So let me tell you how I, Dylan Scott, fucked up my life when I was only thirty-two years young.

I had it all: a great, but very stressful job; two terrific twin sons, Kevin and Karl, aged six; a spacious suburban home; and a beautiful wife.  She was a bit of a nag, so that would be the only flaw in my perfect life.  No matter how much money I made, it was not enough for her.

I have an MBA, and I was the CEO of a publicly listed company.  At my age that was a miraculous achievement.  I had to commute daily from the suburbs to my office.  It was an hour on the railroad, but well worth it.

My next door neighbor, Ben Holliman, commuted with me.  Ben was a stock broker and financial advisor.  When we reached Manhattan, he took a subway downtown to the financial district, and I walked to my midtown office.  Occasionally, we were lucky enough to be on the same commuter train going home.  As you can imagine we became really good friends. 

Ben’s life paralleled mine.  Like me, he had it all.  The difference was that he was two years older than I, and had three young children.  He even confided in me that his wife was a royal pain in the ass, always hounding him about one thing or another.  It seemed he could never satisfy her, in or out of bed.  I confessed to the same problem.

I trusted him with all my investments, and he was my stockbroker.  His investment philosophy---for men as young as we were---was to be very aggressive.  As a result he was making me lots and lots of money.  I never questioned his buys and sells, and therein lay my mistake.  Sometimes he had me sign a paper consenting to a buy or sell transaction, and other times, he didn’t.  I should have wondered about that, but I trusted him completely.

One fine morning, he and I, along with several others, were arrested for insider trading.  Ben received ten years, but his clients got two years each.  The judge bought our defense that we had left it all up to him, and we were innocent victims. He would have released us with a fine, but we had all signed a document approving the transactions, and so he was required to mete out some punishment.

My wife immediately started divorce proceedings, and she requested sole custody of the kids, and most of my assets.  Since I was a felon, her request for sole custody was granted.  Upon my release from prison, I would have to begin paying alimony and child support.

Fortunately, Ben and I went to different prisons, or I might well have killed him.  I went to a minimum security facility, and he went to a maximum security facility.  He had committed a white-collar crime, and as much as I hated him, I thought that maximum security was a bit of a stretch.

I arrived at the prison with one other ‘guest.’  I was shaking in my boots and resisting the urge to shit in my pants. The bus driver handed us over to a very husky looking guard.  The guard told us that his name was Joe Garcia, and our first stop was to the supply room, where we were issued our prison garb.  From there he took us to our cells.  I was delighted to learn that there was only one inmate per cell.  The other guy was assigned to a cell directly across the passageway from me.

Joe told us to leave our civilian clothes in the cell and come with him.  He dropped the other guy off at the prison laundry, and introduced him to the prisoner in charge.  Apparently he had been assigned to prison laundry duty.  Next he took me to the commissary and introduced me to the lead prisoner.  It appeared that I had been assigned there.  My “boss” did not appear to be too threatening and I relaxed some.  He told me that my duties would be to assist the cooks, serve the chow line, and clean up afterwards.  Cleaning up included both the kitchen and the commissary.

When we were finished with our duties, and had eaten our own meals, my fellow cafeteria workers and I, along with the rest of the inmates, had two hours to play cards or pool, watch TV, or just sit and read.  At 9 PM, a bell rang, reminding me of my high school days.  That was the signal to return to our cells.  After we were all inside, the grille gates closed and locked automatically. 

The cell was quite civilized.  The mattress on the cot was nice and thick.  I had a dresser with a mirror, a commode, a chair, and a sink.  The first thing I did was take a leak.  Then I undressed down to my boxers.  It was way earlier than my usual bedtime, but I reckoned that we would be awakened way earlier than my usual wake up time, as well.

During the “social hour,” I picked up a newspaper in the library. I settled down to read it, and much to my surprise, I heard a deep sexy voice call my name.  I was startled.  I looked up to see a prison guard standing outside my cell.  He was holding a clip board, and I assumed that it was his roster.  What happened next confused the shit out of me.

The guard put his hand through the bars of my cell.  “Hello,” he said, “my name is Sam Wright.  I’m the night guard.  If you have any problems, just push that red button.”  He pointed to the button, which  I hadn’t noticed it before.  “Also Dylan,” he continued, “I want you to know that I read about your case in the newspapers, and I don’t personally believe you should be here.  I’ll try to make your stay as stress free as I can.”

