Ganymede

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

[Part Four]

December 31, 1999

Finally, when I could not longer find reasons against it, Grant spent a night at Brandon's house. I was never so lonely. He telephoned shortly after nine o'clock. While he talked, I masturbated. That amused him, and in hushed tones, he gave encouragement. Teasing, giggling, asking how close I was, suggesting I pretend that he was sucking me. However, hearing his voice was almost enough to make me cry aloud. I ejaculated onto the pillows we shared at night, pretending it was Grant's slender body. He giggled when he heard my heavy breathing, the stressed groan, the sigh of relief.

I had resolved, a few days early for a New Year's resolution, that I would not interrupt Grant's friendship with Brandon. Not only was their relationship important to me, but the boys needed each other. They needed to spend time together, time to strengthen the bonds, time for love to grow stronger. I don't know how I found the ability to share something and someone so precious to me that my life revolved around his very existence.

The next night, it was only fair that Brandon stay the night at our house. If he knew about our changed relationship, he did not show it with more than a knowing smile. He had a strange way of looking at me, and then quickly averting his eyes when he realized I was aware of his interest. Occasionally, we made eye contact and his eyes lingered with curious interest. I wondered what was going through his mind. Each time I looked at my son, he smiled back, a secretive, almost angelic smile that flitted across his face.

The boys had sex that night. I watched them. To put it simply, it was like watching a sacred rite of passage. I was not a participant, at least not at first. I was not a voyeur. I was just there, accepted, acknowledged, largely ignored. They had no inhibitions, or if they did, none that I was aware of.

I did not know how it started. I presumed it was mutually desired, even if one of the boys had been the instigator at first. There was no reason why it should have been otherwise. I went up to Grant's bedroom to say good night after giving ample warning of my impending visit by calling from the bottom of the stairs that I was on my way. I even delayed my arrival by stopping in the bathroom. It was there on the shelf. That little cream-colored jar of Vaseline. All perfectly ordinary, except that the lid was off and there was a depression where a small finger had scooped out some. I smiled. No wonder it was quiet in the room next door. Pocketing the jar, I continued on my way. Even if the boys did not need it, I certainly would when I was in my bedroom, alone with my dreams and fantasies.

I called out again, another warning just in case they had not heard the first one. I hesitated outside the door, listening to nothing except the empty sound of silence. It was like that in the house. Always quiet when the boys were asleep or away at the Bowmans' house. I stepped a single pace that framed me in the doorway, a dark silhouette. It was like deja vu, except that I had seen it before, months before, during a warm summer night.

They were lying together, face to face. The down comforter lay over them but I could still see enough to know what was happening. They were barely moving, but moving nonetheless. They were kissing, not tentative kisses, but long open-mouthed tongue-swapping kisses. I stopped, watched, memorized. I was enthralled. The first time I had experienced shock. Now, I was shocked again, although it was hardly comparable. Then, Brandon had been kissing Grant's bare shoulder, and while the boys had been naked for all the world to see, there was no passion. It was about two boys exploring their friendship, discovering the potential of their bodies to give them pleasure, about having good old-fashioned fun. Not any longer. This was what love was about. They kissed with more enthusiasm than I would have liked, but not enough to unduly disturb me. The slim arms that were wrapped around Grant's back were devoted, yearning. If before, they had been exploring their sexuality, now they were seeking fulfillment.

I approached the bed quietly. I stopped a few feet away. Looked down. They knew I was there. Nothing changed. Still the same gentle rocking, moving their hips, undulating waves under the comforter. Still kissing, the sound of wet lips, the click of teeth, the wet sounds of tongues wrestling together. I breathed deeply, thoughtfully. Every moment of this all-too-brief period in their lives was precious. Precious to me. Precious to them. It was fleeting. It was innocent, yet charged with unbridled lust. If they had been close before, they were inseparable now. They seemed to be even breathing together.

And Grant? Was this the same boy who I had made love to every night but one since Christmas Eve? This beautiful lithe boy, who made love to his best friend as I watched? I sighed, content merely to be there, to witness what love was in its purest form. One of the boys, I don't know which one it was, groaned. Brandon's small hands slid lower and out of sight, under the comforter and into a region that I knew all too well. The comforter revealed what I could not see myself. The shape of hands, grasping, kneading, rubbing over two small buttocks, encouraging greater movement that would necessarily stimulate the two penis that were obviously pressed tightly together.

"Ahem," I coughed softly. "You guys want me to leave?"

"You can stay if you want to, Dad," Grant conceded shyly. His voice was soft, yet urgent. Excited.

"No!"

Brandon's muffled voice took both Grant and me by surprise.

"Huh? Don't be silly, Brando. He knows, okay? Why can't he watch us?"

"Cause… I want you to… you know…"

I stifled a laugh. 'A natural bottom', his father had called him. I had to agree, even if I was a little bit jealous of him at that moment.

"It's okay, Brandon," I said gently. "If you guys want some privacy, I understand and I really don't mind." I started to leave.

"Dad?"

"Yes." I turned back hopefully.

"Don't go! He's just being a dick head. Sometimes he gets silly when he wants me to do it to him."

"Grant!"

"Well you do, Brando." Grant giggled. I heard him whisper something to Brandon. "You know you do."

"I don't want him to know."

"Well your dad for sure knows we do it, and he doesn't mind at all. And my Dad's known for a long while that we do other stuff together, so…"

"It's different."

"Why is it different?"

"It is!" Brandon said adamantly. "Don't be dumb, Gee. You know why as well as I do."

"It's just the same, Brando."

"It's not!"

Grant smirked at me over his shoulder before he looked back at the boy lying beneath him.

"I was exactly keen on it the first time either, but I did.becuase you wanted me to, so… It's only fair."

Brandon thought about it for a while. I could tell that he wasn't happy, but he also knew that his best friend had a point, the exact meaning of which confounded me. It sounded as if the boys had 'done it' in front of Brandon's father. The possibility both irked and excited me.

"Okay," Brandon submitted.

It was entirely in character for him to give in. He almost always gave in to Grant's requests.

"Are you sure?"

It was also usual for Grant to be careful not to make his friend do something he did not want to do.

"Yeah. I'm okay with it, I guess."

"You want to do it now?"

There was no hiding the surge of excitement in his voice. I smiled, feeling a similar excitement and very glad that the boys could not see that I was quickly becoming aroused. My sweat pants concealed and revealed at the same time. I wondered whether the boys would actually go through with it. If they did, what should I do? Sit on the bed and watch? Move further away so that I wasn't breathing over their bare bodies? Perhaps they would do it under the covers and I would not get to see anything other than the movement of their bodies? I remained standing, eqivocating, torn between moving away to the window seat, or sitting on the far end of the bed.

Neither boy spoke. I assumed that is was as difficult for them as it was for me. I was not going to pressure them. If they both wanted me to see them having sex, that was one thing, but if Brandon was reluctant, I did not intend to force him. I started to turn away again.

"'s okay," Brandon said softly. He hesitated, still nervous. "You'd better go get some more Vaseline, Gee. I think it's mostly rubbed off our dicks by now."

"That's okay," I said.

I took the small jar out of my pocket, held it out, my offering to secure their devotion. They shared a silent look, expressing their longing. They were anxious. I breathed out, recognizing the moment for what it was. Few boys experienced such adoration. Their minds and bodies were melding. This was an enduring love. It was very apparent that the boys shared more than mere infatuation. This was a long way beyond puppy love. They worshipped each other. Their staunch friendship had blossomed. Loyalty and emotional attachment had given way to deep sexual yearning. It was all of that and more. In silent admiration I watched them change positions.

Grant lifted away, kneeling between Brandon's out-stretched legs. Grinning, he turned back to look at me. He was proud. He was in control. He was the 'man' now. Yet, instinctively, he accepted my authority, signalling with a single downward glance what was expected of me. I had a special privilege. Eagerly I opened the jar of Vaseline and gouged out a dollop that was big enough to lubricate a truck. There was no mistaking the boys enthusiasm. Gary had called my son a 'stud' and rightly so. His penis stuck out like a door handle. And Brandon? The expression on his face was wanton, hungry, even desperate. My right hand grasped my son's small penis, already hard enough to snap off. Up and down, slowly, smearing the Vaseline until it was a greasy film on his penis and scrotum. Even as my hand moved down, Grant's foreskin remained in place. There was still enough skin projecting beyond the glans to form a tiny teat of skin.

I wondered whether I should also apply some of the lubricant to Brandon's body. However, I knew that I had no right to do that, despite his supine position. There was certainly no sign from either boy that I should do so. I tested Grant's penis with my fingers. It was very slippery. I hoped there was more than enough to do the job. As a parting gesture, I pulled the little flesh-lever down between this thighs, released it, let it slap back against his firm lower belly.

"Be careful. You don't hurt him with it," I chided. "It's hard enough to split firewood."

Grant giggled, but even before his giggle passed, he turned to the serious task at hand. He reached down to take hold of Brandon's ankles. He needed no guidance from me. Boys were like that. He knew what to do. So did Brandon. It was a partnership. They positioned themselves. Brandon with his feet beside his ears, his hands grasping his thin ankles. His knees were wide apart, barely an inch or two [5 cm] from touching the bed. He looked up at Grant from between his splayed legs. He accepted his role, content to be the passive one. I did not have the chance to even catch a glimpse of his crack before Grant came forward to block my view. I saw his back, the line of bumps of his spine, the ripple of young lean muscle. I saw his buttocks clench. I saw his hips jerk, driving inwards. A single, short, hard thrust. I heard Brandon gasp. It was so easy that I was envious.

However, he stopped there with some undetermined length of his penis embedded inside Brandon. He smiled as he looked down at his best friend. Sharing thoughts, feelings, the sensation of being joined. And Brandon? Non-resisting, but not resigned. Acquiescent. Quiescent. Waiting for muscle to relax, to accept. Wanting, needing what Grant possessed. The short spike, so important to being male, so necessary to their mutual nourishment. I waited, contented just as the boys were contented.

Another thrust. Another sudden gasp. I watched Grant's buttocks pinch tightly as he drove inward relentlessly. Stopping absolutely still, motionless in that taut tube. Waiting again. Slowly withdrawing. So far back that he had to be poised on the very threshold. There was a momentary look of bewilderment on Brandon's face. Then astonishment as Grant surged forward, driving with all the power in his slim thighs. Muscles rippled, tendons became taught. A gasp became a groan. Deeper than before. I could see it in Brandon's eyes. Wide open in amazement, of knowing he was being impaled. Again, Grant pulled back, grunting slightly as the other boy's rectum tried to strangle his penis, anxious to keep him inside. Again, in the momentary hiatus, dismay on Brandon's face. Again, Grant lurched forward, spearing his squat maleness deeply before he yanked it out.

This time, perhaps because of his eagerness, he pulled it out all the way. It twitched, jumping with every heart-felt throb. Somehow his foreskin had retracted. His glans was exposed. Shiny, purple-red, glowing like a little bulb, a perfect cherry. He grinned, crudely held his glistening penis between one finger and a thumb, teasingly rubbed it around and around the waiting opening. Brandon whimpered. Whimpers became soft moans. Ecstatic. Grant was obeying a single demand, that of pleasuring his best friend. I breathed deeply, wished that I could see more, get even closer, witness that intimate massage of penis and anus. He stabbed again and immediately re-established the connection.

"Uhhhhhh."

Both boys groaned aloud as they merged, so close that it would have been next to impossible to pry them apart. Brandon raised himself, pulling his ankles well past his ears to lift his rear off the bed. Again, Grant disengaged. Again, the blunt tip of his rigid member poked at Brandon's hole.

"I'm going to make a baby in you this time, Brando," Grant teased.

I smiled. It was obvious that he enjoyed his role and was not against tormenting Brandon a little as part of their sexual activity. Brandon ignored the harassment. He waited. He didn't have to wait very long. Without warning, Grant's hips and thighs bucked, driving hard and deep. Almost as soon as his penis was ensconced within Brandon's rectum, it was jerked out again. All the way. Poised for re-entry. Breathing quickly, short shallow gasps. Buttocks and hands clenching and unclenching from over-stimulation. Toes curled up and digging into the sheets, trying to find purchase. A thrust so hard that Brandon was pushed a few inches higher in the bed. I heard the 'whack' of thigh muscle slapping hard against firm buttock flesh, then a small penis suctioning out of a wet soft hole, of one boy grunting from the sheer effort of controlling his motion, of another boy groaning in euphoria.

It suddenly became faster, much faster. So urgent and powerful was the need that there was no way that either boy could hold back. They were intoxicated by physical sensation. Grant thrust in a violent frenzy. Brandon in rapture, accepting each thrust with maddening pleasure. Whack! Whack! Whack! Again and again. I was elated, barely cognizant of the rush to finish, to complete the joyful act. I wished I had a camera.

All too soon it was over. They were huffing by then. One boy, my boy, was wildly humping. Brandon was no less frantic in his need. Time and time again, Grant's small penis escaped when he failed to keep his fingers close enough to Brandon's anus to make sure he was on target. A few times, the slippery, slime-covered shaft eluded his grasp and the boys struggled to get it back inside. It was both amusing and intensely arousing. They came to the pinnacle without me knowing it was so close. Grant stopped moving. Suddenly calm, trying to hold back the inevitable climax. Too late. He was beyond stopping. Almost serene, as the immediacy of orgasm hovered before the otherwise agitated boy. His throbbing penis pulsed, preparing itself to ejaculate nothing. It made no difference. It was a losing battle. His buttocks clamped again, shuddering as the brief spasms racked his loins.

