THE PAIR
I was at the local pinball arcade, playin with two of the hottest guys I've seen in a long, long time. Steve was 19, muscular, and the perfect surfer type. A real blonde beauty. Howie was 18, dark hair, and a tight little ass that ached to be eaten. It was closing time.
I figured I'd best pack it in before I raped both of them right there, so I made some noises along those lines, offering to give the two of them a lift to Howie's first.
That was okay by Howie but Steve cut him off: "Do you have any more dope?" Howie didn't; I allowed as to how I did but as to how it was at home, not with me, and--hope against hope!--invited them up to my place to get REALLY whacked. Steve was all for it; Howie agreed--reluctantly I thought,but maybe at was just Howie. (Could HE see Steve's basket too?) If I'd been on my toes I could've suggested there and then that I drop Howie off and let Steve stay at my place...fortunately, I wasn't on my toes, or anything else.
I was trembling so hard with pent-up anticipation and horniness and the need to keep all of that down that I could scarcely hold onto the wheel on the way home and missed shifting gears twice---I never miss a shift, NEVER. I could see Steve grinning at me in the rear-view mirror... maybe that was why....
My trailer was tucked under some trees at the end of a long, winding driveway with nothing else around but nature. I was shaking so hard when I finally ggot us there and got out of the car that I had trouble walking for a moment. The two of them were kinda unsteady too; I surmised they'd already had a fair amount to smoke.
The three of us staggered to the trailer door; I unlocked it and climbed in, and they followed. I immediately collapsed into my favorite armchair and they followed suit onto the front-room couch. Steve still had a hardon, although he had apparently slipped it back into his shorts.
Howie, although he seemed oblivious to this, seemed to have more than the usual bulge in his pants too. I got some rock on the stereo and somehow managed to open the stash box and roll a couple of joints; we smoked another one without talking. Steve kept looking at me and, stoned as he was, seemed unable to sit still. Damn, I thought, this dude is really hot to trot!
But what's his game? And how the fuck can we do anything with Howie around, anyway? I had a hard-on something fierce and had to piss to boot; I was about to excuse myself to go to the john when Steve asked if I had anything to drink. I said, "Yeah, sure--in the fridge," beckoning him over and opening the fridge door for him.
As he walked toward me he winked at me and grinned; when he reached the fridge he staggered against me and whispered--or croaked; it was hard to tell--"It's cool, dude." He still hard a hardon; when I opened the refriger- ator door, thus blocking Howie's view of us, he grabbed my hand and put it onto his cock while giving mine a squeeze with his other hand.
I slipped his cock out of the leg of his cutoffs again and played with it, skinning it back almost to the edge of his prickhead and then letting it slide back forward. He trembled and moaned a bit and I had to brace him briefly to keep him from falling over.
We bent over to look in the fridge, both of us making audible conversa- tion for Howie's benefit about what there was to drink and at the same time carrying on a whispered discussion for ourselves; all the while he kept play- ing with my dick while I fondled his magnificent little ass. I managed to get my hand under his shorts and my middlefinger down the crack of his cheeks, but he whispered, "Wait." I whispered back, "For what? Howie's over there-- what can we do?" Steve humped his ass against my finger and said, "Don't worry about him, he ain't uptight. He knows I hustle dudes. I never done this around him, but just get him loaded enough and he'll probably play along. And the word's out you're a fag; he knows that."
"I don't have any money," I said. "I'm gettin' what I want," he said. Aloud, I directed Steve to the beer, asked him to open one for each of us, and staggered toward the john, glowing like a lightning bug. It took me a long time to piss: my dick was so hard and I was so horny that I had to wait a while for it to go down enough to leak.
When I got back to the front room I was greeted by one of the most beau- tiful sights I've ever seen: both Steve AND Howie had taken their cutoffs and shoes off and were sprawled out naked on the couch with their cocks sticking straight up into the air, looking at each other. Steve's uncut meat was throb- bing gently; his dusky brown pubic hairs were matted down with what looked like a combination of funk and pussy-scum and I could see a bit of precum on the head of his dick. Howie's cut dick was longer and thinner than Steve's and he still had his early puppy pubic hairs--long and coarse, looking as though they'd been forced out of his pubes by some sort of inner explosion. Steve had a brush of hair between his pecs and a lot of hair on his legs and ass and under his arms, most of it bleached almost white by sun and surf; Howie had only a small brush of dark brown hair leading from his pubes toward but not reach-ing his bellybutton and a somewhat larger patch under each arm. Howie had tossed his beautiful long hair underneath him; it surrounded his hot little body like excelsior. Each boy would occasionally reach down and squeeze his cock. A magnificent sight to be sure...and then I noticed Howie's eyes, locked onto Steve's with a steady gaze.
