Cutler House

Cutler House 3

Cutler House

Chapter Three

By John Yager

The following story is a work of gay erotic fiction dealing with sexual relationships between boys of  high school age.  If such stories are not to your liking or if you are not of legal age to read such stories in your jurisdiction, please exit now.

This is a work of fiction and in no ways draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. Any  similarity to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author.  It is assigned to the Nifty Archives  under the terms of  their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

Again, special thanks to Andrew, who again proofed the text.  Your work is much appreciated.

This is the third and final chapter of Cutler House, which is a sequel to the series titled Montgomery Hall.  A third story in this series, tentatively titled Columbus Avenue, will begin appearing soon.  While it is expected that the individual stories will stand independently,  they should be more enjoyable if read as a group.  If you wish to receive  e-mail notification of subsequent posting,  please let me know by sending your request to the e-mail address below.

jvoyager@hotmail.com

Tim and Dave didn't get home till about one-thirty. I tried to stay cool, helping with the kids, helping mom make lunch, going back up to our room to straighten up a little, just hanging out, trying to stay busy.

As I started to pull up the sheets on Dave's bed I saw what a mess it was in and just stripped it. Then realizing it would look a little odd if I just took down one set of bed linens, I doubled back and got the sheets off my bed and the sofa bed as well. I threw the entire batch in the washing machine and told mom we'd remake the beds later.

"Okay, honey," she'd said. "You guys get them especially messy last night?"
"Yeah, mom. I think they got something spilled on them," I'd said.

"Well, if it was cola, you really should spot them first, Monty. The caramel coloring really does stain if you don't spot it first."

"I think it was clear stuff, mom."

"Well, okay. But ask Jane or me if you're not sure."

Jane is the lady who works for us. She helps mom with the house and looks after Steve and Patty some. She's worked for us since before Dave and I were born and is more or less like part of the family.

So, anyway, about one-thirty Tim and Dave get home. They'd stopped for burgers and were still slurping on shakes and I could tell the minute I saw them that something had been going on.

"You ready to take off, Bro?" Dave said, giving me a grin and a slap on the butt."

"Yeah, homework all done, ready to roll."

"Got anything special in mind?" Tim asked.

Now when you're a kid like us, growing up in a town the size of Winona, you kind of learn by the time you're ten or twelve, that the choices are limited. There are about six things you can do on a free afternoon when it really should be fall and getting cool but you get one of those freak autumn days that seems to have been stolen from April instead.

There are maybe six things to do and then the rest is up to you. If you can think of the ultimate cool thing, you have the day at your command. Otherwise it's swimming at the country club pool, which would be fine, except we did that yesterday and I knew it would be full of kids again today because it was a great day and the last weekend the pool would be open.

Or you can hang out at one of the two drive-ins in town, one on the highway going north out of town, the other one on the highway going south. But that meant kids with cars, which meant kids three or four years older than me, in which case, I'd just as well kiss Dave and Tim good-bye. They'd talk to the older guys, tease the girls and I'd be left looking dumb trying to talk to some cheerleader's kid sister who didn't want to talk with me anyway but was also bored out of her skull and had no way to get home.

"Yeah, I do," I said, having weighed the options and come up with the ultimate cool thing to do on an afternoon like this.

"Cool" Dave and Tim said together. "What?"

"Not telling. I got the stuff we need ready, just come on."

"A treasure hunt," Tim called out as we headed out the back door. "Love it."

I'd pulled the stuff we'd need out of the garage before they got home and had it in a pile by the drive.

"Wow," Tim said when he saw the stuff; three big coils of rope, some boards and a few old pulleys. "I'd say we were going mountain climbing but there's not a hill steep enough for that within a hundred miles of here. Got any ideas, Dave?"

"Yeah," Dave grinned, "I think I got it figured out. Does mom know, Monty?"

"No way, man. She'd have a fit."

"But we'd better tell her, Monty. Somebody could get seriously hurt and nobody would have any idea where we were."

"Tim's got his mom's cell phone, right?" I countered.

"Well, yeah."

"Okay then."

Dave shrugged and we began loading the gear into the back of the car. We'd just finished when mom came out the back door. "Don't worry about the sheets, boys," she called. "Jane will put them in the dryer and you can re-make your beds when you get home." She started back in, then turned and added, "remember we're going to Grandma's this evening. If you guys want to swim there you need to leave by about five or five-thirty."

