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 medium 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 and Twin Spin 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.
My First Year With Kevin
Chapter 18
The Mardi Gras season was intense, for lots of reasons. Kevin and I were still in high school, but we were participating in the events-the parties, the balls, the brunches, the dinners, etc.-like we were grown men. The Krewe of Rex was incredibly socially active, and there were more events to go to than we had time for. He and I always went separately from Frank and Denis, and we always left by eleven o'clock, eleven-thirty at the latest. We set our limit at two drinks and wine, if it was a dinner party, and we survived. I met about a million people, and I was propositioned maybe ten times by men who were usually older and very good looking. I resisted them as well as I did the girls. There was a lot of sex going on, of that I was sure.
Finally, Mardi Gras arrived. They called it, alternately, Mardi Gras Day, which was redundant since 'Mardi' means Tuesday in French, or Carnival Day, which I preferred. Frank and Denis both had to ride a float in the Rex parade, so that left us on our own to do as we wished. We had tickets for box seats at Gallier Hall, which is the old City Hall on St. Charles Avenue, but Kevin told me ahead of time not to expect to spend much time there, if any at all. We would be on the street, where the action was.
We got up incredibly early-like five o'clock-on Carnival Day. Frank and Denis were both in full costume by the time we got downstairs at 5:15. We wished them good luck and lessez le bon temps roullez, and they were off. The houseboys had left us a really nice breakfast casserole, so Kevin and I ate heartily. He told me we'd need to eat big because there was no telling when we'd eat again that day. That turned out to be a Kevin exaggeration because we stopped for fried chicken at one place and doughnuts at another before we ever made it to the parade route.
We left the house at six o'clock, full almost to the bursting point.
"Are we going to Bourbon Street," I asked. That's how na^Ëve I was.
"Fuck, no," he replied. "We'll probably make it there at some point, but that ain't no place to spend Mardi Gras. There aren't any parades in the Quarter. We're going to meet up with Todd and Jonathan, Dave and Larry, and Jeff and Brian. You remember them, don't you? From the summer."
"Of course I remember them, Kevin," I said.
"That was a pissed-off sounding voice, Babe. Are you pissed at me for inviting all those guys?"
"Kevin, I'm not pissed off at you. I'm a little annoyed that you didn't think I'd remember those guys from the summer, though."
"I'm sorry, Babe. No pissification on Mardi Gras. That's a law. It's all good." He kissed me gently on the cheek, and I thought, how could I ever really be pissed at that guy?
"I'm sorry for my attitude. I guess it's kind of early for me."
"Yeah, it's early, but we've got to claim our spot."
Then Kevin did something that was quite uncharacteristic of him. He reached down and started rubbing my crotch.
"Would some of this help get you going," he asked in his sweetest, most innocent-sounding voice.
"I thought you wanted to get an early start," I replied.
"I do, but I want my Babe to be happy. From what I'm feeling here, you could go for some of this."
I started getting erect as soon as he touched me, and by then I was fully hard. I didn't know what he had in mind, but in a second I found out. Right there in the kitchen, he popped the buttons on my jeans, took my cock out, and got on his knees. He started licking the head of my cock like it was a lollypop, and then he dove in. His tongue and lips were everywhere on my dick, sucking, licking, kissing, caressing, making me feel like I was in paradise. I looked down at him, and he grinned up at me. I had known for months that I was totally in love with him, but, at that moment, I was overwhelmed by my feelings. It didn't take him long to bring me to orgasm, and I decided not to hold off. I shot a heavy load into his mouth. He swallowed it like a champ, not losing a drop.
I was prepared to reciprocate, of course, but, unbeknown to me, he had pulled out his dick and had brought himself off by hand. His cum splashed onto the tile floor of the kitchen right as I splashed into his mouth. The whole thing hadn't lasted more than five minutes, but the spontaneity of it was fun. Plus, he gave me a damn good blowjob, as usual.
We parked in a lot right on St. Charles Avenue. There was a line of port-o-potties down the wall of a building that formed one side of the lot. There were only three parking spaces left, and we got one of them for fifty bucks. St. Charles was already blocked off, so we had to get to the lot from another street.
We walked a half block down St. Charles and staked a claim to some sidewalk real estate. There was a surprising number of people out already. We had a cooler with a case of beer in it. We also had a large box of doughnuts from a bakery called MacKenzie's that we had stopped at, and a huge barrel of fried chicken and other stuff from Popeye's, where we had also stopped. Kevin laid out blankets on the sidewalk, and we made like a little camp. He had also brought several folding lawn chairs, and we set those out to delimit our space.