He stayed there for a few more seconds and then, as imperturbable as ever, he backed away. His penis slid out of Brandon's body, still quivering. He glanced calmly down at it, ascertained that it was still there, that it was still part of him. He turned slightly, glanced back at me, smiling shyly, proudly. For a few minutes he had been a man. He moved back on his knees, allowing me to see.

For the first time, I saw Brandon's anus. Like Grant's opening after sex, it seemed unduly large, a gaping hole into a slender young body. Yet it was also different. For the last few days I had been accustomed to seeing a dark ring around Grant's anus. It was more than an inch [2½ cm] in diameter, brown-purple in color, the color that occurs with a bruise, of flesh that had been tested beyond its elastic limit. It was sight that made me particularly uncomfortable because I was responsible for it, but it the natural result of our love. By contrast, in the startling glimpse of Brandon's dilated orifice, there was no bruising, just a somewhat reddened appearance that could easily be explained by the overly energetic treatment it had just received.

Silently, Grant backed away further and eased down to lie alongside his friend. Brandon released his ankles and straightened out in the bed. I had seen what they had wanted me to see. They slipped an arm around each other's backs, embracing, bringing their naked bodies into full contact, continuing the intimate closeness that they had just shared. I recognized the lingering smell that rose up from the bed to greet me. It was the same smell that Grant exuded. Earthy, yeasty, yet entirely human. It was the smell of our love, the smell of male sex. His penis had been inside Brandon's bowels and all I could think of was how proud I was, of him, of Brandon, of the love they shared.

That aside, I still felt like an intruder. I had witnessed intimacy of a magnitude unlike any other I had ever seen. It was equalled only by my experience with Grant, and even then, I was so engaged in fulfilling passion, that I was barely cognizant of what was happening. I appreciated their relationship with a new awareness, if slightly apprehensive that it would intervene in my life at some point. Intuitively, I realized that there was a very high probability that they would continue to be lovers as they grew up. I expected that there would come a time when Grant would want to spend his life with Brandon. I smiled, a little reluctantly, but also very happily.

It was with great caution that I sat down on the bed next to Grant. I had no desire to disturb them, yet the urge to be closer was irresistible. I loved both of them. Lovingly, I stroked Grant's bare back. It was firm, smooth, strong, hot, slightly sweaty. I smiled. No wonder he was hot. No wonder he was exhausted. For a few minutes, not nearly long enough, they had rutted like wild animals, pumping frenetically with the single-minded goal of achieving mutual ecstasy. He had taken Brandon to the pinnacle of human experience, using all of his strength to do it. There was no mistaking their orgasmic fervor, the intense calm that followed. They had climaxed at the same time, sharing the one thing that bonds two people inseparably together.

I had good reason to be proud of these two boys. One was my son, the other almost equally as close to me. They loved each other. It was written on their faces, their smiles showing so much more than mere affection that it took my breath away. This was what Gary had been trying to tell me all along. Our sons were in love, and while we also loved them, we had to accept their love as primary.

Dreamily, I thought back to my own youth. I pictured Adam as he had been when I was a boy. Wonderful, sweet, adorable, beautiful Adam. I loved him dearly. I loved everything about him. And yet, as much as I loved him, there was always a nagging suspicion that he did not feel the same way about me. I would have given anything for him to look at me in the same way that Brandon now looked at Grant. His eyes flickered, conveying infatuation. However, this was not an unreasoning and transitory attachment. In his liquid eyes, I saw obsession, not implying fixation but deep adoration that gave way to worship. Grant would always be happy with Brandon beside him.

It was with great surprise, therefore, when I felt a small hand settle onto my crotch. The fingers fumbled momentarily. Locating, ascertaining, gently squeezing my penis through the soft cloth of my sweat pants. I glanced down, breathing out, feeling shame. At the same time I was anxious, excited, very aware of how good it felt. It was Grant's hand, his left hand. Familiar, yet strange. He awkwardly groped my groin, following the length of my hardness with a boy's curiosity. I wondered whether he wanted to give me what I needed so badly. His fingers clumsily peeled away the front of my sweat pants, reached under the waistband, clamped around my aching penis, pulled against the skin to make a temporary foreskin as he withdrew it. Then holding it, with a boy's merciless grasp, still not understanding that my penis was as sensitive as his was. It was a grip that was tight enough to restrict the blood flow. It was all I could do not to groan aloud. I did not want Brandon to know what Grant was doing to me, his own father. However, that did not stop me. I lifted up from the bed, pushing my sweatpants downward before sitting again. My son's small hand promptly returned, possessively reclaiming me, eager and ready to give pleasure.

Moving slowly, ever so slowly, down to my pubic hair. Up again, ending with a playful tug. His thumb swept over my glans, smearing the mucus until it was slippery. Then lifting away until only the tips of his fingers and thumb held me, squeezing, massaging, extracting delightful sensations that were enough to make my heart pound. When, where, how had he learned to masturbate like that. Not with Brandon. Boys did not masturbate like that. I looked beside me. Two right hands were moving, each boy holding his partner's penis, moving with a slow enduring rhythm. So natural. This was mutual pleasuring at its finest. That was what it was, nothing more. They were intent only on feeling good. I risked a groan and realized that the boys were almost unaware of anything but each other.

They masturbated differently. Already they were well used to the fundamental distinction between a circumcised penis and one that was still hooded. Brandon's hand used the extra skin on my son's penis to great advantage, pulling down until the tip peeked through, not far enough that it was unveiled. The entire length of Grant's penis still glistened, shiny with greasy wetness. In the other hand, Brandon's penis, shorter, fatter, but no less stiff, was being subjected to abuse of an entirely different kind. Up and down, Grant used his hand so lightly so that it slid as much as pulled against the skin, keeping away from the sensitive head for a half-dozen stokes for every one that grazed the end. So deliberate. So caring. So wonderfully captivating. I wondered why he treated mine differently.

Minutes ticked by, long fabulous minutes of watching the boys engage in a timeless pursuit. At the same time, Grant's maladroit left hand, haltingly, deliciously inept was locked around my manhood. His other hand, placed less gauchely in front of him, was deft, its motion graceful to the eye. And Brandon? He also showed the signs of accumulated skill. Both boys were absolutely rigid, their small penises glowing with a healthy ruddy sheen. No sign of embarrassment. Here, they were the experts. Their slender bodies moved as well to heighten the stimulation. Hands, hips and thighs worked in unison, manual and automatic. Instinct had finally taken over. This was teamwork engaged in sport in and of, and for itself.

"My hand's getting really tired."

I suddenly came to life, recognizing the whispered voice as Grant's, the implied threat that he would soon be stopping. I did not want him to stop, not now, not ever. However, it had to be difficult to reach behind himself for this long. No wonder the movement of his hand was awkward. I readied myself for the inevitable. I would soon be abandoned. I would have to find relief by myself. It would not be nearly as satisfying.

"Let me do it."

Four words, from a voice that was cool yet sensuous, thundered through my consciousness. My mouth opened in disbelief that Brandon had suggested what I had heard.

"Sure. Just do it up and down, you know, kinda the same way as you do yours, only rub the tip more. That's how he likes it best."

Again, I tried to voice my inhibition, shocked from the apparent ease that my son gave instructions to another boy about handling my sex organs. All that came out was a strangled moan as I felt the boys changing position. To undertake what he had just offered to do, Brandon had to move to my other side. He did so, languidly, curling closer so that his warm bare flank was against my back. And then I felt the softness of his hand, smooth and as hot as Grant's but with a grip that was less intense. For a moment I had the distinct feeling that Brandon's hand was much more experienced at pleasuring an adult part. It was the way he held it, comfortably, naturally. It was almost as if he had spent a lifetime doing it.

He used his right hand. Four fingers braced against his thumb, still barely enough to cover a third of my extended organ. His hand glided down, my penis slipping through his enclosing digits until I trembled. He stopped there, close to the base, feeling the pulses as I flexed my penis hungrily. His hand slid up again, dragging slightly over my skin as he tugged the full length of it. His hand floated over the tip, squeezing his fingers behind the swollen hot bulb of my glans.

"He's big."

I heard the awe in Brandon's voice. They giggled together, shamelessly, crudely enjoying something new.

"Uh huh. I told you."

"Can I finish him?"

"Sure, if you want."

"He's really hard, isn't he?"

"He's messy too," Grant chortled.

Brandon started doing it faster. I was unable to stop him. He wanted to do it. I wanted him to do it. Hadn't I said that it was okay if they wanted to do sex things? Wasn't this something I had wanted to do for as long as I could remember? I groaned, closing my eyes, praying that it wasn't a dream, praying that it was.

Faster. How did he know I wanted it faster? That thumb again! Sliding everywhere! It feels so incredibly fucking good. It's drooling everywhere. He's much better at this than Grant is. His hand is so soft. It feels like it's floating. Don't stop! For God's sake, don't stop! Oh God! Don't let him put it in his mouth! It can't be his mouth. I can't do that to him. Not with Brandon. He's looking at it. Scared? I don't think so. He's licking his fingers, making his hand slippery. Back again. How does a ten-year-old boy learn to do it like this? Going faster. His hand is jerking so fast I can barely see it. Much more of this and I'm going to die.

Looking to the side, skewing my head to look over my shoulder. I can't believe what Grant's doing. He's sucking Brandon's penis, all of it, all the way down. I can see it, stubby and incredibly hard, pushing his cheek out. He's pushing three of his fingers into Brandon's anus. So easily. He's doing what I want to do. How can he know my terrible thoughts?

I felt it rising long before it spurted out. It was heralded by pressure, like searing heat, intense painful contractions in my testicles, grunting as I searched for air to fill my lungs. I wanted my penis all the way inside Brandon's mouth. That was where it belonged, at least for now. Getting hotter. Aching. Closer. Faster. Impossible. Lunging. Getting faster. Up and down. Pumping with all his strength. Both of us shaking. Both gasping. Unable to look down now. My eyes see nothing but blackness, a yawning hole that is swallowing me, pulling me down, down, bottomless. Then light. Intense, sparkling flashes of delirious spasms. Then wetness encompassing me, flowing along my shaft. So hot. So soft. Spurting. Thick. Gobs and gobs. Everywhere. His hand is still stroking, pumping, slowing down, getting all of it out. Erratic. No longer rhythmic. His entire body is shuddering. He's had an orgasm as well. Stopping. Both of us are trembling.

I heard Grant's voice. Like a voice out of the past, asking the question that all boys ask sooner or later.

"Was it good?"

Good? Such a bland statement despite its boldness. Everything summed up as 'good'. Nothing more, nothing less. My incredible ejaculation was reduced to 'good'. It was disconcerting. I could not begin to explain to two immature boys what I had just experienced.

"Yes, it was good," I muttered.

The boys giggled. Teasing, taunting laughter. Peals of giggles.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah… um… nothing."

I glanced at Grant. His lips were wet, full and crimson red. Passionate lips, lips that only moments earlier had been around his best friend's penis, sucking him into mindless oblivion, giving him the penultimate pleasure. Yet, despite his broad grin and the saliva glistening on his chin, his face gave nothing away. On the other side, Brandon regarded me shyly. He was not embarassed. Rather he seemed curious as he inclined his head. Savoring the moment, perhaps? His eyes shone brightly, still eager, still interested. Insatiable boy. He glanced away, down, looking at his hand. It was covered with milky streaks, creamy lumps clinging to his fingers. There was so much of it that even I was surprised.

For a moment I wondered whether I needed to beg his forgiveness, explain what the messy fluid was, plead with him not to tell his father what I had done to him. And then, from the corner of his mouth I saw the dribble. Still milky. Not a lot of it, but at least some of it had actually gone inside his mouth. He smiled again, no longer shy as he casually wiped his fingers over his lips, smearing it to a wet semi-circle on his chin. He swallowed. His tongue licked his bottom lip, still tasting my emission. His eyes met mine. For the present, this was our secret, Brandon's, Grant's, and mine. Yet, a voice within me said that it was a secret that would not last the year out.

The lights in the loft bedroom were not turned off until sometime during the early hours of the morning, although I had wandered off to bed soon after we had orgasmed together. I left them kissing, stroking small penises that did not appear to loose any noticeable degree of stiffness despite that they had just done. I was glad that they were together. I masturbated again, this time alone, thinking of Grant and Brandon, remembering in vivid detail the hurried slamming of their young bodies, thinking of two animals rutting furiously. The act so essential to human nature, was even more remarkable because they were unable to conceive. This was not sex for survival, but sex for the sheer pleasure of it. Then, as my urgency increased, I replayed my own ecstasy, jerking savagely as I thought of the one small hand, and then the other hand that had found its way to my penis. The boys had given me pleasure that I would never forget. They whispered when I left. It was obvious that they would not go to sleep for a very long while that night.

Despite that, the boys did not seem unduly sleepy when I went in to wake them up at 10.00 o'clock. They were both naked, and both asleep in the same bed. It seemed perfectly ordinary to me, no necessary after what I had witnessed during the night. Grant's mother would have 'gone ballistic' had she been there. Instead, I served them breakfast in bed, and delighted in their shameless nudity while I drank coffee, contentedly sitting in the nearby window seat.

They consumed a breakfast that was international in scope. Belgian waffles. Italian sausage. Canadian bacon. While the calories and fat were phenomenal, after the night's strenuous physical exercise, it was probably harmless. I partially redeemed myself with Hawaiian pineapple. It was all I could do to resist both temptation and invitation as they cavorted on and under the covers. For a change, it was not sexual. Instead, they wrestled, had pillow fights, tumbled and jumped, and burned off as many calories as they had just consumed. Finally, when they were breathless, and my erection was at the point of bursting, I sent them off to shower.

