It was an unusually hot day, even for August, but I ventured outdoors anyway.  I had promised myself that I would explore a Nature Preserve because it would merge two of my favorite hobbies: hiking and photography.  I stumbled upon the information about the preserve on a web site and it sounded too good to be true: wild, pristine, full of flora and fauna but rarely visited by people.  The web site warned that there were no trails but that only increased my wanting to discover what the area was like.  I wasn’t at all sure that it would offer many opportunities for photographs but it was Saturday, I had nothing else to do, and the chance to explore the outdoors was irresistible.

I’m an early riser so by seven I had showered, put on my hiking clothes, eaten a big breakfast, and was on my way.  Less than an hour’s drive put me into a gravel parking lot at the edge of the Nature Preserve.  There were no other cars in the lot; I would have the place all to myself.  I retrieved my backpack from the trunk of my car.  I had packed it the night before with my camera, tripod, a couple of extra lenses, a fresh set of batteries, a couple of energy bars, and several bottles of water.  I had also downloaded and printed a satellite photo of the area, on which I had marked what I thought would be a good route to follow.  It would take me through a meadow, past a creek, and up a hill to the top of a cliff that overlooked the ocean and miles of shoreline.

Two hours and several dozen photographs later, I approached the cliff.  It was a long climb up the hill to the top but not tiring because I stopped periodically to take pictures and catch my breath.  The effort was certainly worth it.  When I reached the top, I looked down about 100 feet to see the surf exploding against the rocky shoreline and the huge expanse of the ocean extending to the horizon.  I knew then that I would have to come back frequently, perhaps at sunset, camp overnight, and return home the next morning.

I walked along the top of the cliff through the dense forest in search of different perspectives to photograph.  Soon, I noticed something different.  The shoreline below me was not rocky.  A small cove with a sandy beach was surrounded on three sides with steep cliffs; the fourth side was open to the water.  I would have loved to have gone down there, swim in the relatively calm water to cool off, and possibly get a few more pictures.  But the rocky cliffs allowed no way down.  I took a few pictures and then sat down for a snack and to enjoy the comparatively cool breeze coming in from the ocean.

I had finished an energy bar and drained a bottle of water when I noticed two people in a small boat with an outboard motor enter the cove.  They beached the boat and spread a blanket on the sand.  Not a particularly photogenic scene from my vantage point but I snapped a few pictures with my telephoto lens.  I checked the pictures on the display of my digital camera and noticed that the two people were young men.  One of the teens looked familiar.  After several moments of thought, I realized why.  The tall blond was Levi Mathews who lived in my neighborhood.  His father was the pastor of a church just one block from my house.  I had frequently admired his good looks, especially as he cut the grass or played basketball in his driveway in cut-off jeans and no shirt.  He was the image of a virile young man.  I’d had only one brief conversation with him on one of my morning walks but it was enough to convince me that he was articulate, polite, and intelligent.

As I watched, I saw them strip off their clothes and run, totally naked, to the water where they cavorted and were obviously having a great time.  I took a few more photos of them frolicking about in the water and was about to head back to my car when I saw them embrace and kiss each other.  I was stunned.  Not because they were two males kissing—I’m gay and understand the attraction to men—but because the son of a virulently homophobic pastor was gay.  I reasoned that he had to be deep in the closet to his family and his father’s parishioners.  They would not tolerate such “sinful” behavior.

I could empathize completely with the poor boy.  I was in a similar situation when I was his age, just a few short years ago.  My family’s religion and politics abhorred homosexuality.  My parents frequently joined protests of gay marriage and abortion.  How could I tell them I was gay?  It would devastate them.  I escaped the suffocating environment by moving across country to settle in California.  That was a disappointment to them but it would allow me to be the person I am.

Levi and his friend left the water and walked to the blanket just 50 feet from the water’s edge where they stood and resumed their kissing.  Even from a great distance, I could tell they were grinding their pelvises against each other.  When Levi dropped to his knees and took his boyfriend’s cock into his mouth I felt my own cock stirring.  Without conscious thought, I started to fondle myself.  The sight of the two naked teens embracing was so erotic that I was no longer interested in the scenic setting.  A short time later, they were lying on the blanket in a 69 position pleasuring each other.  My arousal increased as I watched, unable to take my eyes off the sensual drama unfolding below.  It wasn’t long before I had a raging hard-on.  Powerless to deny the urging of my throbbing cock, I lowered my pants and briefs to my ankles and stroked myself to orgasm.

Levi and his friend must have been exercising remarkable control because they were still sucking each other as I pulled up my pants.  In a similar situation, I would do the same, prolonging the pleasure as much as possible.  For what seemed an unusually long time, their only movement was bobbing heads and roaming hands.  It was a beautiful sight.  Two young men locked in an intimate expression of ... would it be too much to call it love?  Impulsively, I snapped a few photos of their coupling.  Believe it or not, my motivation was artistic: the blue water rolling up the beach with each wave, the golden sand sparkling in the sunlight, and two virile teens sharing their bodies.

Eventually, I saw first one and moments later the other suddenly go motionless.  Clearly, they had filled each other’s mouth with creamy nectar.  They didn’t move for a short time, no doubt savoring the gift they had taken into their mouths.  Soon, however, they changed positions, reclining side-by-side with full body contact from chest to crotch.  They hugged and kissed.  Were they blending their cum in their mouths?  I hoped so.  It would symbolize their emotional bond.  Or was I being too much of a romantic?  They might be simply enjoying the physical sex without an emotional bond.

They lay with arms and legs intertwined and, once in a while, kissing.  How I envied them!  I had not been with a man since my Junior year in college and my yearning for a meaningful relationship had grown steadily since.

I snapped a few more pictures of them cuddling and caressing.  At that point, I realized that I was being a voyeur and that I had invaded their privacy.  I felt guilty for intruding on two teens’ intimate experience.  Feeling a little dirty, I hastily put away camera in my backpack and started walking back to my car. 

As I drove home, what I had witnessed on the beach monopolized my thoughts.  I relished the memories of the naked bodies making love.  (Somehow I couldn’t let myself think that it was just sex.)  But there was a dark side to my thinking.  Levi and possibly his boyfriend had to conceal their nature, sneak off to fully enjoy each other, and live in fear that their relationship would become known.  I knew all too well what that was like: the pain of knowing you would be an outcast and probably persecuted as a deviant.  I could cry for them.

I arrived home in late afternoon, hot, tired, and hungry.  I showered, put on fresh clothes, and decided to go out to eat.  There’s a sports bar near my neighborhood that serves the best spare ribs you’d ever want to eat.  That, with a mug or two of cold beer was far better than anything in my refrigerator.  I walked the half-mile or so to the bar just in case I lingered over more than two beers and couldn’t drive home.  I met a co-worker at the sports bar and we had a long conversation about nothing in particular but it served to get my mind off what I had seen on the beach.  It was almost nine when we made our separate ways home. It’s a good thing I didn’t have to drive because I had a buzz from too many beers.  Home at last, I stripped and fell into bed.  I was asleep almost immediately.

The next morning, Sunday, as I was eating breakfast, my thoughts returned to Levi.  I wondered what he might be thinking as he listened to his father’s sermon.  Would it be another strident condemnation of homosexuality?  If so, how might it affect the relationship between father and son?  How might his father’s bigotry torment the teen?  Would he feel guilty for his behavior (as I did for a painfully long time) or would he feel animosity toward an otherwise loving parent?  Could I—should I—intervene to help an admirable young man cope with his dilemma?  He was an athletic, personable, and very bright young man who didn’t deserve to suffer society’s hatred and discrimination.  Yes, I decided, I would try to help Levi.  But how?

That afternoon, I uploaded the images from my camera to my computer.  As I reviewed them, I found 15 that were worth saving; the rejects were moved to a file I called “also ran.”  The last several, however, presented me with a dilemma.  Two or three were “keepers.”  The exposure and composition (with a little judicious cropping) were excellent—nearly museum quality.  They conveyed the impression of young love being expressed.  They evoked the sense of exquisite emotional bonding in a tranquil setting.  Regrettably, they could never be seen.  Museum directors might possibly want to display them but wouldn’t because the public would condemn them as pornographic.  The condemnation would be especially vicious since the two lovers were homosexual.

I debated whether to keep them.  I had taken the pictures without consent but, I rationalized, I could keep them for my own enjoyment and never to be shown to anyone else.  I could delete them to prevent the possibility, however remote, that someone else would see them.  My decision was simple but painful.  I deleted them.  I could not risk others seeing them and recognizing Levi or his lover; that could bring tragedy to them both.

I thought frequently about Levi throughout the following week.  Most of my thinking revolved around whether and how I could help him cope with his sexuality in a toxic social environment.  To be brutally candid, I must confess that the visual memory of his muscular body and the sex act I observed triggered arousal and eventual ejaculation as I lay in bed at night.

By Friday, my concern for Levi had gradually grown into a resolve to help him ... if I could ... and if he wanted my assistance.  I formulated a plan and weighed the potential risks and benefits.

On Saturday morning, I timed my walk to coincide with his regular schedule of cutting his grass.  I passed by his house as he was trimming around the bushes by the front door.

“Excuse the interruption,” I began.  “But I just wanted to compliment you on the work you do on your yard.”

“Thanks,” he replied as he gave me a heart-melting smile.

“I’m Mark Hutchins and I live around the corner at 337 Beechwood,” I said, pointing In the direction of my house.

“Levi Wilson,” he replied as he extended his hand.  His grip was firm but not forceful, indicating, I thought, an admirable self-confidence.