"Thanks, mom," I called, and we were off.

"What's with the sheets?" Dave asked as we pulled out and I directed Tim to head south on Highway 51.

"The sheets were a cum encrusted mess," I said, enjoying the alliteration. "At least yours were," I added, giving Dave's thigh a slap. I was in the front seat beside Tim but could reach Dave's leg behind me.

"So you said, `mom, we have to wash these disgusting spots out of Dave's sheets!' Right?"

"No, dumb ass," I said. "I took the sheets off my bed and the sofa bed, too, and told mom they must have gotten something spilled on them."

"Well, that much is true," Tim grinned, then added, "you going to give me any more directions, or do I just keep heading south?"

"South, Timothy," I demanded, trying to sound British, but it didn't work.

"You aren't gona get me on I-55 are you?" he said. "My folks don't want me driving on the Interstates yet without one of them along."

"No, we stay on 51 for a few more miles then head back east a little." I figured it would take us about thirty miles to get to the place I had in mind, so we'd have at least a couple of hours before we'd have to head back.

I don't want to get off the track of my story here, but there are a few things I guess I need to tell you.

For starters, I should tell you that about a year ago I really thought I was losing it. I was almost twelve and it was as if everything I thought I had figured out about life had just gone out the window. I was having trouble with my classes, something that had never happened before and it really scared me. I couldn't sleep and I was like a zombie at school.

Dave was great. I guess he'd gone through the same shit when he'd been about the same age, so he sort of knew what was going on and, even more important, knew what was coming next.

One night he came and got in my bed. It was warm and we were both wearing just jockey shorts. At least we weren't naked, which would have been awful. I was hard all the time.

Anyway, he just slid into my bed, under my sheet, and hugged me to him. "I called dad," he whispered. "You need to talk this through and he's a lot better at it than I am."

"I don't want to talk to dad," I hissed, feeling as if Dave had betrayed me.

"You will," he said and continued holding me. It was all I could do to keep from crying.

In about five minutes Dad came up the stairs and over to my bed. He had on a bathrobe and I couldn't tell what, if anything, he was wearing under it.

"Hi, Tiger," Dad said as he pulled over my desk chair and sat down. "Your brother says you need `the talk'."

I snarled.

"Dad, Monty knows a lot already. We've talked some and there are things you don't need to get into."

"Good," Dad said, "which topics can we mark off the list?"

I guess they were both expecting me to say something but I just turned away and remained silent. A couple of minutes went by and then Dave started.

"Well, Monty knows about getting hard and about body hair. He knows about orgasms but he isn't doing it yet, not producing any stuff yet, anyway."

"You understand about guys and girls, right, Monty?" Dad asked but I remained mum. "Having sex with a girl, getting her pregnant, starting a baby, you know about all that."

"Yeah," I ventured. It was the first thing I'd said.

"Good," Dad went on. "I guess we have the basic physical stuff covered, which should save a lot of time."

I turned away again and snarled. I really didn't want to do this.

"Dave said you're being really moody, Monty. He's concerned it's affecting your school work."

I growled again.

"Well, anyway, I'm going to just start telling you some things. You may already know this and if you want me move on, just say so. If you don't, or if you want to know more, we can deal with that as well."

So with no further comment from me, and with Dave just lying there holding me against him, Dad began. Dave and I were just covered with a sheet, well covered from the foot of the bed to the middle of our chests, anyway. My back curved into Dave's chest and my butt pressed against his crotch and he had his arms around me. I was really glad we had the jockey shorts on but I also felt so loved and protected, as if nothing really bad could happen and anything that did get off course a little would be taken care of by my dad and my big bro.

Dad talked about reaching sexual maturity, about going from being a boy to being a man, about not having any choice about it, it was just the way we were. God or nature or who knows what had sort of planned it that way and it had more or less worked for all of human history.

He talked about accepting our destiny, being the best man we could be, assuming responsibility, first for ourselves, but later, maybe, for others as well.

He talked about how glands we didn't know we had when we were ten begin sending chemical singles to cells all over our body telling them to wake up and start doing new and wonderful things. He explained how physical changes began to occur and how every physical change was accompanied by an emotional change. He began to get my attention. I guess we'd talked about all that stuff in health classes at school but I must have missed it or just dozed or something. I knew about the physical stuff but couldn't remember ever hearing about the emotional impact of puberty before.