The respite was brief, just long enough to put away the breakfast tray and straighten the bed. They emerged from the shower as I went into the bathroom to hurry them along. Needless to say, they were still naked and quite wet. Both boys had towels, flipping at each other and darting out of the way while screaming in pretended agony when the towel hit certain sensitive exposed parts. I told them to finish getting dried off and to put some clothes on.

Grant grinned at Brandon slyly, sharing a knowing look that made me wonder whether they had planned something in the bathroom, something that I was not supposed to know about.

"Daaaaad…" Grant began slowly as he finished drying his butt and the backs of his legs.

"Yesssss?" I asked with drawling hesitation to match his own.

Grant grinned cheekily. "I want to get a bigger one," he demanded flatly.

"A bigger what?"

"You know! What you made for me the day after Christmas. Only bigger."

"Oh?" I looked at Brandon guiltily, hoping that he had no idea what Grant was talking about.

He smiled slightly, a little too knowingly for comfort. It seemed that another secret had been shared. There were no secrets between these boys. I swallowed awkwardly, feeling the sudden rush of heat up my neck. He knew about us. I could see it in his eyes, calm acceptance, detached amusement. Did that also mean that his father knew about us? I averted my eyes. He continued to look at me with his quizzical interested eyes. Was he thinking what kind of man would have sex with his own son? I swallowed again, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread.

"You don't have to worry, Dad. It's cool."

"It's cool?" I muttered.

"Yeah. It is. See… Brandon's got one too, Dad," Grant added with a smirk.

"Got what?" I asked nervously.

"A butt-plug!" he blurted out with a bold laugh. "What? What on earth are you…?" I began in amazement.

Grant grinned shamelessly. "You know what I'm talking about, Dad! It's what he uses to make his hiney hole bigger."

I looked at him pointedly. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, realized that the cat was out of the proverbial bag. I glanced at Brandon quickly, then looked away, wondering why he would have a 'butt-plug'. It could not be for the reason that was foremost in my mind.

"Oh! Um, well… Ah!"

"Only his is different to mine."

"Huh?" I swallowed. After last night, nothing should have been able to surprise me. "Different how?" I managed to squeak out.

My nervousness produced an instant grin. "It's way bigger, Dad."

"Bigger how?"

"Well, it isn't as long, but it's much thicker, Dad." His grin extended to his ears.

"Um, well… so why?"

Brandon guffawed but managed to cover his mouth before he burst into laughter.

"It would make my butt looser," Grant answered with as straight a face as he could manage. "And you did say I was kind of tight back there."

"Uh… um… well… I was only teasing about that, you know," I replied uncertainly.

A sideways glance at Brandon left me less perturbed. He was idly playing with his penis, coaxing it into erection by caressing himself. Unlike Grant, his scrotum was very visible. It hung almost as far down as his penis and was already egg-shaped at the bottom. When he was older, he would definitely be in the 'small cock-big balls' category.

"No, you weren't." Grant smirked.

I took the bull by the proverbial horns. "Ah, so… Um… You want one that's bigger, huh?" I asked. Grant giggled temptingly. "Well, I think it would be pretty unlikely that Arneson would keep them in the store," I teased, referring to the general store about three miles [5 km] down the road.

"Probably not."

"So what brought this on?" I asked nervously.

Grant giggled again, glanced quickly at Brandon, looked back at me. They smiled at each other again, sharing another secret.

"'cause."

"Because why?" I asked.

"Just because, Dad."

"'Because' isn't a reason in this family. You ought to know that by now! You have a much better chance of getting what you want if you tell me why," I said, trying very hard not to laugh.

Despite my playful seriousness that was intended to mock his mother, Grant raised an eyebrow, trying to communicate what he didn't intend to say in words. It was a simple gesture that could have been interpreted to mean almost anything, but to my mind, it was an unequivocal announcement that there were no longer any secrets.

"You know why, Dad!" he said with exasperation.

"I don't know why. You're going to have to tell me, Grant," I teased relentlessly.

Brandon laughed boldly. "Geez! Cut it out you guys. If Grant wants to make his butt hole bigger, why shouldn't he?"

I glanced sideways at Brandon. While almost totally out of character, for the years that I had known him, I was quickly beginning to appreciate his newly discovered lack of inhibition. It was truly remarkable what a difference a few hours and a single sexual experience could make in a boy's personality.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal, Brandon. If you really have one, and it's as big as Grant makes it out to be, then I suppose he can get a bigger one. Of course, you'll have to prove you've got one."

Brandon's eyes darted to Grant and he nodded quickly in agreement. "Okay."

Slowly he smiled, and then Grant began to giggle as well. "You have to now, Dad… 'cause he's already wearing it."

Both boys laughed. It had been all too easy and I was caught in my own trap. Just knowing that Brandon was standing only a few feet away and wearing a butt-plug sent adrenaline charging through my body. My heart went into overdrive. The boys seemed to have everything planned. What was even more interesting was that they were carrying it out with unnerving cunning. "Um, well, you're still going to have to prove it to my satisfaction," I grinned lasciviously. "However, I have to be honest. I have absolutely no idea where I could get you one around here, Grant."

Brandon was shameless. "He can borrow my new one if he wants," he said gleefully.

Everything had changed. Only a day ago, the very thought of anyone else knowing that Grant and I had sex, that we were lovers in the full sense of the word, would have been devastating. And yet, here we were, talking about two preteen boys doing something that could mean many things, but to me I meant only mean one thing. It meant that Gary and Brandon had a relationship that was no different to what I shared with Grant. I was hopeful at the same time I threw caution to the wind. Suddenly, the idea of the two boys wearing butt-plugs back to the Bowman's house was enough to make my penis grow to full erection in seconds. I felt it bulging, incredibly hot and hard into the front of my jeans. I had never achieved arousal so quickly.

With the rest of the day still to go it would make for two very stretched boys. I had no idea what was going to happen. It was New Year's Eve. It was the start of a new century and a new millennium and if ever there was a reason to celebrate, this was it. I fantasized about what might happen without knowing of anything that had been planned for the night's celebrations. There would be a dinner and snacks, of course. Champagne for both of us, and some for the boys as well. Beyond that, I had no inkling. Yet, my mind drifted, constructing a fantasy of watching midnight approach, slowly becoming inebriated, losing inhibitions. I could only imagine what might transpire if my intuition was correct. If Gary and Brandon were…? If they…? Knowing nothing for certain, depending entirely upon my instincts, it seemed entirely appropriate that the boys have some advance preparation. With them close on my heels, I led the way back into Grant's bedroom.

"Okay! It's fish or cut bait time," I chuckled. "Why don't you show us, Brandon?" I suggested.

"Yeah, show us your's, Brandon," Grant teased, suddenly switching sides and reinforcing my opinion that ten-year-old boys were notoriously fickle, even with their best friends.

Brandon smiled. The towel dropped to the floor and he stood before us shamelessly naked. This was my first chance to closely examine Brandon's penis, and I took advantage of the opportunity. I had the distinct feeling that I was looking at forbidden fruit. Seeing him naked affected me in a very different way to my son's nude body. Grant had a familiar acceptance of being naked around me. However, it was more than unfamiliarity. There were other differences that when seen close up and in the full light of day, made me very excited. My penis reached the pinnacle of erection, beyond which further stiffness was impossible. It was so hard that it ached.

Brandon's half-erect penis was much smaller than Grant's penis for one thing. It appeared to be more than an inch [2½ cm] shorter in length. His bigger testicles hung lower, seeming disproportionately large but still without the increased growth that marked the onset of puberty. It definitely had a manly appearance despite its size. Perhaps I was used to the streamlined look of a boy's longer, thinner penis, and a smaller scrotum, a scrotum that looked like a half a walnut, and that was without the shell attached. Unless Grant lifted his penis out of the way, or nature lifted it out of the way for him, it was difficult to see that there was anything underneath.

"Promise you won't laugh, Mr. Travers?" Brandon admonished. "You want to see it?"

I looked up quickly, aware that both boys had been waiting for me to return to Earth. I smiled, grateful that they did not comment on my obvious arousal. Grant and I nodded in unison and he squatted, taking a position that was akin to defecating. Without saying a word, but very aware that we were watching him closely, Brandon reached one hand behind him as he strained down. It appeared to hurt him, and for a moment his teeth clenched and his brow furrowed as the stress built up within him. It was almost impossible not to laugh as it 'popped' out with a wet gurgling fart following it. Slightly embarassed, he shifted to his knees, circumspectly examining the glistening plastic object that has been lodged inside him. I wondered how long it had been there. Obviously the boys had placed it there some time during the night.

"Can I see it again?" Grant asked gleefully.

Brandon grinned and held it out for our inspection. Grant took it gingerly. It resembled a golf ball in diameter at either end, but not in the center where it narrowed to about an inch and a half [4 cm] wide. It was clean, smooth, and glossy with a sheen of oil. Grant was correct. It was very different to what I had started to refer to as Grant's favorite toy. That crude but highly effective assemblage of colored balls and a leather cord measured just over six inches [15 cm] long and was just over one inch [2½ cm] in diameter.

"It's different to my other one," Brandon said came to his feet.

He appeared to be completely unperturbed by the fact that the object that had previously been lodged inside his rectum was now lying in his best friend's hand. He reached into his overnight bag and fumbled around among his clothes and other things.

"Different how?" Grant asked curiously.

"My new one is well… it's tapered more for one thing, but it's even thicker. It's shaped a bit like a real cock, I guess. It feels a lot bigger."

"Your new one is even bigger?" Grant said with a trace of envy.

"'Least it feels bigger around than what I'm used to with this."

Brandon held out a pale-pink cone-shaped object for our inspection. The taper extended from the pointed end almost to the knob on the other end. Overall, it was no wider than the one he held in his other hand, but the groove that accommodated his anus was almost the same diameter as the widest part of the cone. It had a small nylon strap that could be used to keep it in place. More than an inch and a half [4 cm] wide. It was man-sized! In a boy! I understood, or at least I thought I understood a lot more.

"It looks like it would be easier to get it in," I observed.

Brandon nodded. "Sometimes with the old one I have to push pretty hard. I like the way my new one is pointed."

"Okay boys," I chuckled. "Let's get this show on the road. We're already a couple of hours behind schedule. If we don't get a move on we won't be at Brandon's place before it gets dark."

Brandon handed Grant his new plug and took the other back in return. I couldn't help smiling as my son picked up the jar of Vaseline from beside the bed. It was bigger than he was used to, but he was brave. He had no qualms about what he was about to do. Grinning from ear to ear, he slathered a two-inch [5 cm] long bead of gelatinous oil over the pink plastic, smeared it with his finger, and promptly squatted. I had the distinct feeling that he was pretending he was sitting above me. We had done it in that position several times and I was impressed how easily my penis was able to enter him. His eyes met mine, grinning enthusiastically as he positioned it. Then his eyes closed, concentrating as he pushed both upward and downward at the same time.

With my penis, he knew when to stop, easing back once the glans had penetrated far enough into him that it could not slip out by itself. The plug was different. The taper would be easily pushed out if he exerted pressure on it. However, he kept a different pressure on, upward and inward, forcing himself to adjust to the increasing width of the tapered plug while he stifled his body's attempt to reject it. He reached the point of greatest thickness. From his strained, discombobulated expression, I knew that his anus was stretched wide, but it was probably not a lot more than he was already well used to. He paused, feeling it bulging between his split cheeks. His sphincter clutched and he winced, swallowed, then slowly, deliberately pushed it home, so that the anus circled the groove. He took a deep breath. He looked exhausted. Only seconds passed before he slowly stood up again, now moving awkwardly. He smiled slightly as he felt it adjusting inside, stretching, stimulating.

"Turn around so we can have a look," I suggested lightheartedly.

He turned slowly, placing his hands on his still-clenched buttocks. He squeezed slightly, tightening his bowels around the intrusion. It would take him a minute or two to get used to it, but it was obviously not too painful.

"Cool," Brandon said admiringly. "Very cool. See, it went in okay. I told you it was really easy to get it in."

"Feels okay?" I asked.

Grant nodded. The plug was seated properly, its symmetrical penetration reaching just to his prostate. The pointed end was too small to overstimulate him, while the other end would cause his sphincter to dilate fully. The pink circular knob of the other end was all that was visible and it lay snugly between the pale mounds of his cheeks, encompassed by the dark ring of his well-stretched anus. With his briefs and jeans on, there would be no sign of what was lodged within his slender body.

"Now you, Brando," Grant demanded as he looked at his friend.

Brandon grinned back at him and bent forward. Holding his still warm plug at his rear in one hand and parting his cheeks with the other, he wriggled. Grant watched with interest while Brandon eased back against the object held firmly in his hand. Brandon's hips squirmed, rotating over the ball again and again until it was forced through. Without the benefits of a taper, his anus was forced to its maximum opening before there was any relief. There was a momentary cruel pain visible on his face when it passed beyond the point of no return.

"Shit!" Brandon complained. "That hurt."

"You ought to have a smaller one," I teased.

"No! He needs a bigger one," Grant chortled, "the same way I need a big one."

Grant fastened the strap to Brandon's satisfaction and walked over to the chest of drawers that held his clothes, moving awkwardly as the plastic cone continued to change position within his rectum. Getting dressed provoked visible discomfort, especially when he had to bend to put his clothes on. He sat down on the side of his bed to pull his briefs and jeans past his feet. His gasp was audible as the wedge was forced higher and took the load under his bottom. He looked up and smiled at me, feeling the pointed end lodged against his prostate.