“Besides complimenting you on your work, I wanted to ask you whether you’d be interested in doing some yard work for me ... for, say ... twenty dollars an hour.  Would you have the time and would you be interested?”

“What kind of yard work?” he inquired.  His immediate question didn’t answer my question but, rather, demonstrated a keen mind that wants information before making a commitment.

“Simple stuff,” I said.  “Mowing the grass, trimming some bushes, maybe weeding the flower beds once in a while.  I’ve been trying to do it but I don’t always have the time and certainly can’t do it as well as you do.”

“Twenty dollars an hour!” he said.  “Isn’t that a bit much?”

“Not at all.  When one lacks both time and skill, it’s worth it to keep the place looking nice.”

He grinned.  “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.  When would you like me to start?”

I grinned back at him.  “I’m flexible.  Today.  Some time next week.  Whatever fits your schedule.”

“Give me an hour to finish up here.  I’ll come over and you can show me what you want done.”

My plan was working.  So far.  Hiring him was not completely devious.  I could do the yard work.  It’s just that I didn’t like doing it and was grateful for his help.  The success of the rest of my plan was uncertain.

He arrived, as promised, an hour later and I took him on a tour of the yard to explain what I wanted done.  I showed him the mower and tools in the garage.  From there, we went inside and sat at the kitchen table.  He asked when I wanted him to start and I deferred to his schedule.  “How about right now?” he asked.  “The grass is a little long and I’ve got nothing planned this afternoon.”

His willingness to start right away caused me to wonder.  It was the previous Saturday afternoon that I watched him and his boyfriend on the beach.  But, of course, I was not ready to inquire about that.

When he had finished mowing and trimming the front yard, he went into the back yard.  I watched him from inside the house remove his tee shirt.  Perspiration on his broad shoulders, impressive chest, and flat abdomen caused his skin to glisten in the afternoon sun.  “Oh my gawd,” I thought.  “He has a magnificent body.”  For a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine that he did not have a boyfriend, that he might be the one I’d been looking for since arriving in California.  With his personality, intelligence, maturity, and body, I could easily fall in love with him.  I could devote my life to making him happy.

I continued watching him, admiring his diligent and seemingly effortless movements and, of course, his physique.

He put away the mower and trimmer and rang the door bell.  I invited him in for a cold glass of ice tea.  Thankfully, he accepted my offer.  I suggested we sit in the living room but he declined, saying, “No thanks.  I’m all sweaty and I don’t want to stain your furniture.”  Was there anything not to like in this young man? 

We sat at the kitchen table and talked.  I learned that he would be a senior in High school in a few weeks and played wide receiver on the football team.  (That explained his musculature.)  He would turn 18 in a few months and had a younger brother, 14, and sister, 11.  I asked about his future plans; he said he wanted to go to college and study architecture although his father wanted him to attend divinity school and become a pastor.  He groped for words as he explained that his faith was important to him but admitted that he didn’t want to spend his life as an impoverished pastor.

We chatted for the better part of an hour as we exchanged information about ourselves and there seemed to be a rapport developing between us.  I’d planned on waiting before carefully bringing up the subject of sex but the free flow of information between us gave me the confidence to subtly steer the conversation.  “You must do something just for fun,” I began.  “Movies?  Hobbies?  Hang out with friends?  Maybe enjoy hiking, surfing, or boating?”

“Not a lot of time for that,” he said.  “Especially during the school year, what with football, homework, and all that.”

“I understand,” I said with what I hoped was a thoughtful expression.  “I just thought that—since I saw you last weekend at the Nature Preserve—you might enjoy the outdoors.”

His reaction was delayed but pronounced.  His eyes widened.  His brow wrinkled.  He fidgeted.  “You saw me there?” he asked urgently.

“Yes,” I replied with a slight smile to relieve his concern.  “I was hiking—something I do whenever I get the chance.  I was at the top of the cliff when you and your friend were swimming.”

“That’s all you saw?” he asked, unwittingly implying that he had done more than swim.

“Before I answer,” I began.  “Let me tell you a story.  Just hear me out, Levi because it’s important that you understand where I’m coming from.  When I entered High School back in Missouri, I felt like I was sick.  Not physically.  Mentally.  I was attracted to boys.  Girls just didn’t turn me on like they did for other guys at school.  I went through a period of anxiety that I was somehow deficient or abnormal.  I was afraid to talk to anyone about it because, you see, in my small community and especially within my family, same sex attraction was either a mental illness or a sin against God.  I suffered through my freshman year with guilt that I was not normal.  The torment was almost unbearable, especially when friends asked me why I didn’t date girls.  By the middle of my sophomore year, I accepted the fact that I was homosexual.  It was a painful admission to make to myself but I couldn’t deny the truth.  Of course, I concealed my secret.  I didn’t want to hurt my parents and certainly didn’t want to be persecuted as a queer by my friends.  Now, skip ahead a few years to make the story shorter.  I went away to college in Massachusetts.  In my junior year there, I became friends with a senior.  Very good friends!  Hell!  Let me be plain.  We had a gay relationship.  It was the happiest period of my life.  It ended when he graduated and took a job in Japan.  I was heart-broken.  And very lonely throughout my senior year.  After graduation, I came here to California, hoping to be myself and not live a lie.  I’ve been looking—unfortunately without any luck—for a man to share my life with.  Now, with that out of the way, let me say that I saw more than you and your friend swimming.  And let me be very honest.  It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.  Two young men, obviously fond of each other, expressing their affection in the most intimate way in an idyllic setting.  At least that’s my interpretation of what I saw.  Bottom line, Levi ... my hunch is that you have to sneak away to be with your boyfriend, that you’re possibly afraid that your family will find out.  I know those feelings all too well.  I also know the joy of being with a man.  I suspect we’re very much alike in that regard.   Well, I’ve rambled on perhaps too long.  Let me conclude by giving you my solemn promise that I’ll never mention what I saw to another soul.”

Levi sat wordlessly, staring at me, for what seemed to be a very long time.  I feared that I was seriously premature in telling him what I saw and relating my experience.  I didn’t mean to confront him but he may have perceived it that way.  I hoped that he would understand my empathy but my hope was diminishing quickly.  I was about to apologize when he spoke.

“So you must know how I feel,” he said as he dropped his head and stared at the table top.  Looking up, he continued.  “And I’m grateful that you won’t out me.”

“Believe me, Levi.  I would never out you.  Because I understand your situation.  Been there.  Done that.  It’s a burden for you to bear but I’m confident you have the strength and maturity to cope.  And let me add one more thing.  If there’s ever a time you want someone to talk to that understands, I’m willing to listen.  I may even be able to give you some advice ... if that’s what you want.  So please ... feel free to talk to me at any time.”

Levi’s eyes began to tear up.  He stood and said, “Thanks, Mr. Hutchins.  For keeping my secret.  And for your understanding.”

I stood and said, “I just have a favor to ask.  All my friends call me Mark.  I’d like to be your friend.  Forget the Mr. and call me Mark.  Okay?”

A slight grin crossed his face.  He took two steps toward me, gave me a hug, and said, “Thanks again, friend.”

The following Thursday night, Levi telephoned.  “Hi, Mr. Hutch-- ... ah ... Mark.  This is Levi.  Would you mind if I stopped by for a little while?”

“Not at all,” I said.  “You’re always welcome.”

He declined my offer of refreshments when he arrived and I ushered him into the living room.  “What’s up?” I asked.

“I told Gary—that’s my boyfriend—about your seeing us on the beach.  He panicked because he’s still in the closet, too.  His parents are members of Dad’s congregation and hate gays.  He didn’t settle down until I told him about our conversation.  At first, he didn’t believe you would keep the secret.  He was afraid our lives would be trashed.  But I think ... I hope ... I convinced him that we’re safe.  That is, as long as we don’t go to the beach anymore.  Somebody else might see us.  We agreed that the only safe thing to do was not to see each other.  At least not for ... well ... you know.  Neither of us can do anything at home; that’s asking for trouble.  So it looks like we’re breaking up ... at least temporarily.  So here’s my question.  You said that when your lover went to Japan, it broke your heart.  How did you cope?  What can we do if we can’t get together?  I don’t want to lose him but I can’t risk being with him.  Sure, we can see each other.  We can talk on the phone.  But ... well ... you know what I mean.”

“I understand the difficulty,” I said.  “You love each other but can’t make love to each other.  That’s got to be worse than my losing a lover permanently.  .  It would be easy to say it’s not a permanent separation and you could wait it out but we both know that’s not the best answer.  I’m sure we can think of something.  In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about Gary?  Is he just a boyfriend?  Pardon the term but is he just a fuck-buddy?  Or is he the one you want to devote your life to?”

“The best answer to your questions, I suppose, is a long one.  We started out, as children, as playmates.  Even went with each other’s families on picnics and stuff.  In Middle School, we went through puberty and, as I suppose most kids do, compared notes about our development.  That progressed into showing each other our growing penises and hair.  One night, at a sleepover at his house, he taught me how to masturbate.  It wasn’t long before we did it together every chance we got.  When we were sophomores in high school, on a dare, we sucked each other.  I avoided him for a long time because I felt dirty for what we had done.  But I missed him.  Not because of the sex; because he was fun to be with.  He has a delicious sense of humor.  He’s quite adventurous and creative.  He’s no athlete but he’s consistently on the honor roll at school.  I guess what I’m saying is that I was very fond of him.  And was unhappy that, by my choice, we didn’t spend much time together.  About this same time, I realized that girls had no appeal.  I was more interested in boys.  I fought that for a while but eventually realized that I was homosexual.  Not only homosexual but I was probably in love with Gary.  That was a bigger problem.  I was gay but I was sure Gary was straight.  Sure, he had instigated the dare when we sucked each other but I was convinced that was just juvenile experimentation.  I didn’t know what to do.  Gary invited me to go with his family down to San Diego to visit his grandmother.  Of course, I accepted.  My parents approved because Gary’s family were ‘good Christians.’  Gary’s grandmother had a very small apartment so we stayed in a motel—Gary and I had our own room.  The first night, Gary told me how much he liked me.  As I said, he’s the more adventuresome and so he had the courage to say what I was only thinking.  I said how much I missed seeing him.  I won’t go into details but that was the first time we kissed.  And the first time we had real sex—the kind that is more than just physical sex.  Since then, we’ve committed to each other.  Does that answer your question?”

