Acts of the Apostles

For the outward appearance of exemplary Christian conduct — I mean, let’s face it: Jamie and I had everyone fooled — as well for our college acceptances, we were granted an extra overnight off campus, and my mother reluctantly agreed to let us encamp in Southampton. On a whim, and with Jamie’s approval, I also called Brett fully expecting him to decline my invitation to join us, but he readily accepted! (Had he broken up with Talia?)

Encumbered only by toothbrushes, Jamie and I caught the early train down to his hometown, where his older sister met us at the station in overcast drizzle. We took her home, endured a bunch of questions from Jamie’s parents then drove the robin’s-egg Corvair farther south to pick up Brett. Like an eloping bride I snuggled against Jamie the whole way, my left hand playing with his long flaxen hair, my right wedged warmly between his thighs as we sang along with the radio.

Pulling into Brett’s driveway I beeped Jamie’s horn. Brett emerged from the front door in faded jeans, his shaggy dark brown hair flopping over the collar of his worn flannel shirt as he jogged toward us. Under his breath Jamie said, “no way.”

“What?” I asked.

He answered in a trance: “I like what I see.”

Before I could object, Brett pulled open the car door. “Hey guys,” he said, climbing in close beside me, stunning me with his hooded bronze eyes before reaching across to shake hands with Jamie. I was momentarily distracted by a whiff of musk.

“You two have heard about each other,” I managed to say.

Following my directions Jamie drove us through light rain over the Whitestone out along the Expressway, the whole island covered by the Atlantic’s mild misty blanket of saturated salty air. Like an electrical conduit between opposing poles, I discreetly and daringly slipped my left hand inside Jamie’s thigh and my right inside Brett’s, hoping they would feel the connection and like each other or at least get along for twenty-four hours.

Collectively aroused, we stopped mid-afternoon for a late lunch at the old landmark diner, a large chrome whale with wide, flat, upraised fluke, and a long row of portholes below tubular purple-neon lights: Moby Dick’s.

“So, how’s Talia?” I asked Brett, again sitting between my friends at the counter, facing a hungry grill in the off-season restaurant haunted by a few locals.

“Fuck her,” he whispered.

“No thanks,” I said. “She’s all yours.”

“Not any more she’s not,” he said.

“Good,” I said hopefully, turning to Jamie, who was scanning and flipping metallic pages in the glass-enclosed counter-top juke box.

“Brett’s available,” I whispered.

Jamie’s blue-green eyes questioned me: was I offering — or withdrawing — something precious?

“So, you two fool around after lights out,” Brett said across me to Jamie. (Had my roommate detected my original boyfriend’s jealous accusation?)

Jamie only smiled shyly. “Yeah,” he admitted, looking down; “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months.”

I laughed loudly enough to compensate for Brett’s possessive silence. Still smiling, Jamie dropped a quarter into the slot of the juke box then pushed some buttons for a bevy of pop songs.

Full of burgers, French fries, milkshakes and mints, we continued down buckled blacktop through dwarf pine toward the bay. A sandy dirt road past budding scrub oak and dormant honeysuckle delivered us to the crescent of three vacant, brown-shingled old cottages that semi-circled a small beach and simple dock.

(I could almost see myself, a tanned, skinny young boy with sun-bleached platinum crew cut running full-speed to the end of the dock plunging into the water like a cannonball.)

Jamie parked privately between cottage and woods. We all got out stretching limbs in the rain. I opened the screen door to the porch and lifted the house key off a nail.

The living room my friends followed me into was dank and dark, husks of dead insects scattered around on wood floor and oval rug; half-burnt logs in the fireplace spotted by bird droppings; stale, musty air tinged by mothballs from upstairs bedrooms. Old pine furniture and shelves of paperbacks nobody ever read all seemed frozen in place and time; the cottage hadn’t been used or even unlocked since my father had given up the ghost.

“Cool,” Jamie said.

“Very cool,” Brett corrected him.

“Look around,” I suggested; “I’ll build a fire.” But we didn’t have much time together. Aching with prolonged arousal, I impulsively broke the ice in one fell swoop. “There’s only one rule here,” I announced: “inside, you can’t wear pants.”

“We’ll freeze!” Jamie blurted, strolling into the kitchen.

