Note:  I surrender the narrator role to Ronnie for this episode.  He would like to tell you the story of his life partnership–Charlie.

 

Charlie let me read his story of our Gang, and I begged him to let me tell you about Sharon, Kyle and me.  We are truly and madly in love with each other, and share our lives completely.  I know that threesomes aren’t supposed to work, but ours does, and I want to share that wonderful story with you.  And the best part of the story is that Sharon and Kyle are fully accepted by the Gang, as I knew they would be.  Well, I guess that I gave away the plot right from the beginning; I note that Charlie does the same thing throughout this story.  But I’m not trying to give you a surprise ending.  I simply want to tell you how love worked out in my life.  I think it’s a good story.  Charlie does too, or he wouldn’t let me have this chapter to tell it!

 

You know all about my adventures at Camp White Elk–both with the Gang and now with Hal every summer, my interest in physics, my lack of sexual interests, my adventure with Franklin, and my heading off to the University of Wisconsin after my junior year of high school.  I lived at home with my parents for the four years at UW, and I’m happy to say that I had, and have, a wonderful, open relationship with my parents, Frank and Adele.

 

As Charlie has told you, I’m not a virgin in the wilderness.  The Gang has seen to that several times.  But love and romance escaped me in high school and college, even though I spent quite a bit of time in college with the two that would eventually become my “true loves.”

 

I’m not going to tell this story chronologically.  Particle physicists know that time really doesn’t work that way anyway.  I want to start on an afternoon at the Center at Stanford, when Sharon, Kyle and I were working in a commandeered conference room.  Our of the blue Sharon looked up from her work, stared at both me and Kyle and asked, “Where do you two get sexual gratification.”

 

We were both startled, and then I said “Nowhere” while Kyle said, “We don’t.”

 

Sharon said, “Oh, yes you do!  All boys get some sort of sexual release.  If nothing else, wet dreams, well nocturnal emissions.”

 

Kyle looked embarrassed, but managed, “Are you asking if we masturbate?”

 

Sharon, not looking in the least embarrassed, said, “Do you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ronnie?”

 

“How did we get here?  We have never talked about sex, and all of a sudden Kyle is telling you that he masturbates.”

 

“That wasn’t exactly secret information.  Or did you really think that he didn’t?  You know he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and I don’t think that you and he are boyfriends.  Now, how about you?  The answer is, ‘Yes,’ of course, but are you willing to say it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“‘Yes’ you’re willing, or ‘Yes’ you jack-off.”

 

“I don’t believe this.  Yes, Yes.   Dammit.”

 

“Temper, temper.  Can I take this conversation a little further?”

 

“Can either of us stop you by saying ‘No’?”

 

“Of course.  Do you want to say ‘No’?”

 

“No.”

 

“‘No’ you don’t want to say ‘No’ or ‘No; don’t take the conversation further.”

 

“Sharon.  Oh, Hell.  Yes, you can go further.”

 

“Shall we have sex?”

 

Kyle chimed in, “That’s certainly further.”

 

“That isn’t an answer.”

 

I decided to give a little speech.  “Hold on.  I’ve told you about the Gang from the camp I attended in high school.”

 

“You still go there every summer, don’t you?”

 

“Yes.  But only one other boy from our Gang of eight goes there with me now.  But all of us keep in touch, and see each other regularly.  They’re a wonderful bunch.  And the relationship has a serious sexual tension about it.  There are gays and straights in the bunch, but I guess we all have a little sexual attraction for each other.  In any case, the Gang has a serious rule: If you can’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.  Or as Tim put it to his brother, ‘If you can’t talk about a girl’s cunt, you sure as Hell shouldn’t be sticking your dick, or anything else, into it.’”

 

Sharon said, “I think I’d like this Tim.”

 

“You would.  You know, you’ve seen his picture in the papers.  He’s the diver.”

 

“Tim of the Olympic gold medals?  That Tim?  You know him?”

 

“Best friends, except maybe for you two.”

 

“Why don’t I know this?”

 

“You didn’t ask.  And I have never wanted to trade on my friendship with Tim.  It’s too special.  Would you like to meet him?

 

“You’ve got to be kidding!  Who wouldn’t?”

 

Kyle jumped in with, “You’re full of surprises today Sharon.  First you’re talking about sex–not just about sex, but about having sex.  Now we learn you read the sports pages.”