“So you love each other?” I asked.

“Yes.  Well ... I’m pretty sure we do.  If wanting to be with someone, if being miserable without him, if wanting to make him happy is love then yes, we love each other.”

“That’s wonderful!” I exclaimed.  “You’re very lucky to have found someone to love.”

“Not so lucky,” Levi corrected me.  “It’s not lucky that we can’t be together to ... well ... do stuff.”

“True.” I agreed.  “Let me think out loud for a minute.  You’re going to be here Saturday to cut my grass.  Suppose Gary comes with you.  I’d like to meet him.  And he probably wants to meet me.  After lunch, you and he can do the yard work.  I’ve got some errands to run so I’ll leave you two here to finish the work ... and whatever else you want to do.  I’m having dinner with friends so I won’t be home until seven or so.  Just lock up the house when you’re finished with whatever you’re doing.”

“You’d do that for us?” he asked incredulously.

“Let me put it this way.  If Gary was just a fuck-buddy, I’d say no way.  Wait ‘till you find someone who deserves you.  But it’s abundantly clear that you and he have something precious, something too precious to be destroyed or allowed to wither away.”

“I came to get some advice, Mark.  But you’ve give me ... given US ... so much more.  I can’t thank you enough.”

“Your smile is all the thanks I need, Levi.”

<><><><><> 

For the next few months, I always had somewhere to be on Saturday afternoon.  When the weather turned cold, I would find something inside the house for which I needed the help of two young men.  They both worked hard ... and, I was sure, played hard before I returned home. 

By January, their lovemaking included occasional weekday evenings.  Whatever excuses they made to their parents for spending so much time at my house was not my concern.  I was confident, however, that they were inventive enough to create plausible explanations.  They even grew comfortable “doing their thing” in the guest room while I was downstairs reading or watching television.  That was bitter-sweet for me.  I was very pleased that the two lovers could enjoy private time but I was also envious.

They enrolled in the same college and were roommates where they could express their love whenever they wanted.  My delight in having played a role in their happiness was mixed with frustration that I had not been able to achieve what they enjoyed—a life companion to love.  But I’m still looking and hoping.

Part 2
1  3

I might have considered Levi Mathews and Gary Simpson as the sons I would never have except that I was only a few years older than the two young lovers.  They corresponded with me frequently during their first semester in college, telling me of their delight in having the freedom to be together without the constant fear of their parents finding out they were gay.  When they were seniors in High School, that fear was a real impediment to a relationship that may very well have withered had I not offered my house as a place where they could intimately make love.

I took great pride in hearing of their success in college.  Both were earning mostly A’s and were excited about what they were learning in class.  They were also enjoying their escape from what Levi called “the suffocating environment of religious intolerance” in which he grew up.  I was more proud, however, of my role in helping ensure the teens’ emotional bonding by understanding their needs and periodically letting them use my guest room for their “close encounters.”

In early December, an email arrived saying: “Gary and I will be home over the Christmas holidays and look forward to seeing you.”  I was thrilled.  There was much to talk about that couldn’t or shouldn’t be included in an impersonal email.  I fired back a reply that said: “Overjoyed that I’ll see you soon.  As always, you’ll be welcome to visit me whenever you have the time.”  I knew that the two young men would interpret my invitation to mean they could use my guest bedroom whenever and as much as they wanted.

I certainly didn’t anticipate what was to happen in what should have been a joyous season.

The day after they arrived home from campus, I hosted a dinner for them.  When my doorbell rang, I rushed to the door.  Once inside, both young men hugged me before presenting me with a bottle of wine.  We went into the living room to sit down, Levi and Gary on the sofa holding hands while I sat in an arm chair.  They all talked exuberantly until the timer in the kitchen buzzed to signal that dinner was ready.  The conversation continued rapidly throughout the meal.  It was a joyful reunion for all of us.  Following another hour of conversation after dinner, the two young lovers rose to leave and thanked me for the meal.  They both hugged me again and thanked me for being a friend when they needed one.

Levi, sometimes with Gary, stopped by to visit me every two or three days, including Christmas Eve to give me a present.  To my surprise, however, they never asked for privacy during their visits.  I offered once but the lovers politely declined, saying, “That’s kind of you, Mark, but we can wait until we get back to school.”

Two days after Christmas, I was awakened at two in the morning by a phone call.  I checked the caller ID but it gave no information other than “cellular call.”  Groggily, I answered the phone and mumbled, “Hello.”

“Mark.  It’s Levi.  I know it’s late.  I apologize.  But can I come over and talk to you?”

“Sure,” I said, suddenly fully awake.  “Is something wrong?”  It was a stupid question; from the tone of Levi’s voice it was obvious that he was distraught.

“Yes.  I’ll tell you all about it.  I’m at your front door now but I thought I’d better call first to see if you wouldn’t mind seeing me.”

“Be right there, Levi.”  I hung up the phone, threw on a robe, and went downstairs.  As soon as I opened the front door, Levi fell into my arms and sobbed.  I helped my young friend into the living room where we sat on the sofa.  I wrapped his arm around the teen’s shoulder to comfort him.  A bruise was forming on the young man’s cheek.  When my unexpected guest regained his composure, I said, “Tell me what happened, Levi.  How can I help you?”

“It’s hopeless, Mark.  Nobody can help me now.”

“There’s always hope.  Tell me what happened.  Maybe I can help.”

“Everything was going so well,” Levi began, mustering all the strength he had to stop crying.  “Until last night.  Gary and I went to a movie.  We stopped for a beer afterwards—just one.  He drove me home.  It was late.  All the lights in my house were off.  Everyone had gone to bed.  We sat in the car and talked for a while.  Pretty soon, we were kissing.  It had been a long time since we had sex, not since coming home from school.  It was dark.  We were alone.  We started fondling each other.  And—naturally—we got hard-ons.  I unzipped Gary’s pants and went down on him.  Even crowded in the front seat of his car, it was wonderful.  I wanted to please him.  And, to tell the truth, the taste of him was fantastic.  I lost all sense of where we were and the risk we were taking.  Just about when Gary was about to cum, we heard a rapping on the car window.  Gary pushed me off him.  I sat up and saw my father scowling through the window.  He opened the door and ordered me out of the car and into the house.  He screamed at Gary to leave.”

Levi stopped talking and was trembling.  “Try to calm down,” I said as though my words would have any effect.

“In the house, my father started screaming at me.  It woke the whole family.  He sent my little brother and sister back to bed and lowered his voice for the rest of his tirade.  My mother started crying when she found out what all the commotion was about.  But my father just got more and more angry.  He didn’t use any profanity but he called me all kinds of vile names: pervert, degenerate, carnal sinner, disgusting, Satan incarnate, and on and on.  If I tried to say anything, he’d cut me off and resume his verbal abuse.  My mother left the room in tears.  I heard her throwing up in the bathroom.  At that point, I felt like scum.  Maybe I am.”

“You’re NOT!” I exclaimed.  “You’re a bright young man.  With a promising future.  You happen to be gay.  So what?  You don’t suck cock in public restrooms.  You’re in love and express that love in intimate ways.  Which is beautiful.  As beautiful as a man and woman showing their deep love for each other.  You’re not scum, Levi!”

“I am to my father and mother,” he countered.  “I love them and I’ve hurt them.  I have to live with that.”

I felt like saying they hurt themselves with their bigotry but chose not to because I didn’t want to condemn the parents Levi loved.  Instead I held the young man tightly to show my empathy.  Then, I gently touched the growing bruise on Levi’s cheek and asked, “How did this happen?”

Levi fought back the tears as he continued.  “My father eventually settled down.  I guess he had depleted his venom.  He told me—didn’t ask me—he TOLD me to pray with him for forgiveness.  I thought since he had calmed down, he would listen to what I had to say.  I told him I wouldn’t pray to be somebody I’m not.  God made me what I am and God loves all his children—black, white—men, women—rich, poor—gay, straight.  He just stared at me.  I don’t know whether he couldn’t refute what I said, whether he couldn’t accept his son being gay, or whether he simply was not used to me refusing his orders.  Without enough thinking, I went on.  I told him that I was gay, that I was in love with Gary, that we planned on spending our lives together, and if he didn’t approve I was sorry but it was the truth.  He stood, slapped me hard, and went down the hall into the bedroom.”

Levi’s tears were flowing again.  I felt like crying, too, but hugged the suffering young man and waited for him to regain control.