It was rather cold, although Kevin assured me it would warm up significantly as the day progressed. We were in 501 blue jeans, a tee shirt, another shirt on top of that one, and a jacket. Kevin had on his Colton letterman's jacket, which looked pretty warm. I was wearing a regular leather bomber jacket.
We sat and ate some of the doughnuts and drank the coffee we had bought with them. In a little while, Kevin wanted to go for a walk. There was a huge monument to our right, and he wanted to walk down to it.
"That's Lee's Circle. That statue at the top is General Robert E. Lee, the main general of the Confederates in the Civil War."
Duh, I thought, but didn't say anything. We walked to the Katz and Bestoff building around the circle and looked at their sculpture garden. Some of the work really caught my fancy. We walked up a block or so to the site where the Interstate crossed St. Charles, and then we walked back the other way toward our camp. By then it was after seven, and there were a lot of people out. I must have seen a hundred cute guys in school letterman jackets. I asked Kevin about that.
"Oh, yeah. You wear your school colors on Mardi Gras," he said. "Even if you graduated ten years ago. Provided you can still get into them."
"Are all of these guys jocks," I asked.
"Most are, but I see a Jesuit jacket over there for debate, and there's a Holy Cross jacket for academics. They're not all jocks."
By the time we got back to our spot, Dave and Larry were already there. We greeted them, of course, but I was curious to know how they knew it was our spot.
"I smelled the alpha male's piss. I knew he had marked this as his spot."
"You asshole," Kevin said. He pumped Dave's hand hard. "How the hell are you, man?"
"Great, dude. And yourself?"
"Great."
"You're looking mighty 'alpha' this early morning. Can I have a beer, please, Sir."
Kevin laughed. "Only if you brought your own, dude. And cut out that 'alpha male' shit, okay?"
"Why, man? It's your title. You deserve it."
"Cause there are going to be two guys with us today who are in a master-slave thing, that's why," Kevin said.
"Oh, shit. Will the master, like, beat the slave and shit?" Dave was clearly taken with the concept.
"No. They're not into S & M, just servitude."
"So what are they going to do," Dave asked.
"Have a good time, just like you and me. You'll see, they're just ordinary guys. The slave guy is Todd, and he's my age. He's really cute, too. The master is Jonathan, and he's maybe thirty or so. He's kind of cute, but not as cute as Todd."
"Who else is going to be with us," Dave asked.
"Jeff and Brian."
"Who are they?"
"The two guys from the summer. Brian takes care of the place across the lake, and Jeff is his assistant. You should remember them, man. You fucked both of 'em."
"I remember them, but don't expect me to remember everybody I fuck, male or female."
We all laughed.
I asked Larry how he was doing, and he said things were going well. I asked him if he and Dave were going together, and he just smiled. I wasn't sure how to interpret that. He had his camera bag, and I wondered what he'd be able to shoot.
Brian and Jeff were the next to arrive. We had seen them briefly around Thanksgiving when we had gotten back from our cruise, but, other than that one time, we hadn't really hung out with them. In another half hour or so Todd and Jonathan showed up. We introduced them to the others, and we all settled in. Jonathan had brought a thermos of coffee, and he gave me some in the same cup I had used before. It was still pretty cold, although the sun had come out. The tall buildings surrounding us kept us in shade still, but I could tell it was going to be a beautiful day.
The crowd kept growing, and, before long, the sidewalks on both sides of the street were full. It was then that I realized the wisdom of Kevin's strategy in wanting to get there so damn early.
It's kind of hard to describe what the place looked like. Most of the people seemed to be with family members, although there were a number of couples, gay and straight, all around, too. A good many of the kids were in costume, and some of the adults were, as well. It was fun just watching the people come and go. Some of our group went for a walk, leaving Kevin, Jonathan, and me behind to watch the stuff.
"Is this your first Mardi Gras, Matt," Jon asked.
"First one in years. I vaguely remember it from when I was little, but not very well."
"Well, it's really something. Has Kevin explained about showing your dick?"
"Whaaaaat?"
"I guess he hasn't. For certain floats, if you show your dick, you get pelted with beads and shit."
"Won't you get arrested," I asked in disbelief.
"Naw. Not if you're discrete. Plus, you only do it for a float full of women or gay guys. We'll know when to do it. And it's probably best to be soft, ya know?"