 

“Stick it Kyle.”

 

“Where?”

 

“You figure it out.  You’re the nuclear scientist.”

 

“So are you.”

 

Sharon and Kyle wanted to know everything about Tim.  They had known that I went off in the summer for two weeks at my old camp with Hal.  And they knew that Hal had won an Olympic medal running the marathon.  And they had heard me talk about the Gang.  But most of the time we talked physics.  We had gotten together as physics majors at the University of Wisconsin.  We had had some extraordinary luck in a paper we wrote about quark theory; that had made somewhat of a name for the three of us.  On the strength of that article, and subsequent ones, we had all three headed out to Stanford together to become Ph.D.s.  We spent most of our time together, and Kyle and I were roommates.  Sharon often joined us in the evening, but it was always physics.  Now all of a sudden it was becoming more.  And we really didn’t know much about each other, except that we were all very smart, and very good physicists.

 

I said to Sharon, with an eye toward Kyle, “Come over for dinner at our apartment tonight and let’s tell each other our life stories.  I think that that should happen before sex.”

 

The questions started at dinner, and they were mostly directed at me.  They wanted to know about the Gang, about Tim, about Hal, and the more I answered their questions the more they wanted to know.  I think the whole story took over two hours; I was pretty vague about the sexual exploits of the Gang.

 

Their stories followed.  Kyle had grown up in Stevens Point, been lonely in school–the class nerd, had gotten straight A’s, a scholarship to Madison (he couldn’t have gone any other way), and left town after his senior year with a solid transcript, no friends, and no idea what the future would bring.  Except that he no longer stood out as a nerd, Madison hadn’t changed his life much. Kyle and I were lab partners in an advanced chemistry course our sophomore year. I was a year younger because I skipped my senior year of high school, but we became good friends–I think I was his first close friend.  But our relationship revolved around science and stayed off of the personal level.

 

Sharon’s background wasn’t much different.  She came from a working class family in Milwaukee.  If Kyle had been out of place in high school at “The Point” as a boy, Sharon had fared much worse in Milwaukee as a girl.  Madison was a breath of fresh air for her.  I met her our freshman year.  Our relationship never seemed to rise above science, but she seemed content with that.  Kyle’s joining us and making a little group of three pushed aside any thoughts of romance as there were always the three of us–Kyle, Sharon and me.  I think however, that Sharon went back and forth in her daydreams about which of us she wanted to have rape her, and decided that the best of all worlds would be if we grabbed her and took turns.  I learned that last bit quite recently!

 

The three of us hung around at my house in Madison a lot, and Kyle and Sharon got to know my parents, and vice-versa.  We all got along very well, and our love of science continued to bloom.  We did a joint senior physics project.  The newest thing in particle physics was quarks.  We didn’t have access to the massive, and massively expensive, equipment needed for actual experimentation relating to quarks.  Thus our  paper was essentially a theoretical model based on the little published data available as well as what we could learn by contacting researchers that hadn’t yet published.  It was interesting:  really top physicists, who wouldn’t have been willing to talk–prior to publication–to scientists of their own stature (it is a very competitive world) were willing to talk to these three undergraduates who had the pluck, or audacity, to go right to the top and ask questions.  In any case, the physics department at UW had been impressed with the paper, and our advisor had helped us get in published in a respected physics journal.  It turned out to be somewhat of a sensation, because in our innocence we had posited theoretical stuff that had yet to be confirmed in a laboratory.  The paper was our ticket to research fellowships at Stanford, where we were the junior members of the team at the Stanford Linear Accelerator Center (SLAC).  Charlie strongly suggested that I leave the science out of this story, because he thinks it will be over the heads of the readers of his story, on which I’m piggy-backing this episode.

 

So the three of us headed for Stanford, and a work schedule that was as demanding as Tim’s–except that it tended to prohibit, rather than encourage, physical exercise.  I still ran my mile every morning and some days I could get Kyle to come with me.  Sharon told us to flip off whenever we asked her to join us.  And life went on.  It was never dull, as SLAC was on the cutting edge of particle physics, and even though we were absolutely the junior members of the group, we were respected and included.  We were given a lot of credit, and I guess it was somewhat deserved.  Most important, we were allowed to co-author some of the publications, and having your name coupled with the top researchers in the world, in whatever way, is a massive resume enhancer.