At one point I sort of turned so I was lying on my back, still against Dave and with his hand still on my chest. "I guess I knew girls got all that emotional reaction when they started having their period, but I didn't realize it hit guys too", I said.

"I think it hits a lot of guys harder than girls," Dad said.

"Me too," Dave agreed. "One guy in my class was the nicest kid you'd ever known. Then puberty hit him and he became really aggressive, always picking fights, always angry at somebody. I really think it was testosterone rage."

"Could be," Dad agreed. "Is he getting over it?"

"Yeah, I think so. But it's taken at least a year and a few good fights."

"So what can a guy do?" I asked.

"Well, for one thing, learn to flow with it. Dave says you aren't sleeping well. That's probably because you have too much energy at bed time. Maybe you need to start working out more, running in the evening, that kind of thing. Then on the other side, when you are tired, go ahead and rest." Dad thought a minute and then added, "you know about masturbation, right?"

I turned bright red!

"He's not coming yet, remember, Dad," Dave said, seeing my embarrassment.

"That didn't keep me from doing it for about six months before I ejaculated," Dad said.

"Me neither," Dave added with a grin.

I couldn't believe we were having this conversation.

"Well, anyway, Tiger," Dad went on, "one way or another you need to vent some energy. Do yourself and everyone else a favor and use your extra energy productively. I'd recommend using the weights. Look what they've done for Dave." He was right. My brother had blossomed into a hunk in the last two years.

"I do work out, Dad," I offered.

"I know you do, Monty," Dad said, "but you can do a lot more. "You'll work with him, won't you, Dave?"

"Sure," Dave offered. "It would actually be cool having a workout partner. We could spot for each other."

"Okay," Dad said as he began to get up. "That covers the ground, at least for now." He leaned over and kissed both Dave and me on the head and headed back down.

"Shall I go back to my own bed now?" Dave whispered when Dad had gone.

"No, please stay," I whispered back.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

Dave rolled over a little more and pulled me over onto him. I snuggled my face into his chest and soon drifted off to sleep, my head full of his scent; lemon, a hint of after shave, the healthy smell of his sweat.

Well, I guess it's fair to say that conversation turned me around. I guess I really knew I was loved. My folks loved me, Dave loved me.  Maybe everything was going to be okay after all. I mean, Dave said he'd been through it and look at him now! Dad went through it and survived so I guess I could, too.

I started working out with Dave three mornings a week. At first there was no way I could keep up with him. He was bench pressing his body weight, about 155 pounds, when I started. I weighed 120 and could only press about eighty pounds on my better days. Dave was patient with me, encouraged me to work on reps and let the bulk come later. It was good advice.

I now weigh about what Dave weighed then, about 155, and he has gained another ten pounds. I guess I don't need to add that, in both our cases, the weight gain has been solid muscle.

In addition to all the weight work, I really got into running. At first Dave would sort of drop a hint. Once, soon after I started working out with Dave, just as dinner was ending and Steve had been a royal pain through the entire meal, I just about lost it. Dave, cool as ever, just got up, grabbed my arm and said, "Okay, Sport. Time for that run we've been planning". I think he could tell I had about a ton of energy in need of burning. He ran with me and we did three miles. It was no big deal but I really slept well that night. From then on, about two or three times a week, we'd head out. Before long we were routinely doing five or even six miles and I really got hooked.

The weight work was bulking me up but I knew it was the running that was trimming off the baby fat and letting my new muscles really show through. And on top of all that my grades just turned around. I really started getting interested in school!

By the start of school this year, when I went out for soccer and swimming again, I was actually kind of looking forward to getting undressed in the locker room the first day. Sure, I wanted to check out the other guys, but I sort of wanted to strut my stuff, too.

I wasn't disappointed. Over the summer we had really been working hard and hitting the weights as well. I'd worn a loose cotton shirt just to sort of hide my new muscles. When I pulled it off in the locker room that afternoon I had to make a little show of it. Jake Turner, a guy in my class, who is sort of the school clown, had made some dumb remark, left himself wide open and I shot back with a great response. Then just as the guys were all looking my way, I pulled my shirt off over my head in one smooth motion. I think there were actually a few "wows!" I know it was a cheap shot, but it was worth it. From what I've seen of the other guys I'd say I have the best body of anyone near my own age.