His anus was stretched as wide as it could go. It was as thick as my penis, bigger than he needed. I had no doubts that the plug's full hardness was filling him up to the point of discomfort. It was bigger than our home-made apparatus. It felt like my penis was halfway inside him, incredibly hard and unable to control. I imagined it could be difficult to get out if the restraining strap was not there to keep it in place.

A few minutes later we left the house, carrying our overnight bags and ready for a night of fun. The four of us would welcome the New Year together. After what had happened in Grant's bedroom I harbored a vague suspicion and a unrelenting hope that at least for part of the time all four of us would be together. The idea excited me greatly.

The snow had started as flurries, but the overcast sky suggested that more was on the way. It dimmed my good feelings. I expected the snow would get worse as the afternoon continued. For a moment I ruefully considered whether it would snow all day, continuing right through the weekend. There was a possibility that we might get snowed in. If we did, the next few days would probably be spent indoors, and then I thought of spending the time with three people who I loved. There was even a chance of having some time alone with Brandon. The mere thought was enough to provoke another erection.

"What car are we taking?" Grant asked as we entered the barn behind the house.

"The truck I guess," I answered. "We'd better bring some more feed for when you bring Moonraker back here."

"Yeah, the truck!" Grant exclaimed excitedly.

He grinned at me, leaving me wondering why it seemed that the afternoon had just become much more interesting. With boyish enthusiasm, they climbed in the same side of the pick-up truck, put their bags under their feet, and fastened their seat-belts while they giggled and whispered conspiratorially. I had no doubt that a prank was being considered. Like true boys, they were oblivious to the mess lying on the front seat and on the floor, but then, most of the mess was their's anyway. There were wrappers from fast food snacks and empty drink containers, a multitude of receipts for farm purchases that my accountant needed, more than a few magazines, and newspapers from several weeks ago.

"On the count of three!" Grant giggled from his seat beside me.

"Now what!" I challenged. "What do you two have planned?"

Brandon and Grant laughed hysterically. They shrieked in unison. "ONE! TWO! THREE!"

Four hands unfastened belts, buttons, and zippers. They paused, laughing as they both glanced to me for approval. It was impossible not to encourage them. I nodded, grinning at what they were suggesting, encouraging what should not have been encouraged, but unwilling to stop them. They were incorrigible. They were boys, and boys will always be boys. Jeans and briefs were shoved hastily downward to their knees. Needless to say, both boys were sporting erections, yet again. I stared, excited by their proud display of their young aroused bodies. I was beginning to realize that Grant was even more uninhibited with Brandon around.

"Come on guys," I chuckled as they flaunted their nudity at me and flipped at their penises, getting them even stiffer until they bounced against their bellies.

"Only Brandon can't come," Grant giggled.

"Neither can you, dick head," Brandon retorted gleefully.

"But he'll wear it out trying," I laughed. "You too, spunk-boy," I added with a playful wink at Brandon. "You give a great hand job by the way."

Brandon responded with a wink of his own.

I started the engine and began to reverse out of the parking area in front of the house. As soon as I was on the road, I looked over at the two boys beside me. Despite everything, I had often thought that size accounts for almost everything, but Brandon's noticeably shorter but fatter sex organ excited me in the same way that Grant's 'torpedo' genitals did. 'Nothing quite like a penis with a boy attached', I mused to myself.

"You better get your jeans up before we get to the bridge," I chided.

"Aw, Dad," Grant whined. "Don't be a spoil-sport."

His fingers stroked the very tip of his penis, teasing the opening in his foreskin as he flexed his little shaft. Although I was disturbed by the possibility that someone would see them as I began to drive down the snow-filled tracks that were now the only indications of the road to Gary's place, I reasoned that they would be largely hidden from sight because of the height of the vehicle. I still worried that a truck driver might see them and report my license number to the police. What was worse, while the prospect of an accident was remote on the short stretch of back road, I would be distracted if the boys did not behave themselves.

"What if someone sees you?" I demanded. "Do you want to get me arrested?"

The boys shared a guilty glance. "No one will see us!" they said together. "Except you, Mr. Travers," Brandon smirked. "And you don't count."

"It's Chris from now on Brandon! Once you show a guy your dick you can call him by his first name," I laughed. "Besides, what do you mean, I don't count?"

"'cause you're like my dad now," Brandon giggled. "And you've already had a good look at it."

"What if we have an accident?" I returned, wondering what 'like my dad' really meant. Did it mean what I wanted it to mean? And if it did, what did that imply?

"You have to pay attention to the driving, Dad," Grant answered swiftly. "Keep your eyes on the road and don't look at us," he taunted with endearing boldness.

"Hmmmmm. You're a little sex-maniac, did you know that. No wonder Brandon calls you 'dick head'?" I taunted.

"Uh huh!" Grant grinned. "And you like it, too. Anyway, I know how to keep your eyes on the road, Dad."

He twisted in his seat and reached behind him, into the 'black-hole' that contained three years of junk displaced from the front seat. He retrieved a blanket that badly needed a wash. He was still grinning widely as he settled back in his seat.

"Don't worry. If we think someone can see us, we'll put the blanket over us, okay?"

"Can you put the heat on? It's cold in here," Brandon asked with a playful smile.

"Use the blanket," I guffawed.

Unlike me, only a few moments later the boys lost interest in being naked. Their erections all but disappeared by the time we had crossed the bridge and turned onto the road. For the time being, they were 'normal' boys instead of 'sex-maniacs'. They started to sing. They had singing voices that left a lot to be desired, although their screeching to mock the Hanson brothers' Christmas CD was pretended most of the time. I stole frequent glances, peeking at their smooth young bodies. Despite my familiarity with Grant, I still committed each precious detail to memory.

It was the stuff of fantasy, and either boy was the perfect fulfillment of a boy-lover's longings. Grant's lean thighs touched only at his knees and next to his crotch, the curve of his still-suntanned belly followed a 'v', narrowing from a dozen fine folds of skin around his navel down to his sex. Precious, immature, a delectable boy-morsel that was displayed like a treasure. His penis was limp, was cushioned sleepily on his right thigh. Unlike Brandon, his loose testicles were still too small to weigh his scrotum down or fill it out. Brandon was still a long way from starting puberty and fleeting down the path to adulthood, but his balls appeared succulent, or maybe just suck-able. The boys' giggling brought me back to reality.

"I think Brandon's got a question for you, Dad?"

"Yes!" I answered immediately.

"I saw the jar next to the bed so I assume you guys use Vaseline right?" Brandon asked gleefully.

I nodded, considered inventing a poor excuse like chaffed skin, and then resorted to the truth. I was certain that Grant had told Brandon everything. It was time to take responsibility.

"Uh huh."

"We used to use it too. Then we switched to Eros. Do you know what that is?"

'We?' What did he mean? Brandon and Grant? Brandon and Gary? I took a deep breath and tried to control my excitement.

"Huh? Oh? Eros?"

If I had any doubts, the name alone was a dead give away. I swallowed. I tried to think about changing the topic. I gave up. Sooner or later it would all come into the open and there would be no secrets.

"Yeah, I know what it is," I replied awkwardly as Grant squealed with merriment.

"You can't buy it around here, but you can get it on the Internet. It's really slippery," Brandon stated, suddenly the expert. "And you only need to use a tiny bit each time so it doesn't make a mess like Vaseline."

He reached down into his overnight bag and pushed his tangled collection of clothes back and forth as he searched. I wondered whether Brandon had remembered to bring his toothbrush, before I concluded that the boys probably shared Grant's toothbrush yet again. After a few seconds of rummaging around, he retrieved a half-full, though quite small bottle. He held it up so that we could see. It was innocuous in appearance, not unlike glycerine at first glance. However, the label's claims of 'oil-free', 'water-free' 'hypo-allergenic', and 'tasteless' suggested that a purpose that was far from being innocuous.

"What else do you have in there?" I laughed.

"Lots of stuff!" Brandon grinned.

"Were you planning on having an orgy, Brandon?" I asked as my penis lurched in yet another enthusiastic rally.

"Orgy? What's that, Dad?" Grant smirked as he gazed at me in pretended innocence.

"Probably what happened in your room last night after I left, Grant," I laughed.

"What else do you think we did, Dad?" Grant answered. He smirked gleefully. "No, don't answer that!"

Brandon regarded both of us with a self-satisfied look, his eyes lingering on Grant as they shared yet another secret message. Another plot was underway and I was being dragged along with them.

"There's Dad's pick-up," Brandon chimed as his house came into view over the rise. "He must have left town earlier than he expected."

"Hi Gary. We would've come over sooner but I didn't know you were back already," I said when the front door opened.

Gary grinned. "I left town early. With all this goddam snow I wasn't taking the chance of getting stuck there for New Year's Eve. Hell, I've been sitting around here with nothing to do but watch television since ten o'clock, and wishing that I'd stopped by your place and brought the boys back with me."

I smiled, turned away and beckoned to the boys to hurry up. In seconds they had finished pulling their jeans up and were out of the cab, slamming the door loudly before they darted across the snow-covered grass. Brandon led by only a matter of inches despite the fact that he had a head start because he was sitting next to the door. He carried his bag in one hand and used the other to wipe the snow from his face. They stopped beside me, breathless and grinning.

Grant looked sheepishly at Gary.

"Hi Gee-Tee," Gary said with not-surprising affection. "Glad to see you."

"Hi Gary," Grant replied with a shy smile. "How has my pony been getting on?"

"He's doing fine. How about you?" Gary asked with a voice that was veiled with innocence.

"Okay!" Grant answered quickly.

"You didn't come over to see Brandon until late yesterday. I was beginning to wonder whether you two guys were still best friends."

I wondered whether something had happened, something I did not know about. There was something in his tone, in Grant's sudden response, in the way he changed feet and did not meet Gary's eyes. Grant had spent the previous night at Gary's place, ostensibly sleeping with Brandon, but from personal experience I suspected they had done more than sleep. He was more than capable of keeping a secret from me if he wanted. Brandon and Grant shared a quick glance. I felt like an interloper, divorced from this relationship and unable to take part in the conversation.

"Yeah, of course we are," Grant said as he looked down at his feet. His blushing nervousness caused Gary to smile.

"He's a lot cuter when he's embarassed, isn't he Chris?"

I shrugged uncomfortably.

"So what say you guys go do some sledding for a while. The way the snow is starting to come down we'll probably have a blizzard by evening," Gary suggested. "Hell, from the weather report I just heard, we may even be snowed in for a few days."

The boys grinned and bolted outside again. We followed them to the verandah, stood there silently watching as they scrambled up the slope. One run followed another. It was free entertainment, and it was very entertaining. We could hear their screams of laughter even though they were several hundred yards away. It was good to see them having fun as only young boys can.

"How have you and Grant been doing? Everything going okay?"

"Okay," I replied awkwardly.

"You know, I think I finally figured out why I like boys," Gary quipped.

"Really? Knowing you, I think I can figure it out," I said cynically.

Despite everything that had happened since Christmas Eve, part of me was still uncomfortable with the idea of men and boys being lovers. Perhaps it was guilt. Whenever Gary and I talked seriously, or in jest, it seemed that the conversation was always steered back to that topic. Each time, I felt a surge of excitement, yet something within me reacted against it. Even now, knowing that I was Grant's lover, knowing that the boys had been intimate since the summer, knowing that there was a very strong likelihood that Gary and Brandon also had been having sex, I struggled with my desire. Was it as wrong as society treated it? I shifted feet, hoping that the conversation would take a different direction.

Gary grinned, reached over and brushed the snow from my jacket. "Don't worry, Chris. It has nothing to do with s-e-x. Just being around them makes me feel like a boy again."

"I must say just watching them sledding is pretty invigorating."

"Every time I look at your boy, Chris, I think life is worth living. He's a boy's boy. He speaks a mile a minute. He has so much energy it tires you just to watch him. Hell, he redefines the word 'dare-devil'."

"I have to agree with that. My heart is palpitating just looking at him. I keep wondering how long it will take the EMS guys to get here."

"Ten minutes and twenty-five seconds, in good weather," Gary replied with a smile. "I happen to know that because I had them here a year or so ago when Brandon was thrown from his horse. But stop worrying. Boys like our two are virtually indestructible. All Brandon got was a mild concussion." He laughed. "I think it helped rather than hurt him."

"Damn. Look at them now. They've moved from the safe slope over into the trees."

The forest area was a lot steeper--which was about a one in two slope (very steep). Apart from the trees, and there were a lot of them, there were also branches everywhere and a lot of fallen tree trunks. It promised a wild and fast ride from the back of the barn a couple of hundred yards to the creek-where there was a ten foot [3 m] drop.

"Maybe we ought to call a standby ambulance just in case," Gary joked. "Look at what Grant is teaching my boy to do now. You ought to be glad I'm not the litigious type."

They were taking a running start, leaping onto their plastic sleds, going full pelt down the slope to pick up speed, and then jumping a series of fallen logs. On one or two of the jumps they went a few feet into the air and maybe eight feet [2½ m] in distance before they bottomed out with a spine jarring thump. My hands clenched, resisting the impulse to shout. There were a few logs that were so close that almost as soon as they came down they had to jump the next one. My belly churned. I waited for the scream of agony as young bones were fractured. I had a mental picture of blood stains seeping into the snow.

"Wow! Look at that," Gary said admiringly. "If I was doing that, I think I'd fill my pants."

The sleds were pretty much out of control at that point, so it was only to be expected that one of them would get flipped at the next jump. It happened exactly as I predicted. Only it was not one boy, but both of them. They slewed to the side and rolled through mud, leaves, sticks, snow, and God only knew what else for twenty feet [6 m] before they just managed to stop themselves falling the ten feet [3 m] into the creek.