His expression was something to behold: a Madonna-like smile that coveyed both love and lust with an intensity that cannot be believed. I have NEVER, before or since, witnessed such a thing. I stood there for a minute or so, stunned, drinking it in; even now, writing this, I've a hardon and I'm leaking precum and having trouble typing.
It was Steve who finally noticed me watching them; with a move of his head he beckoned me over. When he did, Howie broke eye contact with him--and gave ME that same look of exalted lust! GodDAMN!! I peeled my clothes off instantly and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them.
Strangely, it was Howie who spoke first. "Steve says you wanta suck his cock. Can I watch? I never done nothin' like this before. Steve said, "Sure, dude, it's cool--like I told you, he'll suck yours too." He glanced at me again, as if to say, "See?"
Howie shivered a bit and gave me The Look again. "Yeah?" His cock throbbed a couple of times and a couple of drops of precum spurted out of it onto his belly. He didn't move to touch it with his hand, only laid there, trembling.
"Shore, dude," I said, "and it looks like I'd better take care of you first; you're pretty far along."
Howie smiled sheepishly and said, "Yeah, I guess I"--and, with a sudden sharp gasp, he shot a stream of jizz that hit him in the face. (Fleeting glimpse of The Look, with his cum dripping from his moustache...I can still get off on that....) He let out another cry and another spurt that went over his left shoulder and I moved for him fast, afraid that he'd shoot the whole wad before I could get there and that I'd miss the taste of his fresh puppyload. I got my mouth on his pud and a thumb and forefinger around the base of it and my other hand under his ass before he could shoot again and began to gently milk him up and down while caressing his tight little buns with my other hand--and he kept cuming...and cuming...and cuming...all the while gasping and moaning and writhing and tossing that beautiful little bod around in total ecstasy, while I held on to him as best I could and drank him down.
He had cum that tasted like none other: almost like butter cake frosting, sweet and unbelievably rich and plentiful. It may have taken him a couple of minutes to stop shooting; I don't know for sure and don't give a shit. When he finally finished I took my fingers away from the base of his cock and swal- lowed it all the way down and just held on for an exquisite time, while he lay there, panting and moaning softly while I held his still hard cock in my mouth and gently fondled one of his buns with one hand and, with the other, sneaking my fingers in and out of his asscrack and playing with his asshole and the base of his cock and balls.
I was so stoned and carried away with this puppy's orgasmic joy that the world seemed to swim around me; but in addition to that there was a certain unsteadiness and shaking that I couldn't figure out---wait a minute, I COULD figure it out: Steve wasjacking off with long, slow, earnest strokes and, apparently, about ready to pop his nut 4oo--gasping and panting and beginning to make little animalistic grunts and whimpers. Howie looked over at his buddy and his expression of contentment and utter fulfillment changed to one of wonder and--what, joy?--lust?--as I moved for Steve's dick, grabbed the shaft of it with one hand and, without breaking his rhythm, substituted my mouth for his hand. His pud was already slippery with precum juice and I had only to skin him down and swallow his beautiful meat before he shot his nut too. I milked him gently up and down as I had with Howie, but I could not resist those beautiful muscular pects: I put one hand on each tit and gently massaged his hard little nipples as he gradually came down from his orgasm.
I woke up an eternity later (an hour or so, according to the clock) with Steve's half-hard dick still in my mouth and my head on his belly. Somehow I had managed to get onto the couch before I nodded off--damned if I can remember how. Howie had fallen asleep with his head on my side; one of his hands held gently onto my dick. Both of them were asleep. I had to piss again and wondered how I could get up without waking somebody up.
Getting off Steve was easy; all I had to do was gently raise my head off him. But Howie was another matter--by now I had a full piss-hard and he held onto it with almost a death-grip. I noticed that his dick was getting hard, too, and as I noticed that he lifted his head from my side and again gave me The Look. I took his head in my hands, brushing his beautiful long hair aisde, and kissed him, first tentatively on the lips and then, as his mouth opened wide, fully and enthusiastically, with my tongue down his throat. My dick was as hard as it ever gets, but it hurt, too; I really had to piss. I gently disengaged Howie's mouth from mine, smiled sheepishly and said quietly, "Hey, dude...I gotta get up; I gotta piss somethin' fierce and I don't wanta get the couch wet." Without taking his hand off my cock, Howie made as to get up from the couch. His hardon led; I followed. He led me to the bathroom by the dick, positioned it over the john, and waited. I said, "You'll have to wait pretty long--I don't think I can piss while you're holding me; it feels too good." He dropped my dick but snuggled up to me and put his arm around my waist; I put mine around his shoulder and tried to relax (he sure as hell couldn't: I could feel his heart racing and he was almost panting with excitement) ... finally managed to relax ... finally began to piss.