 

Kyle and I roomed together in a little apartment.  Sharon had a roommate in another little apartment, but the girl wasn’t a physicist (girls/women in the advanced physical sciences were rare in the sixties).  Her roommate was a musician; luckily she played the organ, and couldn’t practice at home.  But they had little in common, though they seemed to get along well enough.  Not much happened in our personal lives until Sharon dropped her little bombshell, which in turn led to the dinner at which we all told our life stories.

 

But story time didn’t lead to an answer to Sharon’s original question, “Did we want to have sex?”  Well, yes, I guess we did, but with each other?  We still weren’t good at talking about it.  As we reached the end of biography time, and were stumbling around over whether to call it quits for the evening or try to talk about sex, I suggested:

 

“Look, I have an idea.  This weekend let’s go up to the big bad city of San Francisco, stay at a top hotel, talk about Sharon’s question, and if we are so inclined, do something about it.  No commitments going in.”

 

Kyle said, “I hate to be mundane, but if the three of us stay in a hotel, how we book the room says a lot about the expected outcome of the evening.”

 

Sharon added, “True, but let’s let our poor graduate student finances settle the rooming arrangements, and if we’re going to be prudes, we’ll just close our eyes as the others change.”

 

I said, and Kyle thought, “You clearly have made up your mind what you hope the answer to your question would be.”

 

“Ronnie, you don’t ask a question like, ‘Shall we have sex?’ unless you’re hoping for a ‘Yes’ answer.  Duh.”

 

“OK, but the deal is, ‘No commitments going in.’”

 

“Yes, Ronnie, as long as you tell me that you’re open to the idea, and haven’t closed your mind.”

 

“Hell, no, I haven’t closed my mind.  I’m all for it, but that comes with the qualification that we need to talk, quite a bit, and I’ll have to admit that there are answers to some of the questions that could lead me to say ‘No’ to the whole idea.”

 

“We understand.  How about you, Kyle?”

 

“My mind isn’t closed.  But I’m only starting to come to grips with all of the implications of this.  But, sure, let’s go to San Francisco–the Mark Hopkins, Friday night dinner at the Top of the Mark.  Oh, yeah, one condition.  No alcohol.  No way do I want to be making decisions about sex under any kind of influence, and I don’t want others to do that either.”

 

We agreed.  Both to the Mark Hopkins and to Prohibition.

 

Friday rolled around, and about 5:30 we set off in Kyle’s car to San Francisco.  I had made reservations for three in a double room with two queen size beds.  I was surprised that there weren’t any questions about the occupants–but it was 1969 and the sexual revolution had changed the American landscape forever.  We went up to the room, put our stuff away, and immediately faced the question of changing for dinner–the Top of the Mark was definitely a coat and tie establishment.  Sharon solved the problem: “Look, we’re going to talk first, right.  So you guys get out of here for half an hour.  Then you come back and dress–I’ll be gone, and I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour.”

 

That avoided the problem, and we soon were riding the elevator to the Top.  Dinner was wonderful, the view was breathtaking, and the talk was of nuclear physics!  Were we really ready for this?

 

Back in the room Kyle and I took off our coats and ties, and Sharon went into the bathroom and got out of her fancy dress and into a pair of slacks and blouse.  There were only two chairs in the room, so I stretched out on the bed and the other two sat.  It was now or never.

 

Sharon started things, “I guess it’s up to me to begin; after all it was my question that got all of this started.  We told our life stories before, but sex wasn’t a part of the story.  In my case it would have been had there been anything to tell.  But here I am, a virgin, no experience, not even spin the bottle games in high school.  Sure, I’ve read a lot.  I’ve done my own thing, well I guess I still do my own thing.  But that’s about it.  Does one of you want to share?”

 

I suspected that I had more to tell than Kyle, and decided that he might be more comfortable if I went first.  “The Gang is a pretty sexy bunch.  Tim’s a real flirt, with boys and girls.  But since I have known him almost exclusively at a boys camp, I have mostly seen him flirt with boys.  He’d lose his swimming suit at critical times.  He virtually dared everybody to catch him and strip him, and eventually that first summer we did.  He was pretty obviously pursuing Charlie, our counselor, and now they’re life partners–after Charlie refused to let anything happen until Tim was eighteen–they didn’t even see each other.  Franklin was openly gay, and now has a partner, Phil.  Charlie had both a girlfriend and a boyfriend–Phil who’s now Franklin’s partner–while waiting for Tim, and Tim had a girlfriend Tina while waiting for Charlie–and they both knew it.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait.  This whole thing blows my mind,” said Sharon.