"If it wasn't so dangerous you would die laughing," I said stoically.

Gary laughed despite the seriousness of the situation. "You know, I think Grant is sweet and a really good friend for my boy to have. If anyone gets into Brandon's pants I want it to be Grant. I think he'd make a great lover as well as a best friend."

I regarded Gary uncertainly. We were back to 'that topic' again. "Yeah, that sounds great… if he doesn't kill him first."

Gary shrugged. "So? It's a bit dangerous. But boys will be boys, Chris. I wouldn't have it any other way. They thrive on taking risks. It's what being a boy is all about. Sometimes I wish Brandon was more like Grant in that respect."

"Boys can also do some really dumb things too," I said nervously.

I watched Grant clamber back up the slope to pick up his sled. Brandon was a few feet behind him. Both boys were laughing their heads off. They were intoxicated by the sheer excitement of what they had done. Except for the mud on their clothes, neither seemed to damaged.

"On one of those tree trunks there's a branch sticking out." I pointed. "It's right at the level of his head."

Gary nodded in agreement. "I see it, Chris. There are probably other branches you can't see where if they lost control a moment earlier, it would be ideally placed to tear off a much needed body part."

"And you don't worry about them?" I asked critically.

Again, Gary shrugged nonchalantly. "To be honest, I'd probably worry about that, if I had to worry about something. It's my favorite part of a boy after all. If I wasn't so cold, I'd join them. Talk about boy-fun!"

"Well, not me. I'm ready for some coffee," I said. "Maybe we should make them move back to the grass slope. If they start higher up they could jump the driveway instead."

"It's not as good a jump as the logs though, is it?" Gary remarked with good humor. "You have to let him make his own decisions sooner or later, Chris."

I wanted to say that he already had made his own decisions, the really important decisions that would affect the rest of his life. Instead, I glanced down at my feet. If Grant or Brandon was hurt, I would never forgive myself. Someone had to show some common sense. The boys made the decision themselves. Even as I opened my mouth to call out, Grant and Brandon dragged their sleds away from the trees. They were safe for the present, but it would be only a matter of time before they felt the need to repeat the exercise.

"Hey Dad," Grant bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Watch this! Standing up is way cool."

He did the same running start, only when he leapt onto the sled he remained standing, half crouching, riding his sled like a snow board but without the feet restraints.

"That boy has a mean sense of balance," Gary observed.

"Awesome," I commented. I was still nervous, but I could live with this. "I've seen him do it before. Watch when he jumps the driveway. When he lands, it's all he can do to stay on."

Grant picked up speed before he came to a snow mound that was big enough to lift both boy and sled into the air. Even as the sled came down, Grant leaped off and rolled over and over into the snow. He came to his feet, brushing off clouds of powder, grinning as only a boy can.

"It's time for some coffee," Gary laughed. "Our little adrenaline junkies will be out here for a couple more hours, if I'm not mistaken."

Two hours became three. When they finally came to the door they were red-faced with cold, shivering, and wet. They looked exhausted as they shook of clouds of snow and lumps of ice from their boots. The snow had increased from flurries to a steady accumulation. The possibility of being snowed in for a few days was increasingly likely.

Gary smirked. "Well come on in and get your clothes off. The wet ones, I mean… You had better leave your undies on. You guys get dried off before you go upstairs for a hot bath," he added, gesturing for the boys to follow him into the living room behind him.

He stood to the side. Once they had all trooped past him, he closed the door behind them and fastened the dead-bolt. It seemed like an inordinate amount of security given that nothing ever happened in the area. The neighboring farms were more than a mile away as the crow flew. But something was going to happen later in the evening, and all four of us knew it. He had locked the door to ensure privacy.

Memories of what I shared with Grant filled my mind. That he probably did the same, or similar things with Brandon, reinforced my arousal. We were men who loved boys, and everyone in the room knew it. What would happen? I knew what I wanted to happen. I gazed about the room nervously. Grant stood awkwardly next to Brandon, aware of my discomfort and his own complicity. When I met his eyes, he quickly looked away. What was going through his head? was he thinking what I was thinking? What would he do if…? Then, without saying a word, as confused as I had ever been, I turned away and ambled back to the fireplace where I had been sitting since we had come inside.

A few minutes later, I heard the sounds of laughter, the slap of a hand on a firm young buttock, the noise from two nearly naked boys as they disappeared up the stairs. Gary joined me and took up a position beside the fire. He regarded me curiously. In his right hand he held a black video-tape.

Gary studied me without speaking for several seconds. His voice was thoughtful, yet confident.

"Okay. I guess they'll be gone for a while. There's time for us to talk, Chris."

I looked at Gary. There was something on his mind. The same thing that was on my mind. Did I trust him enough to tell him about us? The answer came even before I asked the question.

"I trust you more than I trust anyone else. If I show you this video, Chris, I want you to promise me you'll never tell anyone… No one!" he added insistently.

I tensed as his demand reached my befuddled brain. Fantasy was becoming reality. What was on the video? I could guess. There was only one thing that he would demand such secrecy for. My body trembled suddenly as adrenaline blasted along my arteries. I nodded as I assented.

"It's all the evidence they'll need to put me in jail for the rest of my life, but I'm sure I can trust you," Gary said with a hint of a smile.

He pushed the tape into the player and turned the television on.

"What you're going to see may come as something of a shock, Chris, but then again, maybe it won't. I think you've pretty much guessed about Brandon and me by now, just as I know what you and Grant have been doing."

There was no need to respond. I knew. Gary knew. I breathed out. In a way it was reassuring more than relieving. I was glad. I wanted to talk to him, another adult, an understanding ear, someone who had been through the same turmoil. There was a momentary wait. The screen was blue with only a single white arrow to indicate that the tape was running. Gary sat down on the adjacent couch, leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. He was very relaxed, a long way from where I was, sitting on the edge of my seat. I knew what was coming, or at least I thought I did. Seconds passed. I could feel my pulse quicken and the flow of blood building in my groin.

The video started innocently. The video had been made in the same room we were now in. It was a pleasant room if a little old fashioned with its high ceilings and elaborate plaster moldings. Across the room I could see the same couch that I was sitting on. Brandon, beautiful sweet Brandon, was playing the piano, the same piano that stood in the corner opposite the fireplace. I did not recognize the music, but I immediately decided that he was very good. The music was haunting, and it was made even more dramatic because I sensed what would follow shortly. He was attired in a loose-fitting shirt that hung more than a foot [30 cm] below his waist. In all likelihood, it was his father's tee-shirt, and it was startlingly erotic. I thought of Grant, beautiful Grant, wearing my clothes as he had recently started doing, just my tee-shirt with nothing on underneath. Was Brandon also naked from the waist down? His hair had been neatly brushed. Despite the fluid movements of his long thin fingers, he was anything but relaxed.

"I'm a boy-lover… but then you already knew that didn't you?" Gary said, breaking the brief silence.

I nodded slightly, thoughtfully. 'Boy lover'? The two words were innocent until they were put together. 'Boy lover', the one thing that modern society loathed. It was the one thing that no man wanted to be. It was the one thing that I had managed to avoid until a few all-too-brief days and nights ago. I was a 'boy lover'. Sitting across from me, the father of my son's best friend, was another one.

"The only trouble with loving a boy is that it's a fleeting thing. You might call it a passing passion, an entire lifetime that has to be forced into a year or two…" Gary added passionately before his voice faded.

He was sad, but he had a reason to be sad. The music was sad. Being a 'boy lover' was also sad. Nearly a minute passed before he spoke again. The music carried me effortlessly, leaving the impression that I could listen to it forever.

"It's the saddest love of all."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about," I murmured.

His words had struck a chord within me. At that moment, I was thinking of how fast Grant would grow up. The very thought was painful. It was, I realized, such a very short time to be in love with someone. I understood what he was feeling, trying to express in words. At ten years old, there was at best only a few more years before Grant started puberty. Some boys started even sooner, even as young as ten. My attraction to him would end at puberty or shortly after. I knew it would, no matter how much either of us wanted it to continue. The end would be both sad and relieving. A boy-lover lived in constant fear of discovery until the fleeting love ended abruptly.

"It… it's just a matter him growing up. It has to happen," I added sympathetically.

"Yes, it does. It doesn't make it any easier."

"I think a person has to accept it as part of loving a boy. You have to take what you can get, when you can, assuming he's willing to give it, of course."

"With Brandon, being willing is not a problem. He's special… Like Grant is special," Gary murmured. "I know I don't have to tell you that, do I?"

"He's gay?"

"Yes!"

"So is Grant… I think."

"I expect he is. Actually, I'd be surprised if he wasn't."

On the television, Brandon was becoming increasingly nervous with frequent glances over his shoulder as the camera continued to record his wonderful music. Still, he looked away from the camera and I guessed that someone was holding his interest captive, that someone who was standing next to the photographer. Intuitively, I knew that the person was Gary. The photographer, I could only guess at, but reason said that it had to be Grant.

"It's difficult enough, but when the charming boy becomes a youth," Gary continued. He glanced at me quickly. "That's what I worry about most with Brandon. How it ends." He sighed. "I know he'll want other men after I lose interest in him. I don't want him hurt by it. The best thing that could happen to him… well… I'd like to think it was Grant who took over from me."

I nodded understandingly. "I expect so."

"Either a boy shrugs it off and turns to girls, or when his man friend begins to lose interest, he had better find someone else. Any way you look at it, a broken heart is left behind."

"I never thought of it like that."

"It's true, Chris. It's going to be the same with you and Grant, you know. The last time you were up and Grant stayed with us, during Thanksgiving… when this video was made, we talked about it. I think we all wanted to preserve the moment… everything… you know… It's so special, this period in a boy's life, while he's young and carefree. It's beautiful, you know what I mean, Chris? Not just physically… that too, of course. Brandon is beautiful and so is Grant. But it's more than that, a lot more. The whole thing, of being in love, having the feelings for the first time, of being held close, knowing he's loved, and loving back too, that's what's important. To keep that moment forever, that's the whole point. It brings something into your life, knowing he's happy…" Gary stopped and took a deep long breath. "God, I'm going on, aren't I Chris?"

I nodded again. "Maudlin?" I suggested, then slowly shook my head. "I feel the same way about it, Gary. Sad yet happy. Every moment is precious at Grant's and Brandon's age."

One minute passed in silence. Then Brandon finished playing and my attention was riveted on the television. Slowly he stood and turned away from the polished wooden bench he had been sitting on. I anticipated a bow. Casually he lifted his arms up, drawing his overly-large tee-shirt upwards, then past his head, pulling his arms through. He smiled slightly, pausing uncertainly. I gazed upon his nearly naked body, enraptured. He wore black briefs, low-cut and tight fitting. He paused for a few seconds as the camera focused. There was a dull sheen on the thin silk cloth that covered his prominent pre-pubescent bulge. It looked like silk.

He peeled the covering away. His squat stiffness seemed expected. When I had seen him by the side of the pool, in Grant's bed, in the bathroom that morning, it was puny even when it was erect. It was still small, although it stood proudly to attention. Its owner gazed at the camera with a distant expression, as if he knew the thoughts of the person who was witnessing his undressing, as if he could look into my mind and see my appreciation. Yet I felt remote, remote like a voyeur who's role will never extend beyond that of a hidden observer.

Both my own son and another man were there with him. I had known Gary for five years. He was a man with whom I had only started to share secrets, just as Brandon was sharing himself in the video. I wanted to participate, to walk forward into the camera's field of view and join the beautiful nearly naked boy, to complete what had been started during the previous summer. I could do that by bringing all four of us together.

What happened was that Brandon pushed his briefs down to the floor, stepped from them, and put his hands on his hips. It was a beautiful sight. I watched in silent awe, captivated by a lean, smooth body. From behind the camera, Gary slowly walked forward. He was naked. Although he was photographed from behind, I realized he was like me, erect. Beyond him, I watched Brandon smile as his eyes lowered. My imagination filled in what I could not see. Gary approached the boy who was waiting beside the polished black piano. The contrast between them was startling and overpowering. Except for his buttocks, Gary was pale. He was also quite hairy. Beside the darkly tanned yet soft-skinned boy, he was very masculine. Perhaps that was why some men liked a boy to be younger, at least a year or two before they had suffered the ravages of puberty. Was it a boy's pretty face and glistening hair, a smooth hairless body that bordered on feminine? There was a long pause while father and son looked at each other, clearly contemplating each other's bodies, obviously deriving satisfaction just from looking.

Gary coughed and I glanced at him quickly, afraid to miss even a single second of the video. In the passage of only a few minutes it was as if it held the meaning to my own existence.

"He's beautiful isn't he?" he said softly.

"Yes he is," I mumbled self-consciously. "He's very beautiful."

"I want him to be happy." Gary sighed. "He is. He is so happy, now. I just wish the time we had together was longer…"

"I know how you feel," I muttered self-consciously.

"People say love should come before sex," Gary said awkwardly. "Living the way Brandon and I have lived, it's different. Love and sex go hand in hand. You can't have one without the other. You start with love and then you have sex. And then the love grows even stronger."

I looked away, back to the television. Gary had stepped closer, obscuring part of Brandon's body. Close enough to touch him. I saw his shoulder flex, his arm move. He was caressing the boy's flank. I swallowed. I could feel the silky smooth skin, radiantly warm yet sleek. My fingers tingled.

