This story is a work of complete fiction. Any resemblance of characters to real persons and reality is a coincidence. This story eventually includes descriptions of sex between adult males. If you are a minor, if this material is illegal where you live, or if this material offends you, please don't read it. Please donate to Nifty. Find the donation button on the Nifty web site to help you to pay your share of their expenses to provide these entertaining stories for you. All rights reserved.
David's Contribution: Payne-Chapter 1
Like I said, the word 'family' kind of quit meaning anything to me for a while, then it meant everything for a long time. When my parents kicked me out after searching under my mattress and finding the magazine full of good-looking guys doing things with other guys, I took a duffel bag into which I stuffed underwear, the magazine when they weren't looking, a loaf of bread and the ten bucks that my mom slipped into my pocket when dad wasn't looking.
I wore my tennis shoes, had a belt on my jeans, and a bar of soap. And that, as it has been said, was that.
Dad drove me to the bus station actually. He came in with me and bought a ticket for me to Columbus, handed it to me, folded his arms, looked at me coldly, and told me it was a 'one-way' ticket and to not ever think of ever coming back.
He told me I wasn't his son anymore. Sassy as ever, I looked right back at him and told him that everything evened out because he was a miserable father and he wasn't my dad anymore.
His face fell and he flinched. That got to him on some level. Dad turned and walked away. I only saw him once again in a picture mom sent of him in his coffin years later and no, he didn't look 'peaceful'.
The neighbors told me years later that he was a drunk, aided and abetted by my mother who couldn't say no to save her life. AA was unknown in our little town.
With two busy taverns and a country-club, the little town should have had a pretty thriving AA, I would have thought.
When I reached Columbus, hungry and only having the one loaf of bread, I met a kid, maybe seventeen, in decent clothes, hanging around the arrivals area. He took one look at me and stepped toward me.
"You just in, kid?"
"Yep, got kicked out of the house."
"Got a place to sleep tonight?"
"No."
"Got relatives or a job here?"
"No."
"If I help you find work, you can make enough to pay for food and clothes and a decent place to stay. My friends and I will make sure you eat until you can start work." The guy's job, among other things, was being a lookout for a group of teenagers who were always recruiting new teens to work for them.
I didn't ask what kind of work he had in mind and didn't really care right then. I figured I would have to do whatever it took to survive.
George followed through on his promise and helped me find work in the sex trade and I climbed up through the ranks quickly. I was real, respectful, didn't steal, and matter-of-fact.
I liked to learn new things and people interested me a lot. The guys I worked with watched out for me from day one. We all watched out for each other.
By some good fortune, none of us caught anything or got killed or attacked even. As a group we had safety rules and we kept them.
I found the job at the downtown Reston Hotel through a client several years later, a sauté cook who fucked the sous chef and the manager all together at times. The manager asked me for recommendations and experience. I mentioned the sauté cook's name.
I got the job a week later after giving up on hearing from the hotel.
My first job was washing dishes followed by a waitstaff position in the restaurant followed by a room service stint where I met a couple of guys staying in the penthouse suite named Joe Betlinski and David Fellowes.
George, the guy that met me at the bus station and recruited me, would have 'kept' me, I think. He liked me, among other fellow workers, but didn't have any personal favorite dog in that hunt and I had to work to make him hard.
That wasn't the case with Joe and David.
There is a saying about the veracity of a stiff prick. I turned David on big time; I could see that. I could also see that Joe was in the business of making David happy.
In the years I'd been in the trade, I had not seen an ass as drop dead attractive as Joe's was. They both thought I was handsome. I'd been told that before and the mirror wasn't contradicting the reports.
Joe and David had enough money to afford the penthouse and I took a chance after work to play with them.
The rest is history, I guess, because all three of us fell hard over the next 2 weeks. When offered the chance to share their life and be a part of their family, I jumped for it, stunned at first, but utterly content with the whole package.