I was grateful for that.  I reached out to return his handshake, and I looked at him.  He was well over six feet.  His hair was a sandy blond, and his eyes were brown.  He was very muscular.  I worked out regularly (used to) and I had a good body, but I envied his.  He seemed reluctant to let go of my hand, but eventually he did, and he disappeared to go do whatever it was he did all night.

After he left, I read for a while longer. I shut my lamp and attempted to sleep, but it was much too early for me.  I grew restless in bed and I began to worry.  I was eligible for parole in thirteen months, but whether I was released in thirteen months or two years, I would be an ex con.  Would anybody hire me?  I suddenly felt very sorry for myself, so I got up and began to pace my cell.  I figured I could use the exercise.  Once again I was startled by Ben’s voice.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.  “Everyone has trouble sleeping at the beginning.  You’ll sleep better when you get settled in.”

“On the outside,” I answered him, “I don’t go to sleep until midnight.  I’ll have to get used to lights out at nine.”

“Until that happens, would you like to play some cards with me?  It gets pretty quiet here at night.”

“I’d like that,” I answered immediately. 

He took his keys out and opened my gate.  “Do you play gin rummy?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied.

I relit my lamp, and we sat down on my bed.  He took a deck of cards out of his hip pocket.  He told me that he made rounds every two hours, and if I wanted to, he would like to play with me every evening during his first break.  Stupid me, I never picked up on his innuendo.

During the game, I admitted that I was very pleased that there was only one prisoner per cell.  “I appreciate my privacy,” I said.

Sam started to laugh and slapped my knee.  “You’ll appreciate it more when some of these guys come on to you.  This is a minimum security prison, and I’ve never heard of anyone getting raped, but I know for a fact that there’s a lot of consensual gay sex going on.  Even straight guys, who have reached the limits of horniness, will join in the action.”  All the while he told me this, his hand remained on my knee.

“I’ll whack off before I’d do that,” I stated a little too loudly and adamantly.

“That’ll do you for a while, but believe me, one day you’ll want a warm loving body lying next to you.”  Sam’s hand had never left my knee, and it seemed to have moved up my thigh a few inches.  He finally removed it, when he had to deal a new hand.

After he left, I finally crawled into bed, attempting to get some sleep.  That’s when it finally dawned on my thick brain that Sam was hinting that he wanted to have sex with me, but only if it was consensual.  I knew I should have been revolted, but it struck me that it wouldn’t hurt to have this handsome guard looking out for my welfare.  Another reason I wasn’t revolted is that I had a few gay sexual encounters in college.  I never thought for one minute that I might be gay, but the sex was very enjoyable.

I couldn’t concentrate on my duties the next day.  All that was on my mind was Sam’s hints and innuendoes.  I thought that when we played gin rummy this evening, I would subtly let him know that I was interested.  Then I began to shiver. 

What if I was misreading his attempt to be friendly? What if it was just that, and not a come on?  He might hate me, and he could make my life hell.  I decided to go very slowly, and pretend I didn’t notice his advances.

When he came into my cell that evening, I almost ran to embrace him, but I controlled myself.  Instead I used a different ploy.  The previous evening I was wearing my boxer shorts, when he came into my cell.  The fly clasp was securely snapped in place.  This evening, I made sure that the clasp was unsecured.  When we sat down on my bed, my boxers would gap, and Sam was sure to get a glimpse of my pubes, if not a little bit of my cock.  My pubes are trimmed and my cock is four and a half inches when flaccid, and seven and a half inches when hard.  It is uncut and very wide around.  The rest of me is worth bragging about also.  I am 6’2” tall, and I have a great body.  My hair and my eyes are both brown.

When he entered my cell, he handed me two new decks of cards.  “Keep them here,” he said.  “That way I don’t have to carry them with me all the time.”

“Does that mean that this is going to be a regular game?”  I asked.

“You betcha,” he answered.

I decided to act on my impulses and I got a little bit bold.  “Sam,” I asked, “why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’ll tell you,” he said.  “If we were sitting in my living room, I’d never admit what I am about to tell you.  You’d pick yourself up and run away.  It’s different here.  You’re a captive audience, so to speak.”

I knew what he was going to say, so I smiled at him as a way of encouraging him.  “Are you ever going to come to the point?” I asked.