"Loving freely," Gary mused. "That's what it really is about, you know. Loving who you want, not someone who society says is appropriate. It's about loving without fear of what other people think or expect. I want my son to know what it means to be free like that. It's what I experienced when I was a boy. I want Brandon to be free to do what he chooses. If it means giving himself into a another man's embrace, loving him and being loved in return, so be it. It isn't that great a sacrifice, not if he's happy. It's Brandon's choice. I've never forced him. It always has been that way with me."

I risked another glance, curious as to why he continually referred to 'sacrifice'. Who was he alluding to when he talked about Brandon 'giving himself into another man's embrace'? Gary's eyes met mine. His expression was very serious.

"They're both lucky boys," I said softly. "It sounds like we are both very understanding."

He regarded me curiously, eyes narrowing. He smiled slightly, almost thinking aloud.

"Of course, if he does, I know it's always going to be more than just a kiss and a hug," Gary ventured. "However, I can live with that. I don't want Brandon to be promiscuous, but I certainly don't want him to be inhibited either. If a boy is going to be gay, it's only natural for him to want a man's affection. I don't know about you, but I fully expect it to be sexual."

I nodded vaguely, thinking of Brandon and Grant and what had happened during the previous night, wondering why he referred to me in the way he did.

"Of course, having one partner is certainly better for a boy than changing every night, but if that's what Brandon wants, I won't go out of my way to stop him. I might make him pay for his own rubbers out of his pocket money, though," Gary laughed cynically.

"You're pretty open-minded."

"Am I?" he asked. "I'm just being a realist, Chris. I've always believed that a person's sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of. Brandon's entire life has been spent on a farm. Maybe that's why he's more open about sex than most kids. He's grown up with it. Sex is part of nature after all, and being gay is just another option."

I shrank away from his words, suddenly terrified of my feelings and a realization of what they intended. I loved Grant with all my heart, but Gary seemed to be talking about how I felt about Brandon. He seemed to know what had happened during the night before.

My eyes were pulled back to the television. Brandon's arms were around Gary's neck, pulling his head down even as the boy reached up on tiptoes. Kissing. The room seemed claustrophobic, the air redolent with the odor of something I could not describe beyond that it seemed very familiar. I shuddered. I needed to get away, to confront what loomed before me. Until now, my desires had been directed to one boy, my own son, with only a vague and undefined attraction to another boy. Sometime, recently, Brandon had become the object of concealed lust. My secret thoughts, thoughts that I had never shared, not even with Grant, were rising to the surface and becoming real. Loving Brandon was a hope that I had nearly rejected. I watched intently, fascinated by the boy's sexuality. The kiss went on and on, their bodies pressed tightly together now, rubbing front against front, Gary's arms locked around the boy, urgently lifting Brandon up into the air. Man pressed against boy, belly against belly, penis against penis. Brandon's legs wriggled, his feet hanging freely. My sex throbbed disturbingly as I stared. Another question demanded an answer, despite the fact that the answer I heard would not be what I wanted to hear.

"You're the photographer?" I asked quietly.

My voice was shaky. I wanted to think that they had set the video camera up on a tripod even though I saw the instability of hand-held recording.

"Of course not." Gary smiled as he hesitated. "Grant is. I thought you knew?"

"No," I said. "I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

"You didn't know what happened when he stayed here the night after Thanksgiving? He's pretty good at using a camera, don't you think?"

"I suppose so," I agreed glumly.

It was obvious then that Grant had kept secrets from me. I wondered whether he had been given a role in the video beyond operating the camera. It was an unpleasant thought, but I was not so easily diverted. When Brandon's feet touched the floor again I could not help but smile. Instinctively, his hand came back to wipe the wetness from his lips. Boys would be boys and kissing would always meet with the same reaction. Grant was no different. He didn't like spit on his lips either. Still, Brandon grinned. Then his hand dropped down to his belly, again wiping away more wetness.

My own copious pre-seminal fluid was leaking into my briefs and my penis ached with bulging hardness. I imagined that the boy's belly would have been slick with Gary's excretion. I realized that I had been seconds away from ejaculating during the all-too-brief time they had embraced. Now, I felt relieved.

"It looks like you made a bit of a mess on him," I ventured with a smile. "But it also looks like a hell of a lot of fun."

"It's good for boys like Brandon to be close to a man. People might not like to hear me say that, but it's true." Gary hesitated. "I'm surprised you didn't know about the video. I thought Grant had told you about it."

"No, he didn't. You make it sound so normal for men and boys to be together."

Gary laughed. "It is normal, or at least it should be. You know something, although you might find it hard to believe, Brandon has even tried pussy. Only once as far as I know. It happened when he was about six. There was a little girl who lived about a half mile [800 m] down the road. She was about eight. A real little vixen."

"Poor Brandon probably didn't know what hit him," I chuckled.

"I think it shocked him. He had a nightmare that night and wet the bed. Now and then, one of the girls at his school still gets interested in him. It doesn't last very long. Sooner or later they figure out that he's not interested in them in the same way."

"You make it sound like Brandon isn't interested at all in girls."

"He's not!"

"You sound so certain."

"Well, let's just say that up till now he's only been interested in his own sex. Your Grant is the same way, isn't he?"

"I guess so. There have been times when I wondered if he might be gay. He has friends who are more like boyfriends. I tried to tell myself it was just a stage he was going through."

"One of them being Brandon?"

"Uh? Yes… I guess."

"It's nothing to be ashamed about, Chris. A boy's going to be straight or gay, or somewhere in between. As soon as I was sure about Brandon, I knew someone would have to teach him what he needed to know," Gary admitted with a smile. "Living out here in the country, there was no one else. It had to be someone I could trust. There's too much at stake."

"So you took over the role of teacher?" I asked. Gary nodded. "It looks like you were a good teacher," I commented.

Gary laughed. "I did my best. And Brandon enjoyed his lessons too, believe me. If you want proof, just watch this next part!"

The camera zoomed in for a close-up shot, from just above Brandon's knees to his navel. His small genitals were in the center of the picture. A boy could not be more perfect, I decided. His penis was fully erect and it was still less than three inches [7½ cm] long. His scrotum was fully contracted and had become a fat rounded mound formed by his testicles. It was quite the opposite of Grant's flattened scrotum. Like my son, he was absolutely hairless. 'Unparalleled beauty' I thought to myself. Well, almost 'unparalleled. Brandon had only one equal among the many boys who I had come to know while raising Grant. That one boy was my son.

Gary dropped to his knees, his back still to the camera. He leaned forward and Brandon's hands moved to hold his head. Gary's head moved slightly as licked the delicate morsel that was offered to him. Then Brandon's thighs jerked with a sudden push, leaving no doubt in my mind where his penis had been relocated. At the same time, Gary's hands reached around Brandon's buttocks and held him tightly.

"Yum," I mused aloud. "Pretty tasty, huh?"

Gary laughed. "Very tasty. It gets better."

I watched silently, jealous of Gary, yet incredibly excited by his lewd act. Lewd? hadn't I done exactly the same thing to Grant so often during the last few days that I had lost count. From it outset it was clear that it was mutual. Like Grant, Brandon was giving himself and taking what he wanted, making his own decisions and moving freely.

Over the period of the next minute or more, Gary manoeuvred Brandon until he was sideways to the camera. The boy was humping with what appeared to be experienced thrusts. He was certainly no stranger to oral sex. With each forward thrust his little buttocks clenched into taut, pinched mounds, ramming his short but proudly extended sex into Gary's mouth as far as it could go. The camera wandered, from one face to the other, from roaming hands that caressed excited nipples, to the source of pleasure, now rigid, wet and throbbing in the hot luxury of Gary's mouth. The motion varied, at times slow, then a rapid rhythm, then erratic. The camera moved around them, focusing, zooming, shifting back and forth from faces to feet, downward to show Brandon's legs twitching, his toes curled up. I watched in amazement that such ecstasy could be captured by a boy who had probably never used a video camera before for more than a few minutes.

"It's… it's incredible," I admitted. "It really is beautiful."

"Yes it is," Gary agreed. "Each time I watch it, I'm surprised. Brandon is so happy, you can see it in his eyes."

"Uh huh," I smirked. "You looks like you're having some fun too," I chuckled.

"Actually it's mutual, but then it always is when you're in love."

I sighed as I saw another close-up of Brandon's face. His eyes were wide, his lips slightly apart as if waiting to be kissed again. His joyful expression was momentarily disturbing, then suddenly realizing how much Grant was a part of Brandon's life, I felt a terrible sadness brought on less by jealousy than by the insight I gained from watching the video. It was impossible that Grant had not tasted the forbidden pleasure for himself., He taken advantage of the opportunity presented to him by two of his most favorite people in the world. My treasured memory, of taking Grant's virginity in the bath tub suddenly seemed rather ridiculous. It was impossible that he had been untouched given what he had witnessed at first hand. He had been part of everything that I was only now seeing. Yet, reason intervened just as I became convinced that Grant had done the same things with Gary that Brandon was doing on the television. My mind turned to think that perhaps Brandon had even video-taped them together. Another movie featuring Gary and Grant? Was it possible? Was there another video-tape that recorded my son's loss of innocence? The thought rose up and stymied my reason, insight became jealousy and in turn gave way to loathing. It was too late to change what had happened.

However, despite how much I wanted to hate him, I knew that Gary would never do anything to hurt a boy. Like me, Gary was a boy lover, and that meant he would have respect for a boy's best interests. He would never pressure Grant to do something he did not want to do. Despite what I was now watching, I knew Grant also would never do anything to destroy my trust in him. I also trusted Gary to resist his natural impulses.

Yet that impulse was the strongest of all desires. It was overpowering every time I looked at Grant. It was no less threatening when I was confronted by his best friend. Until the previous night, I had not done anything sexual with Brandon, but I had not been very far from it just about every time I saw him. When the opportunity finally presented itself, as it had the night before, I knew that I would risk everything.

"God, he's sexy," I said quietly.

Gary turned swiftly. "You understand then, Chris? Grant said you would understand… I'm glad. I really am. I wanted you to know about us… but I couldn't tell you. Now, we both know. I'm glad because you're the same as me. It's good to be able to talk to someone who understands what it's like."

"Huh?"

"I guess this sounds weird. Until Brandon and I… well… started doing it, I hated being a boy lover. I loved him very much, but I couldn't touch him the way I needed to." Gary's voice was wistful. "There's something about a young boy. I don't know what it is exactly. He's so, so incredibly beautiful. But I could never do anything. It wasn't just a matter of having the opportunity and breaking the law. I could never do it to him. Not unless he loved me back, and not like a son. I was surprised when it happened. It was almost unexpected."

"Me too. It changed everything."

"Same here. Brandon's still my son, but, he means so much more to me now."

I understood. My own feelings for Grant were no different. I sank into silence, focusing my attention on the television. During the few seconds I had looked away, the scene had changed. I recognized nothing except the actors. Gary carried Brandon, his hands supporting Brandon's buttocks, the boy's arms and legs wrapped tightly around the man's body. They beamed at each other. From the double bed, I presumed that the room was Gary's bedroom. In all the years I had known the Bowmans, and the many times I had visited their house, I had never been upstairs.

For a few seconds, the camera panned the room. The furnishings were plain and lacked a woman's touch for pattern and balanced tone. Yet, the room was erotic. Bedspread and curtains were bright hues of red, vividly contrasting with a deep blue carpet. If I had any doubt about Gary's sexual proclivities, the metal framed picture of a dark-skinned and nearly naked prepubescent boy confirmed the obvious. The camera stopped at a polished brass bed. Gary laid Brandon down and stepped back. Brandon smiled radiantly, his eyes following his father as he brought a tube of lubricant from the chest of drawers back to the bed.

I sighed, thinking of Brandon and Grant. Grant was everything I had ever wanted, and more, so much more that I seriously doubted that I could ever be happy without him. I wondered how deeply Brandon loved Gary, and then, without thinking, whether Grant loved Gary the same way that I harbored a secret affection for Brandon. I wondered whether a boy's love could ever transferred to another person, perhaps even among the four of us. There was no question in my mind that Brandon did not love Gary. It was written all over his face. His pale blue eyes were bright and intense, and full of joy. I had witnessed the same look of absolute devotion on Grant's face every time I kneeled over him.

"He loves you a lot, doesn't he?" I asked as I risked a quick glance at his father.

Gary nodded. There was no need to acknowledge what was patently obvious. It was a mutual love, or had evolved to become that as the boy became accustomed to his role in a relationship that most people presume to be one-sided. Brandon grinned gleefully as Gary straddled him, reaching up with both arms to pull the man's face down to his. They kissed, exchanging hugs while their mouths were joined together. Then Gary sat back on his haunches and removed the cap from the tube, squeezed some out, a silvery bead. Brandon dabbed several of his fingers in it and began to smear the glistening lubricant over the man's penis.

It was the first time that I had the opportunity to see Gary's manhood. I had a long look at it. He was of average length, perhaps even smaller than average, but like his son, the girth of his penis was sufficient to give the appearance of a solid, thick stake. Using both hands and fingers to form a sleeve, Brandon began to rub, grinning lewdly as the fat reddened cock-head pumped through the open end. The camera zoomed in. Gary was excreting abundant fluid, his penis glistening and wet on the tip. He reminded me of a satyr, slightly evil, incredibly horny. A big droplet oozed out of crimson slit in the bloated glans. Brandon's tantalizing thumbs circled the head, coaxing even more out. Gary watched, Brandon watched, Grant watched, and I watched. Slowly the force of gravity made itself known. The droplet hung for a moment by a silver thread, then descended to Brandon's narrow brown belly.

They gazed at each other, the bonds between man and boy clearly wrought by close familiarity over many years. They communicated desire without words. Gary settled back onto his knees as Brandon's legs lifted up and were held in place by the crook of his arms. It was a special moment, each offering what the other needed to be complete.