We started drinking beer around that time, and, before long, the Zulu parade came down the street. That kicked the day off, for sure. Rex followed Zulu. We were on the side of the street that Frank and Denis were on, and, by chance and good luck, or maybe it was planning on Kevin's part, their float stopped right in front of us while Rex toasted the mayor at Gallier Hall. We handed up beers to them and their buddies, and they gave us handfuls of beads and doubloons. Up until then Kevin had been rather restrained and well behaved, but he couldn't resist flashing the dads. He opened his fly and let that big fat sausage of his flop out loose and half hard. He slicked back his foreskin and held it in his hand. At first, Frank got this really stern look on his face (or as much of his face as I could see because of his mask), but then he started laughing. The other guys on the float got a kick out of it, too, and Kevin held it as vertical as he could. One of the other guys, whom I later found out was a very close family friend, tried to drop beads onto it. It became a game, of course, as so much with Kevin did, and three or four other guys tried to "ring the dick," as one of them shouted above the noise of the crowd. Fortunately, we were right up next to the float, so nobody but our group saw what Kevin was doing. Finally, the toast must have been over and the parade started moving again. After Rex came the Elks Krewe of Orleanians, better known as the truck parade. Two more truck parades followed Elks, and by the time it was over, it was well past three o'clock in the afternoon. At one point in the parade, Kevin announced he had to take a leak and asked if anybody else had to. I had to, so he and I went into the parking lot where the portable toilets were set up. There was a line at least five people deep for every one.
"Come on," Kevin said. "I can't hold it long enough for those lines. Plus those things are nasty dirty."
I followed Kevin into an alley that met the parking lot at its midpoint. There, standing and pissing, were a good fifteen guys, almost all young. Kevin whipped his dick out, pulled back the foreskin, and started pissing against the wall. I followed his example. The guy standing next to Kevin on his right was drunk as shit, and he looked over at Kevin's dick. He noticed the PA ring Kevin wore.
"What the fuck is that hanging out of your dick, man?"
He turned to his friend on his right.
"Take a look at this guy's dick, Bo. He's got some metal shit hanging out of it."
Bo was just as drunk as his friend, and he looked over at Kevin. Kevin pretended not to notice. He just kept pissing. When he finished, instead of putting his dick away and leaving, Kevin bounced it with his internal muscles several times. Then he stroked it a few times, presumably to get the piss out of his urethra. He shook it gently and finally put it away. The two guys to his right were fascinated and stared at him the whole time. I knew Kevin was putting on a show, but they didn't. Finally, we turned to leave and walked away.
"I saw what you did with those two guys back there," I said as we walked back to our group. "I swear, Kevin, you've got some brass balls on you, dude."
"What do you mean?"
"Those guys might have thought you were coming on to them. They could have started a fight or something."
"I wasn't afraid of them. Besides, you were with me."
"True, but, really, Babe, that's provoking people."
"Okay, Babe. You've made your point, and it's a good one. No more dick play in public. I promise. Until we get into the Quarter." He punched me good naturedly, and promptly forgot all about the incident.
By the end of the third truck parade, I was exhausted. We had caught a huge mound of beads and shit, and we had been on our feet, jumping and cheering and catching stuff for six-and-a-half hours or more. Neither Kevin nor I had drunk heavily, but Dave was pretty well lit, as were Jeff and Brian. Larry was hard to read. Todd and Jonathan were both feeling no pain.
"What do you guys want to do," Kevin asked. "The parade tonight is the chickenshit Krewe of America. I've only seen that parade one time. We could stay around here for that one, or we could go down into the Quarter and see what's going on."
"I vote for the Quarter," Dave said. Everybody either agreed or didn't have an opinion, so we headed to the Quarter. We picked up all of our stuff and put it in the trunk of Kevin's car first, though. We would leave the car where it was and walk the eight or ten blocks to Bourbon Street.
The walk to the Quarter took about a half hour, but the sights along the way, from people in outlandish costumes (The "costume" of one couple was clear plastic wrap, and not many layers of that. They looked college age, and I wondered what would have happened if the guy had gotten a hard-on.) to drunks to large family groups doing the Chicken Dance in the middle of the street. It had warmed up to the point that Kevin and I were in just our tee shirts on top, and, halfway to the Quarter, Kevin took his tee shirt off and tucked it into his belt. A bunch of other guys had done the same thing, and I saw more tattoos and nipple piercings that one day in that one thirty-minute walk than I think I had seen in my whole life before that. Kevin, of course, had both.
We crossed Canal Street into the Quarter and started walking down Bourbon. That street, like all the streets in the French Quarter, was closed to traffic that day. There were a lot of people out in costumes and various stages of undress. The first couple of blocks off Canal weren't terribly crowded, but by the time we got three or four blocks down, it was nuts-to-butt. It was a warm day to begin with, but in that crowd it became positively hot. I took my tee shirt off, too.