In a few minutes, he resumed. “I sat there for a while ... a long while ... crying.  Then my father came back and told me that I had a choice to make.  The first option was to repent, never see Gary again, and lead a good Christian life.  The second choice was to drop out of school since he wouldn’t pay the bills of a perverted sinner who won’t repent.  I knew I could never break up with the man I loved.  Even if it meant I’d have to get a job and support myself.  It was the final blow.  I’d lost the love and support of my parents.  My decision was clear; I wanted more than anything to be Gary’s life partner.  But I couldn’t tell my father that.  Not then.  Not when we were both upset.  I needed time to think.  I told my father I’d let him know and walked out of the house.  I wandered around the neighborhood for I don’t know how long.  Until I worked up the courage to call you.  There’s nothing you can do, Mark, but I needed somebody to talk to that would understand.  Thanks for listening.”

“I’m always ready to listen, Levi.  And help whenever I can.  Right now, the only help I can give is to be there for you, to assure you that—as bad as things are now—they’re going to get better.”

“Fat chance!” Levi snorted.  “I’ve disgraced my family.  My college education is trashed.  All I have left is Gary.  Maybe not even that.”

“Hold on, buddy!” I exclaimed.  “If Mark loves you the way you love him, he’ll stand by you.  Together, you can work things out.  By the way. I assume Gary doesn’t know what happened to you after he left your house.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“And what will he say when you tell him?”

“Oh ... he’ll say he’s sorry and he loves me.  But then what?  If I can’t go back to school, we might drift apart while he’s getting his degree and I’m flipping burgers somewhere.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

“Of course not!” Levi said angrily.

“So let’s not predict failure.  Let’s figure out what can be done.  It’s not likely that your father will forgive you.  Not after all his bigoted hellfire and damnation sermons.  But you’ve got a life ahead of you.  With Gary.  Let’s figure out how to make that possible.”

Levi sat quietly, brooding over the loss of his father’s support and affection while I struggled to suggest something ... anything that would improve my young friend’s spirits.  But I knew words would be futile.  Holding him close is what he needed.

After several minutes, Levi said, “I guess I should be going even though I dread facing my father again.  I’m sure he’s just as disappointed with me and angry as ever ... probably even more.  I’m bound to get one of his sermons about homosexuality.  Thanks for listening, Mark.  And thanks for understanding.”

“Here’s an idea, Levi.  Let your father adjust to the situation.  Spend the rest of the night here.  Tomorrow, call Gary.  Invite him here for breakfast or lunch.  I’ll be at work so you’ll have the house all to yourselves.  Explain to him what’s happened.  Maybe the two of you can come up with a plan.”

“No,” Levi replied.  “I’ve already imposed on you enough.  I’ll just go home and face the consequences.”

“It’s no imposition.  I’d much rather know that you’re safe in this house than subject to verbal and possibly physical abuse at home.  Stay here.  I’d worry about you if you went home tonight.”

After more coaxing, Levi reluctantly agreed to stay.  He went to the guest room while I returned to my own bed frantically trying to figure out how to help Levi.

Half an hour later, Levi stood at my bedroom door and asked, “Can I come in?”

“Certainly!” I replied.

Levi walked over to the side of my bed and just stood there without speaking.  Even in the dim light, I could see that he was trembling.  “Wanna talk?” I asked.

Hesitantly, Levi answered, “No.  I just thought ... ah ... I was hoping that ...  Can I stay in here with you?  I guess I need somebody to hold me ... somebody who ... well ... somebody who loves me and understands.”

I paused before replying.  Levi’s request was more typical of a small boy who’d had a bad dream than a mature college freshman.  I sensed the young man’s yearning for acceptance and emotional support.  I wanted to give it but I also sensed a potential problem.  “If you want to sit on the edge of the bed and talk, Levi, I’m more than willing.  I’m going to be very honest with you.  I don’t trust myself.  You know I’m gay.  You may also know that I haven’t been with a man for years.  What you don’t know is that I’ve admired you and fantasized about having sex with you.  The fantasies are harmless but I’ve controlled my attraction whenever you’ve been around.   I realize you’re hurting and I’d do almost anything to make the hurt go away.  But being in bed with you would be too much of a temptation for me.  Let’s not risk doing something that both of us would regret.”

A slight smile broke out on Levi’s face as he said, “If I didn’t love Gary so much, I could easily fall in love with you.  You’re a true friend.”  He bent down, kissed me on the forehead, said, “I’ll be okay.  Good night.” and walked out of the room.

Levi, in spite of his emotional upheaval, was tired and fell asleep quickly.  I, however, lay awake for a long time, frustrated in two ways.  First, I could not think of a way to help Levi.  Second, the thought of a desirable young man—alone in the adjacent room—was an unwelcome arousal that I fought hard to quench.

Before leaving for work, I peeked into the guest room to check on Levi who was sleeping soundly.  Only a sheet covered him up to the waist.  I looked longingly at his bare, muscular chest with its dusting of hair and prominent nipples.  It was an image of manhood.  It was the tell-tale bulge of a morning woody, however, that triggered a surge of lust.  I chastised myself for imagining what splendor was hidden from my view—lust that I knew must not be satisfied.  I quickly left.

I was distracted throughout the day, worrying about my friend, and rushed home after work, hoping to find both Levi and Gary there.  It was only Levi that greeted me as I walked into the kitchen.  “Hi!” the young man said as he interrupted his work in the kitchen to give me a welcoming hug.  He continued exuberantly, “I thought I’d treat you to a special dinner.  Most of the stuff I got at the grocery store but had to use a few things from your refrigerator.  I hope you don’t mind.  The wine is chilling.  You can pour some for us...  Oh!  Wait!  Maybe you want to freshen up first.  Better hurry, though.  Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Hold on, Tiger,” I exclaimed.  “What happened to the guy that spent the night here?  Who’s this cheery guy in my kitchen?”

Levi laughed.  “Same guy, Mark.  I’ve just recuperated.  I wanted to express my gratitude for your hospitality.”

“Recuperated?” I asked, utterly confused by the remarkable change of attitude.

“Yeah.  It’s a long story.  Tell you about it over dinner.  Right now I’ve got to get the biscuits in the oven.  Oh, by the way, Gary’s joining us for dinner.  Is that all right?”

“Of course!” I replied, shaking my head at the sudden and mysterious change in Levi.

Gary arrived moments later.  I opened the door and was given a long, tight hug but Levi got a longer one, accompanied by a passionate kiss.

“Did you do it?” Levi asked Gary.

“Yup!  Everything’s cool.”

The teens happily hugged again.

If I was confused before, I was totally befuddled now.  “All right, you guys,” I demanded.  “Wanna tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Sure,” Levi said.  “But first, let’s get dinner on the table.” 

I couldn’t help wondering if he took a small bit of pleasure in teasing me by delaying an explanation.

Resigned to having to wait for clarification of the inexplicable improvement in Levi’s mood, I obediently helped set the table for dinner.  Levi brought the food to the table—roast beef, baked potatoes, broccoli in cheese sauce, and hot sesame rolls—all of my favorites.  Gary poured the wine.

“This is a spectacular treat, guys,” I said as I sat down, “but I really can’t enjoy it until you tell me what’s going on.”

Levi chuckled and said, “Gary came over this morning.  I told him what happened last night—my father’s tirade and your taking me in and giving me a shoulder to cry on.  We agreed that you were the proverbial friend in need and I’ll never be able to thank you enough.  We discussed my situation for a long time.  Gary let me vent and then said all the right things to make me feel better.  And then we ... ah ... well ... we reaffirmed our love for each other.”

“You could have left that part out,” Gary laughed.

Levi chuckled and continued, “I know you tried to talk some sense into me, Mark, but I was too upset last night to listen to you.  Anyway, we figured that since Gary’s dad is one of my father’s parishioners and a good friend, he would tell him all about what he saw so he could rescue his son from damnation.  We decided to take the offensive.  So, Gary, tell us both how that went.”

Gary grinned and said, “When I got home, dad and mom were still awake.  I asked if I could talk to them.  I got right to the point and came out to them.  I knew they were not as bigoted as some ministers I could name but their reaction surprised me.  Mom said she was not surprised; she had suspected it for quite a while.  Dad was disappointed and challenged me as to whether I was really sure.  Then I told them about how Levi and I love each other, that we’re committed as life partners.  Dad then said the most wonderful thing: ‘Son, if you’re going to be gay, you couldn’t find a better partner.’”  Gary looked lovingly at Levi and continued, “He’s right, you know.  You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“So your parents are okay with it, Gary?” I asked.

“They took it better than I expected,” Gary grinned.

Turning to Levi, I asked, “And how about your father?  Has he cooled down since last night?”

“Only a little,” Levi admitted.  “But Gary convinced me that I’d have to come out to him sooner or later.  In a way, it’s good to have it over with.”

“But it’s a shame that your father is not more open-minded,” I mused.

“But he’s not,” Levi said.  “I just have to accept that.  I still love him, even though he’s a bigot.  If he doesn’t want to love me for what I am, then so be it.”

“And your mother?”

“She won’t talk to me.  She just goes back into the bedroom and cries.  That hurts.  Deep down, I think she loves me but is afraid to say so because of my father’s domination of her.  Maybe one day—when he’s not around—we can talk; hopefully, she’ll understand that I’m not the wicked creature that my father thinks I am.”

Gary added his thoughts.  “Fathers can’t get past being a macho man.  Mix that in the brew with an extreme interpretation of Christianity and it’s a toxic combination.  Mothers, on the other hand, tend to have an instinctive bond with their children.  I don’t buy in to stereotypes but that’s just a result of the pressures society puts on men and women.  I think your mother will come around.  It may take a while but she will.  I’m just glad my parents are not like that.  Mom has had a professional career, which I think has brought some equality into their marriage.”

Levi smiled at his lover and excused himself to get the desert, hot apple pie.  When he returned, I said, “I’ve been thinking about your situation, Levi ... a lot of thinking.  I hate to see you go back to a hostile environment at home.  Would you like to stay here until you go back to school?”