"I still can't believe I'm actually watching Brandon and me do this," Gary breathed out. "It seemed so distant at the time, and when I see us now… well, it's truly remarkable."

"Yes it is," I agreed.

Brandon nodded and Gary held out the tube of lubricant again, this time dipping his own finger into it. The gel-covered digit disappeared from view. The sudden smile on Brandon's face revealed what Gary's finger had found what it sought. He grinned mischievously, pulling his legs closer to his chest and lifting his rump higher off the bed. The camera captured the momentary shock, the surprised gasp as Gary's finger pierced his little hole, penetrated far into the sanctuary that its sanctity was violated. His eyes fluttered, blinking rapidly as the strong finger pushed hard and slid further into his anus, then began to enter his rectum. It was no simple foray and it was no laughing matter. He seemed to tense, doing something unseen with all his strength. Immediately, he jerked, lifted up, then promptly pushed down again as Gary's finger probed for the necessary gland. He stayed there, rigid, an expression of uncertainty. Only his eyes moved, searching for Gary's, demanding attention, seeking acknowledgement. It was obvious that the man was ravaging Brandon's bowels with expert manipulation of an immature prostate. The boy's smile vanished. Within seconds, Brandon looked very serious, concentrating. Without warning his immobile determination was replaced by ecstatic trembling. His face contorted with each spasm of delight. He clutched his legs, wagging his head eagerly as the man's finger began to stab rhythmically.

"God!" I whispered.

"It gets better," Gary said reassuringly.

It was impossible to tell for certain whether Brandon experienced orgasm, yet within a few seconds he had bucked and heaved as if he was close to exploding. Grant acted much the same when he peaked. However for prepubescent boys there was no way of knowing that climax had been reached. Even masturbating Grant, it was hard to tell without feeling his penis jerking with spasms of dry ejaculation. For most of a minute Gary kept him there, tottering on the brink of insanity, nearly hysterical while the finger plunged back and forth. His euphoria was truncated abruptly, yet briefly. I watched in silent amazement as Gary knelt over Brandon, guiding his erect penis to replace his finger, or fingers, because by that point it was hard to tell. Gary's fingers glistened with a wet slimy sheen, the same shiny wetness that now covered the inside of the boy's buttocks and the rear of his scrotum. The close-up ended as the huge penis touched the tiny opening.

Brandon nodded and he took a quick breath. Then Gary moved closer and closed the gap between them to a matter of inches, barely the length of his squat penis. I expected Brandon to cry out, to give some indication of pain, but like Grant, it seemed very easy. It looked as if Gary's swollen penis slid into the boy without difficulty. Gary stopped pushing as soon as the glans penetrated his anus. Brandon shuddered, closing his eyes. He grimaced as he felt the fullness of the man-sized organ burgeoning within him. Gary hesitated, biding his time until Brandon nodded again.

"God Almighty," I muttered. "I can't believe I'm watching this happen."

"And it gets even better," Gary replied evenly.

And it did get better, much better. In fact, it defied nature. Again the view shifted to another close-up. I gasped aloud. Gary's cock looked huge when it was beside Brandon's shrivelled little dick, but it was frighteningly big when it was up against his anus. It looked like there was no way Gary's swollen red glans was going to pass through the narrow opening without rupturing his son's sphincter. But it did. The camera stayed there, focused on Brandon's anus, on the stake of swollen flesh that demanded entry through the tiny portal. Then slowly, inevitably, it began to disappear from sight.

I held my breath in disbelief. This was the stuff of a boy-lover's fantasy. That it did so with nothing more than some minor discomfort made it nothing short of a miracle. There was no sound as they joined. A silent mystery, of giving and taking. I made a mental note to be more appreciative of Grant's accomplishment when he took my penis without the slightest complaint. Then, with several thick inches inserted, they held their positions, waiting patiently for nature to work its miracle. Brandon's body adjusted slowly. His expression, somewhere between pain and pleasure, changed to a gentle mysterious smile as he began to appreciate the sensations. It was exactly like watching Grant. Gary's penis was buried about halfway, perhaps more. His fat hair-covered scrotum was very taut, rippling the flesh into a hemisphere, bifurcated by a line that reached up from his crack and ended only where his penis disappeared inside Brandon. Perhaps what I witnessed was wrong. Certainly there were enough laws to stop me in fulfilling my own desires if I gave them any thought, yet I put that fear aside every time Grant and I were together. I revelled in Gary's happiness, setting aside my feelings for Brandon. I should have felt envious, but I did not. I recognized the love between them as they gazed at each other. They shared their bodies, neither questioning that they should not be joined as one, accepting the other's needs, and giving freely.

Gary and I had become close friends over the years I had known him, but we had never shared our deepest secrets until now. As I watched the video, I was learning that my own failing, what I had considered to be a depraved sickness of the mind, was no simple aberration. Many men were boy lovers. Most hid it from view and resisted the impulse for physical affection, but a few men like Gary lived their fantasies and were better for it. Internet porn and masturbation were poor substitutes for contact with real human flesh and the expression of meaningful love. 'Love', was the root cause of what I was witnessing, I reasoned.

"You'd have to be blind not to see Brandon's in love with you," I finally acknowledged.

That I could do so without hoarding the words with jealous regret made me feel proud.

Gary nodded. "But you know something. It's even more than that. I loved him before any of this happened. By now he knows what he wants. He knows he'd make any man very happy, but what he shares with me is very special. Real love is different. I think it has to be experienced like this to be real love. It's more than just the thrill of having sex, though that was a big deal for him when we first started doing it. I think that even helped Brandon accept the divorce a bit easier. He didn't need his mother or anyone else for that matter. He had me."

"Still…"

"I always worried when we were together, you know. I'm supposed to be his father, but I'm also his lover. I'm worried he'll tell someone. I was worried about you finding out. Hell, Chris, I've even tried to stop. I thought I could just ratchet it back a few notches, take it easy and avoid going all the way."

"I think that would be hard with a boy like Brandon," I suggested lightheartedly.

"Hard is an understatement," Gary laughed. "It's impossible. I've given up trying to stop. However, I can't help afraid someone will find out. If it's not that, then I worry that I'll hurt him. I tend to be pretty active during sex as you'll see on the video. I used to worry that, you know, when I was doing it with Brandon, I'd rupture him or something. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself afterwards, knowing I'd hurt him."

I shuddered, imagining my terror if that had occurred with Grant. Now, Gary rocked gently, gazing down at Brandon with deep affection. I could see the love they shared. It was deeply spiritual as much as physical. Each forward motion elicited a soft whimper. It was, I realized, a sacred rite equal to any of religious importance. It was also intensely erotic in a way that made me want Grant almost more than I could stand.

Gary moved deliberately, slowly, steadily. Each powerful thrust into Brandon's slender body was cautiously calculated to give the maximum pleasure to both of them while minimizing the risk of pain and injury. If his groans were any indication, he took his pleasure on the out-stroke, pulling Brandon slightly with him until the friction ended and his penis moved freely on the film of lubrication. I quivered with the thrill of watching them, joined together, each focused only on the other, their bodies reciprocating in a single united rhythm, trembling uncontrollably from the overload of their senses. It was like a musician playing an instrument that had been tuned perfectly. The message was clear and unambiguous as Gary's body lifted up and away from the boy beneath him, then settled back down over him until he could barely be seen. No words had been spoken and yet Gary understood Brandon's need. His pace increased, not too fast, just enough to make Brandon shudder slightly. Then he slowed until Brandon groaned for more. I felt the dampness growing in my briefs, a pressing need to extract my own throbbing organ and obtain relief.

"You and Brandon are pretty darn good at it," I murmured.

Gary nodded, smiling. "Practice makes perfect, I suppose. Watch this next part and I think you'll see how much practice we've had."

Brandon's feet, up till now resting lightly on Gary's back, suddenly moved downward. His legs were no longer hooked over Gary's shoulders but locked around his father's thick waist. With Brandon's arms locked around his neck, Gary rolled to the side, bringing the boy to a crouching position above him. The video tilted uncertainly as it was moved to a different position, this time directly behind them at the bottom of the bed.

I gasped. Only Gary's glans was still inside Brandon. His small buttocks were split apart, his crack opening wide, but not wide enough. The sides of his cheeks bulged where the man's penis entered. It looked like it should have been very painful. There was a momentary pause when Brandon settled back on his haunches, pushing back at the thick stake that arched upward to meet him. His small penis was limp and dangling impotently between his thighs, his scrotum shrivelled up like a little rounded walnut. The difference between his boy-sized sex and Gary's mature penis was startling. For the first time since the video started I heard Gary speak clearly from the television.

"Go slow, babe. There's no need to rush. Remember you have to concentrate on feeling good."

"He feels so big," Brandon whimpered softly.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. It's good. It just hurts a little bit like this."

"I can feel you squeezing, Brandon. You're getting a lot bigger back there now. You're not nearly as tight."

Brandon hesitated a moment, seeming to summon his strength. Silently I pleaded for him to get off. At the same time, I wanted him to push down and take all of it. The mere thought of that man-sized penis going into Brandon's slim body made me tremble. I wondered what it would be like to have someone else watching Grant and me, to be captured on video-tape, to see it again and again on the television until every detail was memorized. My brain raced, caught up in the excitement and begging for more. It was even more thrilling because at that very moment, the boy I was watching was with Grant in the bathroom directly above us. It was very likely that they knew what we were doing downstairs. I wondered what they were doing upstairs.

I risked a quick glance at Gary. Like me, he was also watching the television with avid interest. My eyes darted back with shameless enthusiasm. Gary's erect penis slid in again, very slowly, very easily. At least Brandon made it look easy. It took him three attempts until all that could be seen was Gary's wire-like pubic hair brushing Brandon's small rump. The contrast between man and boy was startling. Brandon's brown, hairless body was joined inseparably with the paler, hair-covered man. It was made even more remarkable because there was no sign of Gary's penis. It was all the way inside! If I had not seen the proof and had first hand experience that such a thing was possible I would never have believed it. All movement stopped and Brandon rested, sitting down against the man's loins.

"You okay, babe?" Gary intoned from the television.

"Uh huh… It's in all the way, Dad. I can feel him right up inside me."

"Does it hurt, babe?"

"A bit. I think I put it in too fast."

"Just rest a while. You're stretched pretty wide, Brandon. You need some time to get used to having all of me in you."

"Don't take him out!" Brandon said adamantly.

"Who me?" Gary chuckled. "I don't think I could even if I wanted to, babe. Man I can't believe you're still so tight after this morning. I must have fucked you for an hour before we got out of bed."

After a minute or two passed Gary turned to me and smiled.

"I must have watched this a dozen times and it always surprises me, this next part."

As if I needed further encouragement, I took a deep breath and readied myself. I watched with avid interest, mesmerized by their fluid motion, the pace varying from fast and furious to slow and gentle. Gary lifted Brandon's hips up, pausing a second as his penis withdrew to leave only an inch [2½ cm] inside him. A momentary close-up revealed the head of Gary's penis was all that remained hidden. The boy's anus was fully dilated, like a little open mouth searching for something to eat. Excess lubricant had been smeared between them so that the flesh they shared glistened with an oily gloss. The small hole seemed impossibly large, and a lip of skin circled where it had been breached, a tender anus stretched to a thin dark border around the man's tumescent, crimson sex.

They grinned at each other for several seconds before Gary allowed Brandon to slowly slide back down again. Brandon squirmed as he was lowered, adjusting his position and doubtless his internal organs as his father's penis went even deeper. When gravity was impeded, his legs strained and he pushed down to impale himself, meeting Gary's upward motion. He trembled when the thickness rammed quickly through his sphincter, resuming his position with his buttocks hard against Gary's groin.

"God," I whispered.

After a few more times of being 'deep-dicked', Brandon began to move easier, relaxing, taking over the active role while Gary lay back on the bed. His narrow pelvis rotated and undulated, expertly working the thick shiny shaft that was lodged between his buttocks. The sound became wetter, not unlike a slushy suction one hears when walking through mud. There was no question that the full length of Gary's penis was moving easily inside Brandon's anus, because he was grinning. I had seen the same look of ecstasy, of being abandoned to strange overwhelming sensations on Grant's face often enough to know what it meant.

"You'd think a boy his age would be a lot tighter," I said in growing arousal.

Gary nodded. "It's one of nature's little surprises, that a boy's body can get like that. Brandon can do everything back there that a woman does in front, in some ways even more. It feels a hell of a lot better too."

Brandon's hand lifted up to brush the hair back from his forehead. Clearly he was stressed, but he did not seem to be in any real pain. His expression was curious. He was focused intensely, his eyes no longer happy but full of concentration as if he was trying to remember every sensation. I tried to remember Grant's face, yet all I could imagine was a blur of features, contorted in intoxicated pleasure. Brandon had the same look, an expression that communicated what it felt like to have something big, alive and hot moving inside one's bowels. After several more thrusts the expression of Brandon's face changed perceptibly. His mouth was tight, grimly desperate, and his eyes were closed to mere slits. He was close to the edge. Barely breathing, then sucking air urgently, the same way Grant did when his orgasm was closing in. His hands seem to shake with each jab as he was buffeted back and forth. His feet squirmed, toes curling, heels digging in to Gary's legs for leverage as his thighs strained.