“Yes, I have a confession to make.  I’m gay.  For your information, I’m out of the closet everywhere except at work.  I think you can figure out why.  The minute I laid eyes on you, I lost my heart.  You look exactly like the man of my dreams.  You told me that you would jack off before you would have gay sex.  I swear I’ll never come on to you, but I will come by every day to visit with you.  Who knows?  Maybe someday you’ll have a change of heart.  If you do, or when you do, I promise to take you to paradise.”

I was so overwhelmed that I reached into him and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips.  His smile threatened to break his jaw.

“This is all new to me,” I lied. “Let me think about it.”

“Once again let me make it perfectly clear,” he said.  “I promise to take you to paradise.”

After Sam left, I turned off my light and tried to sleep.  I tossed and turned for quite a while before I finally fell asleep.  I have no idea what time it was when I woke up, but for sure, it was the middle of the night,   I had been dreaming that somebody was giving me a blow job.  My wife never did that, but I knew how it felt from my few college encounters.  While I was in the twilight zone, I remember thinking how wonderful it felt.  When I awoke completely, I was aware that my boxers had been pulled down, and a real live human being was down on me.  I was certain that I knew who it was, but I whispered in the dark, “Sam is that you?”

Sam stopped his labors and slid up to me.  That was when it happened.  He kissed me.  He forced my lips apart with his tongue, and our lips began to tickle each other.  As our lips and tongues continued to copulate, it struck me like a thunderbolt.  I was in love with Sam.  I could only wonder if I had been gay all my life.  For sure this was the first time since I met my wife that I was enjoying having sex.  How could that be?  The answer came to me very quickly.  Sam wasn’t having sex with me.  He was making love with me.

It was a tight fit, but the two of us could lie facing each other on my bed.  “Please,” I begged, “lower your trousers.  You can’t have all the fun.”

I heard a sigh come from his lips.  “I knew it,” he said.  “I knew you felt the same way I did.”

He turned around until he was in a sixty-nine position, and he took me into him once again.  I screwed up my courage, and I took his cock into me.  Why had I ever hesitated or been grossed out by fellatio?  Sam tasted like freshly baked cinnamon rolls to me.  We got each other off rather quickly and we both swallowed everything, so there was no mess.

Sam slipped out of bed and got dressed.  I put on my boxers.  He kissed me and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  This time, happy and content, I fell asleep immediately.

For six months Sam continued to visit me after lights out.   On our second night together, he brought condoms and lube with him and he taught me how to fuck.  To this day I haven’t decided if I prefer fucking or getting fucked.  I decided to remain versatile, and Sam feels the same way.              

One day, he asked what my plans were after I got out.  I told him that I had no plans other than to get a job.  “I’ll try to help you,” he said, and I kissed him hard.

We were served a very traditional meal for Thanksgiving.  After my crew cleaned up, we joined our fellow inmates in the auditorium.  The warden said a little prayer of thanksgiving, and then gave us wonderful news.

“This facility is minimum security.  Therefore, those of you wish to do so, can go home for three days at Christmas.  But be warned,” he said, wagging his finger,  “if you fail to return from your furlough, you will be hunted down, arrested, and sent to a maximum security prison.  Your sentence will be doubled, and it will start anew.”

I learned later on that a little less than half the residents chose not to leave the prison.  I supposed that, like me, they had no home to go to.  That night Sam asked me if I was going to accept the furlough, and I said that I had no place to go.  He got really excited.

“Please,” he said, “I have the week off.  Spend Christmas with me.”  He winked at me, and added, “We’ll be able to make as much noise as we want to.”

Sam had a one bedroom apartment in town, about a fifteen minute drive from the prison.  It was small, neat, and clean.  When we walked into the apartment, we fell into each other’s arms.  I actually started to strip, but Sam stopped me.

“I need to talk to you,” he said.  “I may have a job for you, but it’s way beneath your education and your talents.  Would you be interested?  We can live here together.  I’d like that.”

I was afraid that nobody would hire me, so I was more than interested.  “Tell me more,” I begged.

“I have this friend,” he said.  “He and I went all through school together, and we remained friends even after I told him I was gay.  To prove that he didn’t care, he asked me to be the best man at his wedding.  He owns the only taxi service in this small town.  His dispatcher is getting married and is moving to the west coast in June.  He’s looking for her replacement.  I told him about you, and he said he would be glad to train you.”