“What about outside?” Brett asked. We all laughed nervously. Taking the initiative, I kicked off my loafers, unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned, unzipped, pushed down and stepped out of my navy shorts then my underwear. (Brett had never seen my bare buttocks.) Self-consciously primed I approached the fireplace as he tentatively climbed the open stairs behind me.

When Jamie returned to the living room where I was kneeling to wad newspaper (and to hide my erection), he was wearing only his olive sweatshirt and was, as usual, provocatively engorged. Mindful of the intruder upstairs, I stood casually to hug my roommate for mutual reassurance, two hard touchy muscles mingling coincidentally.

The top stair creaked. Barefoot, naked from the waist down, Brett slowly descended into view sporting a tensely bobbing erection.

“Oh my,” Jamie said.

“Oh yes,” I thought.

Smiling shamelessly, his flannel shirt unbuttoned to show off a meager little patch of dark hair at the sternum, Brett walked his nodding erection right up to us, joining our welcoming embrace, all three of us eagerly looking down at an impromptu convocation of upstanding cocks.

I thought I might faint, completely overcome with joy, excitement, validation and urgent sexual energy raw as the weather. The fire would have to wait as I struggled to breathe, and to process all that was happening.

“I’ll see what’s to drink,” I said breathlessly, backing away.

Brett and Jamie paired off, placing hands on each other like self-conscious kids learning to dance, their own erections now mingling coincidentally. To my relief, my friends murmured indistinctly as I left the room.

In the kitchen, fully erect, I had to lean against the counter for a few seconds, simply gazing out in disbelief over asphalt-gray water anticipating the myriad orgasmic outcomes and ejaculatory upshots we were about to share.

It would be, after all, my first threesome, with the two boys I loved boundlessly, only I didn’t know exactly how to proceed. Regaining my composure, I filled the kettle, gathering mugs, spoons and instant coffee to warm us up even further.

Smiling sheepishly, Jamie entered from the dining room, pulled out a chair and sat facing me beside the kitchen table, ostensibly unaware of his imperious hard-on standing straight up, a Shinnecock totem pole adorned at the tip with a single clear bead.

Winking at him I returned to my task.

Across the bay, barely audible sea gulls were crying with abandon when Brett crept up from behind, wrapping his strong arms around me for the very first time. I inhaled deeply, whispering, “oh, Brett,” as my gay heart swelled way beyond normal. He prodded my bare buttocks, his open mouth nuzzling the side of my neck. A cold right hand slid up inside my pullover to rub my undulating belly while the left discovered, explored and claimed my waiting erection for the very first time.

Helpless, breathless, I dropped my spoon into one of the ceramic mugs with a tinkle. Smiling at us, Jamie absently fondled Big Cock as he watched Brett and me writhe.

The kettle began whistling. Brett’s left hand steadily jerked my shaft as he bumped intrusively against my butt. Huffing, I turned off the gas, concentrating with unsteady hands to fill and stir all three mugs, dropping the spoon, replacing the kettle as the index finger and thumb of Brett’s right hand located and pinched my nipples.

Overheated by the friction our greedy bodies were generating, I yanked my pullover up and off. Then Jamie stood, pulled off his sweatshirt and with waggling erection stepped to fetch his coffee, but first steadied his cock to slide its oily cap against my own, which Brett squeezed and pointed, blending pre-ejaculates.

When Jamie backed away one step, the clear thread between our penises broke, clinging like a spider web to my inner thigh. Grinning, Jamie looked up at me, but I could only grimace, already at the precipice of an orgasm. Brett resumed breathing into my ear as the expert piston action of his loose fist ignited my sparkling nerves. “Oh fuck,” I warned.

Arm extended, Jamie positioned his coffee mug as Brett pumped. Haphazardly I spurted a gummy noodle right over Jamie’s mug onto his upper thigh, squirting more strands into and onto the rim of his mug, the floor, again into Jamie’s mug, which he lowered, catching the final drooping gobs of semen Brett milked from my cock.

Palsied by minor mid-section contractions, I caught my breath amid reverential indoor silence, the cries of distant gulls. When Brett finally released my spent erection, it sprung halfway up. He smeared a gob of sperm right across my open mouth. I licked my lips, swallowing. Brett’s right hand slid down, cupping my scrotum, gently squeezing.

No longer watching us, with both hands Jamie carefully sipped hot, tainted coffee, apparently talking only to himself. “Just the way I like it.”