As I began to piss Howie let out a little gasp and a moan; after a few seconds he put his free hand on my cock and began to stroke it gently. Somehow I managed to keep pissing. His hand wandered to the head of my dick--and straight into my piss! As it touched him he let out another moan. I said, "You like that, huh?" He said nothing but dropped to his knees, keeping his hand in the stream. "What the hell?" I thought to myself, and turned slowly toward him ... he kept his hand in my piss as the stream slowly left the edge of the bowl and arced over his thigh into his lap, resting at the base of his hardon--at which point he let out another moan ... I slowly directed it up and down his body and he moaned again ( ... his hair was bunched up behind him and was beginning to get wet ... ) I moved it upward into his face and his mouth eagerly opened; without hesitation he drank the last few seconds of the flow....
I forget whether I brought it up first or he did (and it doesn't matter anyway as far as I'm concerned): we ended up laying together on my bed, smoking another joint and holding each other. I had towled him off but he still smelled of a wonderful combination of his own sweet odor and my funk. We lay there in a haze; the joint was soon forgotten as we shared each other's presence. I began to run my fingernails gently up and down his back; he gasped a little and held me tighter ... my fingers wandered down to the curve of his butt and I made a quick, teasing pass at his asscrack ... his body shook at my touch and he moaned again and he began to hump my hand; after a couple of strokes he reached down, grabbed my dick (which was fully hard) and stuck it in between his legs, clamped down on it and continued humping.
"Turn over," I said. He began to almost before I finished speaking; I didn't have to ask him to spread his legs--just stuck my cock between them and he clamped down and began to hump immediately and with vigor, all the while squealing and moaning softly. I held onto him as tightly as I could, my nose buried in the midst of the most extraordinary combination of sweet and sour, and just lay there in ecstasy. It wasn't long before I was getting very close to shooting my rocks--he seemed to sense this and suddenly stopped, laying there vibrating with passion but otherwise still.
I backed away from him and said, "Get up on your knees," and when he did so (we had to fight his hair for a minute ... sometimes in the heat of passion one can run across a situation that threatens to break the whole flow because among other things it's hard to quit laughing!) I moved around to his butt, got behind him on my knees, and began stroking my fingernails gently up and down his back again. He moved with the strokes....
The sight of his buns in front of me mesmerized me; I was hypnotized by their slim perfection. My hands began to stroke further down on his back; as they moved his moves answered me less and less; as I got to the small of his back he spread his legs a little. I very gently stroked the inside of his thighs and cheeks, gradually teasing around the base of his balls and making little passes at his asshole. Each time I touched the pucker of his hole he gasped and moaned and it clamped down tight ... he'd rock forward and back a time or two and then his hole seemed to open wide; it looked like I could get my little finger into it without touching the edge! This drove me out of my mind; I was so excited I could barely keep track of what I was doing. Finally I couldn't handle any more at all: without warning, I spread his cheeks wide with both hands and did my best to stick my tongue all the way up his ass.
He almost screamed with pleasure--it was enough that I felt around in front of his cock to see if he'd shot--he hadn't. His asscrack squeezed tightly and I had to stop until he relaxed; I decided to take a less gonzo approach and began to gently lick around the perimeter of his asshole, all the while stroking the inside of one thigh gently with the fingers of one hand. After a short while I was able to lick around his hole without difficulty, and he encouraged me: after a few moments of this he reached around and spread his buns wider than I had and gave himself to me.... For the first time in my life I was able to find the mineral oil without breaking the flow....
My dick slid all the way up his ass the first time ... and he screamed and did come....
... darkness and warmth and content ...
... shaking bed ...
... more warmth behind me ...
... and a stereofucking morning ...
EPILOGUE
The next few hours are a bit of a blur. I do know I fucked him precisely three times--he'll brag about this on occasion ("Hey, this old fart can really hump!"---little smartass!) and cite that number specifically--but there are only random flashes of the rest of that night--and, for that matter, most of the next day....
I found later that the two had been fucking each other for about six months (although the balance was about 80/20 Steve fucking Howie), and that it was Steve's spur-of-the-moment desire to get high (and equally-sudden desire to get his rocks off) that started what has turned out to be a four-year affair.
The boys still live in the canyon and Steve still hangs out at the shopping center ... and Howie is in college--aimtobe a pofessional oboist; it turns out most of his family are symphony orchestra musicians and he has quite a knack for it; plays well enough now to join some other student friends; nice to be able to hear live music free. I see a lot more of Howie; Steve has gone off into his own trip with little girlies and seems less interested in guys of late--either Howie or me ... I think he still hustles, but I'm not sure. Whatever, it's been something like four or five months since we had a three-way ....
But there's scarcely a weekend Howie's not with me.