“Next June,” I repeated.  “I’ll be out by then.  The whole idea of living here in this pretty little town, and living with you, is just too good to be true.  I’d love to relocate.  I’m not allowed to see my boys, so I have no reason to go back to New York.”

“I prayed that you would say that,” Sam said.  He grabbed me in a bear hug.  “We’ll go to his office tomorrow and I’ll introduce you.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to Christmas Eve services tomorrow evening.  I want to thank God for you.”

I smiled and said the same thing.

That night, for the first time, we made love without any restrictions or constraints.  We undressed fully and showered together.  What bliss.  There was not a spot on my body that Sam didn’t kiss, and I did the same to him.  We had always made love in the dark, but now I could get a good look at him.  His cock was about the same length and width as mine, but he was cut.

We agreed to play sixty-nine, but tried to refrain from cumming.  When we were both worked up to a frenzy we fucked each other, but no more condoms, just lots of lube.

That night I found out why Sam was delighted that we could now make all the noise we wanted to.  He was the noisiest lover I ever heard.  When he came, his wailing scared me to death.  He actually encouraged me to be noisier.  He wanted evidence of how much I loved him.  I was happy to oblige him.

I had about a month off between my release and the day I started my new job.  I got a lawyer, and he was able to get my alimony and child support reduced to be commensurate with my new salary.  This angered my ex-wife, and she wouldn’t allow me to see my sons.  She actually got a restraining order against me.  I determined that I would seek them out on their eighteenth birthday.  I wanted them to know that I loved them, and it was their mother who kept me away from them.

She should have expected this.  She took all my assets in the divorce, so she knew I had nothing to give her.  She should have been smart enough to know that as an ex-con I could never get as good a job as I had.  I didn’t feel sorry for her in the least.

I loved my new job.  Compared to my former career job, the stress was minimal.  My union with Sam was also stress free, so different than my life with my ex.  And did I mention that the sex was infinitely more satisfying?

I told you that I hated Ben Holliman for what he did to me.  Well, I no longer hate him.  In fact, I am grateful to him.  He forced me to abandon a lifetime of stress, which may certainly have killed me.  Now I live with the greatest guy in the world, and he kept his promise.  He took me to paradise.

I prevailed upon my other half to consider a holiday in New York.  We had saved enough for us to go first class.  That included theaters and five star restaurants and hotels.  Actually, I had an ulterior motive.  My twin sons would be seventeen years old now.  I didn’t dare try to see them, but I wanted to do a stake out in front of my old house, with the hope of spotting them coming or going.  When I told Sam what I had in mind, he reluctantly agreed to make New York our destination.  He pointed out that seeing the boys would probably make my estrangement from them more difficult to bear.  I was willing to risk it.

It occurred to me that Ben Holliman would be out of jail by now.  On a lark, I googled him.  Son of a bitch was back working with his old firm.  I guess they couldn’t hire him outright because of his record, but he was listed as a consultant.  I was furious for a moment.  Then I thought, “What the hell.  He was punished enough.”  I wondered if he was back with his family.

Sam and I opted to take a bus to New York.  A car is a definite liability in The Big Apple.  The only time we would need one, would be on our stake out, and we could rent one for a few hours.

We didn’t want to miss out on the shows we wanted to see, which meant not using the last minute discount booth.  Instead we bought tickets on line.  We were also able to book a room in a discounted hotel, which was convenient to midtown Manhattan, and close to an Avis car rental location.  Just because we had the money for better, we didn’t want to blow it.  While in New York, we did eat at very fine restaurants, but we avoided the most expensive.  When we got home after the trip, our vacation account still had a hefty balance, and we were well on our way to having enough saved for our next vacation.

We arrived in New York on a Friday evening, and took a cab straight to the hotel.  We had both worked a half day, and we were pretty tired so we spent the evening holed up in our room.  We left a 5 AM wake up call, and picked up our pre-arranged rental car as soon as we were dressed.  We arrived at my old home town in the suburbs at 8 AM.  We found a diner, and ate a quick breakfast. We were staked out in front of my ex-wife’s house by 9 AM.