Brett and I laughed. Then my naked roommate turned, stepping to the picture window, gazing out over the neglected yard, a narrow beach, an upside down white Sunfish, the weathered dock, the wide bay, all of it barely visible in the gloom — I swear all I could see were Jamie’s pale, perfect buttocks. Brett loosened his arms, releasing me. I turned, glancing down at his familiar erection and nicely trimmed hair. “I know that cock,” I thought.

Brett crossed the kitchen to hug Jamie from behind. Jamie placed his mug on the table. Reaching back, he slipped both hands under Brett’s shirt tails to cup and squeeze his buttocks. Brett turned Jamie by the arms, Big Cock bobbing, reflecting dimly against dark glass. Brett pulled a chair closer to the window, placed his right hand against Jamie’s belly, his left against Jamie’s upper back and pushed him over slightly.

“Pull your leg up,” Brett said. My original boyfriend was once again jumping ahead of me sexually as he positioned my roommate for something Jamie and I, even at eighteen still had not attempted.

Jamie lifted his right knee onto the chair, bending further from the waist, palms down on table. Brett inserted his cock between the swells of Jamie’s exposed crevice, pressing forward then pausing to look at me.

“It’s too dry,” he said. I was now his accomplice.

“Here,” I said, “let me help.”

I ran the tap, wet my hand with warm water, squeezed a few drops of soap onto my fingers and crossed the kitchen. Brett stood back to present his rigid shaft and swollen cap, all of which I lubricated with soapy water. I slid my hand deeply between Jamie’s buttocks then watched as Brett stepped closer, again pointing his cock, slowly stuffing the bulbous glans into Jamie’s puckered anus.

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My roommate groaned, inhaled, held his breath. Incredulous, Brett glanced at me then placed both hands on Jamie’s buttocks, gradually inserting his whole shaft. Jamie blew air, putting his head down on folded arms as Brett slowly pushed in and pulled out, the prominent vein along the top of his shaft barely visible in the dark.

My own distended penis was again filling with blood simply from the sight of Brett’s hard cock disappearing into and reappearing from within Jamie’s widely stretched orifice as tiny soap bubbles blossomed, clustering in Brett’s dark brown pubic hair.

Jamie whimpered rhythmically with Brett’s every thrust. To mitigate my roommate’s discomfort I placed my right hand on his lower back. With my left, I fondled and stroked his persistent erection.

He looked up at me bravely. But when Brett slapped his right buttock Jamie dropped his head.

Brett’s thrusting accelerated. Jamie’s coffee spilled, the whole table rocked. Like a hapless bitch taken from behind, Jamie raised his head, craning around to identify his assailant, but the ambient light had almost completely failed. He dropped his head again.

Thrusting, grunting, Brett frantically clapped both buttocks pulling Jamie’s ass up tight, Jamie crying out, his coffee spilling. Gulping air, Brett pulled back thrusting hard again. Jamie cried out again, more coffee spilling. With a light touch I consoled Big Cock, still hard, pointing down.

Blissfully Brett closed his eyes, tipping his head back slowly pumping Jamie’s ass. Then, fully inserted, he looked right at me as if he couldn’t believe where he had just ejaculated. Equally amazed, I could only stare back at him.

Gradually catching his breath, he finally withdrew slick hard muscle from Jamie’s inflamed, dilated anus, which clenched, drooling semen onto the rounded protruding base of his scrotum. Brett squeezed a final gob of sperm onto the pale skin inside Jamie’s buttock then released his accomplished cock.

Jamie turned, collapsing onto the chair. He looked directly at Brett’s erection, forgivingly, even lovingly petting it. Still recovering, Brett playfully mussed Jamie’s hair.

Dumbfounded, I returned to the sink, pulling paper towels from the roll. Brett stepped around me, wetting his hand, dripping water onto his stubborn erection, which I gently dabbed dry.

“Was that your first piece of ass?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I tended like a medic to Brett’s bruised cock.

“Yeah?” he asked defensively, watching my hand.

“How was it?” Jamie asked, waggling Big Cock in the near dark. Brett and I looked up.

“It was sweet,” he answered.

Jamie smiled, to my relief. “I need paper towels,” he said; “my butt’s leaking.”