Levi and Gary looked at each other.  I could tell from their expressions that there was more they hadn’t told him.

“Well,” Levi began hesitantly.  “I’m not going back to school.  My father refused to pay tuition and expenses.  So Gary and I have decided on an alternate plan.  I’ll go back with him but I’ll find a job and place to live.  He will go to school full time and work part time.  We figure that by September, we can afford for me to work and go to school part time.  It isn’t ideal but it’s doable.”

“I don’t like it!” I exclaimed.  Both boys gave a startled frown.  “It’ll be too much pressure on both of you.  You don’t need any more pressure right now.  Both of you need to concentrate on your education ... at least when you’re not making love.”  The teens blushed and laughed.  “One of the things I considered as I thought about your father’s ultimatum, Levi, is how to ensure that you finished college.  So here’s a suggestion.  I got a sizable inheritance when my father died.  Part of it I used as down payment on this house.  The rest I socked away, thinking it was a good start on a retirement nest egg.  You would do me a great favor if you let me pay your tuition and expenses.  I should add, however, that it’s not a gift; it’s an interest-free loan.  You don’t have to pay me back until you get established in a career ... however long that may take.  I won’t need the money until I retire and that’s a long time off.  Why am I offering this, you may ask.  Simple.  I can’t think of a better use for the money than to ensure the success and happiness of two deserving young men.  Before you say yes or no, I want you two to discuss it.  You’re partners and you should both agree.  As you discuss it, however, keep one thought in mind; I would be immensely pleased if your answer is yes.  Now, why don’t you go off to the guest room and discuss it in private while I clear up down here.  And, if you want to take full advantage of the privacy, do whatever you need—or want—to do.”

The boys were dumb-struck by the generous offer and could do no more than stare at me in amazement.

“Don’t just sit there like dumbbells!” I exclaimed.  “Get your asses upstairs!  You’ve got a decision to make.  And,” I added with a grin and a wink, “If you wish to reaffirm your love, then do so.  Take your time.”

The boys didn’t budge so I stood, pointed to the stairway, and gave my best imitation of a drill sergeant, “What part of ‘move it’ don’t you understand?  GO!  NOW!”

I think both Gary and Levi recognized that I was being dramatic but still felt a little intimidated by my uncharacteristic outburst.  They scampered up the stairs.

I had barely finished clearing the table, putting the leftovers in the refrigerator, and loading the dishwasher when I was attacked by two young men who hugged me so tightly that I found it difficult to breathe.  I finally broke loose, looked at my watch, and said, “I’ve heard of quickies before but you guys must have set a record.”

“We didn’t do anything but talk,” Gary laughed.  “Levi didn’t want to accept your offer but I pointed out that it would make three people happy.  Our answer is not just ‘yes’ but ‘yes and we love you’!”

“We also discussed something else,” Levi added.  “Come with us.  NOW!”  Without waiting for a response, each young man grabbed one of my hands and guided me up the stairs.

“Where’re we going?” I asked.

“Upstairs, dummy!” was the only explanation I got.  I had no clue what they were up to.

They escorted me into my bedroom and stood me next to my bed.  “SIT!” Gary commanded.  I must not have been quick enough because Levi pushed me down onto the bed.  Then, in a much gentler tone, he continued, “Levi and I agreed to accept your offer.  But a simple ‘thank you’ is so weak.  We wondered how we could more adequately express our appreciation.  You’ve been very loving and generous.  What could we do to show you our love for you?  You’ve given us what we needed.  We’re going to give you what you need.”

Levi picked up on the explanation.  “I told Gary about how I was such a nervous wreck last night and, like a little boy, I asked if I could get in bed with you so you could hold me.  I told him that you refused.  And WHY you refused.  Then we both had the same idea at the same time.  We’re both going to give you the sex you’ve been missing.  Not just sex, mind you.  It will be an expression of our love for you.”

“NO!” I shouted.  “I told you then and I’ll tell you again!  I won’t do anything that will jeopardize the relationship you two have.”

“Not to worry,” Gary said.  “Levi and I are committed to each other.  We’re doing this together as the partners we are.  It’s something we want to do for you.  Because we love you.  That’s different than being in love like Levi and I.”

“But....” I stammered.

“But nothing!” Gary interrupted.

Levi gently pushed me back onto the bed, raised my legs onto the bed, and stood beside Gary.  Both boys then began to take off their clothes.  It wasn’t necessarily a strip tease but it was slow, seductive. And extraordinarily arousing!  I could only stare, speechless, at the spectacle before me—Levi, the muscular one with a slightly hairy, well-formed chest and Gary, thinner but firm with no visible chest hair.  By the time they lowered their trousers, I had to reposition my engorging cock.  When the two virile young men let their trousers drop to their ankles, I inhaled sharply at the sight of prominent bulges in their briefs.  All my objections and reservations about what was happening vanished.  The briefs came down next, slowly, first revealing thick pubic bushes, then the root of their cocks, and finally the full frontal view.  Thick, flaccid cocks dangled in front of pendulous ball sacks.  I gasped.

The boys then turned their attention to disrobing me.  I was completely powerless to resist.  With all three of us totally naked, the treatment began.  Four hands and two tongues roamed over my body from ears to toes but avoiding, for now, the throbbing rod between my legs that was drooling precum into a pool near my navel.  I was intoxicated with euphoria but as my sensitivity to the erotic stimulation increased, the urging from my pelvic region for ejaculation and relief also increased.  Then a bolt of lightning shot through me.  Lips encircled the head of my cock.  A tongue teased it toward the unbearable.  At the same time, something invaded my ass.  There was no pain; it must be a finger, a finger that soon found my prostate and launched me into a higher orbit.  I was in no state of mind to care whose lips and tongue or whose finger; the sensations had paralyzed my body and overwhelmed my mind.  The lips let go.  Why?  With the remnants of consciousness, I glanced downward to find that Gary and Levi were working my cock in tandem.  They alternated and gradually took more of my sensitive shaft into their mouths.  It wasn’t long before I screamed.  Simultaneously, I thrust my hips upward, forcing my cock deep into the throat of Levi who happened to be the lucky one of the pair whose turn it was to deliver pleasure.  He and Gary quickly changed roles so that Gary might capture subsequent volleys of cum.

Gary and Levi grinned at each other, no doubt knowing they had given their benefactor the ultimate in sensual pleasure.  They kissed passionately to affirm their love and to celebrate their success in pleasuring me.  They lay down on either side of me as I recuperated and pressed their naked bodies against me in an embrace.  I was sandwiched between two very skilled and very handsome young men.  I was blissfully contented and thanked my young friends profusely.

We lay together wordlessly for several more minutes before I asked, “Are you ready for the second part of the favor?”

“What do you mean?” Levi asked.

“You want more?” Gary asked, as though fearing that I had not been completely satisfied with their effort.

“You’ve already given me more than I deserve,” I said.  “And to tell the truth, it was the best sex I’ve ever had.  But as you said, ‘thanks’ is a pretty weak way of expressing appreciation.  May I return the favor?”

“That’s not necessary, Mark,” Levi said.  “We’re happy that you enjoyed it.  That’s quite enough for us.”

“I’m not asking out of some sense of obligation.  I genuinely want to return the favor.  But ONLY IF YOU’RE WILLING.  I’ll be quite honest.  I would enjoy exploring your bodies.  I would welcome the chance to swallow your cum.  This may sound corny to you but it would seal the bond between us.  Not as lovers—I certainly don’t expect to do this ever again—but as friends.  So you see, it would make all three of us happy.  You can say ‘no, thanks’ and there’ll be no hard feelings.”

Gary and Levi looked at each other for a moment and then burst into laughter.

I was surprised and suddenly remorseful.  “I’m sorry, guys.  I shouldn’t have asked.  I didn’t mean to offend you.  Forget I said anything.  Just remember that I appreciate your giving me the experience of my life.”

“No, no, Mark,” Levi said through his laughter.  “It’s just that I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be sucked and fucked at the same time.  But I figured there would be no way I’d ever find out.  I’m game.  I’m sure Gary is game.  The question is, are you willing to suck me while Gary fucks me?”

“Let’s go for it,” I replied enthusiastically, partly because it was Levi’s cock that I was more interested in.

In no time at all, we were in position.  While Gary carefully prepared Levi’s ass for penetration, I adoringly fondled Levi’s cock to erection.  It was impressive soft but breathtakingly beautiful when it was stiff.  When I noticed Gary beginning to pump, I started sucking.  It tasted even better than it looked.  It wasn’t long before we fell into a synchronized rhythm and Levi was moaning in delight.  Gary came first and locked his arms around Levi while he pumped his seed into his lover’s bowel.  Levi was not far behind and filled my mouth with creamy nectar.

<><><><><> 

Levi spent the few remaining days of Christmas break at my house with only a few visits to his own home to gather some personal belongings.  He told me that on his final visit—to say goodbye to his parents—his father was not home but he was extremely pleased that his mother hugged him and said, “God be with you, son.”  Had his father said the same thing, Levi reasoned, the meaning would be ‘May you see the error of your sins and repent’ but from his mother, he was sure it meant ‘I love you and pray that God protects you.’

I had no further sexual contact with the boys.  There was not even a mention of the wonderful threesome in our conversations.  Not bringing the subject up, I suppose, was more the result a tacit agreement that it would be the only time we would share a bed.  Nevertheless, I treasured the memory of our first and only sex.  I hope the two lovers did the same.