Shortly after we arrived, Sam Holliman, the son of a bitch, came out of his house with his wife close behind.  They walked across the lawn and knocked on the door.  My ex-wife came out the front door just as her garage door opened.  I could see a man in a late model BMW pull out of the garage.  I couldn’t get a good look at his face, but my stomach did flip flops.  The three of them got into the car and drove off.  I wondered if they were going out for brunch together.  Suddenly I was very angry at my wife for consorting with the enemy, and with Ben for so easily resuming his old life.  When I calmed down, I didn’t envy them at all.  I wouldn’t change my current life for my old one for all the money in the world.

After they all left, Sam and I sat silently in the car.  Neither of us was inclined to talk.  About twenty minutes later, the garage door opened again.  Two young men came out of the garage, wheeling bikes.  One of them hit the code pad, and the door started down.  They didn’t put their helmets on until the door was closed all the way, so Sam and I got a good look.  I was even able to take a picture although I feared it would be indistinct. 

We figured that they were about 6’3” tall.  They had straight sandy blond hair, which they wore to halfway down their ears.  I couldn’t tell the color of their eyes, but I knew they were blue.  They were stunningly handsome, and to prove my point, Sam muttered, “Wow.”  They got on their bikes and started out for somewhere.  Sam was at the wheel, and I begged him to follow them for a bit.  He didn’t think it was a good idea.

“They’re on bikes,” I said.  “They can’t be going very far.” 

Sam muttered something under his breath, but he started up the car.  After about a half mile, they turned onto a business street, and secured their bikes on a rack in front of a gym.

“No wonder they’re hunks,” Sam said.  “They’re going to work out.”  As soon as they entered the building, Sam headed the car back to Manhattan and the car rental facility.  I cried all the way back to the hotel.  Poor Sam wanted to comfort me, but he just didn’t know how.

When we got back to the hotel after our stakeout, we showered and shaved.  It was Saturday and we had tickets to a matinee of a hit Broadway musical.  We dressed nicely, and had lunch at one of the hundreds of luncheonettes that are present all over Manhattan.  After lunch we headed to the theater.  When we were in our seats, waiting for the curtain to rise, I said to Sam, “It’s Saturday.  Do you want to check out one of the gay bars we found in the gay yellow pages tonight?”

“Sure,” he answered, “If you aren’t too tired.”

“Hey man,” I smiled at Sam.  “I’m not old yet.  I’m good to go.”

From the moment I had been arrested, my life had become surrealistic.  In fact, it was downright weird.  But what happened at the bar that evening, certainly took the cake.  It was pretty bizarre.

************

It was Saturday night, so naturally the place was very busy.  That having been said, it was not very noisy.  We had done our research, and we knew that this place attracted a more mature crowd.  We picked up our drinks, but there were no seats at the bar, and no empty tables, so we leaned against a wall, and kept our eyes open for a vacancy.

I took a good look at my surroundings.  Most of the customers were middle aged men, but here and there I saw a young man.  I figured he was either a hooker or some kid looking for a sugar daddy.  Neither Sam nor I were facing the entrance so we failed to see two more young men enter the bar.  As they approached the bar, they came into Sam’s field of vision first.

“Oh my God,” I heard him mumble. 

“What?” I asked.

“Let’s get out of here and go someplace else,” he said.

I realized he had seen something that had shocked him, so I turned around and I saw the two young men myself.  I nearly passed out.  They were my twin sons, and they looked just like the other young hustlers in the place.

They ordered drinks, and the bartender carded them.  He served them, so it was obvious that they had phony IDs.  They were big guys and could easily pass for 21.

Sam and I work out and have good bodies.  We are both handsome and look younger than our years.  Still, anyone can see that we are mature men, and hopefully financially sound.  I guess Karl and Kevin did not miss those attributes, because they zeroed right in on us, and began to approach us.  I panicked.  What would I say or do in the unlikely chance they recognized me?  I began to shake, and Sam whispered in my ear, “Stay calm and let me handle this.”

“Are you guys looking for some action?” Karl asked.

“We’re always up for it,” Sam answered, flashing the twins a “come hither” smile.

“Where are you visiting from?  You don’t have a New York accent,” Kevin asked.

“Bingo.  We hail from way upstate New York, and we’re on vacation.  Enough questions!  Where’s the action you promised us?”

“Business first,” Karl said.  We get $250 for two hours for one of us, and $400 for the package deal from each of you.”