I tore off more towels, which Jamie stuffed under his ass. Wiping spilled coffee I noticed Brett’s distended penis finally tipping diagonally. Inexplicably he pulled off his shirt, bunching it between his hands stepping naked behind me toward Jamie, dropping his shirt on the floor, kneeling. Proud of him to realize his intention, I turned around better to watch the proceedings, my own cock very hard again, demanding at least a few encouraging strokes.

Brett pinched slowly up the shaft of Jamie’s long, thick erection, which had been hard so long it spilled a tiny thimble of pre-ejaculate. Tilting the erection to his mouth he licked the oil. Swallowing, he then looked up at me quizzically, as if registering for the first time my roommate’s unusually generous endowment, which made Brett’s hand appear smaller.

“Wow,” he whispered.

More than willing to share the wealth, I smiled back at Brett, who again faced Jamie’s remarkable cock. He pursed his lips gently to kiss and taste the oily tip of swollen ovate bulb. Swallowing, he looked at me again like a little boy holding a surprise birthday present then lowered his head, opened his mouth wide and began sliding lips and tongue up and down over the top third of Jamie’s erection.

Amazed, Jamie looked up at me, opening his mouth to breathe, slowly blinking his eyes, rolling his head around as Brett steadily bobbed for apples. I smiled back at Jamie despite my own pang of jealousy — Brett had never returned my Thanksgiving blowjob, and here he was all too ambitiously going down on my roommate, whom he’d just met.

Stepping closer, I pried Jamie’s left leg wider open kneeling on cold linoleum to join Brett’s pagan worship. A patient parishioner, I waited for my hometown boyfriend to pause. Smiling at him as he pulled up sloppily catching his breath, I tipped Jamie’s erection toward me proprietarily, licking slowly up the warm moist marbled stem. Brett stuck out his tongue joining my slower rhythm, which I knew Jamie favored.

Salivating, Brett and I together licked the scalloped skin of Jamie’s sac, his smooth hard shaft, his bulbous orchid glans. Our slick dueling tongues kept touching as we indulged in my roommate’s irresistible anatomy; as if by accident, we stole and shared several open-mouth first kisses beside the indomitable erection, a potent symbol for, a silent witness to and a towering testament of Brett’s and my earliest, earthiest attraction, rediscovered and redeemed.

Preemptively I tipped Big Cock to my mouth, opening wide to show Brett my highly refined, slow-motion labial stimulation of Jamie’s velvety corona. But when I paused for air, Brett reclaimed the erection like an eager young student, applying his own luxurious sucking as I knelt back on my heels to watch.

Jamie slapped one hand onto Brett’s head. Not missing a beat, Brett groped for the other hand guiding them both to cover his ears so Jamie could control the rhythm of Brett’s drooling mouth. The rhythm quickened. Jamie began huffing. “It’s coming,” he whispered, drawing breath, clamping down Brett’s deaf mouth, looking wide-eyed at me.

Brett hummed with startled satisfaction, his mouth obviously clogging with tepid, gooey sperm I could almost taste. But he suddenly pulled his head up, a trailing spurt of semen bisecting his chin: Jamie’s big ripe cock was still spitting. As Brett swallowed and gulped air, I reached quickly for my roommate’s pulsating muscle, squeezing it to stripe Brett’s hairy sternum, depleting yet another of Jamie’s copious ejaculations. He moaned gratefully, exhaling a long sigh. Then as I proudly held the big, slick, spent erection, I placed my other hand on the back of Brett’s neck.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Panting, Brett fingered the strand of semen from his chin back into his mouth, swallowed, licked his lips and looked at me, grinning victoriously.

“Of course!” he insisted, just beginning to catch his breath. “Man, did I take a mouthful.”

“Tell me about it,” I said smugly, waggling with aplomb Jamie’s superior cock. To my delight, Brett leaned forward to the side, licked, sipped and swallowed the opaque noodle of my melting semen from Jamie’s thigh then turned and again looked right at me.

“Just the way I like it,” he said. We all laughed. Jamie dutifully rubbed the webs of his ejaculate into Brett’s chest. Inside and out, it was almost completely dark. Each of us had ejaculated, one way or another, so for the moment, the score was tied.

“How ’bout we go swimming?” I suggested. Having caught his breath, Brett stood first, partially erect. Then Jamie stood, his big cock still grossly inflated but ebbing. First pivoting left and right to kiss both plump members, I was last to stand, displaying a fresh erection that wasn’t about to soften. Spontaneously my friends and I huddled, smiling down at handsome penises in various phases of arousal and recovery.