I felt different about the two guys.
Toward Joe, I was protective. I had the chance to show the 'I'm your daddy now' feeling toward the best ass in the hemisphere.
David was the guy I always wanted to be, pure country most of the time, level-headed, not a selfish bone in his body, a giver, a directive fucker who drove me higher than a kite every time.
Somewhere in there he made a decision to share Joe with me; he didn't stop loving Joe, he loved him enough and me too, to allow Joe another dimension of love and sex. If I had a daddy figure, it was David, for sure.
Sometimes I wondered what I brought to them. They told me 'good looks' and 'chemistry'. By all that I understood they liked my face and they liked me.
My idea has always been that it's easy to like people who like you back and those two were no exception.
Joe liked the variety of sexual experiences I brought to him. He liked everything that we tried a lot and when I followed him around afterward pushing my crotch against his rear end, he really liked that game, that close submissive feeling that an amazing number of men enjoy when they let themselves.
Joe would, after a pounding, sweaty fuck let himself be physically dominated that way afterward for a few hours and into the next day sometimes.
I think he liked David to see that he was letting me do it. There was just enough "in your face' to that show to put an edge on the submissiveness that showed David who really ran the family.
David liked to be teased. He was an enormously practical man who hadn't played games of any kind for years before Joe came into his life. He was hungry for some fun and enjoyed the live show, knowing it didn't diminish him in the slightest.
A cat playing with a couple of mice on the lawn before he ate them for supper...that image came to my mind more than once.
What did I like? Making both of them feel good, more alive.
There was a real danger to game-playing. There aren't too many games that people don't eventually trade for another... either different or more fun or younger or sexier or something.
I was counting on the game itself morphing along with us, from a game to a relationship, then deeper into all-out love.
The first hint of morph was the first time we traveled after our Palm Springs encounter. We had finished a thrilling round of bedroom fun one Sunday afternoon. Still sweaty and sated,
Joe started thinking out loud about how we ought to think about making some vacation plans.
"You know, lovers of mine, we've got help on the farm to carry on for a week or two. Why don't we think about a vacation?"
David sighed. "Tell me how to think about vacations...I don't have any experience planning one, but as long as it involves food and sex, I'm in."
I told the guys I had always wanted to see Spain. Barcelona to be more specific.
Images of the fabulous flamingos along the southern coastal marshes of France came to my head.
I googled it again the next morning and recognized the word Camargue which was the name of a national park in France where the flamingos lived. The web page also brought back a memory of white horses in that same park.
David, oddly enough, told us he hadn't ever seen a big museum and wanted to someday along with the Eiffel Tower.
Joe said he wanted to see New York, said his great-grandparents had come over from Poland and had heard they might have come through Ellis island, so he wanted to visit it.
All of us got our wish after some discussion.
"Why don't we hit all of those places together." Joe was the group's memory-builder. We got up, showered, and dressed.
"Come on, guys, let's plan this together. Half the fun is planning and building expectations. So where shall we begin our trip?"
David said we ought to leave home and return home, at the very least.
I suggested we take the Impreza to Columbus, park at the airport, fly to New York, explore, fly to Madrid, take the new train to Barcelona, and explore.
"From there," I went on, "we could treat ourselves to the TGV from Barcelona to Paris, grab a hotel, explore the Marais, and drag David through the Louvre, of the world's greatest museums."
"We could take the TGV to Marseille, rent a car, and drive south to the Camargue to perve on the flamingos and white horses, continuing west on the coast either by car or train to Perpignan and/or the small town near there where an sailor friend of a friend lived."
The friend had met him in south Florida and taken French lessons of one kind or another.
"After the visit, we could take the train back to Montpellier and Barcelona, heading back across the Atlantic to New York to catch whatever we missed the first time and so back to Columbus and home."
David got into the planning game. "Let's make reservations in hotels every night somewhere. It's not like we have to stay there but I don't like the idea of no bed at night. And let's make sure they can house three guys in a room. A big room and a big bed."