Sam smiled.  “I’ve never done twins before.  We’ll take the package.”

My stomach was twisted into knots.  I just learned that my sons were male hookers.  It was all I could do to maintain my composure.  Sam was well aware of my feelings.  He looked at the boys and said, “I think my friend here needs some convincing.  Give me a second alone with him, and I’ll get him to agree.  Don’t go off with anyone else.  I’m willing to pay the fee even if he isn’t.” 

I thought that Sam had gone mad and betrayed me.  But he took me aside, and said, “We’ll get them into our hotel room, and I’ll flash my badge.  After scaring the daylights out of them, you can reveal who you are, tell them how much you love them, and ask them what you can do to steer them away from prostitution.”

“Let’s do it,” I mumbled.  “I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”  We went back to the twins and Sam told them that it was a go.

“How did you get here?” Sam asked.

“Public transportation,” one of them mumbled.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll get us a cab.”

As soon as we entered our room, Kevin said, “Good, there are two queen-sized beds.  We can split up.”

“Not on your life,” Sam said.  “I want both of you together.”

“Whatever you want,” Karl smiled at Sam.  Then he started to take off his muscle shirt.

“Put you shirt back on,” Sam ordered menacingly, “and both of you sit down.  There was only one chair in the room, so they sat on one of the beds, looking a little frightened at Sam’s harsh tone.  He flashed his badge.

“I’m a police officer,” he said.  “I know full well that you are minors, seventeen at most.  In fact I know who you are.  You’re the Scott twins, aren’t you?”

By now the twins had turned ashen and they were shaking.  “How did you know?” Karl asked.  He was hyperventilating, and it was hard to understand him.

“Because this handsome guy here, who you wanted to have sex with, is your father.”  The boys were too shocked to speak, so I took advantage of the silence.

“Boys,” I sobbed.  “I love you.  I have always loved you, but your mother prevented me from seeing you by taking out restraining orders.  I wanted to be in your lives, but she wouldn’t allow it.  Please believe me.”

Apparently Kevin and Karl were still speechless.  Sam put his arm around one of them, and I did the same to the other.

“She told us that you didn’t want to see us or have anything to do with us,” Kevin said.

“Lies!” I sobbed out.  “The one thing I wanted most in the world was to see you and have you in my life.”

“I can attest to the fact that your father sends you plenty of support money, and that he has agreed to pay for your college educations.  Why are you prostituting yourselves?” Sam asked.

Kevin composed himself enough to speak up.  “Mom told us that she couldn’t afford to send us to college, and that our dad wouldn’t help.  We’re doing this to get enough money together to at least attend a local community college.”

“Bitch!!” I yelled, and then I apologized to my sons for calling their mother a bitch.

By now the twins and I were sobbing heavily, and I was trying to hug each one in return.

When we had settled down a little, Sam asked the twins where they had hoped to go to school.

“University of Buffalo,” Kevin said.  “It’s as far away from our mother as we could get, and still go to a state university.”

“We live in a small town just outside of Buffalo,” Sam said.  “You guys could live with us.  It’s an easy commute to the university, and we’ll get you a car to help out.”

The two boys looked at each other and fell into each other’s arms.  They were sobbing and kissing each other, and not in a brotherly way.  I couldn’t hold back.

“Are you two making it together?” Instead of answering, one of them asked, “Are you two a couple?  You said WE live just outside of Buffalo.  Do you live together?”

“Yes,” I answered proudly, and I took Sam’s hand.  “I love this man with all my soul.”

The twins smiled at us for the first time.  “Then I can tell you,” Karl said.  “When we were little, nobody showed us any love.  We began to sleep together by way of comforting each other.  You’re men; you can figure out what happened.”  He turned toward me.  “That won’t make any difference in how you feel about us, will it.”

“Of course not.  Until I met Sam, I would have sworn that I could never love another man, nor make love to one.  How wrong I was.  If you two guys love each other that much, then make love with each other whenever you can.”

After I said that, both of them enveloped me in a bear hug with lots of sloppy kisses.  I thought I would die from so much happiness.”  Sam just stood by and smiled.  Finally, he said.  “We have to talk about the future.  Have you applied to Buffalo for admittance?”

“Yes, secretly, and we have been accepted.” Karl said.

