Ups and Downs
By: Brock Archer
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

barcher@tickiestories.us

Chapter 33
The Proposition

“I’m sure that Ron and Kim will be happy to help you pack your things,” said Woody. I was stunned.

“What? Now? But where will I go?”

“There is one place,” said Woody.

“Oh, and where is that? Back on the streets where you found me?” I snapped. I was beginning to turn from stunned to pissed off. I mean, I had done a good job. At least I thought I had. And Mr. Block seemed to like me. Most of the time I even thought Woody liked me. But this?

“No, I was thinking of someplace closer.”

“Yeah, and where might that be?” I asked almost defiantly.

As he often did, Woody answered only with a gesture. He nodded toward his bedroom.

“Now you’re just being cruel.” I sneered.

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to live with me?”

“Live with you?”

“Isn’t that what lovers usually do?”

“Lovers?”

“Joe,” he said, shuffling ever closer to me and taking my hands into his. “I’ve been in love with you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I just resisted because of that damn rule, but I can’t hold back any longer. I want you.” And with that, he pulled me into a very tight embrace and kissed me like I had never been kissed before.

“Oh, Woody. I love you too, but I thought it could never be,” I stammered with tears of joy running down my face. “I thought you and Tyler—"

“And I thought Tyler and you….”

“I do like Tyler,” I admitted. “A lot. But…what are we going to do about him?”

“Actually, why should either of us have to choose? Why can’t it be the three of us? I believe they call it a throuple.”

“Uh…do you think Tyler would go for something like that?”

“Why don’t we ask him?” said Woody, leading me into his bedroom, where we found Tyler lying stark naked on Woody’s king-size bed.

“It took you long enough,” he said. “For a minute there I thought you were dumping both of us.”

“Humping both of you maybe. Definitely not dumping.”

“Why don’t you come over here and give me your answer to our proposition?” Tyler asked, patting the space on the mattress beside him.

I practically flew to the bed and flung myself next to Tyler, then turned to face him, burying my tongue in his receptive mouth. We wrestled with our tongue and our bodies for several minutes, rolling over again and again—him on top, me on bottom, me on top, him on bottom, back and forth. Tyler pulled my shirt off, and I dropped my shoes, pants, and underwear. With both of us now completely naked, we continued deep kissing and rolling on and off of each other for several more minutes until I looked over and saw Woody sitting in his lounge chair watching us.

“Come join us, Woody. There’s room for all three of us up here,” I coIaxed.

“I’ll join you in a minute. Right now, I’m just enjoying watching the two most beautiful men in the world make love to each other. It’s an awesome sight.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” snapped Tyler, and when he looked at me, I knew what he intended. Tyler and I jumped off the bed simultaneously, ran over to Woody, pulled him up from the chair, and stripped him naked, occasionally pausing only to lick his tongue or a nipple. Once we got him completely naked, we pulled him over to the bed, pushed him backwards, and dove in after him, Tyler working one side of Woody and I working the other. Converging on his delicious lips, Tyler and I met in a succulent three-way kiss.

We gave Woody a complete-body tongue bath, top to bottom, front to back. At his crotch, we converged again, taking turns swallowing his cock, licking his balls, and occasionally meeting in the middle to kiss with his dick between our lips. Tyler seemed especially pleased to eat Woody’s ass, but I preferred to focus on his cock; I wanted to get it good and hard for him to bury it deep inside me.

Before that, though, Woody wrestled Tyler into the middle, and Woody and I worked Tyler over just as thoroughly. Once that was done, it was my turn: my two most favorite men in the whole wide world gave me the royal treatment. Woody was wrong. He hadn’t been looking at the two most beautiful men in the universe; I was. And they weren’t just having sex with me; they were making love to me, and I was in heaven.

“Take me, Woody,” I pleaded. “I want you inside me so badly; I need you.” Tyler had made love to me before, and I had comforted Woody sexually on that one occasion, but I had longed for months to have Woody put his gorgeous cock inside me.

As Woody positioned himself between my legs, Tyler stuffed pillows under my butt to raise my hole for Woody’s inspection. The two of them prepped my rose bud with their tongues, licking, probing, and occasionally kissing each other to share my juices. As much as I loved that, I was desperate for Woody’s cock. “Please, Woody. Now! Take me!”

Tyler gave Woody’s cock one last saliva dip before Woody introduced his rock-hard pole to my anus. At first, Woody moved slowly, lovingly, inserting his penis gradually. Of course, it hurt a little at first, but it was definitely worth it. That pain quickly turned to pleasure as he edged his manhood deeper and deeper through my rectum toward my pancreas.

“Oh, Woody. I love you so much. Give me all of you. Give me all you’ve got.”

So, he picked up the speed and the pressure, pounding my ass good and hard while Tyler held my hand and kissed me. My own dick was just as hard as Woody’s, and occasionally Tyler would lean in and suck the tip of my rod. The combined pleasure of my dick and my ass drove me wild, especially since both assault weapons were wielded by my two lovers.

Woody possessed plenty of stamina and was able to hold out for a very long time, though it seemed like only minutes before I started to feel his dick pulsate with energy, lust, and passion. When he ultimately released his pent-up juices deep into my guts, I swear I could feel the bursts of jizz splatter against my prostate. Finally, Woody had planted his seed in me. He had claimed me as his, and I was delighted beyond belief.