 

“Clearly I’m out of it,” said Kyle.

 

“It’s all true.”  I had to back up and repeat some of that, adding quite a bit more detail.  The story still boggled their minds.  “The Gang is the most loving bunch you can imagine.  And now that they’re all of age, and Charlie and Tim are together, there’s a lot of sex.  All of us in the Gang admitted that we really wanted to have sex with Charlie, and I got my turn with Charlie and Tim, but we only lay together, fondled each other a little, but that was it.  But a month or so later I had the chance to sleep with Charlie, and we did those things we could have done before, but didn’t.

 

“Since then the Gang has gotten together several times, and it always leads to sex.  Since it’s mostly boys, it’s mostly gay sex.  But there are girls as well.”

 

“You’re telling us that you aren’t a virgin, right?”

 

“No, in the technical sense I’m still a virgin.  We took a trip to the island of Nevis, and organized things so everybody had a chance to sleep or nap with everybody.  But there was no fucking.”

 

“Since we’ve been out here in California, I only hear about what the Gang’s is up to now.  Sex by mail doesn’t work.”

 

“Do you and Hal have a sexual relationship at camp in the summer?”

 

“We’ve talked about it, but other than a little hugging and kissing–and a little hand roaming I guess–we never do anything.  I’m not sure why.”

 

Kyle asked, “So you’re gay?”

 

“No, I don’t think so.  I usually dream of girls.  But, yeah, there’s a little gay in me.  And the guys in our Gang were the only persons–male or female–that I have ever known well enough to talk about having any kind of sex.  What abut you, Kyle?”

 

“My story’s the same as Sharon’s.  Like it or not, Ronnie, you’re the only one with experience in this group.”

 

Sharon said, “I want to talk about one more subject: parents.  How much are you able to talk to your parents about life, sex, school, plans, everything?”

 

Kyle answered first, “My parents pretty much know that I was unhappy in high school.  They know that things went better in college, and they know that you two were important in that.  We never talk about sex.  The idea that I’m talking this evening about possibly having sex with a boy would knock them silly.  I’ve heard them make disparaging remarks about “queers”–that’s their term.”

 

Sharon said, “Mine aren’t much better.  They tried to talk about the birds and the bees, but really just asked if I understood the sex education classes at school.  They were obviously relieved when I said that I had.  They don’t use the word queer, it’s strictly homosexual but their church tells them it’s sin, and they really believe it.  What about you, Ronnie?”

 

“I almost feel guilty telling you this, but everything that has been said in this room has been said to my parents.  We have a completely open relationship.  They know the Gang, love them almost like they love me, and know what we do.”

 

“You have to be kidding!”  It could have been either of them.

 

“No.  In fact, one evening at my folks house I was trying to get Charlie and Tim to hurry up to bed.  They were having a good time talking to my folks and didn’t move.  I stripped and told them that when I was naked I was going to start on them.  They let me.  Eventually we were all naked, right in the living room with my parents–who didn’t say a word.  Then Charlie and Tim, who had warned me that if I pulled off their underpants this would happen, grabbed me and jacked me off.  They cleaned me up, told me to kiss my mom goodnight and dragged me up to bed.  My parents laughed about it all evening; they still kid me about it.”

 

Kyle said, “I’m not sure that I can really believe that story.”

 

“It’s true.”

 

Sharon asked, “If you’re so sexually involved with this Gang, why was it up to me to suggest sex for us?  And, why are you interested in us if you have the Gang?  I guess those questions really are in conflict, but you can sort them out.”

 

“Simple: We’ve just had science between us.  But without realizing it, that’s led to a very close personal relationship, which is just now blossoming.  As for the Gang, they’re wonderful, but they all have life partners.  I’m the only one without.  When you started to move this group, Sharon, I was ready.  But it took getting used to.”

 

Kyle said, “Well, Ronnie, you’re the man of experience in this little trio.” 

 

“OK, the man of experience has a question.  Would you feel comfortable taking off your clothes and continuing this conversation while we sit here naked?  That would sort of move things forward.  But, again, it would imply no further commitments.”

 

“I’m game,” said Sharon.

