were there with them, and, if the size and density of my cock
were any indication, I, too, wished I were there with them.  I didn't want
them to discover me spying on them, though, so I hurried back into Brian's
room and quickly got out a book to pretend I was studying.
	They came into the room, hard-ons leading the way.  I looked up and
grinned.
	"What's up, guys," I asked, "as though I couldn't tell."  We all
laughed.
	"Hi, J," Brian said.  "What are you doing?"
	"I'm reading this French novel.  I've got to get it read for my
exam in a few days.  I got a lot done this afternoon, though."
	"Come on and play with us," Kevin said.  "We're both really horny.
Are you?"
	"I'm always horny, Kevin," I said.
	"Yeah.  We are, too.  Especially with these nipple rings."  Saying
that, Kevin leaned over me and started licking my ear from behind.  There
are few things that are bigger turn-ons, and the boner I had had for the
last forty minutes only got bigger.  He pulled back on the chair I was
sitting in, which was on wheels, and Brian got down between my legs.  When
he discovered my erection, Brian said,
	"He is horny, Huck.  He's got a king-size down here."  Brian
started undoing my belt and the fly of my jeans, and in a second, my
"king-size" was free and clear.  He pulled my pants completely off and
slipped off my loafers (I wasn't wearing socks, or he would have gotten
them off, too, I suppose.).  My boxers came next, and then my shirt.
Kevin, meanwhile, had continued working on my ears, one with his tongue and
the other with his fingers.  When Brian got my shirt off, Kevin shifted
down to my nipples.  Brian took my hand and led me to the bed, as Kevin
threw back the covers.
	We got into the bed, with me in the middle, and they started
kissing me and rubbing me and making me moan in pleasure.
	Then Brian said, "J, I want you to fuck me.  Okay?"
	"Okay," I whispered, through a moan.
	"And I want to fuck you at the same time," Kevin said.  "It'll be
like a fuck-sandwich, with you between us."
	Ordinarily, that would have made me laugh, especially the way he
said it, but at that moment I was too involved in the physical reaction
that was occurring in every cell in my body to be capable of laughter.
Brian got on his side and raised his right leg, thus exposing his anus.
Kevin nudged me toward him and guided my cock into his hole.  I went in
with no effort, and my body sank up to my pubes in him.  Next, Kevin raised
my right leg so that I was just like Brian, with my foot planted solidly on
the bed.  Kevin moved closer to me and whispered for me to relax and enjoy.
	"Brian and I will do the work," Kevin said.  "You just do whatever
you feel like."  With that Kevin entered me.  The pain I anticipated never
happened, and, in a second, I felt his pubic hair tickle my ass.  Kevin
started the humping, and Brian responded.  It was like they were fucking
each other, but I got the most benefit out of it.  Kevin rotated his hips,
and that made the time his cock spent on my prostate longer than it would
otherwise have been.  In a few minutes, I was moaning loudly.
	I had jerked off twice that afternoon fantasizing about them and
Mike, and that no doubt helped me stay with them longer than I otherwise
would have.  Still, in seven or eight minutes I announced that I was going
to come, and they both must have contracted their asshole muscles--I know
Brian did, because I could feel it, and I suspected Kevin did, as well--and
all three of us came at the same instant.  I gave in to the instinct to
buck that I had supressed for years, and I came in a gully-washer that
flooded Brian's guts.
	"Oh, fuck," I screamed.  They misinterpreted that as a desire to go
again, and they continued plowing me from both sides.  It took longer the
second time--fifteen minutes, probably--but my second orgasm was much
longer and more intense than the first one had been.  Kevin pinched my
right nipple hard when I came, and that only added to the intensity of my
moment.
	When we finished, nobody moved.  Kevin stayed in me, and Brian
stayed so close to me I couldn't pull out.  We stayed that way for a long
time, and finally my cock softened up too much to stay in Brian.
	"Did you like that, Huck," Kevin asked.
	Brian didn't say anything.
	"Was it good, Huck," Kevin said again.
	Still no answer from Brian.
	Finally, Brian said, "J, he's talking to you."
	"Oh," I said.  "It was fantastic."  Then, after a pause, "Why did
you call me Huck?"
	"'Cause you're our brother, Huck," Brian said.  "We love you."
	I didn't know what to say.  I kissed Brian on the neck and I put my
hand around to fondle Kevin's ass.
	"I love you guys, too," I said.  Tears welled up, and I couldn't
control them.  I started crying.
	They both knew what I was feeling, it seems, and Brian turned to
face me.  Kevin put his arm around me, and Brian clenched both of us.  They
both started crying, too, and the three of us lay there, bawling in each
other's arms.