Levi and Gary returned to campus soon after New Years Day where they would study hard by day and nurture their love at night.

I resumed my life, which was now enriched by the memories of a glorious evening of carnal pleasure.

January was cold and bleak but the dismal weather was only one factor contributing to my sour mood.  The major reason was that I was lonely.  Levi and Gary had provided some company over the holiday season even though it was marred by Levi’s traumatic exchange with his father.  They had weathered that storm and I was happy for them.  But my situation was unchanged; I needed what they enjoyed.  I needed a companion.  I wanted to love and be loved.  Over the recent years I had occasionally entertained the idea of casual sex but I quickly dismissed those thoughts.  It was too risky and—to be honest—too sleazy for me.  I longed for sex but only if it was with someone I could respect and one who was a candidate for a lasting, loving relationship.

In spite of my values—that you may think are old fashioned or idealistic—I began to think more seriously that a one-night stand might not be that distasteful.  I even made a tentative plan to spend a weekend in a metropolitan area just over 100 miles from my home.  I’d get a hotel room for Friday and Saturday night and cruise the gay bars.  I’d scope out the patrons in hopes of finding an unattached, presentable guy.  By “presentable” I mean relatively handsome (although I wouldn’t be excessively fussy about that) who dressed well and did not behave—for lack of a better description—in some outlandish or kinky way.  He need not be articulate or educated but his conversation must be interesting.  Crudeness and excessive profanity would turn me off.  I realized that such a man would likely already be attached and unavailable but I wasn’t willing to compromise my standards.  If I were unsuccessful and came home frustrated, at least I could say I made the effort.  Such were my plans.  But I kept procrastinating and never got around to launching the adventure.

One evening I got what turned out to be a significant phone call.  John Edwards, whom I had met at the company Christmas party, started the conversation with casual comments about the dreadful winter, reminiscing about the party, and comparing notes about our respective bosses at work.  Just as I began to wonder why he called—surely not to talk about trivial stuff—he asked if I’d like to join him for dinner.  It seemed to be just what I needed to break the monotony and I agreed.  We made plans to meet at a popular seafood restaurant the following Friday night.

Dinner was superb and the conversation with John was delightful.  We found several areas of shared interest.  One of his hobbies was painting; I did my “painting” with my camera.  Both of us liked the outdoors: hiking and camping out.  We shared a liking for classical music.  I was so engrossed in the lively exchange of ideas that I didn’t pick up on several subtle cues that (I later learned) he had deliberately thrown out to assess my private interests.  For example, he commented that he didn’t like living alone; he said he didn’t date because he hadn’t found the right “person” (He didn’t say “woman.”); he complimented me on keeping fit; and, most obvious of all, he said he liked me from the moment we met at the party.  I was flattered but never suspected his motivation.

He insisted on paying for our meals, including the tip and I said, “Okay but next time it’s my treat.”

He smiled and said, “I look forward to it, my friend.”  Another clue but I was too dense to recognize it.

It was still early so he invited me to his apartment for a nightcap.  It was far more appealing that going home to an empty house so I accepted the invitation.  In the parking lot, I was surprised to see that he drove an expensive sports car and more surprised when I followed him to a luxury high-rise.  At no time in our conversations had he mentioned anything that would indicate that he was wealthy.

We took the elevator to the top floor.  He escorted me into an elegant apartment, through the spacious living room to a smaller room with a well-stocked bar.  “What’ll you have?” he asked.

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” I replied since I didn’t want to specify something plebian in such plush environment and never really graduated from beer and an occasional scotch and soda.

He poured Glen Fiddich into two glasses and said, “I think you’ll like this.  It’s the best sipping scotch I’ve found anywhere.”

He was right; I did enjoy it but I had to decline a refill because I didn’t want to drive home tipsy.  Even one drink had given me a slight buzz.

We didn’t talk for very long before he asked, “So how’s your love life, Mark?”

In normal circumstances, that would be an inappropriate question except, maybe, between two close, long-time friends.  But I was not offended—perhaps because of the rapport that had developed between us and perhaps because the whiskey had immobilized much of my caution.  “Dormant!” I replied.

“No girlfriends?” he asked.

“No.”

“Any boyfriends?”

I was not so quick to answer that one.  Since coming to California, I’ve never hidden my homosexuality but it hasn’t come up in conversations, either.  I was unsure how to reply.  I could be honest and risk losing a friend whose company I enjoyed.  Or I could lie and pretend that I was straight.  Honesty, with John and with myself, dictated my answer.  “Not since I was a Junior in college,” I said and scanned his face for a reaction.

He smiled!  What did that mean?

“So my hunch is right,” he said.  “You’re gay?”

“Yes.”  I’m afraid I was too confrontational when I added, “Does that upset you?  Do you think I’m some kind of pervert?  Does it mean we can’t be friends?”

“Not in the least, my friend,” he said with an even broader smile.  “That’s one more thing we have in common.”

I was stunned.  “I never suspected that,” I blurted out.  “You seemed straight as an arrow at the Christmas party and even flirted with the waitresses.”

“Façade!” he laughed.  “I am, as they say, in the closet ... at least at work and at company functions.  You, however, betray your interests.  At the party, you cast more and longer glances at men than at women.  I debated whether to invite you to dinner and back here for drinks because I couldn’t be completely sure.  But I took a chance, even when you didn’t take my bait at the restaurant.  Now, I’m sorry I waited so long.  Will you spend the night here?  With me?  You said your love life was dormant.  So’s mine.  I like you, Mark, and finding out you’re gay makes me horny as hell.”

It was Sunday afternoon before I reluctantly kissed John goodbye and returned home, having had nearly 48 hours of fulfilling companionship punctuated by frequent periods of sexual ecstasy.  That weekend was the beginning of our relationship, one I had yearned for and one that I hoped would go on for a very long time, perhaps a lifetime.

<><><><><><> 

Three weeks later, I was checking my email.  It was all the usual stuff except for one from Levi that I eagerly  opened. 

Mark:

Got a great idea.  If you can swing it, can you take some vacation time in late March and visit us.  We’re not coming home over Spring Break.  Instead, we’ve accepted an offer from a fellow student.  His family has a cabin on the shore of a nearby lake and he’s offered us the use of it for a week if we prepare it for the summer’s use.  There would be little work to do but lots of time to enjoy the outdoors and relax.  I know you like the outdoors and would have a good time.  We’d really like to see you.  Can you come?  Oh, the dates are March 19-27.

Love, Levi

The “outdoors” part of their message appealed to me almost as much as seeing them again.  But there was a problem.  After considerable thought, I sent an email reply.

Levi:

Your invitation is very appealing.  I’d love to see you guys and a vacation is just what I need right now.  But I’m not sure I can accept.  Let me explain why.  I’ve met a wonderful guy.  We’ve been spending weekends together and things are really clicking for us.  If it all works out as I hope, we’ll be together more than just weekends.  So here’s my problem.  The dates you gave me include two weekends and I don’t want to miss my time with John.  Mostly I don’t want to abandon him when what I want most is to establish our friendship.  I hope you understand.

Love, Mark

I hated to decline the invitation but I couldn’t deny that John and what I hoped would be a happy future with him was more important.  I’d known him for only a short time; our relationship was still forming.  I was afraid if I didn’t give it time and effort, it could destroy the progress we were making.

The next evening, I eagerly checked my email to see if Levi had responded and whether he might be disappointed.

Mark:

WOW!  That’s wonderful!  Gary and I are over-the-moon happy for you.  If this John guy is half the man you are, he has to be wonderful.  Here’s another idea.  Can you visit us at the cabin for 2-3 days during the week?  We want to hear all about your good luck.  Better idea.  Wouldn’t it be terrific if both you and John spent the whole week with us?  Just think of the possibilities!  You’d be with him for 9 days, not just weekends.  That could be just what both of you need to complete a foundation for a wonderful future.  Please say yes to either idea ... just you for a few days or both of you for the whole time.

Love, Levi

P.S.  Our friend calls it a cabin but it’s more like a house.  With two bedrooms.  Does that make it more interesting?

I didn’t know why the idea of a couple of days in midweek had not occurred to me.  I would get to see the boys and not sacrifice my weekends with John.  The suggestion that both John and I join them for the entire time deserved some thought.  I wasn’t sure he could arrange vacation time and I didn’t know how he would react to the idea.  I decided to wait until the coming weekend and, if I felt that he would be receptive, I would relay the invitation.  I emailed Levi saying that I would let him know soon.

It was Sunday morning when the opportunity arose.  John and I were cuddling in bed after some really great sex when he said, “Mark, I haven’t been this happy since my partner died.  Yeah, I never mentioned it but I lived with a guy for five years.  He was mugged and robbed late one night on his way from his office to the parking lot.  He didn’t survive the attack.  I was devastated.  It’s taken all this time to get over it and start looking for someone.  You’re it, Mark.  You’re my kind of guy.  Have you ever considered a full-time partner?”

“Have I considered it?  I’ve wanted it for far too long.  I kept looking and hoping I’d find someone to share my life with.  Then you found me.  So if your question is some kind of proposal, I accept.  Enthusiastically!”

We talked for some time about moving in together—his apartment or my house—and when we could do it.  “As soon as possible!” I gushed.  He laughed and gave me one of his long, passionate, and sensuous kisses.  Moments later I said, “That resolves a minor dilemma for me.”

“And what’s that?”

I proceeded to tell him of Levi’s invitation, which required some background information on how I had helped them.  (I left out the threesome experience.)  “So what do you think, John?  Would you like to get away for a week?  Can you get the time off?”