 

Kyle said, “I guess I’m ready.  I knew this was where this evening would lead, and I came.”

 

“Look,” I said, “there’s one important thing to say, and I guess I’m the one to say it.  Boys get hard-ons.  Hard-ons are embarrassing when you get undressed in front of someone.  If we say it right now, the embarrassment should be less.”

 

“Thanks,” said Kyle.  I was already nervous about that.”

 

“Don’t be.  It’s normal.  Sharon knows what a hard-on is, and doesn’t expect to see a soft penis.  Or, if she does, she hasn’t read enough books.”

 

“I’m with the program,” said Sharon, standing up and starting to take off her blouse.

 

I said, “It might be easier, if someone is shy, to go in the bathroom and take your clothes off, instead of doing a striptease out here.”

 

“No, if I can’t deal with it out here, I need to call a halt to the whole thing,” said Kyle, standing up and starting to unbutton his shirt.

 

Things moved slowly, but gradually more and more skin replaced clothing.  Sharon had lovely, firm tits, and we both stared.  She said, “Keep going guys, I’d like something to see too.”

 

Finally Kyle and I were standing in our Jockey shorts, both obviously sporting pretty stiff rods.  Sharon still had slacks on, but was standing watching us as we didn’t move.  I decided that since I was the “experienced” one, I should go first, so with a quick move I dropped my shorts and stood facing the two of them, back arched a little, sticking straight out.  I was embarrassed, but it couldn’t make me any harder, and I realized that I was also very pleasantly aroused!

 

Sharon followed quickly, but there’s no female equivalent of a hard-on.  Her stiff nipples simply didn’t count.  We both looked at Kyle.  Sharon said, “Ronnie will help you, if you like.”

 

Kyle surprised me with an “OK”.  I moved behind him, took hold of his Jockey’s, and pulled them down quickly.  His dick slapped up against his stomach as it was released, and he was hugely embarrassed.  We all sat down, except that I was stretched out on the bed again, this time offering a golden opportunity to anybody who wanted to take it. 

 

Sharon said, “Where do we go from here?”

 

“Where indeed?” I asked.  I broke the spell a little by massaging my own balls.  The other two watched quite intently.  “Do you want to try that?” I asked.

 

Kyle said, “On you?”

 

“Or yourself.”

 

He wasn’t ready.  Sharon was, and climbed onto the bed and put her hand down on my balls.  I removed my hand and let her have the field. 

 

I said, “I think we’ve crossed a line, at least the two of us have.  Kyle, are you ready?”

 

Very thoughtfully Kyle said, “Yes, I think so.”

 

I motioned him to the bed, and he climbed on.  I guided him between Sharon and me.  We both started massaging his balls, and soon I moved to his penis, but I just held it–I didn’t want any ejaculation yet.

 

I said, “It’s talk time again.  First, let’s agree that there will be no intercourse tonight.  None of us is ready for that.  Agreed?”

 

Both said, “Yes.”

 

“Second, I think we ought to think a little of the future.  We aren’t making any commitments here, but I’d hate to think that this was just a one night stand.  I see this as the next stage in a relationship that may, or may not, actually go somewhere.  With three of us, there’s no way to guess where, but I think that a one night stand would make our scientific relationship very awkward.  So if we don’t see this as a beginning, we should stop now.”

 

Kyle responded, “I’m very uncomfortable, but because this is all so new, not because it isn’t somewhere I want to go.  I can’t promise anything, but I think I want this to go forward, and not just for tonight.”

 

Sharon, simply said, “Count me in.  Now, less talk and a little action.”  She rolled over on her back and spread her legs. Kyle had no experience at all in this situation, and he hesitated.  I did too, because I didn’t want to get ahead of Kyle.  But Sharon grabbed my hand and shoved it into her pelvic area and said, “Play.”

 

I did.  Eventually so did Kyle.  We got over our shyness, and one thing led to another.  Before long Sharon had an orgasm–the first time Kyle had witnessed a girl having one, and my experience was pretty limited.  It excited us.

 

Sharon lay on the bed between us for a while, and then said, “There’s a big question hanging over this threesome.  And it’s you, Kyle.  Can you relate sexually to a man, specifically Ronnie.  He’s already told us he’s slept with some of his friends, so I assume that he’s OK with you.  But how about you?”