	When we had been like that for a while, Kevin finally said, "I want
a smoke."  With that, we extricated ourselves from the pile, and Kevin got
us a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray.  We sat up in Brian's bed, smoking.
	"So, do you really like our tattoos," Kevin asked me.
	"Yes, I do," I said.  "How did you guys decide on what to get?"
	They both laughed.
	"It was the funniest thing," Brian started.  "We went into separate
rooms," Kevin said, "because there were two people who were going to do us.
I had a woman" "And I had a man.  They both showed us a bunch of designs,"
Brian said.  "And we picked the same design without talking to one
another," Kevin continued.  "That's pretty fuckin' weird, isn't it," Brian
asked.
	"You mean, you guys got identical tattoos without knowing it," I
asked.
	"Yeah," they said in unison.
	"That is very fucking weird," I said.  We all laughed.  "What about
the nipple rings," I asked.  "Did they give you a choice?"
	"Yeah," Kevin said.
	"And we picked the same one," Brian finished.  "We're still
identical."
	"Except for the earrings," I said.
	They both laughed when I said that.
	"What's so funny," I asked.
	"I lost mine at school today," Brian said.  He was the one who wore
the gold stud.  "Kevin had an extra loop, so I put it in.  You didn't even
notice.  You can tell us apart without them."
	"That's why you're our brother," Kevin said.  "You know us for who
we are."
	"What about at school," I asked.  "Won't they want you to wear
different earrings so they can tell you apart?"
	"Fuck them," Kevin said.  "If they say anything, we'll take the
loops out.  We aren't required to wear anything that distinguishes us.
There's another set of twins in that school in the seventh grade, and they
don't wear anything.  We didn't until last year.  They'll just have to
cope."
	"Besides, we only have two more weeks there," Brian said.
	"Do you guys have exams or anything," I asked.
	They laughed.  "Yeah, we have exams.  Do you know what AP is,"
Brian asked.
	"You mean like 'Advanced Placement,'" I asked.
	"Yeah.  We have AP exams.  Tomorrow afternoon in European History,
Thursday in Biology, and next week in French and Spanish and English.  On
different days, of course."  Kevin was talking.
	"Are you studying for them," I asked.
	"We've studied our balls off all year in all those courses," Kevin
said.  "We're ready.  We'll make 5's."
	"You sound pretty confident," I said.
	"We are," Brian said.  When the scores arrived in the second week
of July, I found out they weren't cocky; they were right.  They both made
5's on all five exams.

	We got out of bed, and I was surprised to see it was only eight
o'clock.  They wanted to work out, so I dutifully went down to the
poolhouse and watched them work out.  Once again, they doubled in size, and
their tattoos stretched out so they looked just the slightest bit faded, as
though they had had them a while.
	After the workout, they were both ravenous and wanted ice cream.
They didn't want to wear shirts, but I told them they had to.
	"We don't think you're right, J," Brian said, "but we'll do what
you say.  Can we wear tank tops?"
	I knew they wanted to show off, and I couldn't blame them.
	"Tank tops are fine," I said.  "But you've got to wear something."
	They got dressed after their shower in very, very short navy blue
shorts and loose white tank tops.  They looked good enough to eat.  They
wanted to go to a large place near a local mall, where they knew there'd be
a lot of people.  When we got there, we had trouble finding a place to
park, and we had to wait a half hour for a table.  They were in hog heaven
at having to wait because it gave a lot of people a chance to admire them.
In the car on the way there, they asked me if I spoke Spanish.  I told them
I did, of course, so we spoke Spanish while we waited.  They were both very
good at the language, and I knew it was to attract even more attention,
especially from the other people in line.  They said it was to practice for
their upcoming exam.  When the hostess addressed us, they both spoke
perfect English, then they went right back to Spanish.  These two were
truly remarkable.
	I would imagine twins get a lot of stares in the best of
circumstances, but that night those two were the center of everybody's
attention.  Their appearance attracted a lot of looks, and the Spanish,
juxtaposed with the English, only made more people look at them.  They
talked about school, about their dad, and about the impending move to North
Carolina.  They also talked about Chuck and Calvin, especially Chuck.  The
man ahead of us in line was obviously listening, and they noticed.  Halfway
through the conversation, Kevin asked me in Spanish if I were comfortable
switching to French.  When I said yes, we did.  Their accents were better
than mine, and they had great vocabularies.  The man in front of us looked
pretty confused.  I could tell he wanted to talk to us, but he didn't.