Dave still has me way outclassed, but he does have two years on me. And you know one cool part I never figured on? I can't wait for Steve to hit the big P! I've already told Dave that when it happens, I get to be the big brother. I just hope I can be as good and as loving a big brother to Steve as Dave was to me. I guess it's sort of cool being the middle of three brothers. Dave had to go through it more or less alone. I mean, Dad was there for him but it wouldn't have been the same. I got to have a brother like Dave as my guide and then I get to do the same for Steve. Definitely the best. The Best!

So anyway, that was sort of to get to the point I want to make now and it has to do with sex. I guess I learned Uncle Martin was gay when I was six. I didn't really understand it then, but I remember hearing somebody saying he was gay and I asked Dad what it meant. Dad just said, "Your Uncle Martin likes men, Monty."

I thought about that for a while and went back to Dad. "I like men, too, Dad. Am I gay?"

"Don't know, Tiger," Dad had said, "only time will tell."

Well, anyway, eventually I figured it out but the real point is that it was like I'd known for ever and it was just no big deal. I wish some of the idiots at our school had learned that lesson. Instead, they talk as if their world would end if they ever had to come in contact with a "queer". It makes me sick, especially when you figure that about one out of every ten of them really is gay and just hasn't figured it out yet.

So now here I am with Dave and Tim. Dave and I had pretty much figured out that Tim and Uncle Martin had something going. I guess it was more or less confirmed when they started making plans for Tim to visit Uncle Martin in New York.

But from what I've seen of Dave and Tim these last couple of days, I'd say they have something going on too. It really raises a lot of questions, questions about Tim and Uncle Martin, questions about Tim and Dave, and questions about them and me.

I mean, would Uncle Martin be mad if he knew Tim was messing around with Dave? I mean, with two guys is it kind of like going steady? And what about Dave? Doesn't he know he's sort of cutting in on the relationship between Tim and Uncle Martin, or does he just not care?

Then there are the comments about touching each other. I've been beating off with Dave in the shower but we've never touched each other. I thought about it a lot and would really like to see what it would be like. I must admit it sort of scares me, though.

So anyway, all these thoughts are banging around in my head and we get where we're going. Dave has figured it out, of course, but Tim doesn't have a clue. We find an old gate and pull the car way off the road where it can't be seen. Then we get all the gear along with some towels the guys had left from this morning and head back into the woods. There's a sort of path but not much of one.

Dave and I sort of jockey around to get Tim in front so he would be the first to see where we're going. We come through an especially thick patch of trees and brush and all of a sudden Tim yells, "Wow!" There it was, Lucifer's Leap.

Some people say it's a natural sink hole, others say it's the dome of a huge cave that collapsed hundreds of years before there were any European settlers in Mississippi. I can't see that it matters either way because the results are the same. And what it is is a hole about fifty feet wide and eighty feet long. The really impressive thing is that it's about twice as deep as it's long. The walls are like cliffs, going down, ledge after ledge until at the very bottom is a small pool of dark blue water.

We all three just stood there, back just enough from the edge to avoid falling, and stared down into the dark blue and green shade of the little canyon. After a few minutes Tim, who was to my left, said, almost in a whisper, "I've heard about this place."

"Yeah, Lucifer's Leap," I said, equally softly.

"You weren't thinking about trying to climb down this afternoon, were you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I was," I said, "but now that we're standing here I can see that isn't a very practical idea."

"To do it right, and do it with minimum risk," my brainy brother put in, "we'd need about a dozen guys and a lot more equipment."

"And a plan," Tim said, his voice still filled with awe.

"So you don't want to just take a running jump?" I grinned.

"No, Monty," Dave said, "but if you want to, go for it. We'll throw you a rope and I guess between Tim and me we could pull you back up."

"Unless he breaks his back," Tim said.

"Or a leg," Dave added.

"Okay, very funny. So it isn't the best idea. At least it got us out of town and into the woods for a while, just the three of us," I continued, still convinced I had come up with the ultimate cool thing to do on a warm, wonderful autumn day.