 

I eased Sharon off the bed, and slowly rolled on top of Kyle.  I kissed him, and moved slowly down his body till I was kissing his dick.  Then I sucked it, and kept on until he shot in my mouth.  I said, “I think we have the answer to your question, Sharon.”

 

Kyle just murmured, “Yes.”

 

Sharon pushed me into the middle of the bed and said, “Kyle, let’s share him.”  They took turns sucking me and it wasn’t long before Kyle was rewarded with a load of cum in his mouth.  He spit it into his handkerchief with a shy grin on his face; clearly swallowing wasn’t yet in his repertoire. 

 

I said, “I think we have a lot of answers.  Pull up the covers and let’s go to sleep.  One rule, no fair keeping your hands to yourself.”

 

It took quite a while, and several trips to the bathroom to get to sleep.  But we eventually did.  Light streaming in the window at six the next morning awakened us.  I don’t think any of us was mentally prepared to wake up nude in a bed with two other persons.  But soon the surprise wore off, and our hands began to roam again.

 

Sharon said, “I think it’s time for an anatomy lesson.  Start with me.”  She threw back the covers, positioned herself between us, and proceeded to point out and describe all of the parts of her anatomy that boys don’t usually get to see or touch.  It included her insistence that we take our fingers and explore her vagina, which she insisted upon calling her cunt.  She insisted that we put our fingers into her anus, “just to see what it’s like–for you and for me.”  That required a little Vaseline, which she’d brought.  That made Kyle and me realize that Sharon planned for this a lot more than we’d realized.

 

I was next, and Sharon insisted that Kyle explore me as much as she did.  They both poked their fingers up my ass, but it’d be a long while before I realized that they had missed my prostate, and what I had missed because they missed it!  We repeated ourselves on Kyle.  Then I used my tongue on Sharon, Kyle did me, and Sharon did Kyle.  We all came pretty quickly after our “tours.”

 

The room had a tub shower with a curtain, not doors, thank goodness.  There wasn’t enough room for three in the tub, but as each of us stood in the shower the other two stood outside and washed the one in the shower very thoroughly, with emphasis on the middle ranges of the body.

 

We considered breakfast in the room, but our budgets dictated that we find a meal outside the hotel, which we did, after a little walking.  The day consisted of cable cars, Fisherman’s Wharf for lunch and back for dinner, and a walk out on the Golden Gate Bridge at sunset.  That evening, and again the next morning, we explored ourselves and each other.  We did everything we could think of, and then some.  It was an exciting time, and exhausting. We checked out by noon, ate at a little café half way back to Palo Alto.  Without anyone saying anything, we realized it was soon time to talk again.  Where was this going to lead?

 

“Guys,” said Sharon.  “Take me home.  We know we need to talk a lot more, but I need to be alone a little.  I need to think.  I’ll see you at the Center in the morning.  My roommate’s never here for dinner on Monday–some event at the music school that involves her for dinner every Monday.  You two join me for dinner, say seven o’clock, and we’ll continue our conversation.”

 

Of course, we were together all day on Monday at the Center.  It was hard to keep our minds and our conversation on science, but we managed somehow.  As we left a little early Sharon said, “No sex tonight, boys, I never know when my roommate will come home.  Besides, we need to talk with no pressure.  Don’t dress up, but take a shower, you smell like the chemical they clean the floors of the Center with.”

 

We did talk, and I can’t reproduce a four hour conversation here.  But it was pretty clear that we were falling for each other.  We had, in fact, already fallen for each other, and the weekend in San Francisco had simply opened the floodgates.  Interestingly, the idea of a threesome wasn’t a problem for any of us.  But we did worry about how the rest of the world would view it.  We left that issue for another time, and decided we’d just talk that evening about what we wanted in life, not what the world expected.

 

I tossed the Gang into the equation.  I said that I loved all seven of them deeply, but not they way I was falling for Kyle and Sharon.  But I did tell of the Gang’s conversations about wanting to live near each other.  I pointed out that it seemed very possible that Tim and Charlie would return to North Dakota after graduate school–after all, they had their big rambling house in Grand Forks and had told the Gang that they planned to hang onto it.  Kyle and Sharon both chimed in with, “North Dakota?  You’re going to live in North Dakota?”