Woody collapsed beside me, and when his juices oozed out of my hole, Tyler licked them up and brought them to Woody and me. He snowballed the white substance into our open mouths, and we kissed, exchanging the pudding between the two of us and eventually the three of us. It was far more than mere snowballing and cum-swapping, though. It was the sharing of a seed in a sacred binding ritual, one that would be repeated multiple times among us—Woody’s seed, Tyler’s seed, and my seed—sometimes one compound, sometimes two, and sometimes all three.

“My turn,” Tyler declared after a brief respite. Though his dick was already hard as steel, he shoved it into my mouth and then Woody’s, getting it fully prepared for the plunge. Unlike Woody, Tyler did not bother with other preliminaries. He just aimed straight for my hole and stabbed hard. I had already experienced Tyler’s passion, but never quite like this. Perhaps it was because our love for each other was now confirmed.

Though he fucked fast and hard, the pounding was more than lustful; it was also full of love, and when he came inside me, I again felt the bonding of our bodies, our juices, and our souls. Woody had already claimed me as his, and now Tyler had done the same. I belonged to both of them, but they also belonged to me equally, and before the day was done, I got to make love to each of them. The circle was now complete, but it was not over. The ritual would be repeated again and again every day that we were together.

In subsequent sessions, we would each experience both of the others’ manhood and seed sequentially and simultaneously. I loved nothing more than having both of their penises inside me at the same time, planting their combined seed in me and then sharing that seed with me in blissful kisses.

Through the next week we would make love multiple times each day, taking breaks only to fulfill our normal responsibilities and to help Kim with preparations for the big New Year’s Eve party.

“Where’s Tyler,” I asked the afternoon before the party.

“He ran to the airport to pick up someone.”

“Oh, anybody I know?”

But before he could answer, I heard a familiar voice calling to me from the foyer. “Joe, where the fuck are you?” I turned to be shocked by the sight of someone I did recognize but never thought I would ever see again. It was Joey, the kid I got caught with in Flat Rock Park in Columbus.

“Joey! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m glad to see you too, dipshit.”

“I…I’m sorry. I’m thrilled to see you. I just didn’t expect—”

“Since you no longer work here,” interjected Woody, “we had to hire somebody to replace you, and it just so happens that Joey was available.”

“But how…when—”

“Remember when we left New York and Rafael stayed behind to do something for Mr. Block? Well, that something was to go down to Columbus and check Joey out to see if he would be a good fit here, and we decided that he would be fantastic.”

“Much better than you have been,” Tyler jabbed.

“So, are you just gonna stand there, or are you going to welcome me?”

Before I could answer, though, Joey threw himself at me and nearly squeezed the life out of me. I didn’t think he would ever speak to me again after I screwed up his sexual initiation…twice.

I had already moved my things into Woody’s room, so I spent the afternoon catching up with Joey and helping him get settled into my old room upstairs, but with the New Year’s Eve party just hours away, we put Joey to work right away. I didn’t know if Joey had ever gotten bred, but if he hadn’t, he certainly did at the party. I swear, he would meet some guy, shake hands, and immediately turn around and drop his pants. It was delightful to see him having so much fun, and I knew he would fit in perfectly at the Block estate. Or was it still the Block estate?

Joey wasn’t the only one having a great time, of course. Everyone was. Tyler and I got hit on a lot, but we politely declined all offers. Woody, Tyler, and I had not committed to a closed relationship, but neither of us felt the need to go outside of our triangle. We had all the loving we could ever need or want, and there was just no desire to stray. Occasionally, we would bring another guy into our circle for a little variety, but we always did it as a foursome, never individually without our partners. The three of us brought in the new year with a bang, but so did everyone else at the estate that night.

On New Year’s Day, Woody asked Tyler and me to join him in his office. “Since we are now a throuple,” he began, “there is something I feel I must share with you, something that only two or three other people know, but I feel that you have a right to know.”

Tyler and I exchanged puzzled looks as Woody continued. “As you both know, Brock Archer was very secretive about his identity, and I am not talking about Arthur Block. Art was not Brock Archer. Brock Archer is still alive, still writing, and still painting and probably will be for quite a few more years.”

Tyler must have had a thousand questions, as did I, but we were both too stunned to speak, so Woody continued.

“The real Brock Archer and Arthur were very close, so Brock asked Art to assume his identity when needed. Art was a wealthy man in his own right, owning the penthouse overlooking the park, but Brock was—and is—much, much richer from his books, paintings, and movie rights. He is the one who actually owns this house and everything associated with it. Art had a passion for helping young gay men, and, of course, Brock supported that work, so Brock agreed to finance all of Arthur’s philanthropy. It was a mutually satisfying relationship.

“Arthur’s passing was devastating to Brock, but he is coping very well, and now it is up to the three of us to carry on Arthur’s work and his legacy.”

“The three of us?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” replied Woody. “We’re a team now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied. “I’m more than willing to do my share. I just don’t know if I’m ready for this kind of responsibility.”

“Oh, you’re ready,” Woody insisted. “Trust me. You are very ready, and we have each other to lean on when we need extra help.”

“So,” asked Tyler. “Are you going to tell us who the real Brock Archer is?”

Characteristically, Woody did not say a word. He just laced his fingers behind his head, leaned back in the leather executive chair, propped his feet up on the hand-carved desk, and cracked that miniscule impish smile that we had all come to know and love.

The End.

Posted: 01/27/2023