“It’s a splendid idea,” he replied.  “And I’m pretty sure I can get away from the office then.  I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

When I returned home that night, I was on cloud nine.  Whether John could get the time off was important but far more significant was my elation that John and I might be lifetime partners.   I emailed Levi.

Levi:

Great news!  It looks like I’ve found a partner.  I don’t know for how long but we’re talking about where to live together.  I hope forever.  Now about your invitation, John will try to get the week off so you’ll be saddled with both of us.  Two bedrooms in the “cabin” helped make up our minds.  Keep your fingers crossed.

Love, Mark

<><><><><> 

Levi and Gary picked us up at the airport.  The boys hugged me like I was a favorite brother who they’d not seen for years.  Of course, John got a warm welcome and a hug as well.  We claimed out luggage and walked to the parking garage.  “Nice car,” John commented even though it was a four-year-old Honda Civic.  How like him, I thought.  Pretending that he didn’t have an expensive sports car and lived in a luxury apartment.

“It was my dad’s,” Gary said.  “He loaned it to me when he bought a new one.”

“Just one thing wrong with it,” Levi said with a frown.  “It’s got bucket seats in front so I can’t sit next to Gary.”

We all laughed and John said, “Good thing!  You shouldn’t be distracting the driver with any inappropriate behavior.”  Our laughter got louder.

It was an almost two-hour drive to the cabin on two-lane roads into a very rural countryside.  John and I were in the back seat and all of us talking incessantly.  I shouldn’t have been but I was surprised how quickly John and the boys developed a rapport.  Their friendly banter was as if they were old friends.

The only thing rustic about the “cabin” were the log and stone walls on the outside.  Inside, it was quite modern.  We were shown to our bedroom to deposit our luggage and unpack while Levi and Gary did the same in their bedroom.

After turning on the electric power, checking the refrigerator and furnace, and lighting the water heater, we left to get groceries.  By the time we had eaten supper and cleared the table, it was quite late, we were all tired, and we decided to go to bed.

John snuggled up to me and kissed me.  “They’re nice kids,” he said.  “It’s no wonder you like them.  And it was awfully kind of them to invite us both.”

I agreed and said, “You’re pretty wonderful yourself, John.  I’m always happy when we’re together.”  I reached for his cock and fondled it.  “And I don’t mean just for this, either.”

“I feel the same way, Mark.  But do you think we ought to make love here ... with them in the next room?”

“Why not?  They’ll be doing the same thing.”  I didn’t know if that was true but it was very likely.  “Besides, what if they hear noises?  I’m sure they would approve.”

We enjoyed a long period of foreplay.  It seemed to me that was a sign of our maturing relationship: no rush to achieve climax but a leisurely and gentle sharing of our bodies and a comfort knowing that there was more than physical stimulation involved.  We were bonding psychologically and emotionally.  Climax would be the culmination of our commitment to each other, not a goal or a conquest.  We had learned each other’s erotic zones and made use of them to give maximum pleasure.  If the foreplay had gone on even longer, I think I would have been satisfied but John went down on me.  He teased me by taking me to the brink only to pause.  He did that repeatedly until I could take it no longer.  The urge to ejaculate was just too powerful.  Forgetting where we were, I let out a loud moan as my orgasm overcame all my senses.  He took several blasts of hot cum into his throat but saved some in his mouth to share with me in a prolonged kiss.

I hiked my knees up to my chest, offering my ass to him.  He eagerly accepted the offer and soon buried his cock to the hilt inside me.  He knew just what I wanted.  He started slowly and gradually built up speed, all the while nibbling on my ears and kissing me.  When he made the final plunge, I squeezed my ass.  It was his turn to moan, although not as loudly as I had, as I felt his cock throb with several volleys of cum.

Over breakfast the next morning, Gary asked, “Well, guys, enjoying yourselves so far?”

“As if you didn’t know!” I shot back to everyone’s amusement.

We spent the first day at the “cabin” working.  In the morning, John and I cleaned the inside of the house while Gary and Levi worked on the boat’s outboard motor in the garage.  After lunch, we worked outside picking up fallen branches in the yard and replacing a rotting board in the steps to the front porch.  John took us all to dinner at an Italian restaurant in town.  In the evening we played Trivial Pursuit until bedtime.

“What’s on the “to do” list for tomorrow,” I asked.

“Play time!” Gary replied.  “With your help, we got all the work done today.  So what’s your pleasure?  Would you like to hike through the woods?  Take the boat out on the lake?  There’s a golf course down the road if you want to play golf.”

Levi suggested we take the boat for a test run and we all agreed that would be fine.  The air was cool and a little breezy but the water was too cold to go swimming.  Gary spoke for all of us when he said, “Dang!  I was hoping to do some skinny-dipping and enjoy the ... ah ... scenery.”  We pretended to scold him for being so lascivious.  He laughed and said, “Maybe later.  We’ll all be here together for a week.”

After dinner that night we settled into the living room in front of a roaring fire in the fireplace and chatted about nothing in particular.  John abruptly changed the subject and asked, “Do you suppose we could find a deck of cards?” 

“Probably,” Gary said.  “Unless you want to play poker for real money.  College students can’t afford that.”

“I had something else in mind,” John replied.  “Poker yes.  Money no.  I was just thinking of what you said out on the lake, Gary.”

Gary looked perplexed.  “And that was?”

“Don’t you remember?  The water was too cold for skinny-dipping and you wanted to see the scenery.”

“Oh,” Gary replied, blushing.  “I was just joking.”

“I’m not!” John exclaimed.  “I thought we could play a little strip poker.”

It took very little persuasion before we all agreed and started looking for a deck of cards.  But our search was futile.  Not to be denied a bit of stimulating fun, Gary said enthusiastically, “I found a Monopoly game.  It’s got a pair of dice.  How ‘bout we use that?”

“You ARE eager, Gary,” I laughed.  “Is it because you’re a voyeur or an exhibitionist?”

“Neither!” he exclaimed.  “I just want everybody to get to know each other.”

“Right,” I said in a sarcastic tone.  “Go get the dice.”

We had an uproariously good time as items of clothing were discarded, teasing the loser of each round for his bad luck and gloating over our own good luck.  It started to get more interesting when Gary was down to his briefs, Levi still had his jeans, I had my shirt and boxers, but John had lost only his shirt.  A few more rounds and one of us would be naked.  Poor Gary’s frustration was showing.  It seemed that he wanted—and perhaps wanted for a long time—to check out John.  His frustration surfaced when he looked at John intently and said, “I’m losing and you’re winning.  I challenge you to a sudden-death round.  If I lose, I’ll take off my briefs and dance a jig.  If you win, all you have to do is strip naked.  Do you accept my challenge?”

“I do,” John sneered.  “Because I want to see you dance a jig.  You’re going to lose, you know.”

I couldn’t believe it.  They both rolled a nine.  A tie.  “Roll again,” Gary demanded.

“NO!” Levi and I said in unison and I added, “Neither of you won.  Both of you have to strip.”

They objected but Levi and I pressured them into doing it.  Gary agreed only if John stripped first.  We were all sitting cross-legged on the floor.  John stood and took off his trousers, tossing them aside.  He slowly and seductively lowered his boxers.  Both Gary and Levi had their eyes riveted to John’s crotch.  Both boys gasped when the boxers fell around John’s ankles.  He kicked his boxers toward Gary where they landed in his lap, catching the young man by surprise.  But he wasn’t finished.  He stepped over to Gary, stood with his legs apart, straddling Gary’s legs.  That put his cock within inches of the astonished young man’s face.  Time seemed to stand still while Gary stared at the phallic symbol of virile masculinity that dangled before his eyes.  John broke the silence by saying, “I believe that’s the scenery you wanted to see.  Now it’s your turn.  I want to see a naked man dance a jig.”

Poor Gary.  He stood and took off his briefs only to reveal that he had a hard-on.  That must have been as embarrassing but more so when slapped against his abdomen as he danced.  Hoping to divert everyone’s attention from Gary’s predicament, I said to Levi, “Come on.  Let’s all get comfortable,” and I stripped off my shirt and boxers.  Levi followed my lead. He also had a hard-on, which probably relieved any embarrassment Gary might feel.

Now what?  I wondered.  Four gay men standing in the nude admiring each other.  Might that lead to a foursome?  I hoped not.  I thought it best that we restrict any sexual activity to partners rather than have an orgy that some or all of us might regret.  My worries were put to rest when John (bless him) said, “Looks like you two need to take care of your problems.  I suggest you hit the sack.  Mark and I will do the same.”

The next few days were thoroughly enjoyable: boating, hiking, taking in a movie one night, or just hanging out and relaxing.  There were some ribald comments but no hint of having sex outside of our own bedrooms and with our own partners.  Until ...

On Friday, Levi and I were preparing lunch; John and Gary had gone to town for a bottle of wine to have that night.  Levi said, “Both Gary and I like John a lot.  And we’re happy that you two have gotten together.  How serious is it?  Have you committed to each other?”

“Yes, I’m happy to say.”

“So you two feel about each other the same way Gary and I do?”

“Yes, again.”

“In that case, I want to tell you something.  Remember how we all had sex back at your place in December?”

“Don’t go there!” I exclaimed, guessing at what he was about to request.

“Just hear me out, Mark.  Gary has been bugging me about doing something with you and John.  It would be just a bit of fun.  I’m convinced that it wouldn’t jeopardize my relationship with him but I’ve discouraged it because I don’t want to do anything that would hurt your relationship with John.  He and I disagree about that.  He thinks you two will be fine with a little extracurricular recreation.  He makes the distinction between sex, love, and ‘in love.’  We both love you but he and I are in love.  I agree that makes a big difference.  He thinks group sex—as long as everyone understands it’s no more than that—would be okay.  What do you think?”