Joe and I broke into applause for that idea.
"There's a web site called Eurail for Americans and others outside Europe to buy Eurail passes, said Joe."
"My aunt went to Europe after buying a 2 week pass for the countries she wanted to visit and said it was fun to hop on and off the train when she wanted, the one drawback being that one had to reserve seats in advance for some popular trains and night trains which were extra anyway."
She said it paid to check the web site months before expected travel to make certain that any needed reservations and extra fees for popular services were available."
Joe went to that site and we read every detail. All of us needed passports, so we looked up the closest passport application office, ours was in Columbus.
The passport web site (passports.state.gov) helped us learn how to apply, what it would cost and what items the office required including birth certificates, notarized from the state of birth, driver's license, etc. We were able to start the process online.
We finished planning the dates of the trip, coordinating that with the airline reservations of course. Once the dates were set, Joe bought first-class tickets for the three of us round trip from New York (JFK) to Barcelona El Prat airport.
Our plan was to take the new train from the airport to downtown Barcelona to our hotel there and skip the taxi or limo. Joe ordered the Eurail tickets and reservations and also bought a Paris Museum Pass which would, for the cost of the Pass, get you into Paris Museums at the head of the line and a few other perks.
Joe also purchased the Paris subway and RER tickets for easier travel around Paris. We decided we could pay as we went in the Barcelona subway and walk a lot, the best way to see some parts of that city anyway, we were told.
He then went online, made arrangements for car rentals in the appropriate cities and we learned about what insurance we needed and what licenses we needed to drive in Europe.
David proved he was a master list-maker.
He watched every move, noted every fact, and came up with a time-line and dates to check on progress of applications, and it was he who remembered at the last minute to call Joe's credit-card company and warn them we'd be spending in Spain and France and when.
He also remembered to call our cell phone carriers to tell them we would want global service and when to avoid getting temporarily interrupted service from some over-zealous computer.
David was the guy who looked up the expected weather and since he was the master packer of the three of us, he packed just the right clothes after consulting us.
I wasn't a bit surprised that he packed our tiny bathing suits for the gay beach near Sitges and thick-soled open-type leather sandals for all three of us.
The beach in the past had a reputation for debris of various kinds but remained popular.
The trip came together.
The Impreza had a large trunk space and easily held our carry-on bag, under-seat bag, one overhead-bin case, and one checked bag for each of us.
I'm not sure about Joe, but David and I had no intention of appearing like hayseeds in Europe. We'd seen pictures of well-dressed, handsome guys on Paris streets and were determined we'd fit right in. David made sure all of us had our products with us.
The last-minute check showed Joe had his ten-thousand-euro wad in a money belt, delivered from his bank in Columbus, his credit cards, cell phone, iPad, chargers, Eurail pass, passport, reservation copies, and passport copies in our luggage.
Courtesy of David we all had a little card printed up showing how to use our cell phones abroad with all the prefixes needed to call each other if we got separated along with the help lines for our carriers in Spain and France.
David and I had our backup credit cards, passports, copies of our reservations and passports in our luggage, our tablets and iPhones, chargers and a thousand euros apiece in case of emergency.
We left home and arrived in Columbus right around noon. We parked at the airport and managed to get all our stuff to the lobby, used the check-in system to get our boarding passes on paper this first trip anyway and went through TSA to shop and wait until our American Airlines flight left for JFK later in the day.
We had all flown before (Palm Springs) but hadn't gone through any weather before. Somewhere before JFK, we encountered turbulence which David thought was fun. Joe and I could have skipped the experience.
We did New York. Did we ever do New York. We caught all the tourist traps and features (yes, there's a difference), did Ellis island, didn't find Joe's relative's names, went up the Statue of Liberty (down too), did some clubs, stayed in a nice suite at the Pierre and a day later, left for an early flight to LHR.