“Come on,” I said, pulling away. I led my naked posse quickly back through the living room and front porch out into chilly rain on the lawn.

“How deep is it out there?” Brett asked. Before I could answer he took off running across grass then sand.

“Only eight or ten feet,” I called. “Jump, don’t dive!”

Like a dark, naked halfback with churning legs, pale, compact buttocks and pumping arms, Brett whooped as his feet slapped the horizontal planks of the dock from the end of which he launched himself screaming like a banshee into a big phosphorescent splash.

I turned to Jamie patting his bottom.

“You’re next,” I said.

He took off running, his lovely pale buttocks joggling away from me. At the end of the dock he leaped yelling “Geronimo!” displacing an exploding inner tube of foamy water. I could hear but couldn’t see Brett and Jamie laughing and frolicking.
“Giovanni!” Brett called to me, “get your cute ass in here!” (So, he had noticed my bare buttocks.) Beaming, I jogged out along the dock to the very end, where I paused.

“It’s warmer in here than out there,” Jamie said below me, his teeth chattering as he fanned submerged wavering arms forward and backward. Shivering, I pivoted right and left to fashion an aroused profile in the dark.

“Show-off,” Brett said, spouting water.

I raised my hands beside my mouth. “But I’m in love!” I shouted across the bay then cupped my testicles, jumping up crashing down between Jamie and Brett.

Laughing, splashing, treading water we pawed bodies slippery as seals. I rolled onto my back only to find that my indefatigable erection had in fact already vanished. The buoyant water, lightly pockmarked by rain, was cold as hell!

“Hot sh-showers inside,” I playfully stammered.

Jamie and Brett exaggerated their grasping lunge for the wooden ladder. All three of us laughing, Jamie tried to climb up first, but Brett reached with one arm circling his waist pulling him back down into the water. Brett then scrambled up and out running back down the dock as Jamie and I clung to the ladder and each other.

“Are we having fun?” I asked. He smiled kissing my mouth with salty lips and tongue.

“‘Giovanni?'” he asked, blinking.

“That’s what he calls me,” I shrugged.

As Jamie climbed out I spanked his pale buttocks. Like a colt he took off running full-speed. I pulled myself up, jogging after him.

Jamie and Brett were hugging, shivering on the porch, but they opened their intimate embrace to envelop me. We wrapped arms around each other’s chilled shoulders, looking down.

Our genitals had shrunken but gradually, as we squirmed in a huddle, our skin warmed and our bodies relaxed, all three penises simultaneously swelling, rising, pointing and waggling, much to our edification.

“Upstairs!” I breathlessly commanded.

We scampered inside back through the living room upstairs to the bathroom. I flipped on the light, bending over to turn faucets in the tub.

A pair of hands grabbed the sides of my buttocks from behind and a swollen cap and very firm shaft daringly probed between my upper thighs and buttocks.

I assumed it was Brett seeking his second consecutive piece of ass, but when I glanced around I found Jamie smiling impishly at me as he continued gently to thrust.

I widened my stance to allow Big Cock between my buttocks, but quickly realized I was just too shy to let my roommate actually fuck me then and there, for the first time, in front of Brett, who was watching, especially given the intimidating size of Jamie’s perennial erection.

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Having adjusted the water, I turned on the shower and stood, disengaging from Jamie’s cock as I climbed into the tub. Jamie and Brett stepped in, crowding our standing room. I pulled the shower curtain across.

Again we all hugged, exchanging languorous kisses, rotating through hot water, lathering, rinsing as skin further warmed and reddened, all three gleaming erections instinctively maintaining full fruition. We squirmed wriggling against each other, various hands gravitating to one another’s flesh. But after a few more minutes, the hot water began cooling. I turned off the faucets and we just stood there dripping, breathlessly gazing at and caressing fully aroused bodies.

Finally Jamie pulled open the shower curtain and we carefully stepped out. Brett reached for towels from the shelf above the commode. Muttering, joking self-consciously, we anxiously dried each other front and back, head to toe, pausing to savor one another’s preliminary emissions.

Jamie’s big handsome erection was so dramatically engorged it practically stole the air show, a long-range bomber fully loaded, flying level, Brett’s erection a more agile fighter jet climbing.