But the real change was more audible than visible. The sound I heard was sloppy, squelching flesh that sucked against Gary's penis. Brandon groaned, a low guttural moan each time the huge penis sunk into him, clenching his buttocks and binding his grip against the thing that taken over his bowels. Frequently, I glanced sideways at Gary. He said nothing, merely staring at the unfolding passion with relentless concentration. I felt like a voyeur, as much from what was being revealed on the television as from seeing his fascination with Brandon's sexuality. It left me with an anxious disquiet and a strange sense that he knew exactly what I was feeling for his son. I felt as if it was me who was inside Brandon's body. Gary breathed in short, deep gasps, exactly as his son breathed. Indeed, even his hips undulated. It was an erotic simulation of Brandon's increasingly frenzied humping.

Gary's penis was moving quickly when Brandon had his first orgasm. His legs tightened and locked around his father's thick waist as he strained against the iron-hard member. He grunted, then gasped, then groaned. He stopped moving, sitting astride Gary's pelvis with his buttocks pressed all the way down. From behind, all that could be seen was the distortion of his cheeks caused by Gary's penis, and the roundness of his scrotum. Then, as the first wave passed, Brandon eased away. Like a long slithering snake, Gary's penis reappeared. Only the glans remained hidden inside him. While Brandon remained on his haunches shaking with intense spasms, Gary pushed up and back into him with more speed than seemed prudent. Brandon whimpered as his anal cavity was filled by hard man-cock.

I took a deep breath. It was not hard to imagine Grant's excitement while he filmed them together. Perhaps the boys and Gary had even masturbated together while watching the video. Perhaps they had watched it before… I preferred not to think about it, but the video certainly consumed my interest and aroused me so much that I had difficulty in restraining myself. If would have been very different if Brandon was not experiencing pleasure, but he clearly was. Their sheer unbridled joy was no different to what Grant and I experienced.

With his sphincter fully relaxed, Brandon's dilated anus now offered only minimal resistance, a mere token of its former tightness. When the video camera shifted to Gary's face, there was no doubt he was almost mad with lust and barely able to control himself. Yet he showed restraint, understanding that Brandon needed time to recover. With his mouth half-open, his eyes nearly closed, Brandon was in seventh heaven. Father and son continued to move together, mutually sharing each other's body amid muffled words and loving caresses. It was sweet, intimate, and very loving. I also knew that it would not last very long, just long enough for the heightened sensations to pass. Less than a minute and the previous hectic pace was resumed.

It became impossible to tell who was fucking who. Was Brandon deliberately impaling himself down and onto Gary's erection? Was Gary pounding forcefully up and into Brandon's slender body? Now it was far more than mutual pleasuring, although the pleasure was definitely mutual. They were two selfless animals rutting, engaging in the most natural of all actions. It was a wonderful sight. Brandon's jerking movements were exactly controlled to balance his father's powerful thrusts. At the same time, Gary's body was dedicated to the sole purpose giving his son the ultimate pleasure. And the looks in both of their faces were awe-inspiring, simultaneously wonder and ecstasy, as only lovers can when share when climax approaches for both of them at the same time.

For the first time in my life I began to understand why a man and a boy had to experience anal sex for them to become true lovers. For Grant and me, and for Brandon and Gary to really love each other, we had to join like this. This was the only way that we became one being, not only physically and emotionally, but in a way that I had only dreamed about with my wife. This was a union of two souls, the final junction that sealed love and made it sacred. This love would last forever, long past the time that sexual attraction had faded. Another glance at Gary confirmed that he was as captivated by the scene as I was. His eyes were unmoving, the fingers of one hand rasping together furiously as if the heated friction could some how induce a pleasure similar to his son's. I realized that he would be masturbating feverishly if I was gone. It was all that I could do to restrain myself.

"Yes," he muttered softly. "Do it babe! Yes, son! Yes! You're almost there again. Do it! Fuck yourself on that big dick of mine!"

His words of encouragement were not intended for me to hear them, but they might as well have been. Although the sight was amazing in itself, that I had experienced the same triumphant joy with Grant, made it truly awe inspiring. In a way, I was watching myself. Like Gary and Brandon, my penis penetrated to the core of Grant's being and filled him to overflowing with my manhood. If only for that reason, I appreciated his son's sexuality in a way that was emboldening. However, it was more than mere admiration. I as infatuated. I wanted to enjoy the beautiful body for myself, participating with his father in celebrating his youthful sexuality.

"Jesus. He's amazing," I said candidly.

"Yes he is."

"Hard to believe."

"Even on tape."

"It's hard to tell when he's actually having an orgasm," I observed.

We were both caught up in the urgency of the moment, yet Gary answered me.

"Not really. About now, Brandon's having them non-stop."

"I figured he's like Grant. He can't cum yet, but he sure has fun going through the motions," I replied breathily.

"Oh! Of course! They're much too young for anything else. Not that it matters. Hell, it's an advantage in a way. He's cumming again and again. He couldn't do that if he wasn't shooting blanks."

I nodded. "He's sure got one fantastic little ass."

"It's incredible to watch, isn't it?" Gary asked. "Enough to turn a man off women for ever."

I nodded, finding it increasingly difficult to breath. Perhaps this was why man-boy sexual relationships were against the law. Once experienced, there would be no alternative except to do it at every opportunity. If I had not been jealous of Gary up to that time, in an instant I envied him. The depth of the love that he shared with the beautiful boy was something I would never share with Brandon no matter how close I was to him, just as I would never share Grant with Gary.

"He looks so happy," I murmured.

"Yes, I know," Gary agreed softly. "He makes everyone around him happy too."

"Grant for instance?"

"Especially Grant." Gary looked at me with something akin to amusement. "They're in love, you know. Of course they haven't realized it yet, but it's just a matter of time until they do. I've watched them so often I can see it in their faces. I don't know why people think this is bad when it's only natural."

I smiled uncertainly. "I think I'm jealous of Grant," I said.

"Don't be. I don't have to the only person who loves him. With boys, there's always plenty of love to go around."

Brandon's head came forward, bowing his torso over his father, Strong arms wrapped around him, embracing the slender chest, pulling them still closer. With a sense of desperation, they began to jerk with wild abandon. The thrusting became even more erratic, both grunting, slamming buttocks against groin, sharing the most intense experience of their lives. For a few seconds they seemed too exhausted to continue, yet it was only a momentary pause. They shuddered together, quaking as Gary's fluid finally spurted out and the boy's body took it in. A moment later, all movement ceased. Time had stopped, or had become timeless. The union was completed. Gary's fluid had been shared, the most special gift than a man can give. In return, it was as if Brandon had drained his father's manhood at the same time. I knew that I had witnessed something very special, the same thing that had occurred between Grant and me. A bond had been forged that could never be broken.

With surprise, I realized that my penis was throbbing with an urgency that ny entire body shudder uncontrollably.

"That was incredible!" I murmured.

"Yes, I guess you could say that," Gary smirked. "The question is, now you've seen this, what are you going to do about it?

I don't follow," I countered awkwardly.

"Hm… now that you know about us?"

"Meaning?" I asked uncertainly. "I won't tell!" I added flatly.

"I know that. If I thought there was even the slightest chance of that, you would never have seen this." He paused. "Now, are you going to tell me about you and Grant?"

At least he came to the point quickly. I swallowed, briefly returning his questioning look with obstinate eyes before I turned back to the television. Gary knew my secret, probably had known it for a few days, maybe even since Christmas Day. I thought quickly, my mind still fully absorbed by the scene before me. It was over, but even in their post orgasmic bliss, Gary's hands stroked Brandon's body lovingly. I could hear their muted voices, although the actual words were indistinct. Three words were clear and they was often repeated. They were the same words that conveyed my feelings afterwards I was lying in bed with Grant. 'I love you'. I loved Grant the same way that Gary loved Brandon.

"What about Grant?" I muttered at last.

Gary chuckled. "You need to make a video of him and you."

"Huh?" I muttered as my face became a bright shade of crimson.

"There's nothing to be ashamed about. You love him, don't you?"

"Yes," I answered quickly. "I love him. I love him so much it hurts."

"I thought so. It's nothing to be ashamed of. And Brandon? How much do you love him?" Gary asked patiently.

"Honestly?"

Gary smiled. "Of course."

"A lot more than I should," I answered.

Gary smiled warmly. "I'm glad."

"Not as glad as I am," I joked feebly.

"It's difficult being a boy-lover. Once you've been there, there's no going back," Gary said softly. "I know exactly how you feel. I'd like to ask you one thing, though?"

"Yes?"

"While you were watching the video, you found yourself pretending you were me, didn't you?"

I nodded awkwardly, wondering how Gary knew what I had been thinking. "It was hard not to. He's such a beautiful boy. It's hard not to want him."

"And so is Grant for that matter. The feeling is mutual, Chris. Let me be honest with you. Even though I love Brandon more than I can stand, I would be lying if I didn't admit that there's nothing I wouldn't give to have sex with Grant. Just one time." Gary smiled. "Does that shock you?"

"No, not really. I think I kind of expected it." I paused. If ever there was a time to be honest, this was it. "It's probably the same for me with Brandon. No, not probably. Definitely."

Now Gary nodded, though not with my uncertainty. "Then you ought to have sex with him."

"You're joking."

"I'm not. He's only young once. I won't stand in your way if you want to get to know Brandon better," Gary said, choosing his words carefully. "Hell, I think it's good for a boy to try new experiences, especially when he can do it safely and with someone he loves. From what I've heard about you from Grant, the worst thing that can happen is he'll have a sore butt for a few days."

"You want to swap too, don't you?" I asked boldly.

Gary grinned. "Don't you? The boys want to. I know they do. It's no secret. I've talked with both of them. Grant's curious about what other men are like. So is Brandon. Maybe it'll only be for one time. More likely I think we'll find out that we love each other's sons as much as our own flesh and blood. However, if we don't try it we'll never know for sure."

"You said the boys want to as well?" I queried.

"What do you think?"

"I… I don't know. I… Brandon looked at me earlier today like he was in heat. Last night…" I paused. "Last night he jerked me off."

"I'm not surprised. That boy is always in heat. Grant too, except he's not as far along."

"Huh?"

"You've only just started fucking him."

I hesitated for a few seconds. "The first time was Christmas Eve," I replied.

"Yes, he told me about it. He's probably still hurting a bit. It takes a while to get used to having something big in there. Give him a few more weeks to get used to it and he'll be so interested in getting off you won't be able to sleep more than a few hours at a time."

"He's been pretty horny the last few days," I admitted with a smile. "How long have you and Brandon been…"

"Well, I told you that Brandon's been doing it with Grant since the end of summer. They'd been playing around for a while before that I expect, but after he tried the back door with Grant, it changed things for him. He knew what he wanted. He and I started right after that. I guess he liked it, being closer to me. Mostly, I wanted him to be happy. One thing led to another."

"I didn't know for sure, but I kind of expected that was what happened," I laughed.

"They were very close at the end of summer. They were curious. It was me who told them about anal sex."

"We talked about sex stuff too, but that didn't come up."

I remembered the boys lying in bed together on a hot summer night that now seemed so long ago. That had been the first time that I was actually aware of my feelings for them.

"So I heard," Gary chuckled. "Brandon said you had an 'huge hard-on the whole time'. Those are his words, by the way, not mine. I've always had a suspicion or two about you, because you get on so well with the boys, but that was the big giveaway as far as I was concerned."

"Oh!" I grinned. "I didn't think either of them noticed my… ah… problem."

Gary grinned. "They're not blind. They both noticed. Brandon thought it was very interesting. He's fascinated by men's bodies. When he starts puberty I'll have to keep him locked up in the barn."

"They both talked about it with you? "

"Uh huh! Of course we talked about it. Grant was a bit shy about it at first, but then he…"

"He what?"

"He opened up after a while. He told me you got 'stiffies' all the time." Gary paused and smirked. "Especially when you wrestled with him." he smirked. "And you were always hard when you were giving him a back rub."

"The horny little bastard."

"Not wrong! I'm not surprised he noticed your hard-ons. That boy of yours is every bit as aware about sex as Brandon is, but then I guess you know that by now. At Thanksgiving, while we were making the video of Brandon and me, I came right out and asked Grant if you had ever done anything with him. He was very funny about it. His answer took me a bit by surprise. He said you hadn't, but he was working on it. I could tell by his voice that he really wanted to have sex with you," Gary added with a knowing smirk.

"He said that?"

"Yes he did. I asked him if there was any progress when he called Brandon to say that the two of you were coming up for Christmas."

"And?"

"He said he was still working on it. He'd pretty much figured out what to do when you started rubbing his butt whenever you gave him a back massage."

"Did he elaborate?" I asked with growing fascination. I was beginning to wonder who had seduced who.

"If you must know," Gary winked, "Grant told Brandon he had a plan to get you in bed. He had it all worked out for Christmas, because his Mom wouldn't be here. In fact, he even said he wanted you to screw him before the next millennium."

"The little sex-maniac said that?"

"Yep! It's not all that unusual, you know. A lot of boys get sex-crazed well before their hormones start flowing. Brandon's the same way. Puberty is still a few years away for him as well, but he's already hotter than most teenagers. Maybe it's the inhibitions of youth. Put that together with a father who's getting hard-ons around him, well, it's only natural to start experimenting. Isn't that what they mean by 'like father, like son'?"

"Maybe," I ventured.

"And when the boy's as smart at Grant he usually figures out what he wants and how to get it pretty quickly."

"So I'm just now finding out." I sighed, smiled, and slowly shook my head.

It was impossible not to be swept along with what Gary was saying. Once the idea had been planted in my mind, any resistance became futile, and both of us knew it.

"Okay. How do we plan to go about this little New Year's orgy?"

"We? We're not going to plan anything. We'll leave this one up to the boys. It'll be more fun that way. I'm sure they'll be very creative."

NEXT PART