 

“Well, it seems very likely that I would like to move there.  I’d hate to have to choose between you two and the Gang.  I’d join the Gang in seeking to convince you that that’s where you wanted to live.  Frankly, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble convincing you: Once you really get to know that Gang, you’ll want to live near them as much as I do.  And don’t forget, despite what we’re accomplishing here in Palo Alto, our most brilliant work was what we did in Madison with no accelerator, no sophisticated particle laboratory, just our brains.  We’d have those in North Dakota.” 

 

We agreed that fucking would wait while we struggled with just what our relationship was.  I did get their permission to write to the Gang and ask for their input on the idea of a threesome.  If it was too far out for them, it was going to be too far out for most of the world.

 

The replies, almost instantaneous, can be summed up in three words, “Go for it!”  There was a lot of discussion, but not much was offered that we hadn’t already talked about.  But there was one additional common theme: I was to get Kyle and Sharon to the Midwest pronto, and wherever I brought them, the others would assemble.  They were determined to meet Ronnie’s loves.

 

Easter took us all to the Twin Cities, where we had agreed to meet the whole Gang.  Except for me and Franklin, it was everybody’s senior college year, and everyone was talking about graduation, grad school, jobs, moving to new homes, etc.

 

From the point of view of this story, all that needs to be said is that Kyle and Sharon fell in love with the Gang and the love was mutual.  By the time everyone left on Tuesday, Sharon and Kyle were full members of the Gang, along with Tina, Carl, and all of the partners.  We also got the news that Jim and Andy, along with Kara and Amy, were a foursome.  That somewhat emboldened us on the way to becoming a threesome.  It was funny, the Gang had just assumed that we were; we had never made that decision.

 

From the Twin Cities we headed to Madison.  Kyle and Sharon knew my folks from college days at the University, but I wanted to explain the changing relationship.  Kyle and Sharon were really nervous about the anticipated conversation with them, but I wasn’t.  If they could deal with Tim and Charlie, and all the Gang, they could accept Kyle and Sharon.  Of course, I was right.  We talked about the complications of trying to live as a trio in America, but Mom and Dad simply said, “If you’re truly in love, it’ll work out.  If you aren’t it won’t.  So be sure.”

 

Neither Kyle nor Sharon were ready to talk in those terms with their parents, so we didn’t visit the Point or Milwaukee.  After the one detour to Madison, it was back to California.

 

When we got back to Palo Alto we had to admit that we really were in love, that we wanted to make our lives together, and that it was time to start thinking about how a threesome really works in the real world.  As to where we’d live, we understood that job availability, the need to try to keep our little science team a team, and other professional considerations couldn’t simply be wiped away, but that we really did think that living near the Gang would be wonderful.

 

Sharon’s apartment lease ended in June, and her roommate wasn’t going to be in Palo Alto in the summer.  She asked if she could move into Kyle’s and my apartment.  We pointed out that we only had two single beds, since when we rented the place there was no thought of being lovers.  Our lease went through the summer, and we agreed that we’d see what happened on two single beds for  the summer and we’d get someplace new in the fall.

 

We tried three in a single bed–one night.  One sleepless night.  Then we decided that we’d trade off and sleep two in one bed and one in the other.  In fact, that proved to be a good idea.  While we have long since decided that we like to sleep three in a bed–a California King–sleeping two at a time brought each pair a chance to really get to know each other.  It was especially important for Kyle and me, as we realized that this arrangement would only work if all three sides of the triangle were loving–it couldn’t be two boys sharing one girl.  It had to be three persons sharing each other.  It has been.

 

How to face the world?  In 1970, in California, three in one apartment didn’t raise eyebrows.  Some thought we were into orgies; others thought we were saving money; others thought that we simply wanted to take our particles home with us each night.  But we knew that wouldn’t last, and we were going to have to put a public face on our living arrangements.  And we quickly found out that all of us were hoping for children.  That made the whole thing a more interesting arrangement.

 

The first thing we decided was that two of us were going to have to get married, and the third would just be a roommate in the eyes of the public.  It wasn’t a common arrangement, but it wouldn’t offend the world.  Other than concluding, for obvious reasons, that Sharon would be one of the married pair, we decided to wait to decide which man would marry her.  Children were a thornier issue.  We talked about all kinds of possibilities, and with a little imagination you can explore what those possibilities were/are.  For ourselves, after much thought and debate, we decided on a plan of action: We wanted two children.  After considering the idea that I’d father one and Kyle the other, we decided that we’d let the fathering be random.  Both of use would have intercourse with Sharon regularly, and when she got pregnant we’d be pretty sure that one of us was the father.  We knew that the legal father would have to be the man married to Sharon (as yet undetermined), but the biological father would be unknown.  The children would call us Sharon, Ronnie and Kyle, but would know that their legal daddy was their daddy, and would be able to answer the right questions in school.  They’d get all the facts at whatever age we decided they could handle them. 