“Oh fuck,” I surrendered as both friends fondled my very hard cock and baggy scrotum. But the cold salt water also had stimulated my appetite. “Come on,” I begged; “let’s eat first?”

I led a naked parade back downstairs to the dark chilly kitchen switching on the light. We all donned our shirts.

Like caged animals on full alert we moved self-consciously around the kitchen with potent erections. I poured out the abandoned coffee mugs then scavenged a can of tomato soup, bowls, spoons, glasses and the hidden gallon jug of my mother’s hurricane burgundy. As I heated and ladled the soup Brett poured the wine.

We sat at three sides of the kitchen table. Raising my glass, I spoke in mock priestly devotion: “In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti?”

Like acolytes, Jamie and Brett answered in solemn Gregorian unison, “Ah-men.” Laughing devilishly, we clinked glasses. Impatient with unendurable lust, we hurriedly sipped hot soup, soothing scorched tongues with room-temperature wine.

Pushing back from the table we stood smiling to reveal stubbornly swollen penises, a tiny web of pre-ejaculate dangling from each. We gathered the webs on the backs of our hands, which we extended to each other for an oily little taste. Then Jamie refilled the wine glasses.

“Now I’ll build that fire,” I said, flicking off the light. Three horny, punch-drunk revelers joyfully prodding each other, we shuffled blindly into the living room.

As I brought in an armful of split logs from outside, before I killed it the porch light dimly illuminated Brett and Jamie cuddling on the oval rug, kissing each other’s parted lips, stroking each other’s ripe erection. Gratified, I placed my logs, lit crumpled newspaper and backed up to complete a smoldering love triangle.

Flickering in fire light, Brett leaned back on one elbow, raising his hips rolling to his side carefully dipping his glans into his wine glass. Jamie bent down to lick the shining purple cap of a dark cock.

Amber orange flames pawed us warmer. Overheating so close to the fire, we removed our shirts and placed wine glasses out of harm’s way for the inevitable: Jamie bent down again eagerly to guide Brett’s erection into his mouth. I leaned back for my roommate’s big hard cock, and Brett shifted his weight around to suck me off for the very first time. As the wet logs hissed, we all moaned, grunted and slurped in rude syncopation, each mouth stuffed full of another’s hard phallus.

Urgently humming, I ejaculated pneumatically into Brett’s mouth as he pumped my shaft. I accelerated my own stretched lips around Jamie’s cock, which suddenly spurted tepid gobs onto the back of my tongue. What exquisite pleasure: momentarily I was a veritable closed loop of semen in, semen out.

Exclaiming deep in my throat, I swallowed, pulling back for air, kissing the familiar mushroom cap, licking a trickle of semen from the parted lips of a rosy meatus. Brett practically growled in his throat. I looked up. Jamie’s head froze as he hummed and hummed then pulled back swallowing, gasping, sucking again, pumping, pulling back, swallowing again, gasping.

“Hat trick,” I announced.

“Oh, fuck,” Brett panted, milking opaque residue from his erection.

“Man, did I take a mouthful,” Jamie chimed, his voice still thick with semen, making us all laugh. Recovering on the floor, we nursed spent cocks up against our mouths. As Jamie’s erection softened I playfully waggled it between my lips. Brett kissed and licked my glans pinching up remnant of ejaculate. Gradually we caught our breath caressing another’s distended penis.

Having each washed a tablespoon of semen down with wine, we stood stumbling and laughing out into cold drizzle pissing raggedly in the dark through flaccid, swollen members. Back inside I fetched blankets and pillows from upstairs. Then we pressed together spooning, giggling, hugging in a covered tangle of arms and legs dangerously close to the unguarded fireplace. For the time being we were sated. And after all the wine, soup, salt water and multiple ejaculations, we slept soundly while the fire burned down and out.

I woke to dreary underwater light seeping into the room, though the rain finally had stopped. “Damn,” I murmured, “we’ve gotta go.” My friends were slow to respond, but I got them up and moving. Aroused, we pissed out through porch screen, posed, reluctantly dressed and drank instant coffee. Brett borrowed Jamie’s toothbrush. I replaced blankets and pillows, hurriedly rinsed glasses, bowls, mugs and silverware, wiped a few waxy squiggles off the kitchen floor, replaced the jug of wine and poked the logs. When Jamie ducked outside to start his car Brett and I hugged.