I suspected that Levi wanted it as much as Gary did; otherwise, he wouldn’t be asking.  “I’ll be honest with you, Levi.  I’m reluctant.  Maybe it’s my old-fashioned belief in fidelity.  Sex is great but when you commit to someone, there’s an implied promise that you won’t play around.  You may think I’m weird but sex between committed partners is like ... well ... it’s almost sacred and should be reserved for your partner and no one else.”

“But we had sex once,” Levi countered.  “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

“That was different.  I was unattached.  And you did it together, as a team, as partners.  It was wonderful but the situation is different now.”

“If John wants to do it, would you go along?”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, hoping he would relent ... but he didn’t.

 “Will you ask him?”

“Geez, Levi!  You don’t give up, do you?  Okay.  I’ll ask him.  But let me be very clear.  One.  I’ll have to be absolutely sure that he really wants to do it.  Two.  It’ll be all four of us, no swapping partners.  Three.  Everyone must agree, out loud, that we’re in it for pure sexual enjoyment with no long-term expectations.  I’ll let you know John’s answer.  In the meantime, don’t build up Gary’s hopes.  Or yours, for that matter.”

“Thanks, Mark.  I love you.”

“And I love you.  Now turn off the soup before it boils over.”

That night in bed, after a particularly satisfying sex, I summoned my courage enough to tell John of Gary’s (and probably Levi’s) wanting to have group sex.  “Horny little studs, aren’t they?” he laughed.

“Of course,” I said.  “And can you blame them?  You saw Gary’s reaction when you stripped in front of him the other night.”

“And how did you react when Levi told you?” John asked.

“I was reluctant because I think once a couple is committed, they should have sex only with each other.”

“That’s sweet, Mark.  I mean your wanting to devote yourself exclusively to me.”

“Just the way I am,” I said.  “Sleeping around with another guy behind your partner’s back is inexcusable.  But, to be candid, group sex isn’t really cheating on your lover so I promised to ask you if you were interested.”

“Am I interested?  Matter of fact, I am.  Those are two hot studs in the other room.  I don’t see that one little orgy would do any harm.  It would please them and could be fun for us.  Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

“Yeah.  As long as we both understand that we’re doing it for the sex and nothing more.”

“Agreed.  To emphasize that it’s just for fun, let’s make a game of it.  They’ve probably done their thing tonight but they’ll be raring to go again in the morning.” 

We plotted our strategy, set the alarm, and then cuddled up to go to sleep.

At six in the morning, our alarm woke us.  We kissed and then grinned at each other in anticipation of the morning’s escapade.  We didn’t dress but went into the bathroom to start the shower.  Then, chuckling, we went to the boys’ bedroom and slipped in quietly.  The two boys were sound asleep, wrapped in each others arms--symbolic, I thought, of their loving bond.  Standing on either side of the bed, we quickly stripped the blanket and sheet off them, exposing their naked bodies.  Simultaneously, John shouted, “Up and at ‘em!  Time to rise and shine!”

They both jumped and sat straight up, now wide awake.  No doubt they were wondering why the rude awakening.  They had the most memorable startled look on their faces.  Both had morning woodies.  I reached down and held Gary’s cock with a firm grip.  “Oh,” I said.  “It looks like you’ve already risen.” 

John followed my lead, grasped Levi’s hard-on, and said, “They’re both primed for action, Mark.  What can we do about it?”

“I know just the thing,” I trying hard to put on a serious expression.  “I’ve heard that a cold shower is the best thing for a swollen penis.”  We pulled them out of bed and forced them to march into the bathroom.  “Cold shower’s all ready,” I said.  “Get in, boys!”

“NO!” they screamed in unison and tried to break free from our grip as they continued protesting.  It was a difficult but we forced them into the shower stall.  They were probably surprised and relieved to find the water comfortably warm.  But they were obviously more surprised when John and I stepped in after them.  It was crowded with four of us in the shower but it maximized the bodily contact. 

If they were surprised at the unexpected treatment so far, they must have been astonished when John and I fell to our knees in front of them and immediately tried to swallow their cocks.  Hearing soft moans of pleasure above us, I knew that their resistance was over.

After several minutes of sucking their cocks and balls, John said, “Your remedy is not working, Mark.  This one’s still hard as steel.”

“So’s this one. Go to plan B!” I exclaimed.

John and I stood.  I turned off the shower. 

“Plan B?” Levi asked, bewildered.

“Yes.  It’s an extreme measure but it always works for chronic enlargement of vital organs.”

We pulled the boys out of the shower stall, quickly dried off most of their bodies but spent much more time drying off their private parts.  Levi, I noted, had a most adorable pucker framed by a fringe of jet-black hair.  I fondled his cock more than just drying it and said over my shoulder to John, “Every time I dry this thing, it leaks out more stuff to wipe off.”

“Classic symptom of libidonitis,” John shot back.  “But we’ve still got time before the blue ball pain sets in.”  He stood, handed a dry towel to Gary and said, “I’m still wet.  Would you dry me off?”

Gary grinned.  I think he suspected what plan B might be but was consumed at the moment with the chance to explore John’s body.  I instructed Levi to dry me off.  Both John and I reprimanded them for not doing an adequate job around our crotch to encourage them to spend more time there.  By this time, both boys were giggling with delight.

“This one’s starting to swell,” Levi said, getting into the playful mood.

“Oh my gawd!” John moaned.  “Whatever you’ve got is contagious!”

“Enough,” I said.  “We have to begin your therapy.”  John and I guided the boys into our bedroom; they followed willingly.  We laid them on the bed, squeezed in on our knees between their legs, and resumed sucking their cocks.  When Levi seemed like he was about to cum, I pulled off him and said to John.  “Time to intensify the treatment.  Activate protocol 69.”

“I respectfully disagree, doc,” John said to me.  “I think this calls for protocol 77.”

We had ad libbed with each other well to that point but I was confused.  “What’s 77?”

“It’s a variation of 69 but you get ate more.”

After a short delay to process the pun, we all laughed.  John and I swung around to present our cocks to the “patients” below us.  It was a cacophony of slurping sounds and moans for several minutes.  When I sensed Levi was about to cum, I pulled off, just as I had in the shower.  I looked over at John and said, “Wanna trade places?”  He grinned his assent.  As we maneuvered to assault another boy, I noticed Gary had a distinct frown.  I didn’t ask but I guessed that he wanted John’s cock and cum more than mine.  Still, he quickly enough took me into his mouth as I tasted him for the first time.

It wasn’t long before John whispered to me, “Switch again?”

Levi cried out, “NO!  I’m almost there!”

We changed places again.  After only a few strokes, Levi stopped sucking me and gushed into my mouth.  Gary was not far behind, judging from his scream.  When Levi had recovered and I had swallowed the last few dribbles of cum from him, he started to work on me in earnest.  I didn’t hold back and emptied my balls into his throat.  John lasted a little longer than I did.

John and I moved around again and lay next to two very happy young men.  “Well, Doctor Edwards,” I said.  “Do you think we’ve cured our patients?”

“Perhaps,” he said.  “I just hope we didn’t give them an overdose.  It’d be a shame if their penises shriveled up much more.  They’d have a hard time peeing.  They’d be likely to pull out a hair thinking they had their penis and wet their pants.”

We laughed and spent several minutes wrestling with deliberate groping and fondling of each other.  I called a halt to the fun by saying, “Okay, guys.  Time to get moving.  We’ve got work to do.”

“Work?” Levi asked.

“Yeah.  We have to launder the bed linens, pack our bags, eat breakfast and lunch, and get to the airport.”

“Spoil sport!” Gary groused.

“Not entirely,” I replied.  “Until we leave for the airport, we’re all going to be nudists.  Get your eyes full—and your hands if you dare—because the vacation is over.”

I led the way to the kitchen where the boys seemed quite happy to help fix breakfast and to blatantly stare at the bare asses and bobbing cocks around them.  They also seemed to manage to be where John and I were as we did the laundry and packed our bags, ogling us shamelessly.  At one point, Levi and I were alone and he said, “Thanks, Mark, for agreeing to do what we did.”

“And my thanks to you, Levi.  For making me aware of the difference between making love with a partner and recreational sex.”

After lunch, we reluctantly put on our clothes.  (Yes, I enjoyed the nudity almost as much as the boys.)  We locked up the cabin, and loaded our luggage into Gary’s car.  On the drive to the airport, John said, “You two guys are a wonderful couple.  I hope your love for each other carries through to old age.  And for you, Mark, may I always deserve your love; you’ll always have mine.”  I knew the point he was making—that our morning orgy must not affect our devotion to our partners.  I hoped the boys recognized it, too.  We renewed our love with a long kiss.

From Levi in the front passenger seat we heard, “Hey back there.  Kissing is ah right but don’t be doin’ nothin’ nasty!  Hear?”

<><><><><> 

I moved in with John two weeks after our vacation and put my house up for sale.  Levi stayed with us during the next three summers because his unforgiving father made life unbearable for him at home.  He frequently visited his mother who came to accept his homosexuality although the visits were always kept secret from his father.  Gary was a frequent overnight guest.  We had several foursomes during those times with no threat to the love we felt for our life partners. 

Both John and I were delighted when the young men graduated with honors from college but saddened that they accepted jobs across the country in Atlanta.  Hopefully, we’ll stay in touch and be able to coordinate our vacations to enjoy their “companionship.”

The end.