“That’s great,” I said.  “You’ll be eighteen in three weeks, and graduating high school in about six weeks.  Inform Buffalo that you are coming, and give me the first semester bills.  You can skip housing.  I’m not obligated to pay any more alimony or child support when you turn eighteen, so I’ll have all that money to spend on your education.”

“And as your stepfather I intend to chip in also.” Sam mumbled.

The twins let go of me, and hugged Sam.  Then one of them said to me, “Dad (he called me Dad) “Can we stay here tonight?”

“Sure but won’t your mother worry?”

“Nah,” Kevin said.  “We often stay out all night, and she never asks where we were or what we were doing.  I don’t think she gives a shit.”

Karl laughed.  “At least you know what we have been up to.”

“Yes,” I said, “and it stops right here and right now.”

“Great,” Kevin said. “Most of our customers are sloppy old men.  We thought that we had hit a lucky streak, when we saw you two guys in the bar, and you accepted our proposal.  Do you know how hot you both are?”

Sam and I became extremely uncomfortable, and Sam said, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Why not?” Karl asked.  “We just met tonight.  We don’t have any father-son bonds…yet.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer.  “No way,” I said     with authority.

“Let’s get some sleep and spend the day together tomorrow,” Sam said in his usual practical manner.

“That’ll be great,” they said in unison.  They began to undress and were stripped in no time.  I was shocked that they stripped all the way.  Wow, were those boys well hung, but not as well as I was.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Dad.  Did we inherit our shlongs from you?”

Sam and I could do nothing, but strip completely.  When the boys saw us, they whistled.  I wanted to say, “Don’t get any ideas,” but somehow, something told me to keep quiet.  Sam and I climbed into one bed, and the boys into the other.  Immediately, I could hear them start to make love.  I didn’t want to look, so I turned to Sam and began to fondle him.  He did the same to me.

Both boys climaxed, and not too quietly.  Their orgasms were so close together, I reckoned they had just had a session of sixty-nine.  I was beside myself with lust, but I couldn’t bring myself to make love to Sam with my sons in the same room.  They had different ideas. 

In the middle of the night, I woke up to that magnificent feeling that someone was sucking my cock.  I thought it was Sam, and I was mad at him for doing it with the boys in the next bed.  As I was emerging from the twilight zone, I realized that Sam was lying at my side, snoring lightly.  It wasn’t Sam sucking my cock.  When I was fully awake, I realized that one of the twins was down on me, and the other was down on Sam.  I wanted to stop them, but it was way too late.  The deed was done, and I felt my orgasm starting in my loins.  I think Sam felt the same way.  We gushed almost simultaneously, and the boys swallowed everything.

Whichever twin it was that got me off, whispered in my ear, “I love you too.  You’re not only our father, you’re our savior.”  Somehow both husky men managed to squeeze into bed with us.  Sam and I didn’t mind the close quarters at all.

The next morning was Sunday, and we lingered in bed all morning.  The four of us played together.  The twins orgasmed several times, but Sam and I only once, and it was a whopper.  When my boys fucked me, the lust I felt was unparalleled in all my years.  My orgasm overwhelmed me.  I was so happy that the twins had not been shy, and had made love to us.

They went home that afternoon because they had school the next day.  Sam and I exchanged E Mail addresses with them, so that we could stay in touch.  We saw them off at the train station, and we were all misty eyed.  Their mother never asked where they had been.  Perhaps she hadn’t even missed them.  As for me, I was never happier in my life, even happier than when I met Sam.

Right after graduation, the twins packed everything they wanted to take with them, and shipped the cartons off to us.  Their mother asked what they were doing. At least she showed an interest.

“We’re going to live with our father,” Karl said gleefully.

“And you can’t stop us,” Kevin added.

They took a bus to Buffalo, and we met them at the bus terminal.  I kept crying and none of them could get me to stop.  We got the boys settled in the guest room (now their room), and drove to a nearby Walmart.  Sam had heard that they were understaffed and were hiring.  Both boys got summer jobs there.  The female manager drooled when she interviewed them, and told them they could work part time once school began.  We were all happy, and we went out for a celebration dinner.

The four of us created a happy home, filled with love, and lots of sex.  When the boys graduated from the university, they both got jobs in Buffalo, so they continued to live with us.  I had never known such happiness and contentment, and I owed it all to Sam Holliman for deceiving me, and getting me a jail sentence.

Posted: 02/24/17