"You're absolutely right, Montgomery," Tim said, giving my shoulder an affectionate jab, "and now I have an idea of my own."

"What's that?" Dave and I said together.

Tim didn't answer, at least not in words. He just turned and started back to the car, and we, of course, followed. Once there he rummaged in the rear and pulled out a blanket and a small ice chest. Then, still without speaking, he handed Dave the chest and returned to the edge of Lucifer's Leap, walked around the rim a ways until he found a place were the grass was naturally thick and short, like a little bit of lush lawn in the middle of the woods. The sun came through the thick trees to form a pattern of dappled light on the grass. It was there he spread the blanket. Standing back, he pulled off his T-shirt, then his shoes and finally his khaki cargo shorts. He stood there in all his naked glory, the spotted light dancing over his golden body. He stretched a little, turned and bent as if working kinks out of his rippling muscles, then, satisfied, like a jungle cat, he sank down in one fluid motion to lie on his back on the blanket, his hands clasped behind his head, his legs crossed at the ankle and his lovely cock draped with little ceremony over the curve of his thigh.

"Excellent," Dave murmured as he followed Tim's example and stretched out beside him.

What was I to do? Join them, of course.

It was a big blanket and Tim had stretched out along one end. Dave took a position, not parallel to Tim as I had assumed he would do, but at right angles to him, their heads almost touching. I pulled off my clothes and took the only reasonable space left, which meant that my head was almost touching their shoulders and my body ran off toward the distant corner of the blanket. I realized that from above our bodies formed a trident or perhaps the design of a fan.

We lay there like that, so relaxed, so comfortable with one another and the world around us. I think I may have dozed a little but when I woke, nothing had changed. Tim said, "want a coke?"

"Sure," I said as he rolled over to retrieve a couple of bottles from the chest.

"They should be really cold. We got a six pack on the way back to your house and then dumped a bag of ice over them.

"Cool," I said, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the dancing light.

"Cold," Dave corrected, not rising or even opening his eyes.

Tim handed me one of the plastic bottles and took one for himself.

"Me?" Dave asked when he figured out Tim was not including him.

"Sorry," Tim responded, "I thought you were still sleeping."

"I am, but it'll wake me up." He still hadn't moved. Tim reached into the chest and retrieved a third bottle and placed it, wet and cold and dripping, in the deep cleft between Dave's pectoral muscles. That got him up. He sprang to his feet, the bottle bounded off and rolled across the blanket. Then with the grace of a gymnast, he took a volley over me and landed above Tim, catching his own weight on his outstretched hands and feet. He looked like a huge golden bird, ready to dispatch his chosen prey.

"You shit," Dave whispered, but his voice carried amusement, not anger. Slowly he lowered himself until he was lying on Tim in a full body press.

"Yeah," Tim grinned, "but you love me like that," he managed to say before my brother's lips silenced him.

I had risen up to drink the coke, sitting cross-legged on the blanket facing them. I just stayed like that, watching as Dave kissed Tim and Tim, clearly, kissed Dave back. Tim's arms came up around Dave's torso, drawing them into a powerful hug, and the only sound was the slight rustle of the breeze in the big old trees overhead and the low murmur which seemed to come in equal parts from both Dave's and Tim's chest.

This was my brother, I thought, kissing another guy, more than kissing, really, their splendid bodies locked together, swaying a little, almost making love.

I realized that I was completely hard, my pulsing penis jutting up between my legs.

"Wow," Dave whispered as he drew away from Tim's lips.

"Yeah, wow! Where did that come from?" Tim asked.

They both seemed to remember at the same moment that I was there and turned sharply to look at me.

"Hey, don't mind me, guys. I told you I wanted to watch." I was trying to keep it light but somehow it didn't seem like the right thing to say, once I'd said it.

Dave reached out and took my hand, pulled me toward them and then held me there, pressing me into their bodies, making me a part of their embrace. Tim reached up and ran his fingers through my hair, roughing it up a little and then getting me in a sort of lock, pulling me even closer.

"I love you, Bro," Dave whispered.

"Yeah, Dave. I know that, and I love you, too."

"Feeling all this good stuff for Tim isn't gona change my loving you."

"I know."

"Just wanted to be sure you knew."

"There's still a lot I don't understand."

"Well, man," Tim said as his hand ran down over my chest, "join the club."