 

That left the question of who would marry Sharon.  We considered rolling the dice, arm wrestling, letting Sharon choose (that obviously wouldn’t work), and a host of other ideas.  Then one day Kyle simply announced, “Ronnie, I want you to marry Sharon.”

 

“Why, Kyle?  Why me?  Why not you?’

 

“I love you,” was all that Kyle would ever answer.  But he was adamant, and never said another thing about his decision.  But he was unshakable.  And he insisted that we get married soon–he would be my best man.  We decided on a Christmas wedding, in Milwaukee.  Kyle pointed out that his living with us–a married couple--in graduate school would probably be more easily accepted than if we started it later.  And wherever we would next live, we could probably have three in the house easier if that had started before–it would still lead to a lot of questions that we were going to have to learn to deal with.

 

Sharon and Kyle haven’t, to this day, explained to their parents the nature of our relationship.  Now that I know both set of parents, especially Sharon’s for whom I’m their only son-in-law, I believe she’s right.  They’d be shocked and alienated.  I feel sorry for Kyle’s parents, who don’t know that they have grandchildren, but he says that the screams would carry from The Point  to Milwaukee, and to North Dakota the other way–and could destroy our relationship and home.  Sharon and I trust his judgement.  This story is not being published in any forum they are likely to read!

 

My parents were a little startled when I told them, but they have acted just as I was sure they would.  Kyle is as much a part of the family as Sharon, and is loved unconditionally.  We knew it was going to be fine when the first thing they did after we told them was rush out and get a king size bed for their guest room so we could all sleep together!  Mom and Dad, I love you!

 

It’s amazing that we could be so liberal sexually, and so prudish at the same time.  But we decided that we wanted no part of birth control, and never had intercourse in Palo Alto.  We waited until we settled in North Dakota–you knew that would happen, didn’t you?–and decided to have children.  I told Kyle, “Listen, I never understood why you insisted that I marry Sharon, and I can never, ever, return that great a favor to you.  But you and Sharon are going to lose your virginity together, tonight.”  Kyle protested that she should have sex with her husband, but I would have none of it.  “The husband thing is for the world, not for us.  We’re equal partners, and you’re going first.  I’m adamant.”

 

I watched Kyle and Sharon make real love for the first time.  They were a little awkward, which was to be expected.  But it was beautiful.  Their love was so clear and pure, their actions so gentle, their words so kind.  I hoped that I could give Sharon the same joy that she was sharing with Kyle.  She says I do, but I wonder.  Her joy with Kyle was so complete.  With intercourse with Sharon came the time for Kyle and me to explore anal intercourse.  With Sharon encouraging us, and handling the KY liberally, we learned how glorious that can be.  Now the rule is very simple, on those nights when one of us fucks Sharon, he gets fucked himself–sometime first, sometimes second.  That has been our custom now for years, and we would hate to break it.  Of course, when we weren’t trying to make babies, we did lots of other things besides intercourse.  We practiced the old adage that Variety Is the Spice of Sex.

 

The first boy came along, and we could hardly resist naming him Tim or Charles, but we thought better of it for two reasons: First, the confusion of having two Tim’s or two Charlie’s was more than we could bear.  But second, Tim and Charlie weren’t going to have children, and we didn’t want to seem like we were offering this boy as a pale substitute.  So he was Gerald, Gary to everyone, and his brother who came on a little later was George.

 

Gary and George have so many aunts and uncles, none of whom they’re related to, that they can hardly keep them straight.  It begins with Uncle Tim and Uncle Charlie, Uncle Tom (he gets a kick out of that) and Aunt Nancy, Uncle Franklin and Uncle Phil, Uncle Jim, Uncle Andy, Aunt Kara and Aunt Amy, Uncle Hal and Aunt Sue, Uncle Carl and Aunt Carol, Aunt Tina and Uncle Merle.  They’re all family, and Gary and George, along with a bunch of cousins, couldn’t possibly be more loved.