I heard Jonathan tell Todd to get undressed. Whooa! I thought. Un-fucking-dressed? Todd seemed eager to comply, though, so I figured they had it worked out. He took off his shirt and jeans, and he was wearing his famous leather thong underneath. He didn't take that off. He took his shoes and socks off, though, and, after a few minutes, Jonathan told him to put his shoes back on. They were black leather and went with his thong. Frankly, he looked pretty fucking good in that get-up. In a block or so we came upon two more guys in the exact same gear.
It was then that I knew why they called it Carnival. That's exactly what it was-a carnival. There were people in crazy costumes, everyone was drinking, and there was music everywhere. We got to a corner, and there was a larger than usual crowd standing around, looking up at the balcony. There were mostly men on the balcony, and they were throwing beads to the people below.
"This is one of the places where they throw you beads if you show your dick," Jonathan said. It was pretty much understood that Todd would be showing his for Jonathan to get some beads.
"Cool," Kevin said. "I'm gonna get some of those beads. You with me, Babe?"
"Hell, I guess so," I said.
We stood under the balcony where they could see us, and Kevin was the first to pull his out. The people on the balcony cheered and threw plastic pearls, and, when Kevin slicked back his foreskin for them, they threw more. Todd and I had to help him catch them all.
"I have an idea, guys," Kevin said.
Oh-oh, I thought.
"Face away from the balcony and take your dicks out. We thread these beads through our PA rings and then turn around. They'll love it."
We did as Kevin said, and he was right. When we turned to face the balcony, the three of us made a kind of triangle. Not content with the incredible reaction from both the balcony crowd and the people in the street, Kevin put his arms around both of us.
"Put your arms around me and each other, and lets go around in a circle for them," Kevin said.
Todd figured out what he meant before I did, but I caught on pretty quickly. We whirled around, our dicks stretched all the way out in front of us joined by a rather long strand of fake pearl beads. People-went-fucking-crazy! The people on the balcony were so elated that they invited us up.
We indicated there were four of us, and they nodded approval.
"What about the rest," I asked Kevin.
"Oh, shit. I forgot. Goddamn."
The other guys were standing around us, and they heard what Kevin and I had said.
"Hey, guys," Dave said, taking the leadership role. "You fuckers go ahead. We'll meet up with you later, or not. Hell, it's Mardi Gras. You guys have a good time, and thanks for inviting us. We're big boys. We can party without the alpha male, here."
"Man, I feel like shit," Kevin said. "Are you sure?"
"Smyth, you don't fucking feel like shit, and you know it. That's just your upbringing coming out in you. It's cute, but I've known you for too many fucking years to know you're sincere. Get your asses up there and have a good time." Dave was grinning, and Kevin was, too. He really did know Kevin well.
Somebody from upstairs came down to the street entrance to let us in. A policeman who had watched the whole show, apparently, moved to the street door just as we did.
"Oh, fuck," I said.
"What's the matter," Kevin asked.
"That cop's going to arrest us," I said.
Kevin laughed. The policeman had gone to the door to make sure that we got in safely and that nobody else barged their way in.
"Nowhere but New Orleans," Kevin said, and Jonathan and the host guy both laughed hard.
They handed us drinks as we walked in. We got bourbon and 7-Up, which is pretty much a standard New Orleans drink. Like most of the places in the Quarter, especially on main streets like Bourbon and Royal, the downstairs was commercial and the two upper stories were residential. We came in through a reception hall or foyer, and we were ushered into a magnificent living room. It was actually a double parlor, one side of which had a grand piano in it.
We were taken out onto the balcony where we met our two official hosts. They were a gay couple who had been together for years, and they had a number of gay-oriented businesses in the city. They were absolutely charming, and their other guests treated us like members of the family. One guy was particularly taken with Todd, who was still in only his leather thong and shoes. I noticed Jonathan beam when Todd explained that Jon owned him, and the other man took a very respectful attitude toward Jon.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening throwing beads to guys who showed us their dicks, to a few girls who showed their tits, and waving to people passing by unwilling to show anything. The food was abundant and delicious, and the drinks came out non-stop. I noticed Kevin quite drinking after maybe three, but I kept right on swilling them down. I ate a good bit, so I didn't get shit-faced drunk, but he was definitely the sober one of us. We stayed to see the policemen on horseback start clearing the street at the stroke of midnight, but we left shortly after that to walk back to our car. The lot was almost completely empty when we got there, and Kevin drove home. I didn't exactly pass out, but I certainly went to sleep after five minutes of riding. I have no recollection of getting home, of getting undressed, and of getting into bed. Kevin could have raped me ten times, for all I knew, but rape is non-consensual, so, even if he had fucked me, it wouldn't have officially been rape. In fact, he snuggled up with me in the crook of his body and went to sleep.