“I’m really glad you came,” I whispered.

“I’m really glad you came in my mouth,” he quipped, tightening his arms around me. I kissed his smile. Still groggy, we vacated the cottage, which I locked up. Again I sat between my friends, but before he backed out, Jamie announced his own travel rules.

“Listen,” he said, “we’re not going anywhere until the cocks come out.” Horny as rhinos, Brett and I laughed arching our backs unbuttoning and unzipping our pants to extract hard muscle. Jamie did likewise. “And keep ’em out,” he added, like an impatient parent.

“No problem,” Brett insisted, as he and I proudly pointed, toggled and compared playmates, side by side.

Speeding along the Expressway in very light traffic, I was privileged to have the fingers of each hand simultaneously wrapped around two of my three favorite erections. With my right I established a steady rhythm and just the right degree of friction around the rim of Brett’s hard cock. He soon growled, lifting his pelvis, striping the glove box of Jamie’s car as I stroked him slowly, squeezing.

“That’s just great,” Jamie said, glancing over. Brett and I laughed. While I maintained an awkward, loose, left-handed jiggle around the rim of Big Cock, Brett expertly jerked his left hand to bring me efficiently to a surprisingly intense climax, my ejaculate spurting up uncontrollably onto the dashboard.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Jamie said, again. Out of breath, I could only gulp air as Brett laughed, squeezing and pumping me dry.

After both our spent erections lazily tipped aside, I wiped up the strands of my semen, twisting, reaching across with tainted right hand for Jamie’s neglected penis standing up stiffly between belly and steering wheel.

Slowing for the Whitestone toll booth, he rolled down his window, handing the middle-aged Puerto Rican woman a bill. Her indifference sagged to a disgusted frown when she noticed my hand steadily jerking the cute driver’s obscene hard-on.

We all burst out laughing as Jamie pulled away, and Brett leaned forward to watch when I triggered my roommate’s blistering ejaculation of sudden gummy spurts like vanilla icing all up and down the front of his olive sweatshirt.

“Oh that’s, that’s just great,” Brett and I scolded nearly in unison. Jamie’s relieved laughter caught up with our own. As I wiped my hand on Jamie’s shirt, Brett reached back for the box of salt water taffy from Moby Dick’s, the pungent aroma of Long Island Sound at low tide complementing our gooey seminal samples.

For miles and miles both my hands took turns fondling all three distended penises until Brett awkwardly had to repack as we neared his house. By then of course he was fully engorged again, leaking oil. But he would have to satisy that opportunity himself. He and Jamie shook hands. He squeezed my knee.

“I love you guys,” he said. Climbing out, he shut the door, jogging away from us, leaving Jamie and me temporarily speechless. I licked my thumb gratefully to taste my original boyfriend’s pre-ejaculate. Before he backed out Jamie tried to lift the semen stripes from his sweatshirt, but they’d already been partly absorbed.

“Why do they make this stuff so sticky?” he mumbled as the strands broke apart between his fingers. Sitting tightly against him, I could only laugh. Frustrated, he removed his sweatshirt, turning it inside out for the final leg of our jaunt. I used my bare hand to wipe up all obvious traces of errant semen, which I rubbed into my pullover.

Jamie’s sister rode shotgun with us to the station. She seemed to sniff the briny scent of recent ejaculations, but said nothing. Jamie and I waited impatiently for the north-bound train.

As we were in the very last seat in the car, with only a few other passengers sitting safely away from us, I discreetly unzipped Jamie’s pants, extracting his plump penis, stroking it hard then bending over him sucking and jerking him off to another ejaculation throughout which he pretended to cough. Swallowing, I raised my head licking my lips smiling at him. He gladly reciprocated, and I gummed his mouth with soft warm bullets of late afternoon semen.

Jumping down to the platform before the train even stopped, we had to jog all the way back up to campus. Bursting like outlaws into the lobby of the main building we breathlessly checked in with the stooped assistant headmaster, who lowered his glasses.

“Something wrong with your shirt?” he asked Jamie.

“No, sir,” Jamie said; “just a spill.”

We quickly turned away hiding our amusement hurrying from the lobby exploding in laughter running across the gravel parking lot over to our dorm.

The second bell had already sounded — we had just enough time to dress for chapel.

Updated: April 16, 2018 — 3:47 AM

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