We got to JFK out on Long Island with 2 hours to spare for the flight to Barcelona. We weren't jazzed about what we had read about Iberia, so had booked British Airways to London-Heathrow, and from there to Barcelona.
It was a slightly better arrival time and the prospects of better service that changed our mind.
At the British Airways lobby, we once again got our paper boarding passes and went through TSA. That turned out to be easier because of the first-class perk of an easier TSA screen. Everyone has their own experience with the routes they fly and the service on that flight.
We loved the first-class food and service on BA to London. We arrived in London during the American day instead of the standard European nightmare arrival times for Americans which is American night-time.
We took a taxi straight to a London hotel called the Connaught. Fancy. Comfortable. Dressy. Great food and service. We slept during most of it. The next morning, we took BA to Barcelona, a short trip and arrived during the heat of the day. The train to downtown was fast and modern. Our hotel was just OK in Barcelona.
The city was hot and crowded with tourists and the only well-dressed handsome guys were the mannequins in store windows during the day. Way late at night, the city came out and dined and partied.
Dinner before 10 pm wasn't really a thing and the clubs got started in the early hours of the morning routinely. So, we adjusted. If pretty is as pretty does, we did 'late' while in Barcelona. Then we slept in usually...right through siesta too.
The handsome Catalonian hunks then emerged from some chrysalis and we really did notice. The city had gay saunas that had a certain reputation for aggressive escorts and also for pickpockets on the streets, but we didn't encounter any.
We explored beaches, the Eixample, and the overhead tram up the mountain to the cathedral(s), ate the Spanish potato omelet, and drank the famous red wine along with other tapas at night. The markets, paella, jamon iberico, all of it...Barcelona met every expectation of mine. '
The views from the Renfe SNCF high-speed train to Paris are nice but they don't linger at that speed. We took a taxi from the Gare de Lyon after the 6-hour trip to the Georges Cinq where a suite was waiting. Think dressy, fancy, comfortable, great food and service too.
In paris days turned into days again and we slept and played at night. I managed a couple of 'put a tie on the door' sessions with Joe and David reserved my ass for a 'one on one' a couple of times.
Joe and David surprised me by sending me to an opera performance by myself one night while they performed a little creative work by themselves at the hotel.
The Louvre was number one, large. The literature claimed they had a lot of art objects; only a small fraction was on display at any moment. David had prepared like mad beforehand though and knew what was in each wing and what he wanted to see and how to find it.
He had downloaded an app for that and took the time to study it and had notes to prove it.
He loved the statue 'The Winged Victory of Samothrace', its graceful curves almost alive coming forward, thrusting into reality through marble, an original Greek statue, not Roman. He glanced for a few minutes at the Mona Lisa, marveled that the painting was smaller, and the colors brighter than he had imagined from pictures.
We took the elevators up the Eiffel Tower and ate the l'offre emotion at 6:30 pm. The waitstaff didn't blink an eyelash while we three men had our romantic dinner together with champagne and wine with our entrée, plat, dessert, fromage eau minérale and café. ,
We took the TGV to Marseille and rented a new BMW sedan. The Camargue National Park, south of Marseille, was all I had ever dreamed.
The salt air, the bright sun of southern France, the brisk wind, the hordes of flamingos with their delicate colors, egrets, herons, storks...and not far away, white horses galloping through the shallow water, and even a few black bulls with large horns, some raised for export to Spain for bullfighting.
From Barcelona, we flew through London back to New York and Columbus and home, a farm which seemed ever more dear to all of us, all three of us, now more able to speak as a group together about a trip we shared, beauty we enjoyed, better able to plan other trips.
Within five minutes of getting home, David made sandwiches and lemonade for us, sliced watermelon and while we were thus paralyzed in deliciousness, he told Joe and I he wanted kids.
With one of us or two of us as parents and all three of us as co-parents. All this right out of thin air.